I sat outside waiting for my supposed husband, he didn’t come. After several hours of dissipation I finally decided to give up and give it a rest. However, mother didn’t see it that way, she shouted furiously at the little children who were at that moment removing the benches placed outside “do not touch those benches I say, our in-laws are on their way”. Our in-laws, I mumbled under my breath, half hating myself for being so prepared only to be met with this. I stumbled across the host of commodities bought to entertain the guests and made my way, almost blindly to my room…the room where I couldn’t imagine life without, I had grown up here, I had known true beauty here, I had known indolence here also, the last thought made me chuckle a little. Would I ever take anything seriously, I thought sadly to myself. But I did take this seriously, the coming of my husband, Aremu, the city dweller, I heard about him since I was thirteen, I can remember that day so clearly like it was yesterday. I call it the day of the endless cocoyam. Mother had arrived that day with a load full of merchandise and a heart full of news too…I hadn’t finished peeling the cocoyam, and when I heard mother approaching, I stood up quickly and was about to hide behind the giant earthen pot. But then, the worst hadn’t happened, instead what had since then become my daily fantasy happened. Mother had terminated my attempt at absconding with her not-so melodious voice singing a local chorus

“Emi la o ni yosi, emi la o ni yosi

Bi a ti fe ori, bee naa lo ri

Emi la o ni yosi”

She danced and whistled and turned and twirled and I stood and watched, not knowing what to expect, but of course I knew it was something good, for why would mother forget that Awero hadn’t peeled all the cocoyam and why would she grab her hands all of a sudden and force her to dance to her chants and whistles. It was the day I finally became a woman.

It followed that mother had discovered the blood stains on my wrapper, which I had tried to hide, I was afraid and I didn’t want her to know, I was Awero, I could handle becoming a woman on my own…but I had failed, and she noticed and had told her friend mama Alani. Mama Alani had two sons, Alani and Aremu…Alani was a village loiterer, and hence, did not deserve a wife, however Aremu, the younger of the two had left the village for the city since he was eighteen, he sent a few pounds home every month and yes, we could safely say that he was the true son of his father. Mama Alani had asked for my hand in marriage for her son Aremu, because she said I was a proper child, well brought up and very beautiful too. Those were the exact words of my mother on the day of the endless cocoyam. I remember being so agitated, confused and angry, I had shouted at mother and made her understand that though that was the tradition, I was not going to marry someone I barely knew. But mother wasn’t ruffled a bit, she understood and gave me time, and so in the space of five years, I had become someone who could barely wait for the coming of her husband, Aremu the city dweller…