Chapter 11

 

 

MICHAEL STEPPED OUT OF his mother’s room, feeling numb. This had to be a bad dream, he thought, but could dreams be this vivid?

Face the fact; this is real.

He was getting married—to a woman not of his choosing, one he’d never met. He tried to examine his feelings. Joy or sorrow? He snorted. As if he had to ask.

It had been said that marriage was for women and not men. A woman still single after her mid-twenties began to lose respect very fast. For men, wives were an added symbol of prestige. Women needed husbands. And men desired wives. Even if he believed all this, he had somehow expected the prospect of marriage to be a happy occasion. His feelings couldn’t have been farther from joy.

Why had everything turned out so badly? How had his grand ideas about improving the quality of his people’s lives turned to this? He was supposed to be affecting them, not the other way around.

As he turned the corner, he met Serwaa going into the kitchen.

“Yaw, are you all right?”

He stared at her. “I’m getting married.”

It seemed to take Serwaa a moment to register Michael’s words, then she screamed, dropping the calabash in her hand to its shattering end, and ran out to announce the news.

Recovering from his sister’s unexpected reaction, Michael stepped over the broken pieces of calabash and went to find solace in his room. First, he had to be alone, then he needed to work up the resolve to endure this nightmare.

He sat on his bed.

“Look on the bright side,” he murmured, wasting the sarcasm on himself. “You’ll be making everybody else happy.”

Just then, a still-excited Serwaa barged in with a simple announcement. “Wↄfa Sekyerɛ is here.”

His shoulders drooped, his spirit sinking lower. He swore—with every curse word he could think of. He remained seated for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. He’d already paid the piper. Might as well start dancing.

He found his uncle in the visitor’s room drinking palm wine from a gourd. Offering a greeting, Michael took a seat.

“I hear you have decided to get married.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” he replied with barely contained anger.

“Yaw, you may not think I acted in your best interest with the elders, but I’m still your uncle, and you must give me respect.”

Michael gritted his teeth just to keep from talking back, because nothing he had to say would make things better.

“Do you really want to go through with this marriage?” his uncle asked.

As if he had a choice.

“Maame wants it, so I’ll give her what she wants.”

His uncle’s look softened. “Your father knew what he was doing. Esi is a nice girl, very respectful and educated.”

Michael’s heart clenched. He swallowed, releasing the vise tightening around his throat. “I don’t need to know any of that, Wↄfa. The decision is already made.”

Serwaa entered the room at this point, interrupting the conversation. She had Maame Badu on her arm. Michael immediately rose to assist them.

“I’m not dead, you know,” Maame Badu reprimanded in her weak voice. “I don’t need two people to hold me.”

He stood back, watching. She looked tired, but resolve burned in her eyes. Maame, determined to be the hostess.

“You’re welcome, my junior husband.” She shook hands with Wↄfa Sekyerɛ.

“Ya’ena, Maame Badu,” Wↄfa Sekyerɛ said. “I’m happy to see you on your feet. I came by to see how you’re faring, and I’ve been greeted with good news. Yaw has just informed me of his decision to marry Esi Afriyie.”

“Yes, that is good news.” Maame Badu turned to Michael. “Yaw, don’t do this for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you, Maame,” he lied.

“Before your uncle and your sister, I want you to swear you’re marrying Esi Afriyie because you wish to and not for any other reason.”

Michael sighed. “Maame, Wↄfa, Serwaa. If I’m asking to marry Esi Afriyie for anyone, then it is for Papa. To fulfil my father’s wish, I’ll marry the woman he chose.”

He felt uncomfortable for lying, but refused to dwell on it. He couldn’t change his mind at this point, anyway. Seeing his mother on her feet, about to take charge of the arrangements, made his difficult decision worth it.

“Well spoken, my dear son,” his mother said, finally relaxing.

“Good answer.” Wↄfa shook his hand as though welcoming him to the world of sanity.

“Serwaa, please prepare something for your uncle to eat,” Maame Badu instructed, and Serwaa dutifully retreated to the kitchen.

“Tomorrow, Wↄfa Sekyerɛ and the family elders will go and perform the aponoakyibɔ,” Maame Badu explained to Michael, earning a nod from Wↄfa Sekyerɛ.

An ominous feeling settled on him. Tomorrow, they would officially ask for her hand in marriage. He swallowed. He couldn’t sit through the discussion of the marriage ceremony. Not if he intended to go through with it.

“Maame, Wↄfa, forgive me, but I’d like to leave the preparation to you,” he said.

“Oh, why?” his uncle asked.

“I have to prepare for my meeting with the elders.”

“Very well, me piesie” Maame Badu replied.

“Thank you.” He rose to leave. “By the way, don’t discuss the bride wealth. Whatever her father asks for is what I’ll give.”

Maame Badu’s face lit up. “Well said, Yaw. Now go prepare yourself, and we’ll take care of everything.”

 

****

 

An unusually cool afternoon settled over Ebinom some two hours past the afternoon meal. Esi was in the kitchen washing dirty dishes while humming a tune in her efforts to be cheerful. She allowed her mind to drift to an imagined future. What would it be like to have her own house and her husband sitting by her and telling her how much she meant to him?

She dreamt a lot, asleep or awake, about her husband in future bringing their children home from school or helping her with some chores, and every time, her husband was Michael. Her heart still pounded a nervous beat whenever she remembered Sefah and the T-shirt, and the undesired future it represented. She pushed the thoughts out each time they occurred.

“Esi, haven’t you finished?” Her mother’s urgent voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Mama, I’m only left with this pan.”

“Let me do it for you.” Her mother took the pan from her. “Your father has visitors. Quick, get them some water to drink. I’ll prepare the palm wine.”

Esi hurried to serve the visitors. She recognised Michael’s uncle, but not the other two men. As she poured the water, they watched her with rapt attention, none uttering a word. The scrutiny unnerved her, but she focused on pouring and not spilling the water.

What are they doing here?

The last time Wↄfa Sekyerɛ had visited, it had been to announce his brother’s death. She prayed everything was well with the family this time. As soon as she finished, she rushed back into the kitchen.

“Mama, why is Wↄfa Sekyerɛ here? Who are the other two?”

Her mother frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Do you suppose Maame Badu is all right?”

“My daughter, that is for Ɔdomankoma to decide.”

After the palm wine had been served, Esi remained in the kitchen, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse.

“They made me very uncomfortable,” she complained. “They were looking at me as if searching for some fault.”

“You know people around here. They’re always looking for something to gossip about,” the older woman said. “I’m not saying they are—”

“I know what you mean.” Esi managed a laugh at her mother’s quick disclaimer.

Her mother gave her a warm smile. “Now go and wait in your room. I will clear the gourds when they are done.”

 

****

 

After Esi left, Maame Akua stood at the kitchen door trying to catch what the men were talking about, but their voices were too low. She had lied to Esi. She recognised the other two as the members of Maame Badu’s family, and also had the same concern her daughter had raised. She offered a silent prayer that the old woman was in good health. It was obviously an important discussion, judging from the solemn look on her husband’s face, his brows almost touching as he listened to the guests. After a while, they arose and shook hands.

“You know how things are today.” She could now here Papa Afriyie from her vantage point in the kitchen as his voice assumed its normal pitch. “It’s no longer the man’s prerogative to make all decisions for the family.”

Papa Afriyie saw his visitors off with the assurance of a response in a few days’ time. He then summoned his wife who hurriedly came to sit by him. Immediately, she noticed the bottle of Schnapps.

“Akua, have a seat.”

She took the seat facing her husband, not wanting to miss his expression as he told her whatever news he had.

“As you saw, we just had some visitors,” he began gravely. “It was no ordinary visit.”

Maame Akua swallowed back her impatience. She knew better than try to rush him. Though her eyes looked in his direction, her mind remained on the bottle of Schnapps. Could it be? Her heart pounded.

“Before the Opanyin died, he searched through the whole village, his aim to find a suitable wife for his son.” He pointed to the symbolic drink. “Sekyerɛ and the family elders came to fulfil those wishes.”

Maame Akua hardly knew what to say. The Badu family was very respectable, and it gave her joy to know her daughter was going to have a good marriage.

“This is good news.” She tried to match her husband’s calm mood. “Sefah is a fine young man, and he has done so well on his father’s farms.”

A faint smile came across Papa Afriyie’s lips. “They want Esi’s hand in marriage for Yaw, not Sefah.”

Maame Akua sucked in a breath, barely managing to contain her emotions. “Has the young man consented?”

“I asked the same question, and they said yes. The boy had been surprised, but he agreed to fulfil his father’s wish.”

“Ei!” Maame Akua exclaimed, releasing the reins on her excitement. “What did you tell him?”

“We have to ask our daughter, and I think it would be better if you told her.”

“You know she won’t refuse,” she replied, remembering all the times Abena and Agyeiwaa, their daughter-in-law, had made jokes about Esi and her interest in Yaw Badu.

“You never know,” was all Papa Afriyie said.

Maame Akua nodded. Still vivid in her mind was the year Amoah had asked for Esi’s hand in marriage. As a mother, she had been ecstatic that her daughter had caught the eye of one of Ebinom’s wealthiest men, especially one with a good reputation among the elders. Although Amoah had lost his parents, he came from a good family. However, she had heard some disturbing news about Amoah’s liaisons with maidens from the neighbouring villages. A little investigation had proved this allegation to be true.

She had broken the news to Papa Afriyie who, in response, had returned Amoah’s drinks to him, annulling the engagement.

Today, Ɔdomankoma had smiled upon them. Esi’s marriage to Yaw Badu would make her the envy of the village.

 

****

 

Esi sat on her bed, making a list of personal items she needed to buy on her next trip to the market when Abena burst into the room.

“Esi, you won’t believe it,” she announced. “Wↄfa Sekyerɛ wants to marry you—”

“Don’t be silly, Abena. Wↄfa Sekyerɛ already has two wives. Besides, he’s too old for me,” Esi said, but paused when she remembered the way he had watched her. A frown settled on her brows.

“Not him.” Abena gave her arm a gentle slap. “For Bro Yaw.”

“Ooh, Abena, ah.” Esi pushed her sister aside.

With her heart aching from the stress of having Michael in Ebinom and the real possibility of marrying his brother, she didn’t have the energy to stand any teasing.

“Look, I’m tired and I want to sleep, so if you don’t have anything important to say, please leave me alone.”

Abena’s face fell. “I thought you were going to jump with joy. Aren’t you the one who swore that he’s the only one you are going to marry?”

“You know I was only joking.”

Just then, their mother entered the room and dismissed Abena. She quietly planted herself on the bed. She whispered her daughter’s name and embraced her. Surprised by her mother’s action, Esi simply let herself be hugged.

“Esi, you’re getting married,” Maame Akua announced.

“I am?” She dared not think Abena had been telling the truth.

“Wↄfa Sekyerɛ and Maame Badu’s family elders came with a bottle of Schnapps.” There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. “Yaw Badu wants to marry you.”

Esi gasped. For an instant, she didn’t move. It seemed her heart stopped several times before she could start breathing again. Why on Earth was Michael asking to marry her? They’d never even spoken before. Not really.

Her breath caught as a thought occurred to her. The meeting in the forest! She had thought he hadn’t noticed her. Could she have been wrong? Could he have felt the connection, too?

“His father chose you before he passed on,” Maame Akua explained as if she could read Esi’s thoughts.

She knew her mother could tease, even about things like this, but the look on her face and the tears in her eyes told of truth—a woman moved to tears by the extent of her joy, the same joy overflowing within Esi. Of all the girls in Ebinom, Opanyin Badu had picked her, proving that she had always been destined to be Michael’s wife. Screaming, she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

“Mama, tell me I’m not dreaming,” she cried. “Please, tell me I’m not going to wake up.”

Maame Akua closed her arms around Esi. “Believe it, my daughter. Ɔdomankoma has blessed you today, and you’re wide awake to receive it.”

They remained in the embrace for a long time before Maame Akua left the room. Esi’s excitement refused to be contained. She had to tell Mansa, or she’d go berserk with joy.

 

****

 

Michael sat under the atoa—hog plum—tree behind his house, gazing at the setting sun in the distance. It had become a pastime. This was the only place where he could while away time without disturbance. The cool wind felt good as it blew gently around him. He inhaled its freshness, his mood pensive, his whole mind filled with Esi Afriyie.

He was now engaged to her. The two families had already begun the customary exchange of gifts. Maame Badu had given the couple eighteen yards of white kente fabric for the marriage ceremony, and the whole village was talking about it. Gossip had it that Maame Akua had given Esi a gold necklace, which had been passed down in her family from generation to generation. It was now Esi’s turn to wear this family heirloom, on her wedding day, as a symbol of her final transition into womanhood.

The family elders would soon go to her house to perform the marriage rites, present the bride wealth and other ceremonial gifts. The two families were going to throw a party at Esi’s house, after which she’d move in with him.

Why hadn’t she refused to marry him like girls in story books usually did when they were being forced into marriage, where love triumphed over tradition? Except that, with the Badu family’s good reputation, this Esi girl might be only too willing to marry him.

Thoughts of Forest Girl threatened to surface, but he firmly pushed them away. He couldn’t afford to think about her now, or he’d change his mind. For his mother’s sake, he couldn’t change his mind.

An insect perched on his T-shirt, and he brushed it with a fierce sweep, inspecting the spot for stains. When he found none, he leant back and resumed the task of trying to take his mind off Forest Girl. He wished there was a way of turning back the hands of time. Maybe he should have brought Lena as his wife. Would it have made a difference, or would his mother have expected him to take a second wife, which by custom, was within his rights?

He shook his head as if that would rid his mind of the thoughts. So much for coming back home, he thought with regret. Was he being punished for something he’d done in his past? Maybe a past life?

No, he decided immediately. No one deserved to be forced into a lifetime commitment like marriage.

Esi Afriyie. How he hated her.