TRIALS: CHAPTER 2⃣
Dami my sister’s fiancé has roots in the Western part of the country and, though not from wealth, managed to have lots of it from his business, which no one knows about.
Even my sister didn’t know where and how he was making his money, and when asked, she was quick to defend that he’s into the importation and exportation of products, which I know is a lie. The first time I met him, my instincts screamed danger and warned me to avoid him because there was something odd and cruel about him.
Mother tagged it jealousy that my sister could score a young, vibrant, and wealthy man and I had nothing. If only she knew that all that glitters is not gold. Dami may look as gentle as a dove, but I feel there’s more to the facade he wears every day.
Mama, I will be going out with Dami and will stay the weekend with him. Precious announced, but you are not even married yet. I offered, so why stay with him? Besides, isn’t it your turn to cook this weekend?
Angrily, she looked at me, so I can bruise myself, eh? Now I know you are not a good person. What sister sends a soon-to-be wife to the kitchen? to the heats? She hissed loudly.
You should be happy your sister is doing what you couldn’t do; your mates are getting married, and you sit there without shame, disturbing your younger sister, who is about to wed. If she doesn’t cook this week, can’t you do it? Isn’t that what you are good at? church and house chores?
Unlike you, Mama continued, your sister isn’t born for lowly house chores. If your stupid father was wealthy enough to hire maids for me when I married him, I would not have bruised while cooking for him all the years he was alive. What I can’t have, my special daughter should have; she’s not a pauper like you who can’t attract even a church rat for marriage. Shame on you. Tueh! Mama lashed at me.
Hot tears filled my eyes as I sat thinking about all that my own birth mother said to me this evening: What crime have I committed being unmarried at 27 and approaching 28? Why can’t my mother understand that everything happens according to time and it isn’t mine yet? Why do I have a mother who makes my life miserable because I don’t give in to all her whims and demands to live her life through mine?
Why would a young woman go through trials all because of marriage? Her criteria for a husband is a rich man. Mama does not care how or where such money comes from; as long as it is money flowing freely, she gives approval. She does not care about life after the marriage ceremonies or how it would be.
Why did I not come into the world as a male? Maybe I wouldn’t be going through all this and would have enough time to get married, but it seems the pressure of marriage on a young woman is all that is there to being a female.
Why is Mama so callous and greedy? Why would I want to settle for young men with questionable wealth just to please her? Why not allow God to settle me in his time? Why can she not see that everyone has a different path in life, and mine is being crafted by God? These thoughts filled my head as I sat there quietly, trying to find peace, no matter how little.
What do you think you are doing? Mama asked again; clearly, she could see I’m reading but wasn’t ready to admit it. Your sister has gone to her fiancé for the weekend, and instead of you going out in search of a husband, you will rather sit here and read useless books that wouldn’t give directions on how to get a husband, mother ranted.
I ignored her as usual. Why can’t you be like your sister? She continued. You are four years older than her, but she does things to make me proud and happy, but you? No, you rather keep embarrassing me at your age. God forbid, I be your mother again in my next life.
The house is full of chores; make sure you get to them. If Dami comes here after the weekend, I do not want him to visit a dirty house. Sweep and mop the floors, wash the dishes, and ensure the trash is taken out as well. There is laundry to do; see to it too. At least if you cannot get married, make yourself useful in this house. Hissing angrily, she left me alone.
© Wofai Patrick 🌹
