It is her wedding today,
The bridal maids have worn
Their I-shall-be's
So that one will catch the bouquet.
A bucket of water
Is by the corner to welcome
Many men migrating mostly
From Kwara, the groom's town
And from Ankara as well.
I sit and stare at the gaiety,
This ugly , fat man
Weds this slim, shapely sight
Of a damsel
Because his father owns a bank
And the girl's mother
Is a poor widow.
The girl will willingly wait
On this toad,
Kissing
Loving - or pretending to love
Everything about him.
She used to sell provisions
For her mother
Before he met her
And allowed her agree
To marry a man she could
Not refuse if she was to
Remain her mother's daughter.
The hopes of her kin
Are on her scapulars,
She will train her nine siblings
In the universities
And fill her mother's shop
To the brim.
The other day I went to buy
Kerosene from that shop
She was eating a sherry mango
And her sister was bustling -
'Can you help me sell kerosene?'
She asks the girl;
Oh - because I am eating Kerosene mango?
She has always been proud,
Saucy and spicily sleazy,
But the wit carried some weight
Avoiding to say the usual
Can't you see I am eating mango?
Is a mark of considerable literary genius.
But will this toad
I see behind her appreciate her wit -
No, the better question is
Will this saucy sight
Not adore his wealthy wretchedness?
But here is my share of the white wedding wine
I had better shut up
And drink it up.