Marital Dance - Part 5
Wednesday, May 9, 2012 at 11:16AM 
Lagos, Nigeria
Grace hurriedly packed a small case for their trip. She made sure to pack a conservative traditional outfit and scarf for the funeral. She was travelling to the village with her mother for the funeral they had talked about two weeks ago. The drive would take the better part of a day, so they would end up spending two nights in the village. The wake keeping was the next day, and the burial was on Saturday. The day Alex is getting married. She hurriedly brushed the thought of Alex’s wedding out of her mind and focused on her packing. She tried to decide what else she needed…they would probably leave halfway through the funeral ceremony so they could make it back to Lagos on time. She packed a simple ankara dress and a pair of jeans and t-shirt to wear around the house. That should do it.
She locked her suitcase and walked to the dresser to check her hair. Brown, somber eyes stared back at her as she turned this way and that. Her long, lithe body was looking leaner than usual, and her t-shirt hung off her lanky frame. I need to put on a few pounds. Alex was getting married anyway, so that was that. No need starving herself to death because of a man who had chosen someone else over her. She ignored the stab of pain that went through her heart, picked up her suitcase and walked downstairs to meet her mother.
She got downstairs just as her mother was coming out of her room.
“Oh, good. Grace, you’re ready to go. I was just about to call you. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, Mom. I just had some toast. Do you want something?”
“No, no. I think we’re already running late. I want us to get there before it gets dark.”
Grace nodded and took their suitcases outside to the car, while her mother followed behind. She waved good morning to the driver, Sunday, and loaded their cases into the trunk. She opened the back passenger door for her mother and climbed in beside her. She was glad she had brought a book to read – it was going to be a long drive.
***
Obialor’s Compound, Umuezi village (Somewhere in Eastern Nigeria)
The cacophony of raised voices was giving Azuka a headache. His father’s extended family had gathered for a meeting to decide on the details of the funeral service. If it were solely up to Azuka, he would have opted for a simple ceremony with a few family and friends. He wanted to honor his father, not make a spectacle of the whole thing! But, his uncles disagreed.
“Our brother was a rich and titled man! He needs to be honored in a big way. We don’t have to bury him like a pauper!”
A chorus of voices assented. “Yes. Yes”, “It is what he deserves!”
Where were all of you when he was sick and dying? Azuka thought bitterly to himself. Now, you call him your ‘brother’, but none of you ever showed up to visit him! Azuka wearily ran his hand over his head. He wished he could talk to someone…someone who would understand the emotions roiling deep within him. Sadness, anger, pain, sympathy for his mother…his thoughts drifted towards his mystery lady. He wondered what her name was. Was she a good listener…someone he could pour out his heart to without being judged? Yes…yes, I think she would be a great listener. He imagined himself holding her hand, walking through a grassy field and telling her what his father had meant to him.
“Azuka, Azuka. I na anu? Are you listening to what we are saying?”
The strident voice pulled him back to reality. He wearily turned his attention back to the discussion. He wished he could give these folks a piece of his mind, but he needed to be very careful. His mother had warned him that planning his father’s funeral would demand a lot of maturity and sensitivity from him. I have to be very careful, he reminded himself again.
“Yes, Uncle. I’m here. I’m listening.”
Three hours later, Azuka dragged himself up from the cane chair he had been sitting in. The meeting was finally over. He wasn’t even really sure what exactly they had achieved, but the long, meandering and often contentious discussions had drained him. He walked out of the small living room at the front of the house and made his way towards the kitchen. Some jollof rice and chicken would taste great right about now.
He heard female voices coming from the larger living room in the main part of the house and stopped for a minute.
His mother was welcoming someone “Julia, welcome. How was your journey?”
“My sister, it was a long drive. We just wanted to stop by and greet you before we go home.” The woman replied. Julia…he hadn’t heard that name before, and he knew most of his mother’s close friends.
“I know you both must be tired. This is your daughter?”
“Yes, this is my daughter Grace. I asked her to accompany me because I didn’t want to come alone.”
Azuka had been contemplating going in to greet the woman, but the mention of a daughter stopped him. One visitor I can deal with, but not two. After what felt like a day-long meeting with relatives, Azuka’d had enough for one day and he still had to get through the wake keeping and the funeral. He just needed some peace and quiet. Maybe I’ll just eat and say hi to them when I’ve got some energy back. If they’re still here…
His mother and her friend continued their conversation as Azuka took a detour. Thankfully, they had a detached kitchen which could be accessed from any of the back doors. He took the backdoor down the hallway from the room where the meeting had taken place and walked to the kitchen behind the house.
***
Forty-five minutes later, Azuka put down his fork and grabbed a toothpick.
“Thank you, Blessing” he smiled at the househelp as she picked up his plate.
“You’re welcome De Azuka” she replied, using the traditional term to show respect.
He had eaten his meal sitting on a low kitchen stool and surrounded by the women who were making food preparations for the wake keeping and the funeral. The narrow hallway in front of the kitchen and the surrounding yard was filled with women. Some of the women were scalding and plucking the freshly slaughtered chickens and others were parboiling bags of rice in several batches. Another set of women were working on several large pots of stew, sitting on iron tripods with firewood-fueled fires. He stood up and observed the small army for a minute. Women were washing and chopping ugu, grinding egusi and achi in readiness for the soup that would be cooked in the morning. They chattered and laughed easily among themselves as they worked, almost as if they were gathered to cook for a wedding or some other joyous occasion.
Azuka walked slowly back towards the house. He knew it was irrational to expect everyone to go about with a long face, but they could at least show some restraint. He sighed heavily…his father was dead and it seemed like only two people cared - he and his mother. They were all each other had now and he needed to support his mother in every way. He quickened his steps so he could greet his mother’s visitors before they left. He cursed his previous reluctance to do just that – his mother needed him as much as possible, even it was just to receive visitors.
He walked the last few steps and opened the back door just as the two women were hurriedly walking out through the front. There was something hauntingly familiar about the tall, lithe woman who walked behind the shorter, stocky one. Something about the easy grace with which she carried herself plucked at memories bound in his heart. Stunned, he stopped short. “No”, he breathed silently. No, it can’t be her. He refused to believe that she had been here for almost an hour and he had missed a golden opportunity to meet her.
The front door clicked softly behind them and he was galvanized into action. He ran the last few yards towards the front door and got to the carport just in time to see a car drive away. Not again. Am I destined to always be too late?
He forced himself to calm down and walked to his mother.
“Mom, who was that?”
His mother looked up at him and put her arm through the crook of his elbow.
“Just an old friend that came to see me recently. She and her daughter came down from Lagos for…your father’s funeral.”
Azuka didn’t miss the catch in his mother’s voice. Widowhood was her new reality and she was struggling to cope with it. He pulled his thoughts away from his mystery lady and focused them on his mom. It probably wasn’t even her, just wishful thinking. Just someone who looks a lot like her. What were the odds that the woman he had been thinking about for weeks would suddenly come to his house? It was too fantastic. Things like that only happened in books and movies. He looked at his mother again. She really needs me now.
He hugged her to his side and they stood together in the large courtyard as dusk gathered around them.
Onyih Odunze
The conclusion of Marital Dance (Part 6) will be available on Saturday May 12th!
Please tell us what you think about Azuka and Grace’s story so far. Thanks for reading!!
Reader Comments (4)
I have enjoyed reading your story. Very much. I look forward to reading the end, although I am kinda sad that it's ending so soon :(
Thanks for sharing.
Chichi, thank you so much for your kind comments! This is actually not the end for Azuka and Grace..they still have a few hurdles to cross so we'll see them again. Their story will continue in another series.. Stay tuned!
Onyi you write so well. I am proud of you.
Thank you so much my darling sister!!