2

Yesterday aunty asked about the man in black. I told her he dropped me off at the house after the accident.

She asked for his name to know if she might have heard of his family but conveniently I didn’t know his name.

She said he wasn’t at all familiar, so maybe he was from here but hadn’t been around for a long time. He spoke out dialect so he had to be from here.

Everything about him still lingered in my mind, from his smell that surrounded the car to his perfect Igbo yet perfect English without a hint of his mother’s tongue intruding as he spoke.

I wondered what he was, what he did and where he was from and most of all why he was here.

Was it a burial?

Or a wedding?

Or the building of a new house?

Why did he help me?

Was he that kind?

I let my mind search for endless possibilities as to why a man like that was in the village market dressed even more expensively than the village’s monarch and looking like he could buy the market without even stretching.

He seemed very important and powerful. From the way he stood to the way he ordered his guards or whatever they were. He ordered them without raising a finger, just with low short words and they obeyed without batting an eye, without even the slightest hesitation.

Maybe he was occult, maybe that was why they never hesitated. But yet he seemed to have a power over me that I couldn’t understand. Or maybe that was the kind of person he was.

I exhaled loudly, feeling tired of my thoughts about the strange man in black.

In all my 21 years of living in this village, no man had ever taken my interest. But him however, he posed my mind in a day and now all I think of was our strange encounter.

I was currently in my room, supposedly having an afternoon siesta, although my eyes could not keep short.

Ever since yesterday I felt restless.

Like my brain could not divert from the thoughts of him.

I huffed to myself and stood from my mattress which laid at the corner of my very small room.

I walked out the door hoping I could find something to do.

“Cheta you’re awake, thank god”, my aunt said as she heard me come into the Parlor.

“Aunty anything you want me to do?”.

“Yes.

The drum is running low.

You can fetch water and refill it”, my aunty requested.

I nodded a bit thankful that she had a chore for me.

I didn’t waste anytime I’m getting the buckets and heading straight to where we normally got our water from.

I was on the second and last trip and my mind was almost clear. Maybe it was the bucket of water on my head, or my aching hand from the one I was carrying with my left hand, but my mind wasn’t wondering about the man from yesterday.

I felt tired. I knew for a fact that I would get some rest now.

The house was in a viewing distance when I almost tripped from what I saw.

The cars from yesterday was packed all around the house, some of the men stood outside, like they were guarding.

The man who drove me home yesterday was not in site. I had a feeling he was inside.

I calmed down and walked over to the house, I couldn’t be to anxious or the water I worked so hard to get will come crushing down. Breaking our buckets in the process.

I went around, hoping the guards did not see me and refilled the drum of water completely.

I paused thinking of my next action.

It only made sense that he was inside, if he weren’t then the guards wouldn’t be outside.

I could wait him out and stay here till they drove back to where they came from.

The idea seemed silly.

“Cheta!”, i heard my aunty call out.

Trust my aunty in calling you at the wrong way of times.

I sighed feeling defeated, knowing I could never ignore her calm.

“Ma?”, I replied heading inside but not as loudly as her.

I walked into the Palor and low and behold there the man was. In yet another black suite, this time sitting down on of the old chairs in the parlor. As I watched him I realized just how small our chairs were, and our house.

He looked like a giant trying to fit into this very different scene. He looked out of place, even more out of place when he was standing in from of the village market.

“Nice to see you again, Chetachi.

Please seat”, he said and for a moment I saw a wicked grin bless his face.

But as quickly as it came it left.

He spoke with calm yet command, despite he wasn’t the main of this house or even a member.

He still found it necessary to offer me a seat at my own house.

Despite how silly it was, I took a seat.

“You already know,

Ramiel Chidiuto Kingsley”, aunty said.

Unlike her usual composure she didn’t look glum or emotionless, she almost seemed happy.

“Ug_______yes”, I said a bit uncertain.

Yes we had met but I didn’t know his name.

“ọ dị mma nwanne nne ka m kọwaara ya ihe mere m ji nọrọ ebe a(it’s okay aunty let me explain to her why I am here)”, he interrupted in his oeeeect Igbo.

I swallowed, unsure of how this conversation would go down. Feeling scared of the outcome.

My eyes were faced down, avoiding his gaze.

“MMA(beauty)”, I heard him say, probably referring to me.

I looked up at him in response, trying my best not to look like I was scared. As we locked eyes I saw something sinister quickly flash through his light honey eyes.

I was scared, even with him at the other side of the room, my parlor had never seemed smaller.

I felt like a prey, besides not being the only other person here.

“I want you as my wife”, he said. Simply.

He said these words casually, making me trying to understand if I heard well but also too scared to ask.

His posture didn’t lack.

I had heard of men feeling doubtful or scared asking for a woman’s hand. Buy him? he looked like he just asked for what was his.

I knew my eyes looked wider than ever as I tried to process his words.

“Chidiuto is a nice man and he will take care of you”, I heard my aunt say even though my hearing was now muffled. Muffled by confusion.

Was this happening?

Was I being convinced to marry a man I don’t know?

A man I just met?

No.

“He was kind enough to bring the things demanded by tradition and the marriage will be finalized”, my aunty said.

Her voice seemed too full of excitement.

I knew she was not my mother but I never knew getting rid of me was one of her priorities.

Even though I did not blame her.

I looked from him to her, searching for answers or searching for a sign that it was not real, but a crazy dream.

I found none.

I had nothing to say.

What could I say?

“I must take my leave and allow you ladies to prepare for tomorrow”, Chidiuto said as he rose to his feet.

Standing in his full length he looked like an even bigger giant.

My aunty followed suit and led him to the door.

I sat down, glued to the chair and empty of words.

Was had just happened?

Soon after my aunt walked back in the palor and I heard her say something but wasn’t sure what.

“God must know what he is doing.

Chetachi!”, I heard her say with way too much enthusiasm for her.

I looked over to smiling woman.

It had been so long I saw her smile that almost looked unrecognizable.

My confusion on why she would agree was solved.

“Cheta, your husband has promised to change my life and yours.

The bride price he already presented me is enough for me to move to the city and comfortably live the rest of my life.

You will be so taken care of”, she goshed.

Poverty might have been her only reason for being so grim afterall.

I couldn’t blame her.

We had enough to survive, but that was it, only enough so the both of us could live.

Beside me, she had no other family.

My mother was her sister, after she passed, she had her husband. Then before they could have children?

He died as well. Leaving me as her last remaining relative, she was my only family as well.

My brain stabilized as I watched her dimples and her smile reach her eyes.

I couldn’t take this from her, she needed this win.

“I will”, was all I managed to say.

The smile that lit her face this time lit my face as well.

“Cheta, God is finally working in our favor”, she said.

Her hands were on mine in a motherly manner, just like the first day I met her and she tried to comfort me. Telling me I had her and her husband.

“Thank God”, I said.

Aunty Oluochi pulled me in, embracing me tightly. For the first time in years I felt her warmth and I wasn’t going to ruin it.

If marrying the strange man will keep a smile on her face then so be it.