The winds were cool, life was smooth like a sailing ship on front seas, after a few weeks of courtship with Julian, we became so close, in fact, so close that a day in my parents’ home seemed like ten days away from him. He popped the question, he wanted me to be his bride, I happily and swiftly agreed to the proposal. But there was something yet to happen,
Let me tell you.
The wedding day,
‘Before I bless this marriage, I would that anyone who has anything against this marriage speak now or forever keep his silence’. The priest said.
I wasn’t bothered, I knew I was flawless, no sex before marriage, and no man whatsoever. I had been a good girl, and for him, he appeared honest, an angel to me without wings, and I had no uncertainty he was a perfect in every way.
The flowers were perfect, the red roses, peaches, not to mention the magnificent decorations. My beautiful designer dress was white, and what I loved most was the touch of beads around the gown, that made me look like the total African Princess I was born to be.
Everyone told me I looked beautiful, and you could see the expression on their faces when I was ushered in by my father. They all loved my look, I needed not to be told.
Father John had asked this question twice, ‘Anyone who has anything to say against this marriage should speak now or forever hold their peace’.
Just when Father John was about to ask the question the third time, slowly, a hand went up.
She was crippled and sat in a wheel chair. I hadn’t witnessed her presence until now.
Dressed in a beautiful blue blazer that covered her chest to her neck with a pair of sleek black trousers to match with a touch of admirable make-up, this woman was yet to be the centre of attention now.
‘Yes, yes’… She said softly.
‘I know this woman. She is a traitor, a thief!!!’ She pointed her hands at me, accusing me several times.
Everyone looked at her, she was the bride now, not me. My husband-to-be turned his eye sharply and glanced at me. He looked straight into my eyeball.
This couldn’t be? Where was she from?
Mum looked at my face, she was angry, she wanted this day to be a perfect one. Dad was surprised. He was expecting these words from a man and not a woman.
The look on my father’s face read, she’s a lesbian? Or a husband snatcher?
Father John sat in his chair, the church liturgical committee head came to the pulpit and announced,
‘Please let’s remain calm and hear what this woman has to say about this marriage’. She had an accusing tone. I knew her dislike for our family was quite obvious. You knew she loved the drama.
The liturgical committee head looked from the altar as we all sat down, my heart raced, what was I supposed to expect?
‘Woman, please speak’. The committee head asked her politely.
‘This isn’t right’ a voice spoke from behind.
‘You should take the matter to Father’s office, talk things over and come and give us the feedback if necessary’.
That was the Parochial Pastoral Council Secretary.
Meanwhile, this wheelchair-bound lady sat quietly. I wished I could reach her location and squeeze her neck till she lost her vocal ability.
My husband-to-be arose, ‘let her speak, we all would want to hear’. He cleared his throat, he called my name, do you agree?’
‘Yes’, I replied boldly. After all, I knew I had nothing to hide.
She began crying, the lady in the wheelchair.
‘She is a traitor and thief, I knew her way back in high school. She would come to me for food and ask for my stuff’.
Ah, this woman tells lies. I said within
She continued anyway, as she slowly wheeled herself in the wheelchair towards the nave.
‘She promised me she was going to be near me in times of need. When we had to travel together after school, she left for Accra to further her education, I wasn’t in this position, I wasn’t, she made us have a blood promise, she said she loved me, and that this love we showed was real love, that she wasn’t going to leave me. No, never ever.
‘Was this a demon of some kind? Where did she come from? I knew she was absolutely lost, none of what she said was about me’.
The church reacted, my parents opened their eyes wide, and out of the blue, my husband-to-be slapped me on my cheek.
‘Ouch’, I cried out loud. I fell to my knees, the effect of this man’s slap. He was well-built, handsome and a lady’s ideal choice. I marvelled at his action.
‘Lesbian,’ my husband-to-be called me, it was a whisper. He rolled his eyeball at me and looked at me with indescribable disgust.
The people in the church looked at us at the top of the altar, my father rushed to hit my husband-to-be back, but mummy rushed to stop him.
‘Stop this’, the lady in the wheelchair continued, she called for calmness.
‘Let me end this!’ She said.
‘We caressed and had fun that night, girl lovers, we shared pure and original love. Then she promised, that, I would only marry a man to cover up my love for you’
My husband-to-be struck me again, he was about to hit me the second time when I hastily left the altar in tears, to sit by my father.
His best man held his hand in a successful effort to restrict him from being more harmful.
‘Are you okay, what is wrong with you, Julian?’
‘Stop this at once.’ Mummy arose and Reverend gave her the platform, attention was drawn to her. Like two players playing lawn tennis, all heads turned to mum’s side now.
Let this gibberish cease. What humiliation to our name.
These two have not yet been put together in holy matrimony. Julian has proven to be the worst material for my daughter ever.
Everyone seemed amazed. Was this woman backing up her daughter’s disloyal act? The facial expressions told the story.
‘Church’, mother continued, ‘before my daughter got engaged, I had a strange dream. In this dream, she was being beaten by a beast. This dream perturbed me, and like every good mother, I was greatly disturbed.
On the Thursday before their engagement on Friday, I quietly entered their room and like a direction from God, after my search in the first three bags of Julian I saw the fourth one had a journal. These were the words I saw in the journal…
‘Oh Priscilla, I wished I could love you more, you became my sweetheart and everything, but my temper couldn’t keep you close for long.
Now you’re gone, deep in my house’s lawn. Everyone believes you were sick and in pain. Oh Prissy dear, accept my apology, forgive me, I’m very sorry.
I continued to the next page, and it read,
My dear Lisa, sex with you had been terrible. Anytime I asked you to turn your backside for me, you refuse, but remember I am the man, and you are my woman.
In pain you made me wish to exploit you and the other night, while on holiday, you had to make me force you to have sex and you fell into a coma after I totally beat you and hurt you. It’s bad a stranger saw me and you were able to escape as I tried to put your body in the ground.
I killed that brat who saw us anyway. But for you, I know you wouldn’t make it out of the Lakeside forest. Poor you, next time you’ll listen.
Julian watched the priest, the priest watched my mother, and my mother continued.
Lisa, you now sit in this wheelchair, sorry about your predicament. Thank you for not agreeing to let me counsel my daughter out of this marriage once you told me about it, you knew she was head over heels in love with this beast.
This was the best way to do this. We fought and this was our victory, now she’ll listen to us, and run away from him.
Julian rushed from the altar in haste to Louisa’s seat.
‘You’re dead’, he said moving towards her.
A young man from the crowd shouted, ‘You dare not,’ he pulled out a black pistol.
‘Julian, I am Prissy’s brother and investigating my sister’s death has been a delightful experience’.
You move, or you’re dead.
Julian moved, and his last move was his death, people scattered, others cried over his death, his family of course and my heart rejoiced, that, my mother had been wise, and I had once again fit in God’s lovely plan.
Image credit forsteranglican.com