The African Marriage Poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo

The African Marriage



Festive! Festive! Festive!
It was ringing in the air
It spoke out to all of us; it spoke out to me most
It was the story of the white man that sought to marry a black woman
Bekee Bekee, the bride’s entourage and women yelled for me
It was in the night and I could hear beautiful music outside the hut where I stayed
Waiting earnestly for the bride to dance out at the gyration of the evening sky
That was the way it was done in Africa
I remember the day of the “Iku Aka”, as they called it
Kneeling down, I presented the bride price to Ifeoma’s father
And took full responsibility of Ifeoma’s care and the wedding
It was different everywhere else I have been to
In India, the bride’s family paid the bride price while in Korea the bride handles the engagement party
No, Africa was one of a kind
They insisted that I have the ceremony here instead of outside as I initially intended
But I did it all for Ifeoma
She was beautiful with smoothly and wonderfully curved stature
Despite her accent, the English she spoke were like wine to the empty cups of my soul
Her smiles made me shaky and sent my heart throbbing
Bekee, the women interrupted again
That was what they called me ever since I set my foot on their land
It was time for the wedding; I observed the night lit by burning sticks serving as lamps
I heaved a sigh, very uneasy within, not knowing what to expect
I bowed my head, pushing aside the curtains that served as doors, as I came out to the open
And through the louder pleasant music and the brighter burning sticks
Stood Ifeoma, more beautiful than ever with those alluring figures, in the midst of that evening gyration

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