Yefon: The Red Necklace (34 page)

“We have come up with a list of items for her bride price,” Fai started off graciously. “Are our in-laws ready to learn of them?”

I didn’t hear the response, but I assumed it was a unanimous nod. Fai went on to name an appalling list of gifts expected as my bride price, which was required before the traditional wedding. Among them, were barrels of palm wine, palm oil, bags of salt,
bvey
s, three cows, various loincloths, tools, money, and underwear for all my female relatives.

I didn’t hear what was said in response, but Veyeh walked towards me, blocking the sunlight with his figure. With my eyes covered, my other senses were wide alert. He smelt like dried pumpkins and his toes were really nicely shaped up close. My
sha
η
g
was warming up really fast now which combined with the
heat I was feeling from beneath the wrapper, I could scarcely move.

My mind was racing as I wondered what was going to happen. Then the cover was gently lifted off my body. The first thing that I felt was the cool breeze on my sensitive breasts. Suddenly embarrassed, my hands flew to their rescue as I folded my arms over my breasts. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and for a second, my eyes were too flooded with light to see. As I was adjusting from no lights to shine, I found myself looking at his face. True to the rumors, Veyeh was one of the most handsome, well-groomed men I had ever met.

His dreadlocks were carefully pinned in a bun with a dry bone. He had a five o’clock shadow with a well-groomed brown henna-dyed beard that graced his chin, a cowry at the end. Seven identical cuts glared boldly on his forehead, and I tried my best not to stare at them rudely.

His eyes spoke volumes about something I didn’t quite understand but I just knew that this man was not the man for me. I don’t know why I felt that way, but I did.

We were both silent for a minute, unsure of what to say to each other, studying each other’s faces. His eyes dropped to my arm-covered bosom, and I looked away. This time around, Kadoh was in the room and I made eye contact with her. She opened her eyes playfully, making me smile and my tension melted away. I was able to say what I had rehearsed the whole time in the tub when I was being groomed.

“Wonderful to make your acquaintance, my prince.” I curtsied, politely, my posture upright as Shamwun had hammered down my spine.

He looked at me in a very denigrating manner as if I were feces, but he only nodded silently and walked towards his family. I felt a little insulted. I put on my best behavior and all I got was the cold shoulder.
Nyamnko
! I tried to communicate with him telepathically by sending him the message that I didn’t want to be his wife. An instant dislike for my groom began on my part.

Dutifully, I had to follow him to meet and greet the rest of his entourage, including the
vibay
, who were hugging and congratulating me, and of course his little brother, who shook my hand coldly without looking at my face. Did these royal brats
think they were too good for everyone, I wondered, rolling my eyes and sharing a disgusted look with Kadoh.

After a few perfunctory greetings, the boys returned to their carriage while I stayed back greeting my mother and some of my aunts. Samba was staring at me with eyes that said “Slut, get your behind in this carriage, so we can be done with this,” but I spitefully, stayed longer than I had to, greeting every auntie and uncle in a painfully slower way than necessary. After all, they couldn’t leave me behind and return to their palace.

Ma was whispering like a giggly teenager trying to confess to her best friend about her first kiss.

“I hope you tell us everything about tonight when you return.”

I only smiled and thought to myself how it was odd that my mother beat me up my whole life and suddenly wanted to attempt this kind of mother-daughter
vidou
bond in my early twenties. I knew I would not be telling her anything. She would have to thank her ancestors if she even heard any gossip from another person because there would be nothing to tell. I thought of telling Ma to take the bride price money and buy herself a jug of
sha’
but I didn’t.

I learned many things that day. Firstly, I got many spiteful looks from Veyeh’s little brother, Samba. He was equally tall, but not as graceful looking or as handsome. He was more on the tough side. He had seven cuts on his forehead, identical to Veyeh’s, and I soon learned he was an arrogant fellow who loved to fight at every given opportunity. He looked frightful, especially because his eyebrows were shaved and tattooed with secret writings.

I tried to decipher the wordings, but I was clueless. I later learned that Samba had gone to war with the Nso troops in many intertribal wars while Veyeh was off in Yola at one of the new universities at Ibadan studying the white man’s book. This probably accounted for their immense variances.

The uncomfortable way my
sha
η
g
tingled around Samba should have given me a heads-up that there was possible danger coming my way, but I was too young and scatterbrained to pay attention to peoples’ body language like I do now. The one thing I was right about was that I knew not to trust him.

I jumped on board the royal carriage, and soon we were on our way to the palace to meet their father. His Royal Highness, Fon Nsem Mbinglo II, was a wise king in his fifties who was loved and respected by all. Kadoh had walked me to the carriage.

“I don’t want to do this!” I cried to her.

“I will visit you tomorrow, but it’s your engagement day, just enjoy it. Can you do that?”

I nodded slowly. She hugged me tight, and then helped me into the carriage.

There was only one empty seat left, the one by Veyeh, and he was reading a book. I was fascinated, as I crawled in next to him. Curiosity pushed me to try to peek in the book, and he carefully folded the book inward as if to keep me away from seeing it. I got the message and looked away.

My family was still dancing with the carriage, leading us in a triumphant entry into the palace. I could feel Samba’s burning gaze on me from the opposite seat as I looked outside.

If one used a knife to slice through the air in the carriage, it would cut into two cold chunks of a jello-like substance, and none of us could deny that.

Once at the palace, I jumped out quickly for a breath of fresh air and to clear my head. The delicious smell of
khatikatih
that was being prepared by some of the
vikiynto’
for the event floated in the air. A dancing group led us into the Fon’s meeting room, which had unique walls fitted tightly together with smooth logs of bamboo. It was a spectacle indeed.

I had never been in this room, but my Pa had. He did not exaggerate when he spoke of the lion’s head on the wall with its mouth opened wide, or the gold six foot tall throne which was covered by a magical reddish carpet with gold posts. Two bare-chested guards stood on guard day and night to guard this prized possession of the palace.

The only thing Kadoh knew about the palace was the strict protocol that was required to be in Fon Nto’s presence, but her warning hadn’t prepared me for what I was about to see. The palace attendants, or n
sheelav
, immediately greeted us at the entrance, and instructed all the men who had previously greeted the Fon formally, or
bun Fon
, to wear their ‘country caps’ which we called
gham
and enter the room.

Veyeh and Samba were then escorted in, with Loh ushering me in right after them. Women were required to walk with our backs bent in the presence of the Fon’s Chair. Everyone looked at me which cheered me up.

I joked to myself that if this was the ceremony just for the engagement, I couldn’t imagine what the marriage ceremony would be like.

A few minutes later, two ever-present nobles came into the room to announce the Fon’s entrance. We all stood respectfully, women with their backs bent slightly forward and men standing upright. My back ached and I wanted to stand and stretch it, but I knew better.

Unlike most of the villagers, including my own mother and sisters, I had never really been interested in royal life. I never attended royal gatherings when I was younger, mostly because I was grounded, and when I was older because I didn’t feel like it. As a result, I was unfamiliar with royal etiquette, but I still wanted to make a good impression regardless.

Fon Nto’ sat down, his entourage all around him. The whole room clapped loudly three times in quick succession while leaning forward as a ritual of respect. Then, he motioned for us to take our seats.

Looking around, he cracked a joke. “Where is the new
bvey
that has come to eat corn in our field,” he asked playfully. A slight giggle travelled around the room, lightening the mood. I liked him already.

“Where is Yefon?” he asked, more like a loud whisper to his
nshiylav
.

Someone sitting next to me poked me eagerly. I almost yelped. I rose, and walked toward him with my back bent. He watched me curiously as I approached, and I prostrated myself before his feet. Fon Nto’ touched my back with a stick, a sign for me to stand, which I did, and we studied each other.

Up close, he had gray hair, a stubby beard and a big hairy stomach, which was typical of most affluent men at the time. He also had the same seven-lined scarification that his sons had across their foreheads, and my eyes briefly swept over them before returning my attention to his dress. He was wearing a long sari with cowries all over, and leather sandals with ropes tied all the way to his shin.

“My daughter, welcome into our family,” Fon Nto’ greeted me politely, laying his stick on my back again. I nodded shyly, and then he smiled.

“
Nyah
,” I responded dutifully, bowing as I spoke. Nyah is a respectful way of saying yes to the chief, so a person could literally only say nyah for all their responses. Another peculiar thing was that you spoke to him in the third person as if you were referring to someone else.

“
Mtaar
, your father was a very strong warrior, a friend of the palace and the people. I wish he was here to see this day.”

“
Nyah
” I responded, bowing my head. If my father were here, there wouldn’t have been a marriage, period!

“Where are the kola nuts?” the Fon called out.

One of my people brought some and Fon Nto’ broke one, chewed it, and spat it on the floor, a sign that our engagement was blessed.

The rest of the day was spent celebrating. Several xylophones,
nchum
, and chongs were present and the villagers danced heartily, sweating and shouting as they danced from side to side, front to back, then round and round, matching the beats of the
nchum
.

Elders sat in a corner, enjoying fresh palm wine and nodding their heads in admiration. Samba’s face was strong as stone; the words on his tattooed eyebrows seemed to be changing, or perhaps I was seeing things.

I was seated next to Veyeh, who offered me no word during the whole event. He only gently nodded his head momentarily; the way rich people do at public events as if they are too special to be on the dance floor.

Many people came up to us to offer us gifts—
nkem
of
ngwv
∂
v
s or trays of eggs, among other things.

My half sister, Sola, came with a beautiful
nwa
but she stood before Veyeh, placing herself in a very seductive manner. Her skin looked soft as if they had bathed her in milk which her mother literally did some times.

It seemed as though he was admiring her and I battled within myself. Not out of jealousy but I knew Veyeh needed to take about thirty wives to maintain his legacy as king, and my half
sister could be one of them. I didn’t want to be married to the same man as my sister, especially that sister.

I tried to overhear their conversations, but they spoke in nothing but soft sensual whispers. From the way Sola batted her eyelashes pretentiously and threw her head backwards in an exaggerated laughter, I could tell that she wanted me to see and hear them.

“There are other parts of me that are ready for you, my Lord.” That line was the only clear thing I heard, and that was it! Hot, passionate jealousy swept through my veins like lava from an erupting mountain. This man wouldn’t even say ONE thing to me, and here he was shamelessly flirting with my beautiful sister in MY presence.

In fact, I didn’t want to be married! My drifting eyes wandered to the Fon and his entourage of about sixty wives. Their breasts sagged like flat tires and their teeth were a deep yellow like curry stew. I couldn’t take my eyes off that particular scene, and my eyes burned with annoyance. I was only twenty years old! I needed to be out in the world discovering things, not sitting there marrying for comfort and position. I wanted to marry a man I loved, if I married at all.

Kadoh had told me that after a man and woman were married, they would go to a dark room and he would enter her. She said it felt like thunder and lightning sent in bolts to your private parts. I didn’t want to feel that.

An already tipsy Kadoh came to ask me for a dance. She was holding a giant mug of
sha’
and her face was decorated with colored clay, and a crown of green leaves topped her chubby head. How she came up with all these ideas remained a mystery but only Kadoh could pull it off.

She dragged me to the dance floor shaking her buttocks to the
nchum
, her colorful beads wobbling musically around her waist as she danced. I could see a string of men admiring her and she knew what she was doing. Even though Kadoh was plus sized, she had a lot of sex appeal and knew her way around men, a skill that I had not acquired.

“You will need a few dregs of wine to prepare you for what you will experience tonight.”

I rolled my eyes uncomfortably. The earth roasted beneath my feet, and I fanned myself. “I will not be experiencing anything tonight.”

Kadoh responded with a dry laugh that sounded like fire.

Somewhere deep inside of me I was nervous but also excited. I wanted to know what it felt like.