Child Bride

It's high time, we do something about child marriages in Nigeria

Child marriagesI hear my father talking about a wedding
I am thrilled
Perhaps, my cousin Sefina is getting married
Ah!!!!Lots of trinkets, lots of spices
Lots of music, lots of food.
I hear my father call to me; Alhaji Musa is here again
Only this time, with more men; He looks at me with those eyes
As if to bribe me to convince Sefina to marry him; I smile
old men and their funny looks
Mother is standing at the corner of the room; Her head is bowed, she looks sad
I know she would miss Sefina; I would too
I kneel before Alhaji Musa as usual
Him and his escorts nod their head, while father dismisses me
I run to the yard to play ball with my kings
My kings, my brothers, my protectors
Its unusual, they kick with no zest
While they talk in hushed tones
I ignore them and grab the ball; Watching out for father’s footsteps
I wasn’t ready for the behave-like-a-lady sermon
My kings are still lost in conversation; I try to interfere, but their voices vanish
They keep straight faces, I laugh and ignore them.
So they would miss Sefina?; Boys and their pretence…
If I get married, I want my husband to love me openly
Not like papa and mama…; Treating feelings like an abomination
I remember my English teacher
Anytime, her husband drops her at school
They hug and kiss. I giggle to myself
I want mine to be like that as well; I and my king waltzing on the dance floor
Like Cinderella and her prince; I shall be liberated!
My mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts; She calls out to me
Her eyes are dark, my joy melts into worry; Everyone would miss Sefina
I have to assist her in the kitchen for dinner
She always tells me I have to learn all these ""things""; that I would get married and have responsibilities
That’s a long way from now; At my age? 13years?
No, what I want to do is be a lawyer; And choose my husband myself!
Not some old Alhaji…
I once said that and I got the scolding of my life
She told me, my life didn’t belong to me
My life belonged to my husband, an old alhaji
Me and an old alhaji?
I’d rather dress in pink than marry some Old Alhaji
All that was two weeks ago…
Now I’m eating my words
Crying my eyes out
While my mum is dressing me up with tears in her eyes
I’m still 13yrs old and Sefina is doing the cooking, not getting married
It happens I was the white elephant, everyone ignored
Now I know why my kings were frowning; I know why my mother’s eyes were dark
Now, I know the reason for Alhaji’s visits were not for Sefina
Now, I would be no lawyer; I would have no prince charming
I would do no waltzing; I would be no Cinderella
Because I have no choice
My mother finally finishes and drops the veil to cover my face
Sefina and my other female relatives join to escort me to meet Alhaji and his escorts
I shiver in fear, I must be dreaming
I see my kings, standing at the corridor
They were lucky not to be born female
Their heads are bowed
No more football, no more hide and seek
No more school…
I thought it would take forever to meet Alhaji
Maybe I’d be 25 by then; a lawyer, before we get to him
But now I’m kneeling before him with tears in my eyes
I still thought of Cinderella, I still hated pink
I still loved school, I still loved football
I was getting married to Alhaji
I was still 13 yrs old.....

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 220 - Keke

Nigerian Fiction Title 105