The Wedding Protest #EndSars
‘You have to smile oh! It’s supposed to be your wedding.’
‘But I’m smiling…’
‘That is not a smile. It’s a big day, darling. Don’t ruin it.’ My mother said, wearing a sad smile herself.
It’s my wedding day today and as you must have guessed, it is not exactly the happiest day of my life. I love my husband-to-be. In fact, I don’t see myself spending the rest of my life with anybody but him. He’s my light, my love, my life. He is mine and I am his…but we just fumbled while picking the wedding date.
Today is the anniversary of my brother’s death. It hurts to even think about it. Sam Sam, like he liked to be called, was three years my senior but people always assumed we were twins because of how identical we looked.
He was my mother’s first child and only son. The apple of my father’s eyes and the golden crown on my mother’s head. For the excessive love and attention my parents paid him while he was alive (and even in death), I should have hated him. But I couldn’t. I mean, you just couldn’t hate Sam Sam. His beauty, his generosity, and the way he made you feel like you were the most special person in the world to him. The way he doted on me and our little sister like we were eggs he was afraid to break.
He was my everything…closer to me than my parents could ever dream to be. He knew all my boyfriends when I had my first kiss, and how bad my lecturer’s breath was when he tried to force himself on me. He knew all the details I was even shy to admit to myself, and yet, he never judged me or worse, reported me to our parents. Sam Sam was perfect.
When he was 20 and I was 17, we lost our father in a terrible bout of pneumonia. We were young then, but old enough to hear the hushed whispers and family meetings that were held after our father’s demise. Apparently, my father didn’t die of natural causes. He had been attacked by black magic…and they were coming for my brother next. Giving no credence to all that voodoo talk, we ignored it and tried adjusting to life without a father. Sam Sam assumed the role immediately and even started doing some menial jobs to support my mother.
It was really noble of him, seeing as my father saw to it that we never needed to work for one naira till our third generations. But Sam Sam was excited to work. He loved to see the look on my mother’s face when he handed her a measly N1000 note and bought hair products for me and Sharon. It fulfilled him. And so, Sam Sam continued to work until our uncles abroad intervened and insisted he goes back to school. After a lot of persuasions, he was enrolled in a private university to study medicine. A few years later, I joined him.
‘Sam Sam, have you ever thought about marriage?’
‘Yeah, just once.’
We were both seated on a concrete slab under an almond tree in the school’s orchard. It was in the evening and we were both resting till we had to walk back to our hostels. We met there after lectures every day to catch up.
‘Really?’ I teased with a sly smile. ‘Was it Ada you were dreaming about abi Aisha?’
He chuckled. ‘Nah. I was thinking about you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah. It was after Daddy died sha. You told me about how your boyfriend broke up with you because you weren’t giving him enough attention while mourning. At that point, I promised myself that you will never marry a douchebag like him while I was still alive.’
‘Awww.’ I cooed as I held his hands tightly, resting my sweaty head on his shoulders.
‘When I walk you down the aisle, I want to be sure that you have the biggest smile on your small face. I don’t want to walk you to your doom and that’s my greatest fear.’
‘Well, that got deep fast.’
‘You asked. You know I always think deep thoughts.’ He laughed at himself and in turn, rested his head on mine.
~~~~
‘Stella!’
I jerked up in surprise. I had no idea that I had zoned off while thinking about Sam Sam. He was supposed to be right here, with me. Getting all dressed up in his suit, looking all dapper, and making sure nobody stressed me unnecessarily. He would also make sure the driver didn’t have an obvious stench of alcohol all over the car I was supposed to ride to church. Who is this man?
I was too exhausted to speak and so, I just mumbled a response.
‘Are you okay?’ Sharon asked, looking at me with her big doe eyes that looked too much like Sam Sams’.
‘I’m fine, fine. Aren’t we running late? Tell the driver to move.’
The car came to a sudden start and once again, I jerked up in surprise.
‘You’re so somehow today.’
‘Let’s just get this thing over with…’
‘At least, pretend you’re happy. How do you think Tobi will feel if he sees you ruining your makeup with such an ugly frown?’ she scolded.
‘Chief bridesmaid, give me space abeg.’
It wasn’t until thirty minutes later that I noticed that we had not moved from the same spot. I looked up and to my disappointment, I found a gridlock. Trust Lagos state’s highway to be on a standstill at 7 am on a Saturday.
‘Driver, I thought this route was faster.’
‘Madam, na all those stupid children wey full road oh. Dem say dem dey protest for police. Even to pass this early morning na war. Na why I no carry the car go house yesterday. Na Okada I take come this morning.’
For three weeks now, Nigerian youths have laid siege on Nigerian roads, blocking major highways and putting the whole nation at a standstill. Why? They want the government to #EndSars. SARS is a police unit in the Nigerian Police Force created to combat armed robbery cases but recently, they had taken on a new profession – they were now the things they were fighting against. They extorted, raped, assaulted, abused, and even killed Nigerian youths – in fact, they did everything except the one thing they are actually supposed to do.
What do I think about it? Honestly, I could care less. Since my brother died, not much made sense to me anymore. Not politics, not religion, not even my job. Only with Tobi did I feel some semblance of the woman I used to be, and that’s why I am marrying him today. Well, if the protesters let me.
‘It will clear up soon.’ My sister said to placate me.
In another thirty minutes, we had moved barely an inch from where we were thirty minutes earlier and my sister’s phone was already blowing with calls from every single member of my family – including Tobi.
‘Tell them we are in traffic nah. Are we supposed to fly or trek in a wedding dress?’
‘Anna said the Pastor said he would only wait thirty minutes more. He has to officiate another wedding in less than one hour.’ She was starting to look worried but I remained unfazed. At that point, I didn’t even care what happened.
‘If he leaves, we’ll officiate our wedding. Shebi we are all children of the Most High? Ma worry.’
The driver got out of the car to check the severity of the traffic and he returned with a grim face. ‘Madam, we no go comot here in the next two hours oh.’
‘Stella, let’s take a bike. You can’t be absent at your own wedding!’
‘You must be mad. How do you expect me to use this dress to walk the streets of Lagos in the rainy season and climb a bike? What kind of suggestion is that?’
She was about to retort when her phone rang again. It was Tobi. She handed the phone to me.
‘Baby, where are you? Are you going to leave me at the altar? Tell me now, so I can start crying.’
That made me smile. ‘You’re not serious. It’s Lagos traffic jare.’
‘Enter Okada na.’
‘With my wedding dress?’
‘Yes.’
‘Never.’
‘What’s more important, your reputation, or getting married to me, the love of your entire life?’
‘When you put it like that….’ I couldn’t help but blush. He always had a way of pressing all my mumu buttons.
I summoned all the courage I could and got out of the car. People in traffic turned to look at me immediately because of the blinding white of my dress. And just as fast as their heads turned, they started making videos. I was hearing the protests chants from afar off and I was grateful I didn’t have to face that crowd. Lord knows what they would do to my dress. If Sam Sam were alive, he would have had a solution.
I walked to the motorist park, begging my dress’ train not to fall off. I put my veil over my head, so my face doesn’t get into the videos. I trudged on, while my sister loyally carried the train, ensuring that I did not trip on any extra fabric.
I was beginning to hear screams of
‘Congratulations,’
‘Let our wife pass oh,’
‘SARS don block road,’
‘SARS, see wetin you cause?’
‘Our fine wife,’
‘This night go hot oo!’
‘God when?’
‘This wedding gown go cost sha,’
‘Marry and come straight to protest,’
‘Our wife don dey lose concentration,’
‘Congratulations, honey!’
‘Come, I’ll be your pastor,’
‘Where is your husband?’
‘You dey find husband for protest ground?’
‘Na SARS oh, werey dey disguise!’
Some of the comments were downright hilarious and I had to stop for a second to laugh and comport myself. I thought we wouldn’t have to move across the protest crowd but it turned out that we actually did. I saw placards and billboards of every size and color, young and older people sitting on the tarred road and chanting ‘End Police Brutality!’ It was a moving sight to see.
‘We have a wedding in our midst!’ The girl with the megaphone screamed out and all eyes turned on me. People started cheering for me, hitting their placards, and dancing around me. Some people actually started humming the wedding march. I was overwhelmed…not with sadness, but with joy. Fresh energy filled me all of a sudden and I removed my veil, unprovoked. The crowd erupted in another round of cheers and jeers and I couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Clear the road for her! Clear the road!’ the girl screamed once again. She smiled at me and motioned for me to walk through the path they had cleared for me and I smiled back. As I walked towards the path that was conveniently shaped like a church’s aisle, all I could think about was Sam Sam.
‘Can I speak to them, please?’ I gestured to the girl with the megaphone. My sister looked at me like I was going mad because I would never ordinarily offer to do something, but it felt like something I had to do.
When I took the megaphone and stood on the makeshift podium, the crowd erupted once more.
‘Uhhh…thank you so much for the warm welcome. Uhhh…I don’t usually do this but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.
I have never raised my fists or used my voice or my platform to support this cause since it was started…’ A few members of the crowd started to shift angrily. ‘…because it comes too close to home.’
I stopped for a few seconds to regain my composure and the crowd waited…patiently.
‘Today is the sixth anniversary of my elder brother’s murder and I have never spoken about him until now. Because I was bullied and threatened to silence. Sam Sam was the greatest man I had ever met, the noblest, the most generous…but his life was cut short because of me.
I attended a party with a few of my friends from the university but the party got rough when some cultists joined us. They had already started throwing bottles and knives when I called my brother to come to pick me up. I was scared and I didn’t know who to call. I couldn’t leave by myself either because it was almost midnight.
Like the perfect brother that he was, he left his reading table and came to me. We were about to start leaving when armed thugs walked into the scene – I would later find out that they were SARS officers.’ The crowd roared like they already knew the end of my story. I cleared my throat and forged on, conscious of the thousands of cameras recording me at that moment.
‘They ended up taking my brother, and two other guys – anybody but the cultists who had already grazed their palms. I pleaded and cried but they refused. Told me to come to the station to bail him out. Before my mother and uncles came from outside town the following morning, my brother was already dead. They said he had been resisting and even tried to escape the police station.
This was strange because even when they took my brother, he didn’t struggle. I was the one rolling on the floor while he continued to assure me that everything would be fine. He calmed me down and told me to make the necessary calls, but somehow, they said he resisted arrest and that was why they put a bullet in his head.
We tried to take the case further, begging them to release my brother’s body, but they refused. They threatened to burn us alive if we came to the station again. When my paternal uncle tried to pursue the case, he ended up dead with yet another bullet in his head.
Sam Sam was supposed to walk me down the aisle today but…I killed him. SARS killed him. The Police killed him. Nigeria killed him. And I just had to tell you, to let you know that you are fighting for a thousand other names you might never even hear.’
‘Justice for Sam Sam!’ someone screamed from amidst the crowd.
‘Madam, go marry first. We are waiting for you on this protest ground. It’s either they end Sars or we all die together. No retreat, no surrender. Justice for who???’
‘Justice for Sam Sam!’’
‘Justice for Sam Sam!’’
‘Justice for Sam Sam!’
‘Justice for Sam Sam!’
‘Justice for Sam Sam!’
All pictures are from Pexels and no attribution is required
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