Tribal Wars (E1 – E2)

E2 - Tribal Wars

If you lived in the streets of Lagos which is notoriously famous for being one of the busiest cities in the world, you’d have to be logical enough to keep a little amount of anti-anxiety pills near you at all times. From crazy ‘Agberos’ who call themselves the sons of the land without conferring with the major populace before assuming this heirship title; to pervert looking individuals who sought for the slightest provocation from any passerby to demand some “settlement” money, to the mind-numbing traffic that flooded the city 24hrs a day. The shenanigans that littered the streets of Lagos was not for the faint of heart. it was nearly impossible to keep it together. Lagos was a jungle. Maybe one of the lushest jungle for survival you’d find anywhere in the world. It was beauty and pain all masked into one.

“Eko óni baje.”

An on-air speaker ranted to anyone who cared to listen. This was probably the ingenious idea of one of the leading political parties to remind the populace that Lagos will never lose its flavor. It was highly ridiculous but true. Lagos was the home for all and none. How ironic was that?

As Bola looked around carefully observing, she realized quickly that she hated and loved it all at once. The hustle, the bustle, the fierceness, the beauty, the noise, the need to be on top of your game at all times, and the wild party sound that masked the air twenty-four hours a day.

Nowhere in Nigeria could compete with the outstanding number of Owambes and events that filled the streets of Lagos everyday. There was always an occasion to attend, or an asoebi to buy for a friend’s wedding party.

But today, it was her turn. She threw a quick glance at the boot of the car and smiled to herself. Her wedding to Ebuka was just around the corner, and there was nothing that could stop her from getting the wedding of her dreams. The lush wedding that’ll be on the front cover of Bella Naija’s wedding latest magazine issue. A wedding that’ll be the talk of the town. How ecstatic! She could imagine her friends swooning over the pictures and world-class decor. This wedding was gonna be the talk of the entire town for months to come, and she was gonna revel in it because she’d put in a lot of effort to make it so.

Despite the amount of excitement she tried to convince herself to have, she couldn’t help but feel terrible about the whole wedding plan. Yes! She was getting married to the love of her life, and a man who worshipped her every step. Ebuka loved her dearly and could go at any length to prove it. Even to the extreme. Maybe that love that could ditch anyone and anything was not enough to sustain her to the wedding. She feared for herself, and mostly she felt terrible for Ebuka who now had to choose between the two most important people in his life.

His mom or his fiancée. It was the deadliest of all choices.

As she watched the traffic closely, she observed from her side view that an old yet heavily loaded truck was trying to intercept her way with his rear bumper.

“Oga what’s the matter with you. Do you intend to scratch my car with your rickety and beaten vehicle?” she yelled at him.

“Oloriburuku à won lele ó.”

She quickly uttered a swear word at him as she sped into the clear road. The Yoruba national anthem.

In Lagos, you had to be brutal, witty, and smart in order to survive or you risked getting stuck in traffic for the whole day.

As she sped off into the road, she quickly shot a prayer to the sky, hoping that the gods that governed traffic in Lagos will hear her quiet supplication to hold traffic till she got to her destination. It was 12:30 pm in the afternoon, and she’d spent the better part of the day; a sum total of 4hrs on the road. Lagos had that effect on everyone. You’d practically be exhausted for the most part of the day.

Bola’s phone beeped in the heat of the day. It was Ada on the other end.

“Bola what’s taking so long, the designer will be closing soon na!”

“Ada! You know how terrible traffic can be. I’m still on the road. I’d be there soon.”

“I’m fifteen minutes away from the luxury boutique, please tell her to wait a little longer.”

“Alright oo! Please hurry. Is Ebuka coming with you?”

“Nope, he’s not here. I’m coming alone.”

Silence.

“Alright, see you soon.”

Ada was Bola’s best friend, and the two had stuck with each other through thick and thin. Even though they were from different social systems and had different personalities, they were inseparable; despite their differences. Two peas in a pod. Ada was a friend she could rely on to take care of the last-minute wedding shenanigans including her dress fittings as they were almost the same size. She’d not forgotten her fittings and finishing session with luxury boutique, her plug for her wedding dress. Even though Ada has been with the designer since the inception, Bola needed to make some adjustments here and there to make it completely perfect.

As she hurried into the luxury boutique, she couldn’t help but ask herself if she was not making a dreadful mistake. Even if she faked a smile, forced a laugh, danced, and played the part before Ebuka and her friends, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. The luxury wedding, and get- away honeymoon to the most romantic islands in the southern isles. Her life seemed like a Disney movie, but even all Disney happily ever after had a villain. Bola couldn’t kid herself anymore, she knew that even if Ebuka was obstinate about going on with the wedding, underneath the facade, he was unhappy with the underlying circumstances that preceded it.

Ebuka loved his mother dearly, and even if she had refused to give consent to the marriage because of her tribal preferences, bola would have preferred if they’d waited a little longer, till his mother came around to the idea of accepting her.

“THAT GIRL HAS NO PLACE IN THIS HOUSE.”

Mama’s obstinate words are echoed in Bola’s ears. They’d gone to ask for her blessings, and as soon as Ebuka’s mom had learned about her tribe and place of origin, she’d immediately turned hostile and declared to never give her blessings to a “Yoruba girl”.

Of course, her reason for this had not been clear. The Igbo’s and Yorubas have always been at loggerheads from time immemorial, but one would think that with the influx of education and exposure from social media, all of this age-long antagonistic beliefs would have died off, but the contrary was the case with Ebuka’s mom.

She’d blatantly refused their union, and condemned Bola, calling her a slut amidst other derogatory implicating terms.

But it is said that amidst an act of irrationality clearly lay rational thoughts. Her hard aversion towards Bola was not far fetched from her husband’s infidelity with a similar Yoruba girl before his death. Ebuka’s dad had been a promiscuous man who entertained his sexual fantasies with dark-skinned Yoruba girls. Not long before Ebuka’s mom had found out about his promiscuity and confronted him, he’d had a terrible vehicle collision with a drunk-driving truck driver. The impact had killed him instantly. Leaving Young Ebuka to a distraught mother who swore to hate her husband’s memory and the Yoruba girl that entertained his fancy and ruined her marriage during his lifetime.

Who would have thought that her son would fall in love with, and bring home a Yoruba woman too? It was too much for her and brought back fresh memories of her looks from the past. To her, everything Yoruba was totally evil, disastrous, and unhealthy.

“Thank you, the dress looks perfect,” she said to the designer, and she smiled at Ada. Ada was that friend that made your life easier. A friend who had become a sister.

As they hurried out of the luxury store and walked casually towards the car, Bola noticed that the weather had changed. It appeared a storm was brewing on the mainland, and it’ll only be a little while before the island got cut in the storm as well. They had to get out of there immediately. In Lagos, Storms mean traffic, and traffic means they’d be unable to reach their houses on time.

“If this rain starts, we’re bound to reach the estate very late. if we’re home by 11 pm today, then we’d be very lucky,” Bola cursed out loud.

As soon as they entered the car, it began to drizzle. Bola felt her phone beep furiously. It was Ebuka’s mother.

She crossed her heart quickly and shot a quick prayer to heaven to save her as she received the call with a dread of what was to come.

“Hello mama,” she answered feigning enthusiasm. “How are you today? I hope the weather has not affected you?”

“Who’s your mama?” A voice thundered at the other end of the phone. Ebuka’s mom was definitely not having it.

” You Yoruba witch, who do you think you are?…calling me mama…I’m not a mother to a slut like you” she hissed

“I’m sorry ma,” Ada replied, playing to the gallery.

“Now, I’ve come to warn you to stay clear from my son Ebuka. Yorubas and Igbos cannot settle and advance their age-long feud with my son’s life. Move on and stop planning that wedding because it would not hold. Ebuka is my son, I nurtured him for nine months in my belly, milked for one year, and I know him better than anyone else. He’d do as I say eventually. He’d listen to his mother and not some YORUBA gir…l he picked from the brothel. Do you understand me? Stay clear from my son.” She yelled and hung up afterward.

Bola burst into tears immediately. Why was she getting blackmailed and called derogatory names because of something that she could not explain? What did her tribe have to do with her love for Ebuka? She couldn’t understand it.

This was becoming too much for her to bear. How could they begin to call off the wedding when they’d just sent out invitation cards. Would mama ever see reason to let her ‘yorubaness’ be?

“Bola calm down. You should not let that woman upset you so much anymore. You should just focus on your love for Ebuka. that’s all that matters. That’s all that should be enough.” Ada counseled while trying to placate Bola’s feelings.

Bola could not help but wonder if her love for Ebuka was truly enough to sail the boat of a marriage. Was love always enough? Yes, it was the most important thing for marriage, but was it always the only requirement needed to sail the boat?

Ebuka still maintained his unmoving position on the matter. He would marry her without receiving blessings from his mother. He seemed to be okay with this thought, but she wasn’t, not when she was getting such blackmails all the time.

“Does Ebuka know of all this? Does he know that his mother is continuously harassing you in this manner?” Ada asked as if reading her mind.

“I told him about it once Ada.. He immediately reprimanded his mother. Ever since that happened, she stopped taking his call. She now avoids Ebuka’s calls because of me.”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for everything Bola. It’s really no one’s fault that she bears so much grudge in her heart. You can’t blame yourself for that too. You must tell Ebuka about this. That woman needs to stop!”

“Ebuka has got too many things on him right now,” Bola answered. “I don’t want to burden him any further.”

“Well, I love you Bola, but we can’t keep playing by your timid rules if we’re gonna get this to work in any way. Give me your phone.”

“What are you going to do?” Bola inquired nervously.

“Just give me the phone Bola. I need to speak with Ebuka myself. He needs to find a way to stop his mother or call it quits. A man who cannot control his mother should not be taking the responsibility of a wife in the first place. It’s not proper!” she announced.

“No, you can’t do that Ada,” Bola threatened.

“Well, watch me do just that Bola”

Bola noticed the storm had intensified in the cause of their heated brawl. She watched as Ada, her best friend, took out her iPhone and dialed Ebuka’s number.

“Hello, Ada?” A deep voice grunted on the other end.

“Hello, Ebuka. We need to talk right now.”

…

Bola closed her eyes as Ebuka hugged her deeply, and planted a kiss on her chick. They were outside his mother’s house, and they’ve come to settle the matter once and for all with her.

Ebuka held her hands as they walked into the house. She was nervous, and she knew he was too, but he always had a way of looking unruffled in the face of anguish.

As the doorbell rang, Nkechi the house help opened the door and quickly uttered in a courteous manner.

‘Ah..welcome brother. Welcome aunty” she said addressing Bola and ebuka simultaneously.

“Where’s mama?” Ebuka asked instantly, he was clearly in no mood for pleasantries.

“She’s upstairs sir, let me inform her you’re here.” She replied and ran upstairs.

As Ebuka’s mom strode majestically down the stairs, Bola could not help but admit that she was indeed beautiful. Ebuka undoubtedly took all his good looks from his mother.

“Ebuka so you’ve finally remembered that you have a mother ehn?” She said startling Bola from her reverie. “And why have you brought that Yoruba girl with you?” Have you finally come to your senses?”

“Mama I’m here to pay you respect as the son of this house. I’ve not changed my mind to marry Bola. I never will,” Ebuka retorted sharply.

Mama laughed hysterically. Her chest heaving from the weight of it. “This girl’s Yoruba juju must be very strong o! What did you give to my son ehn? You witch!” She asked Bola.

“Mama enough!” Ebuka thundered.

“If you’ll not see reason with me, and try to accept my love for Bola, I’m afraid I’d have to cut you off from your grandchildren, the ones yet to be born.”

“Ewooo! Chinese ooo!.” Ebuka’s mom thundered and wailed.

Ebuka had struck a chord. Parents cherished their children, but more than that it was every African woman’s dream to hold and caress her grandchildren. It was their pride, the moment they lived for. To prevent this was an abomination.

It was the final statement. One that could not be taken back. As bola watched all this, she hated to put the grandmother of her future children in such a position, but wasn’t this the only way out? The only way to stop the blackmails and get her to bless the marriage?

It was this or nothing else. This age-long feud between the warring tribes had lasted for too long. Maybe the only way to stop the war was to start a new war.

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