Welcome back! So….I have concluded that, we all need a little bit (just a little, too much would be catastrophic) of Emefa’s vim to push back when doors are shut in our faces, cause eii?! Ah well…. back to our story… (Catch up on previous episodes here)

Jamal tried to focus on his laptop screen but his mind kept wandering. He had missed his dad’s call this morning and knew it could only be about Aunty Menaye’s role at his wedding. This should really not be a big deal, right? It had been a few weeks since he informed Emefa of the discussion with his dad and his aunt. Emefa had seemed to be against the idea, but that was all she had said. If only she knew what else they had said to him. He was glad he had not shared with Emefa, the other things Aunty Menaye had said about her (Emefa), else there would probably not be a wedding, to begin with.

He picked his phone and messaged Emefa.

“Babes”

Two ticks; delivered, but no reply. Emefa seemed a bit distant lately but he assumed it was wedding plans. The couple had talked about other things related to the wedding, but not Aunty Menaye. Emefa had been meeting vendors, firming up details for the wedding. Today, she had said she was meeting the caterer.

Jamal sent another message: “You good?”

Delivered. Still no reply.

“Baby”

Still nothing.

“I see you online. Say something.”

No reply.

“Emefs Estate👀“

“Ah!🤣🤣🤣 You, you’re not romantic oo.” Emefa finally replied.

“I knew that one would draw you out. 😜” Jamal teased.

“😏. I won’t even mind you. How did your presentation go?”

“Okay, I guess.“

“Just okay?”

“Yeah… couldn’t concentrate.“

“Don’t go all corny on me and say it’s cause you were thinking about me. 🙈”

“Um…now this is awkward. I was going to say I was struggling to stay awake after hanging out after work with the guys, but I’ll go with yours: ‘I was thinking about me 🤪’ “

“Ah Ji! 🤣”

Emefa laughed, covering her eyes with her right hand. Jamal just knew how to make her laugh even when she was upset. Loving him was easy and she couldn’t wait to be officially Mrs. Asare-Menako. Sigh. The mention of the family name brought thoughts of Aunty Menaye and all her troubles back to Emefa’s mind. It’s fine. We just have to get through the wedding and we can go live our lives without her. Emefa convinced herself.

It was as though Jamal had read her mind.

“So I’ve been thinking…. can we we just let Aunty Mena cut the cake with us. Doesn’t really matter okay? It’ll mean a lot to her, and me too. But of course, if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Jamal waited for Emefa to text him back. She was typing. Then not typing. Then typing. What was she going to say now? He was glad he had never let her see Aunty Menaye’s messages in response to the announcement of their engagement. He had deleted them quickly when he saw them. Emefa had his phone earlier that evening but she never asked him about it so she probably never saw them…. at least so he thought. Either way, he felt he had taken care of matters.

Aunty Menaye had asked to speak to Jamal on a number of occasions, trying to convince him to break off the engagement. But he had made it clear he was going to stick with his decision to marry Emefa. Then Aunty Menaye had said to him one day: “My church friend from the ladies wing says she saw in a vision that this is your set time to marry. Since this is the one currently, we will just accept things as they are.” Jamal had said nothing. He did not believe in all that but, if that was what it took to get Aunty Menaye on board, so be it.

His phone vibrated. It was Emefa.

“Ji. I really don’t know. I mean she raised you and means a lot to you and all. But I’m not sure it’s just about the ‘witch comment’ for me. But let’s talk more about it later and finalise things. I don’t know…”

“Sure. Cool” Jamal was relieved. Emefa seemed to be considering the possibility of giving Aunty Menaye a role. That was a good sign. He could inform Aunty Menaye over the weekend when he and Emefa went over.

*******************************************

Back at the caterer’s, Emefa sat quietly. She was supposed to be taking pictures of wedding menus to share with Jamal. Instead she was staring at her phone screen, wondering whether to let Jamal know she knew about Aunty Menaye’s comments on their engagement or not. She typed a response. Then deleted it. Typed another, then deleted it again. She really did not want Aunty Menaye to join them cut their wedding cake. It was probably just superstition but didn’t they say whoever you cut the cake with had an influence in your marriage? Did she want Aunty Menaye to cut their cake with them? She texted to ask Jamal to let them talk about it later, to which he replied, “Sure. Cool.”

Emefa looked up. The caterer was looking at her. Emefa could tell the caterer was trying to remain pleasant, but was starting to get irritated. Emefa had spent most of their discussion texting. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I was asking if you have any ideas yet on what you would like on the dinner menu.” The caterer replied.

“Oh no. Not yet. For now, I’m sharing these with my fiancé, then I’ll let you know when we’re ready. Thank you.” She took a picture of the last menu and then stood to leave. “I’ll call you.“

Emefa walked out of the restaurant, and checked how far off her Uber was. Your driver has arrived. She looked around. There he was. She opened the door at the back, and sat in the backseat. Back to work. She checked the time; she had exhausted her lunch break and had not eaten yet. Great. She’ll just pray and count it as fasting towards her wedding. She bowed her head, “Dear God, please make Aunty Menaye just leave us alone to marry in peace! Amen!” Emefa paused, That should do it, she thought. Then got lost again in wedding planning and checking Instagram pages…

******************************************

Two days later, Jamal and Emefa stopped by Aunty Menaye’s on their way back from their premarital counselling class. The two were seated in the couch, holding hands. Today was the day they had finally had the conversation about Aunty Menaye’s role at their wedding and concluded she could cut the cake with them. For Jamal, holding hands meant they had connected on a new level and were finally in agreement regarding his aunt. For Emefa, holding hands was what she needed to assure her Jamal had her back in all this and she would not live to regret it. Aunty Menaye had sent her housekeeper to let them know she was on a call and would join them shortly. The two sat waiting.

The front door opened and Mark walked in. Mark was Aunty Menaye’s youngest child. If last born privileges were a person, that would have been Mark. Aunty Menaye had had Mark at a point in her life when most people would have thought she was too old to have another baby. And his father’s identity was only known to Aunty Menaye herself. No one in her life had the courage to press her for that information. Mark had tried it as a teenager and it had not ended well for him. He learnt never to bring it up again. Instead he called his mother ‘MoDa’, his way of saying she was both his ‘Mo-ther’ and ‘Da-d’. Aunty Menaye had assumed he was just pronouncing ‘mother’ differently, so she let it go.

Jamal let go of Emefa’s hand, stood up, and extended his hand towards Mark, in a casual handshake. “Chale. How be?”

“We dey inside” Mark looked in Emefa and nodded as a way of greeting. He looked back at Jamal. “Where old girl dey?”

“She dey in room. She talk say she dey come norr but you know am. “

They both laughed. Emefa smirked. She was uneasy and really just wanted this to end so she could go home. No lectures on lateness today, hopefully.

Mark looked at Emefa. “I’m sure you can already tell my family is a weird bunch.” Then he looked back at Jamal. “And old girl with all her strictness is no exception. Some message paa she send me eh? I no dey barb.”

Then Mark looked at Emefa again. “Can you believe my mother actually sent a message asking me to send her pictures of all my female friends and then tag the ones I consider beautiful? Did she think I would not realise she was trying to figure out who my girlfriend is so she can start giving me her troubles?” He laughed and shook his head. “So I actually replied, telling her I knew what she was doing. Only for her to say something about she recently met someone’s girlfriend and was disappointed or something. This woman dierr. ” Then he half-laughed half-shrugged and turned, heading for the kitchen. He called over his shoulder, “I’m starving. I’ll be back.” He was gone.

Jamal wished Mark had not just said that. He sat again and took Emefa’s hand. This time, it felt different, there was no connection. Great. Big mouth Mark.

Emefa sat quietly, she felt small. She knew exactly who Aunty Menaye was referring to, even though Mark had no idea what he had just said. She wished she could walk out and go home. Why had she even come here again? Aunty Menaye did not mean them well. Why had she agreed to let her cut their cake with them? Jamal was holding her hand again, but the reassurance she had earlier had evaporated.

Aunty Menaye walked in. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.” She turned to Jamal, “I was on the phone with your parents. We needed to conclude who will be representing us and presenting items to your fiancée’s family.”

Emefa tightened her grip on Jamal’s hand. Why was Aunty Menaye speaking as though she, Emefa, was not sitting right there?

Jamal responded. “Oh that’s great.”

Emefa was confused. That’s great? Jamal, you did not address her acting like I’m not here too. She squeezed his hand again, and smiled at Aunty Menaye. Aunty Menaye ignored her, focusing on Jamal. Emefa, keep your cool. New year, new you.

Then Jamal started, “We actually wanted to ask you something. Would you….” Emefa sat wishing she could communicate with Jamal telepathically. She had changed her mind. No, she cannot cut her wedding cake with this woman.

Jamal continued, “… do us the honour of being the witness when we sign the marriage registry and also cut our wedding cake with us.”

Emefa’s jaw dropped. She turned to face Jamal. He was avoiding her gaze. Emefa was in shock. Aunty Menaye?! Sign as a witness to her marriage?! Oh hell no!

Aunty Menaye smiled. Clearly, her earlier conversation with her brother had achieved the results she wanted. “Of course, I will. You don’t even need to ask. It’s like a foregone thing. The way you kept long in asking, I thought there was something holding you back.” Then she looked at Emefa with a sly grin.

Aunty Menaye: 1; Emefa: Nil

[Episode 4 loading]

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Welcome back! As earlier: All events and characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This story is for entertainment purposes only. (But of course, if you find this thought-provoking or insightful in any way, that works too. 😉) Now back to where we left off… (Catch up on Tamarind E01 here)

“Ma.”

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Emefa. You should know better! What time is it? I keep reminding you are still under your father’s and my roof. This is how it starts then before I know it we are naming your children: first child, second, third, fourth, with no actual marriage rite being performed, always with the promise of ‘We’ll come and do it soon. I’ve spoken to my people. Let her wean the baby first, then I’ll come with my people to do the needful…..’ “

“Here we go again.” Emefa muttered to herself. Her mother was still talking but she had zoned out.

Emefa was replaying the conversation she had just had with Jamal on their drive back from their premarital counselling session. Jamal’s aunt had called to say his parents had decided that Jamal’s aunt who practically raised him should be the one to cut the wedding cake with Jamal and Emefa, and not Jamal’s biological mother like the two had planned.

Jamal’s parents had left him at a young age with his dad’s older sister, and travelled to Switzerland. They had planned to bring him over to join them but considering their schedules and the cost of paying someone for childcare, leaving Jamal in Ghana with Aunty Menaye seemed a better option. They called frequently and tried to visit whenever they could but it was not the same. Aunty Menaye assumed a dual responsibility of both mother and father to Jamal from an early age, through to his teenage years, until he eventually graduated from university.

So yes, it made sense that his parents would suggest she cut the cake with the couple instead of his biological mother. It should not have been a problem, except Emefa’s encounters with Aunty Menaye had not been the most pleasant. For starters, she had indirectly called Emefa a witch. And then there was her reaction to the news of their engagement.

The evening they got engaged, Jamal had shared a picture of him and Emefa, with the engagement ring on display and the caption: “Aunty Mena, I’m making you proud. I’m finally settling down to start my own family. 😁”

To which Aunty Menaye had replied. “😳You went and proposed to that girl??????”

Then she followed it with:

“Oh. I didn’t think you were serious when you introduced her to me that’s why I didn’t say anything. I thought she was just a phase that would pass.“

Then another message: “Of all the girls you’ve brought home, this is the one you chose? You know deep down that she’s not your type. How will you even go anywhere with her?

Then Aunty Menaye called. Call rejected.

“Pick my calls.” Calls again. No answer.

Unknown to Aunty Menaye, Jamal was driving and had given his phone to Emefa to read him the incoming reactions to the news of their engagement. He had sent the same picture to a few friends as well and was enjoying the ‘Finally Bro. Welcome to the table of men’ and the ‘Whose daughter agreed to let you trouble her like this?’ reactions he was getting. Only for Aunty Menaye to react this way? No. Emefa decided she was not going to let Aunty Menaye ruin their moment.

“Any new messages?” Jamal asked.

“Nope…nothing” Emefa lied.

Another message from Aunty Menaye: “Marriage is serious business. Why marry someone who is not your ideal and then cheat and bring disgrace to our family?”

Aunty Menaye called again. And again, Emefa rejected the call quickly.

Then Aunty Menaye concluded her messages with: “Ah well. It’s your choice. I’ve said what I have to say. I’ve done my dirty. Call me back.”

Emefa was sure Aunty Menaye meant to type ‘I’ve done my duty‘ and not ‘dirty‘. But given what she had just said, ‘dirty’ worked just as well.

Jamal stopped at the traffic light and glanced at Emefa. “You’re suddenly quiet. Why? Something on your mind?”

Emefa shook her head ‘No’. She dreaded if she spoke, she might cry. She hated to be seen crying. She considered it weakness. She fought back the tears. Her lips were trembling, she tucked them in. Her hands were shaking, she clasped them together in her lap. She turned and looked out the window instead, involuntarily making eye contact with an apple seller. The hawker walked swiftly to her window and stopped. “Yesss appoh, appoh, appoh. Sister, mi-” The light turned green and Jamal sped off before the hawker could finish asking Emefa if she would like to buy any apples. Emefa was quiet the rest of that evening. She never told Jamal that she had seen those messages from his aunt.

“And now she wants to wear big fascinator, dress in my wedding colours and come and cut wedding cake with who, and as what?” Emefa thought to herself. Then, without realising it, Emefa rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth loudly “MTCHEW“. Her mother who had been talking all this while, froze in shock mid- sentence.

“Emefa?!” Ma exclaimed

“Oh no Ma. Sorry. That wasn’t to you.”

“No, it wasn’t. Are we not the only two people here? Or it was to a ghost? Your grandfather’s ghost.” Then Ma looked upwards with both hands lifted. “Oh Da. Come and see your granddaughter oo. Why did you have to leave us so soon and so young too? ”

“But Ma, Grandpa was 103 years and has been dead for almo-“

“Shut your mouth! Was I talking to you? Your grandfather is not dead. He can never die; very fit old man. He has only transitioned. If he hadn’t, I would’ve reported you to him. Maybe he would be able to talk sense into your head.”

“Ma, really, it’s nothing. We just needed to conclude a few plans for the wedding before the week gets busy, that’s all. Tomorrow is Monday. Besides, the date is getting closer and closer, we need to finalise plans quickly. It’s not what you are thinking.”

“Of course, that’s what you’ll say. Because Jamal and his family have formally informed us of their intentions you consider yourself married eh? He has not even presented a needle to this family as a token to seal the marriage. You keep at it. Just know that, the day you come home pregnant and not yet married, both of us will die in this house. “

“Transition, Ma. Both of us will ‘transition‘ in this house. We can never die.” Emefa replied, visibly stifling laughter.

“Mtchew! Excuse me let me go to bed. I’m tired of your troubles. Goodnight!”

Ma left for her room, upset. Emefa continued up the stairs to hers, amused and distracted. She will check for whatever she dropped in the morning.

In the room next to Emefa’s, Maame lay quietly in bed. She had been listening to her mother and her sister. She wished Emefa would take what their mother was saying a bit more seriously. “If only Emefa knew what was on the other side of marriage…”. Maame sighed and rolled over from her back to her left side, hoping tonight would be an exception, and sleep would come easy. Her baby was still fast asleep in the cot next to the bed. She had been back at her parents the past few months since she had her baby, so she could get some help. She was glad no one had noticed that she and the baby had stayed there longer than she had said they would.

Back in Emefa’s room, Emefa plugged in her phone to charge. The screen lit up; a couple of message notifications including “Message from Ji❤”. Jamal had messaged her to say he was home and was going to bed. Emefa put the phone back down to charge. She did not reply. Instead she sat at the edge of her bed with her palms flat on the bed, on either side. She sat thinking of how to win against Aunty Menaye and make her pay for all the trouble and pain she (Aunty Menaye) had been causing her.

Step One: Marry Jamal at ALL costs.

[…Episode 3 loading]

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FICTION

/ˈfɪkʃ(ə)n/ noun

A story that did not actually happen………yet.

“Ah. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Emefa looked sharply at Jamal, trying hard to remain calm. Was he being serious right now?

Jamal continued, “I’m saying she called and wa-“

“I can hear the words that are coming out of your mouth, Jamal. But I don’t understand you. Were you not there when that woman basically threatened me?“

“It was just a joke. You heard her say that that day.”

“Oh really?! Well, it didn’t sound that way to me.”

On Emefa’s second visit with Jamal to his aunt’s house, they had been talking and laughing about Jamal’s childhood when his aunt, Aunty Menaye, had turned to Emefa and said:

“My lady, I’m sure you are getting a sense the sacrifices I had to make to raise Jamal whilst that mother of his was globetrotting.” She paused, “That said, if he wishes to send me any kind of token monthly, and you try to stand in the way of that, then I’ll pay you a special visit to show you that I am more of a witch than you are.”

Then, seeing the expression on Jamal’s face, Aunty Menaye half-laughed and said to him, “Oh don’t mind me. Let me scare her a bit so she doesn’t take you for granted.”

Emefa had not taken it lightly at all, yet here was Jamal telling her it was not a big deal and his aunt should be given a role to play at their wedding.

Emefa looked at the gate. It did not look like it would be opening anytime soon. She and Jamal were parked three houses away from her parents’ house and she had whatsapped Maame, her sister, to let her in. She did not want to ring the bell to risk letting her mother know the exact time she was getting home. There had been a few too many episodes of ‘Emefa is late in getting home… again‘. This was usually followed by a lecture on the fact that she and Jamal are not officially married yet. In today’s episode of ‘Emefa is late again‘, she was arriving five hours after the premarital counselling class had ended. And she really did not want to have to disclose their ‘itinerary’ for the evening as an explanation to her parents for her lateness.

“Jamal, I don’t think we can continue this conversation right now. It’s getting late. Let’s talk about this later.”, Emefa said without looking at her fiancé.

Her eyes were fixed on the gate, waiting for it to open. ‘Where is this girl?’ She needed to get out of the car quickly before she lost her temper, given the information her fiancé had just given her. Emefa messaged Maame.

“Madam…..👀” and got the reply: “Should I excuse you both for the goodnight💋? 😜🏃🏾‍♀️” Emefa looked up. Maame had opened the gate a crack and was peeking through like a mischievous child. “This girl plays too much. And I’m supposed to be the younger one.“, she thought to herself.

“Goodnight Ji” Emefa got out of the car.

‘Ji’ (Jee) was the name Emefa had given Jamal on their second date. When she had first met him, she assumed he was Muslim. Being Christian herself, she was reluctant to go out with him. But he had insisted that that first date was actually not a date and so, Emefa thought, ‘A girl’s gotta eat.’, and let him take her out. That night had been one of the most amazing nights Emefa had had in a long long time; the conversations were easy, she could be herself, he had a great sense of humour and she looked forward to spending time with him again. And so when he asked to take her out again on another not-a-date, she obliged. These were just harmless outings after all, she thought, trying to convince herself that she was not cheating on Bismark, her boyfriend at the time.

Bismark was Emefa’s former roommate’s course-mate. Emefa had felt pressured to date in her final year in university, and agreed to see where things would go with Bismark. But it became clear very early in the relationship that things were going to go just about the distance between the tip of her nose and the rest of her face. In fact it seemed the only thing they had in common was probably the nationality on their passports and their biological classification. But neither of them wanted to be the person to initiate the breakup. So they had both been hanging on with Emefa going on not-a-date outings with Jamal. Bismark eventually came up with a story about his family wanting him to marry a family friend and how they used to play as friends, and it was a childhood oath, bla bla bla. Emefa was relieved and did not even make an effort to hide it. They ended things and went their separate ways.

On her second still-not-a-date with Jamal, Emefa had called him ‘Alhaji‘ as an inference to what she had assumed was his religion. He laughed. “I’m not Muslim. I was only named after someone who was. But even then, not every Muslim is Alhaji.” Emefa replied. “Well it’s already registered in my head. Let’s make it ‘Ji’, that has a nice ring to it.” They both laughed. It had been two years since that night.

Emefa got out of the car and tried hard not to slam the door behind her. It was only nine days into the new year and one of her resolutions had been to try to control her emotions better. She walked towards the gate without looking back, then remembered Maame was watching and may notice something was wrong. Emefa paused, turned, half-smiled at her fiancé and waved in a manner that seemed more like a swat at a fly than a wave. Then she walked into the house.

“Is Ma awake?” Emefa asked in a hushed tone, looking at her parents’ bedroom window. The lights were off. She knew the most likely answer would be ‘yes’ and yet she was badly hoping for a ‘no’.

“Oh she’s asleep. She actually slept early today. Said she was tired.”, Maame replied.

Emefa was relieved. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to the lecture on coming home late when she and Jamal were not officially married. The two walked into the house and locked the door quietly behind them. Emefa pulled off her wig, then proceeded to take off her jewellery.

“The day you wait till you get to your room before you start taking things off, it’ll snow in this Ghana. I hope Mr is aware this is what he’s signing up for.” Maame whispered. They both giggled.

“Shh… you’ll wake Ma!” Maame reminded Emefa. Sharp hearing was their mother’s super power. Emefa stopped and reached towards the wall in the dark, feeling for the light switch. Maame stopped her.

“What are you doing?”

Emefa whispered. “I think I’ve dropped something.”

“Use the light from your phone screen.” Maame whispered back.

“My battery is low and it’s in power-saving mode now so the screen light is not that bright.”

“So just try to manage erh? It’s like you want to get caught.” Maame headed for her own room, leaving Emefa to grope around the dark floor, trying to figure out if she actually did drop something or it was her imagination.

“But why am I stressing myself? I can leave this and check in the morning.”, Emefa thought to herself. She turned to go, then froze. “Was that…?” Emefa turned back slowly and switched on the lights in the living room. Seated on the couch staring right back at her was her mother.

“Ma!”

“Awuraba, akwaaba! Ayekoo.”

[…. Continue reading: Tamarind Episode 2….]

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