[It has been interesting going along with Emefa and Jamal on their journey to marriage filled with family drama, relationship quarrels, doubts, all of it. And now, it all comes to an end. Or should I say, this is the end of the Beginning?…Happy reading!]

“And that’s the last one.” Jamal called out as he hauled in the last of Emefa’s bags through the door.

“Thanks Ji.” Emefa replied. She was curled up on the couch, cuddling a throw pillow.

Jamal joined Emefa on the couch, “Mrs. Asare-Menako, what did you pack into those bags? Rocks?”

Emefa glanced dryly at Jamal, then at the luggage Jamal had just brought in. They were supposed to be heading out for their honeymoon, but one look at Emefa when she got into the car, had made Jamal suggest they reschedule the trip. In his words, “This trip can wait till another time. We are married now so we can take a vacation together at anytime. Let’s just use this time to rest and go back to work.”

Emefa had been more relieved than anything to hear those words. Four days after the wedding, her office had notified her of an emergency and called her into a crisis management meeting. It had been a hectic next few days, and she had had to stay overnight some days, working to contain the situation. After weeks of back-to-back meetings and strategizing, she had finally been able to get her break back. At this point, the only thing on Emefa’s mind was sleep, sleep and more sleep.

Jamal sat at the edge of the couch, nudging Emefa slightly with his hip, expecting her to move back and make room for him, but Emefa ignored him completely. Jamal took a cue from his wife’s resistance and moved to sit in the armchair.

“What’s up? I can tell there is a lot going on in your mind.” Jamal asked Emefa, his face reflecting his concern.

“Nothing.”

Jamal looked at his wife with his eyebrows raised, as though he was trying to read her mind. Emefa had been grumpy for a while now but he had no idea what was upsetting her. Granted, being called into work like that had ruined their plans but that was over now. So, what was wrong with his wife? His wife. He liked the sound of that. He smiled to himself.

“What’s funny?” Emefa asked in an annoyed tone.

“Oh nothing”. Jamal replied quickly. It seemed to him his wife was constantly looking for an opportunity to have an argument but he was not going to let that happen. Not today, Satan.

Emefa gasped in shock and sat up. “What did you just say???”

“I did not say anything.” Jamal quickly replied

“You just called me ‘Satan’.”

“What?! I would nev-“

“Just a few weeks into marriage and you already think I am the devil in your life?”

“But I never said tha-“. Then Jamal realized be must have said something out loud, whilst deep in his thoughts. “Emefs Estate. Babe, that wasn’t about you. Just some funny thoughts running through my mind.”

Emefa eyed him and hugged the pillow tightly. The two newlyweds sat in silence, each with different thoughts running through their minds. Emefa sighed. Everyone had told her about the ‘honeymoon phase’ and how their first few months up to a year would be bliss. And then reality would set in and they would both have to work hard to make their marriage work. For her, she had not felt any moment she could refer to as a honeymoon phase; she and Jamal had already had multiple arguments. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned this bit? Was it even normal? Jamal had been getting on her last nerve right from their first few days together. Maybe she was just stressed from what happened at work. She did not want to fight any further.

Emefa turned to Jamal, “Ji.” Jamal was grinning. Was he mocking her?

“What’s funny?”, Emefa asked irritated by his grin.

“Nothing.” Jamal replied, sensing he was in trouble again.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I am not laughing. I am smiling. There’s a difference.”

Emefa rolled her eyes. “It’s actually a grin, but this is not the time for semantics.”

“And this is the point I was trying to make yesterday. You act as if you know everything and you do whatever you want.” Now Jamal was the irritated one.

Emefa was confused. “You’ve lost me. What are you talking about?“

“Well, you went ahead to plan an additional ceremony at your church, literally at the last minute, even though you knew I did not want that.“

Emefa’s eyes widened. “I asked you, many times! You agreed!”

“You pressured me till I could only agree.”

Emefa raised her hand. “Ji, you know what? Don’t. Please just….. don’t. I have spent the past two weeks at the office, managing crisis and it has been very stressful.”

“And did you think it has been a breeze for me? You are not the only one with a job here.” Jamal retorted.

” OH MY GOODNESS! You have done absolutely nothing but sit around and remind me of all the things you wanted us to be doing! As though I asked to be called in!” Emefa yelled.

“Oh yeah?! Because you assumed my entire office will happily move things round to accommodate me, based on my wife’s office’sschedule??? I am not the first person to get married, and neither are you, so will you stop whining and being so spoilt?” Jamal hollered back.

Emefa froze, “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. I am tired!”

“Ji” Emefa said quietly, tears welling up in her eyes. Had he meant that? Emefa got up and grabbed the bag she had packed for the honeymoon.

“And where are you heading now? I already called the hotel and the airline and cancelled.” Jamal said dryly.

Emefa looked sharply at Jamal, “I will not sit here and be insulted by you, in the name of marriage.” Emefa felt hot tears running down her face. She continued, I have tried my best to bear everything that comes with being with you, all in the name of love. Today it’s this. Tomorrow it’s that. Everyday, new struggle. Marriage is harrrrrd enough without all this drama. Why should anyone have to put up with all this? I only stayed because you said it was us against everybody on the planet. If that has changed let me know right now. Tell me to go, and I will leave this instant.”

Jamal, finally coming to the realization that his wife was about to leave him, said quietly: “It’s ‘Us against the world’ not ‘us against everybody on the planet.” He had not expected things to escalate so quickly.

“Whatever.” Emefa replied, then paused, “So you need to tell me right now if I need to be planning on how to raise,” Emefa pointed to her abdomen, “him or her by myself right now!”

Jamal’s eye widened and his jaw dropped. He looked at his wife, stunned. “I didn-… Are you….? How? Does it happen that quickly?” He finally managed to say.

Emefa rolled her eyes. “If you say one more dumb thing, I will knock you out.” She let go of the bag and returned to the couch.

Jamal sat on the armrest, still in shock. He had even forgotten why the argument had started in the first place. “Babe, I am sorry, if I gave you the wrong impression. Maybe we have both been stressed. Well, in your case, you have been sleepy. Ohh….” His words trailed off and he looked at Emefa again. “So, that’s you have been so sleepy all the time.”

Emefa ignored him. Jamal leaned in. “So, craving anything?”

Emefa hit him playfully with the throw pillow and feigned irritation, “Get out of here.”

“I now get why you have been picking quarrels with me over the slightest of things. How long have you known?

“I actually don’t know for sure.” Emefa started. Jamal looked at his wife, puzzled. Then she added, “I just feel like it”.

“I am not sure what that means but I guess we should go to the hospital then.” Jamal suggested.

“I want to wait a while, Ji.”

“Mrs Asare-Menako. No chances please. I am moving these bags to the room. When I return, TV goes off, we head out.” Jamal wheeled the bags back to the room. He had heard of too many couple’s pregnancy stories that had not ended well. He returned a few seconds later and stretched out his arm to Emefa, “Shall we?”

Emefa got up reluctantly and turned towards Jamal, “Ji. This thing is not a hospital something. It is early days yet. The nurses may even laugh at us. Let’s just take a home test for now.”

“Didn’t I ever tell you about my ex who brought me a false positive home pregnancy test? So, no please.”

Emefa giggled. “That one, you deserved it. Your ‘hit-and-run’ playboy days would not have ended if she had not tried to pull a fast one on you. A good experience for you.” Emefa teased. Then she added, “The hospital is on the other side of town. Let’s just take the test first.”

Jamal hesitated. “Okay. Wait here. I will go to the pharmacy and get you one…or two…maybe three. Let me just get four.”

“One.” Emefa said sitting back on the couch.

“Two” Jamal insisted.

“Fine.” Emefa agreed, curling up in the couch again.

Jamal returned a few minutes later. “The pharmacy was closed. Let’s just go to the hospital, okay? Maybe it is a sign.”

Emefa sighed and reluctantly sat up in the couch. She stood up and headed for the door. Jamal turned off the TV and joined her outside. He opened the front passenger door and paused, “Do you want to sit in the back instead so you can sleep?”

“I am okay with sitting in the front seat.” Emefa got in the car, directed the AC vents toward her, leaned back in her seat. Before she knew it, they had arrived at the hospital. They were asked to complete a form and wait in the waiting area. A nurse approached them with a smile. “Madam Emefa, please come with me to take your vitals.”

“Can I come too?” Jamal asked.

“I am sorry, there is only one seat for the patient. But don’t worry, I will return your wife to you safely.” The nurse smiled again.

Emefa followed the nurse to the next room. “Please stand on the scale.” The nurse requested. Emefa stood quietly, whilst the nurse took notes. Next, she asked Emefa to sit to have her blood pressure checked. Emefa sat still, waiting. The nurse pulled out a manual sphygmomanometer. Emefa looked at the nurse in confusion. “My electronic one has been sent for servicing. Please bear with me.” The nurse explained.

Emefa nodded. “That’s okay.”

“Sometimes, the old things work better than the modern things.” The nurse pulled the pressure cuff up Emefa’s arm, fastened it, and began to pump the inflation bulb. The pressure cuff began to tighten.

Emefa looked at the nurse, “Is it supposed to be so tight?”

“Yes, it is because it is the manual one.” The nurse continued pumping.

The pressure cuff became even tighter. Emefa had began to feel faint. “It’s….it’s re- really tight.” She managed to say.

“It is supposed to be. That is how we do things here. “ The nurse replied.

Emefa recognized the voice, and looked up to see Aunty Menaye, and right behind her, was Jamal’s father. She could hear Jamal calling her from the waiting room: “Emefa! Emefa!”

“Emefa!” Jamal called softly, tapping his wife on her shoulder.

Emefa sat up startled. She had dozed off on the couch, whilst waiting for Jamal to return from the pharmacy. Jamal was standing over her, holding a brown paper bag with the inscription: ‘The Pharmacy 24/7‘.

Emefa, on seeing the inscription on the paper bag, went pale.

“Are you okay?” Jamal asked

“I just had a very terrible dream.” Emefa replied, rubbing her left temple with her finger tips.

“Tell me about it.” Jamal sat on the centre table.

Emefa proceeded to tell Jamal about her dream. She went on to tell him about the similar dream she had had before the wedding. Jamal listened quietly, then he handed Emefa the test kits and asked her to relax. Emefa was confused but too shaken to say anything. She placed the test kits on her bedside table, and decided to take the tests at dawn the next day.

“Why don’t you just take the test now?” Jamal had asked, anxious to see the results.

“I heard it is better to take the test early morning because the hormone levels are higher at that time. Don’t worry, it is just a few hours of waiting.”

Jamal sighed and reluctantly agreed.

Later that night, Emefa woke up hungry. She rolled over to find Jamal was out of bed. She reached out for her phone and checked the time: 2:47am. She put her phone back on her bedside table, knocking the brown paper bag with the test kit over, in the process. Ah yes, the test. Emefa hesitated. Snack now, pregnancy test later. Emefa made her way to the door, heading for the kitchen. Emefa stopped in the hallway. She could hear Jamal’s voice. Who had he snuck out of bed to call at this hour? Emefa inched closer as quietly as she could. If her husband was hiding anything from her, she needed to know right now. She peered around the corner and froze.

There in the hall, was Jamal seated in the sofa. His forehead was covered in beads of perspiration. His hands were clenched in fists pounding the armrests of the sofa. His lips were moving. Emefa could hear him clearly now as he spoke. “I come against whatever fights first pregnancies in my father’s background. The inexplicable occurrences and complications that happen suddenly, especially from the 24th week to the 7th month. I stand on behalf of my wife and I, and I declare it is over. Not my wife, not my child….Emefa will not die.”

*THE END*

[Thank you for reading TAMARIND. Fictional series will be on a short break, but real experiences/ nonfiction posts continue weekly. Until the next post, stay safe!]

[Welcome back! The story continues…]

Emefa sat with her eyes closed and her chin jutting outward. It was taking everything in her not to touch her face. How come her face never itches until she was wearing makeup? The ticklish feel of bristles of the makeup brush against the bridge of her nose was not helping either. Maybe her makeup would not be ruined if she only patted the itchy spot gently. She moved her index finger upwards towards the tip of her nose, but before she could touch her nose, she felt a mild pain on her knuckles.

“Ouch!” Emefa opened one eye to find her cousin, Ricka, wearing a frown, with a makeup brush in hand.

“I told you before we started the makeup: Emefa, no touching your face. You have already cried and ruined this once. I will just leave you here and go oo?!” Ricka threatened.

Emefa giggled, “So Ricka you still don’t have a single romantic fibre in your entire being? For you, it is always #vawulence all over.“

Ricka smirked, “It is you who knows love and all that drama.” Then she pointing to herself with both index fingers,  she added, “No time for any of that here. Maybe that’s why I only prepare brides but I’m never actually THE bride. Please close your eyes and let’s install the lashes.”

“Oh Ricka. I thought I told you no lash extensions?”

“Madam. I thought I told you: Not on my watch.” Ricka replied, waving her index finger back and forth. Then, placing both hands on her waist she added, “Emefa paa?! No lashes…I mean… how?”

“It’s okay. Just do your thing.” Emefa said. She just wanted the day to be over quickly. It had been a very busy morning.

“Thank you.” Ricka said curtsying, with one hand stretched outward and the other holding her eyelash extending tray. “So extra long, mink lashes or …? I also have some thick ones like a paintbrush if you want a more dramatic look.” Ricka added teasingly.

Emefa laughed. “You are just determined to stress me. That’s all”

Ricka chuckled, “I really am, and it seems to be working so far. What use would I be as your favourite cousin if I make today easy for you?” Then Ricka picked up two lipsticks. “Madam, neutral colour or something bold?”

Before Emefa could respond with her preference,  Fredericka concluded, “We are going with bold. Hot red so everyone knows you have got a feisty side so no messing with you.” With that she applied the lipstick to Emefa’s lips.

Emefa turned and looked in the mirror. She was happy with Fredericka’s work….well, with the exception of the choice of lipstick colour. “Ricka, I’m not so sure about the lips. Could we go with a softer shade?”

Fredericka rolled her eyes, “I asked you and you didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t let me answer. I would have gone with the neutral one. Was it peach or baby pink?”

“I have both.”

“Let’s go with the peach then.” Emefa said

Ricka narrowed her eyes, “Okay, but I need you to sit still else I might clean more than I intend to.“

Ricka began to dab gently at Emefa’s lips with a wet wipe.

“Ricka…” Emefa started

“Sshhhhh, ‘No movement’ includes your lips too.”

When I’m done.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Give me a few seconds. I am almost done.”

Emefa sighed, “Okay.”

Emefa closed her eyes, hoping that would help her to sit still. She took in a deep breath and tried to relax, but she was far from relaxed. Every time she closed her eyes, she would have flashbacks of her conversation with Jamal the day before, and the events that had occurred over the duration of her engagement to Jamal. “Babe, you are my family now. After tomorrow, my aunt and everyone else will have no choice but to accept you for who you are.” Jamal had assured her. Emefa felt Jamal did not fully understand the implications of what he was saying.

Emefa had explained that she was not particularly enthusiastic about starting the next chapter of her life with any form of negativity. She decided she was going to do whatever it took to please Aunty Menaye. Emefa had persuaded her fiancé to allow her make calls at the last minute, to her church secretariat and also to their counsellors, to see how best this could be resolved. The couple had brief discussions, both their counsellors and the church secretariat and it was agreed to having a private church blessing on the same day as the traditional wedding, then the garden wedding would proceed as planned, two days afterwards. Emefa and Jamal had reluctantly agreed to go with the idea of the private blessing. Emefa sighed again. 3 weddings, 1 marriage.

Last night, Emefa had spent time trying on Maame’s dress from her baby’s christening as she had barely 14 hours to the additional ceremony – church blessing, and had no time to buy a new outfit.

“It is surprising. I am actually bigger in size now, than I was, 6 weeks postpartum.” Maame had said.

“And it’s a good thing, else this dress would have been like a pillow case on me.” Emefa replied.

“Would you like me to bring out the fascinator I wore it with as well?”

“Nope. It is not like it is the real event.” Emefa answered. Then muttered under her breath, “It is just a pseudo wedding for my pseudo mother-in-law.”

“Show up or don’t show up at all.” Maame said, reaching into her closet for the fascinator. Then she mumbled, “Trust me, you don’t need to tell me about In-law drama.”

“Okay!” Ricka’s voice cut through Emefa’s thoughts. “What was that you wanted to say earlier?“

“Oh, it was nothing important.” Emefa replied with a shrug.

“Say it anyway.”

“I have even forgotten what I was going to say.” Emefa lied.

Ricka leaned close to Emefa. “You, my dear cousin are a terrible liar. Are you upset I asked you to hold with what you were going to say? It would have ruined what I was doing.“

“Oh I’m really not mad about it or anything.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

Emefa hesitated, then asked: ““Ricka if I were to die now, would you cry?“

Ricka froze. “Emefa, what kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question…. please.”

Ricka did not say a word. She was shocked by her cousin’s question. She held her gaze to Emefa for a while then leaned in and finally spoke, “Emefa, do you think you may be struggling with depression?”

“Oh no. Not at all.” Emefa replied, pulling her head backwards, away from Ricka’s uncomfortable gaze. She continued, “I know, I know, it is a really weird question, but I’m just cur-“

“Emefa, I’ll not be crying because you will not be dying. You shall not die. You shall live to declare God’s Goodness and Mercies!” Ricka declared. What was wrong with her cousin?

Just then, Emefa’s mother walked in. “Madam, your decor person has not delivered the cocktail tables. I told you, let’s let my sister do the decor. You said everyone is trying to take over your wedding. I decided not to say anything, because if I do, it will be: ‘Ma is being difficult.’ Or ‘Ma, you are trying to take over my wedding.’ Now here we are. Where are the cocktail tables? No one knows. Fine. People will just have to make do then.” Then Ma stormed off.

Emefa looked at Ricka, her eyes welling up with tears. Ricka, grabbed tissue and dabbed at the corners of Emefa’s eyes, catching her tears, just before they could ran down her face, “Madam, don’t you dare cry. I am not redoing your makeup.”

Emefa bit on the inner part of her lower lip, trying hard not to cry. Ricka tried to lift Emefa’s spirits, “It is not about you. African mothers will find any excuse to start an argument with you, than to be all mushy and admit they will miss you. You know how your mum is. She may just be stressed with organizing everything around here. Don’t let it get to you. The cocktail tables were actually being off-loaded when I got here this morning. She’s probably just not seen them yet. Let me go check on it. I’ll get Maame to come sit with you. I’ll be right back.” Then Ricka left the room.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at Emefa’s door. This was why she had wanted to dress at the hotel. She had initially made reservations for today and Saturday but her mother had insisted she needed to be in the house for the traditional wedding so she had had to cancel Thursday’s booking. The door opened slightly, and Maame poked her head around the corner. “Oohhh you look stunning! Ricka says you need me?”

Emefa was relieved it was her sister at the door. “Maame, please come in and lock the door after you.” Emefa said in a small voice.

Maame obliged and sat on her sister’s bed. Emefa leaned forward in the makeup chair, reached behind the ring light, and turned it off. Maame observed her sister quietly, then asked: “Emefa, you look like you are about to cry. What is it?”

“I am not even sure. It’s just this whole wedding thing mayb-……” Emefa’s voice trailed off. She looked away.

“Emefa, everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Emefa responded dryly.

There was a knock at the door. “Is our bride ready yet? Groom’s family has arrived. She may be called upon at anytime.”

“She’s ready!” Maame called out, looked at her sister then added, “She’s more than ready.”

“Okay, then tell her: Daddy and her uncles may call her soon.” The voice called back. Then whoever that had been, was gone.

Maame turned to her sister. “Let’s get the photographer to do some shots before you step out. He has been waiting outside your door for you to call him in.”

“I’m not sure about taking pictures right now. I don’t feel up to it.”

“It is your day. Everyone will be taking pictures of you anyway.”

Emefa sighed. “Okay.”

Maame unlocked the door and let in the photographer and one other team member of his into the room. The videographer was right behind them. “Oh you can come in too.” Maame smiled at the videographer. The team began taking pictures of the bride, occasionally directing her to try new poses.

The photographer turned to Maame. “Can we get some shots with our lovely big sis?”

Maame smiled shyly, “Oh definitely. Why not?” She walked up to Emefa, and pretended to be fixing the bride’s jewellery, just for the cameras. Maame smiled, “My baby sis is not a baby anymore and she is getting marriieeedddd.”

“That’s it big sis. I like this.” The photographer called out from behind the camera. In between shots and switching poses, Maame whispered to Emefa, “You are doing well. Keep smiling and no one will notice you are nervous. We all did same. All the pressure will be over soon. I promise.”

Just then Ricka entered the room. “Emefa, they are about to call you out.” she said.

“Oh okay. Can you call in the other ladies so we get a few pictures together?” Emefa requested.

“Sure.” Ricka stepped back out and returned with 7 ladies, all dressed in white lace outfits with blue headgear. Ricka herself was dressed in a similar outfit. The ladies – Emefa’s friends and cousins – walked into the room with comments of “Aww congratulations!”, “You look so amazing!” and “You make such a gorgeous bride!”.

The photographer started, “Okay my beautiful ladies can we stand round the bride? Mrs, please sit in the makeup chair.” Then videographer asked, “Can we have some music?” One of Emefa’s cousins brought out her phone and turned on some music.

“Great. Now ladies I want you to dance with the bride. Don’t worry about me getting shots. Let that one be my headache. Let’s go!” The videographer added.

After a few more shots, the photographer asked the ladies: “Now, can I hear you say the couple’s hashtag?”

The ladies shouted in unison, “#EmefaGotJammed twenty-twe-…”

Emefa’s smile froze. She had never even thought of it until now. Jam (verb); To force or squeeze something into place. #EmefaGotJammed. Sounds about right. Was she forcing this entire relationship in spite of everything? Was she about to make the biggest mistake of her life?

With broad smiles and grins, the ladies called out again in excitement, “#EmefaGotJammed twenty-twenty-threeeeeeeee!!!”

This time, Emefa was not smiling.

[Thank you for reading! Happy Easter! Tamarind returns next week with: Tamarind (E11) -The finale]

(Disclaimer: I do not own rights to photos on this post. Images included do not in anyway represent the characters of this story. This content is purely a work of fiction. Any semblance to any persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.)