Tamarind (E10)

[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.)