TRAPPED...Part 16.

"Why is there a scarcity of good, marriageable men?"

I turned to see the person who asked that question. It was a female passenger in the back row. We were trapped in the traffic as I was returning from Habiba's wedding. Sandwiched between two passengers in the second row, I was sweating profusely. The question prompted mixed reactions from the passengers. The men sharply disagreed while the women nodded in agreement.

"No talk that thing!" It was the conductor. "Na just money dey stop most men. The country is hard and wedding too dey cost these days. Men full everywhere!"

"For where?" The girl who asked the question insisted. 

"Almost one quarter of able-bodied men dey prison. Half of the men wey go school are unemployed and have no money to start a home. Na the remaining one-quarter wey una want all the girls to dey drag, abi?" 

The bus was thrown into laughter.

"I think it is the value system that has changed," an elderly man said. "Present day girls want ready-made men. Unfortunately, most of those men are married. They get involved and before they realize, the boat has moved." 

The bus fell silent. We jerked forward a little as we made the semblance of progress and the bus stopped again.

I closed my eyes in fatigue. The day had been hectic. Habiba's wedding ceremony had been brief but colourful. After the initial pleasantries, the Imam collected the brideprice from Dalha's parents and handed it to Habiba's father, together with some kolanuts and packets of candies. The brideprice was only thirty thousand naira.  After the payment of the brideprice, the Imam declared them husband and wife and prayers were offered on their behalf. I sat quietly in a corner of the room and prayed for the couple in my mind. Food was served afterwards. 

I noticed I was probably the only single lady in the room. Most of Habiba's relatives were married. It got me thinking. Does polygamy help them in the North to mop up the 'excess' women in circulation? When will the people in the South cut down the marriage requirements to encourage more persons to get married, just like in the North? Just then, I remembered the text from the morning and let out a big sigh. Tomorrow is almost here. 

The voices of hawkers announcing their wares interrupted my thoughts. Our bus began another series of slow movement.

"Your gele is fine." It was the man on my left.

"Thank you," I said with a smile. He was dark, dressed in a white native shirt and probably in his mid-thirties.

I had been struggling to keep the extra large headscarf on my head, but after several failed attempts, I removed it altogether.

"Did you tie it yourself?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Though I had little help from my sister."

"Na dis one dem dey call 'canopy' abi?" He was laughing.

"Not this one," I said. "Na the elder sister." More laughter.

"I am Timi,"he said. "Timipriye."

"From where?" I asked. The name sounded strange.

"Bayelsa. Na we dey sustain this nation with oil."

"Really?"

"Ehe nau! Most oil wells are in our place. The whole economy is built on our oil. Without us this nation would have collapsed since."

"Hmmm. How did the oil come about?" I asked.

"Many years ago, our grandfathers had a meeting and thought of how to help their children and future generations. So they agreed that when they die and are buried, they will produce oil daily. Till date, my ancestors are working hard, producing oil in the ground, so that we their children, will not suffer."

I could not suppress my laughter. Some other passengers were laughing. Timi was smiling satisfactorily.

"So why is oil not in other places?" I asked, still laughing.

"Maybe their ancestors are lazy. Maybe their ancestors don't care," he said. 

The whole bus roared with laughter.

Just then, we reached my bus stop. I collected my balance from the conductor and walked into my street. I climbed the staircase wearily and knocked on the door. The door opened. It was Dan. He was carrying Uche.

"You look beautiful," he said. "How did the wedding go?"

I was blushing. "The wedding went fine. Thanks. Where is Nkechi?"

"Deaconess called her. She said it was urgent. I just came by this evening and met her waiting anxiously. I told her she could go."

"Mummy!" Victory ran out from the room upon hearing my voice.

I carried her. "V-Darling, how have you been?"

"Fine," she said, smiling.

I went into the room to undress and then prepared dinner.

After dinner, I told Dan about the text message.

"I am coming with you tomorrow," he said. "We really need to straighten things out with Jimmy's parents."

"You know, I have come to see Uche as my son," I said. "Maybe that's why it is so painful." 

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Everything happens for a reason."

As I saw him off that night, I asked him a question that has been bothering me.

"Dan, why are you being so nice?"

He was silent for a moment. 

"You would have done the same for me," he began. "You know, I feel so guilty for shutting you out when I did. Maybe if I had not, we would have been in a better place."  His voice was shaky.

I held his hand reassuringly. "I think we are in a better place." 

He smiled.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

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