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That Friday saw me lounging in my bed, Engrossed in my new found love: the movie series “Suits”.
I had taken the day off from work with the excuse that my cousin was getting married.( I thought saying my friend which was the truth didn’t sound serious enough to ask for a day off).
I could have gone to work that Friday and still made it to Ibadan where the wedding was taking place since my fight was for noon but why take half day off when I can take a full one? After all anything worth doing is worth doing well.
I was enjoying every bit of my morning, Lost in the world of Harvey Specter, Mike Ross and the Pearson and Hardman Law firm. I felt really good.
But I still had to get up from my bed and head out to start my weekend away from Abuja.
My bestie, my paddy, my BFF, Bisi, was getting married.
I was really happy and excited since it was something we both wished and prayed about together
I cannot precisely remember how we met or became friends. We both worked as interns together in the same organization and we both kind of kicked off as friends at some point. Then we were in the same NYSC Camp as well that, I think was when our friendship was cemented.
I was in the ancient city four hours later. it was beautiful. There were throngs of people on the streets, walking, buying, and selling. There were just people everywhere. Looking at the city from the flyover on my way to my friend’s house, I was reminded of a painting I once saw as a child. I cannot remember where I saw it but it must have been somewhere I frequented a lot since I can remember looking at it for long periods of time at different occasions. The painting was called Ibadan city. It showed millions of houses with zinc roofing and I always wondered how so many houses could be clustered around each other. I guess the artist didn’t lie. Ibadan was just like the painting from by view looking down from the bridge.
Before I got to the house I made a mental note of two things:
- To genuflect when I was greeting any elderly person especially Bisi’s parents.
- To prepare my mind for large doses of Yoruba speaking even when I don’t understand what is being said.
Bisi and I have a mutual friend Tayo who is Yoruba as well and when the three of us are together one of them always unconsciously slips into Yoruba forgetting that I don’t understand a word of the language. This usually happens in the middle of narrating a “hot” gist.(According to them English does not do justice to some words especially when a person is describing an emotion. Well I wouldn’t know). It can be annoying so I made a mental note to tolerate this since Tayo was going to be there.
Anyway when I got to Bisi’s house, Tayo had not arrived yet. She was going to be in Ibadan the next day-Saturday. So I had Bisi to myself for Friday (Selfish me, but three they say, is a crowd).
The most memorable part of the whole trip for me was that evening.
Bisi and I went to take a peek at the venue for the Saturday event that evening.
Just the two of us.
It was in “Mapo hall”. The place is beautiful by the way and I learnt it has been there since 1932. The electricity was out when we got there so we borrowed a flashlight from the security guard and did a quick sweep of the decoration and seat arrangements inside. It was perfect and ready for the big day.
We had to wait for Bisi brother to come pick us up so we sat on the stone steps of Mapo hall in the dark and waited.
We stared at the stars in the sky then Bisi said to me: I can’t believe I’m getting married tomorrow!!! . We both laughed and we talked and talked and talked into the night.
We talked about our exes and about the days we cried over heartbreaks and broken relationships.
We talked about the year we both turned twenty six and realized we were no longer below 25 and still young. She called me on her birthday of that year feeling down but she ended the call in high spirits all thanks to me!.
We talked about the month we passed out from NYSC and realized there was no uniform to shield us from real life anymore. That we could no longer hide behind “I’m a Corper”. That we had to get real jobs and good ones at that.
The times we went for events together, shopping together on Saturdays, Shawarma and Coke together at drumsticks.
Indomie noodles garnished with fired eggs and fried plantain plus the obligatory Viju milk in NYSC Camp together.
Her days off at work spent in my office gisting about everything and everybody.
I realized I might not get to do these things with my friend again at least I know it can never be the same. There was a third person in the picture now and even though we will still remain friends, it will be a different kind of friendship.
My friend was getting hooked to the man of her dreams and a part of our friendship had come to an end.
As we sat on those stone steps that night I realized I will miss this friendship.
From now on it will be ‘my husband said this”, “my husband did that”.
That is what happens when your best friend jumps the broom!
PS: I was a proper Yoruba girl throughout the weekend and knelt down as a sign of respect to elders at the slightest opportunity. It was fun!