Excerpt From The Book : Kachifo

“The woman you gave us is a well”  The women from the groom’s side accused vehemently.
“She is a deep well that has been drawn from and not a wall!” They were furious, and their elders seething with maddening rage. They stood outside in the dark, demanding to have the bride price returned immediately.

I began to wonder wildly, if they were married off as virgins themselves.

The four men claimed they heard the expected scream from the bride while standing outside of the hut an hour earlier. And a piece of clothing, stained with blood was brought out by them, while the groom began to claim he did not meet with a virgin.
The seven men chosen from the bride's family accused the elders of not wanting to give the reward, thereby painting their daughter as unchaste. Old and unchaste. Those were the offence. And the bride should be taken back to her village by morning. She would live there as an old maiden, till her dying day.

The bride family would have none of this.

It was a confusing sight to onlookers who had anticipated a much greater celebration than what they witnessed in the morning when the bride was given away. To me, it was the most pleasing. I watched it all, but not in my bridal wear.
I watched as the men from my village feigned anger in a futile attempt to cover the shame being rained on them. I watched in amusement as a fight ensued among the young men when the elders began to insult all the women of Asiko village.
“The bride is one of them. She is one of those women whom many men have passed through. She is a door'' They sneered, jeered and cursed.
“Bring her for the old women to see and they will believe'' One of the groom elders suggested. Relatives from the bride's side stood silently, shameful at what was about to ensue.
Some men brought out the bride, dragging her out of the hut as she clung tightly to her veil.
"What is she covering up for'' One of the women made a snide remark.
"Remove the veil'' Another suggested as the bride held tightly to her supposed dignity. She won't let go of the veil.
It was still dark, but the first ray of light had begun to break forth from the horizon.
The first cock crowed softly from a great distance as the veil was yanked off by one of the old women. The cat was let out of the bag. I was not the bride. I stood from behind the tree trying to catch a glimpse of the expressions from afar. The groom had carried a wrong woman over the threshold. It was Aunty Simia, my mother’s younger sister.


Teju Duru
Jan 2008
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