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The incessant pressure from my parents to get married gave me sleepless nights. Yes! I was gradually going nuts but this did not deter them from pestering me to get married so they could have the opportunity of seeing and handling their grandchildren before joining their ancestors.
The stress of their demands kept me away from home certain times of the day because I felt there were so many women out there but none was a marriageable material.
“You are not growing any younger”; “we will marry for you if you don’t” and “we will not rest in peace until you give us our grandchildren” became common choruses I heard on daily basis. Their wishes were contrary to my childhood dream of taking the vows of chastity, celibacy and poverty in order to win souls for Christ as a Catholic Priest.
But as the days turned to weeks, the weeks into months and subsequently into years I yielded to the demands of my parents to marry just to bring about peace because my mother stood accused for my entrenched stance.
My greatest challenge was however who to marry. By my upbringing and what was known to be the common practice, I was expected to marry the opposite sex and not the strange phenomenon that has crept into our society of late in the name of modernity. The ‘type’ or ‘Spec’ of woman to walk down the aisle with me gave me sleepless nights. There were times I had to surf through the internet with the hope of finding one.
I became more disappointed and resigned my fate to prayer with the hope my would-be wife would come my way some day.
I was deceived in believing that women with enough ‘goods’ behind and those naturally endowed with ‘milk containers’ made the best wives because their kids will never lack breast milk and they were good mothers.
After careful scrutiny, I finally decided on the kind of woman I wanted to marry and the woman I will mortgage my freedom to.
One hot afternoon while I was at the bus station waiting for a Troski to my village, I spotted this ‘fair Coca Cola shaped lady’ at a distance also in the queue. I guessed she was going my way and looked exactly my taste of a woman on spotting her.
I prayed the heavens open so I could muster the courage to talk to her and just pour out all the sweet words I had learnt over the past months on her. Fortunately she approached and asked if I could lend her a pen to take some notes from someone. You can imagine the joy. “Hi I am Sherifa, Can I have a pen please?” kept echoing in my dreams till I could no longer contain it.
I later got to know through a friend Sherifa was a polytechnic graduate doing her national service in the community primary school. Coincidentally, she had also taken notice of me in the community and made efforts to get in touch after the first meeting so we could be friends. She became a regular visitor to my home one thing led to the other and we become the best of friends.
She warmed her way into the hearts of my parents who gave their blessings to whatever relationship we were into.
We agreed we were getting married after she also introduced me to her parents who cautioned us against premarital sex outlining the dangers involved.
Sherifa was an extrovert and I was the direct opposite. She bragged of how she was a virgin and was preserving herself for our wedding night. Stupid as I was, I believed her and never made any sexual advances because I knew come rain, come shine, she would be mine. The farthest I could go with her was holding her palm in mine.
The day was finally set for the wedding, preparations up to speed and the announcements made. We exchanged the marital vows in an ecstatic environment made up of friends and family members. At the extreme end was seated my parents who kept beaming with smiles because the process of their long awaited dream of carrying their grandchildren had begun.
After the day’s activities, I was much in a haste to unwrap the “parcel” that had been concealed from me for several months. It was my conjugal duty now as the head of the home to perform my matrimonial duties but that was the beginning of my heartbreaks.
The curvy looks of Sherifa were artificially induced. The boobs shocked me most because the area was as flat as the pitch of the Maracanã Sports Stadium in Brazil.
Further and better particulars of the ‘pink sheet’ right beside me revealed I had been totally blinded of the reality as claims made by my wife were in variance with the reality.
Ensuing discoveries in subsequent days shocked me. Sherifa was not a virgin; she could not cook any better food not even my favourite meal and requested we engaged the services of a maid. I have since been pondering over the matter and I am contemplating a suit against my wife and inlaws for defrauding by false pretense.
I have been deceived by Sherifa who padded her heaps and boobs to look exactly the specification of woman I was yearning for as a wife.
I have paid for what I never bargained and therefore need a refund. See you in Court!!
By Stephen Zoure, Ultimate1069fm
