He proposed to her that same night.
One month of frantic preparations in
the Bamileké and Beti traditions brought the marriage to its final stage. They
wedded in the Catholic Church in Banganté.
The afternoon sun was still bright in
the sky when the bride and groom emerged from the Catholic Church in Banganté,
basking in the glory of their wedding day. They shook hands with the
well-wishers, smiled widely in appreciation of the wishes and blessings
offered, broke up laughing now and then when someone cracked a very funny joke,
exchanged warm words with the curious and concerned around, and took
photographs for the memory of the day.
Mami Njike looked amusingly
felicitous, priding herself on the running success of the wedding. She sounded
like someone fully in control of the situation as she gave out orders for the
crowd to make way for the newly wedded couple and their troupers to saunter
through to the waiting cars for the drive to the reception.
Hans and Averill rode in a Renault car
to the family compound in Banganté. With preparations for the wedding party
carried out to utmost perfection, Nana Njike was certain the five hundred-plus
guests expected that day would be more than taken care of. He was expecting
well-wishers from Douala, Yaoundé, Kribi, Nkongsamba, and Mbanga; and he was
also expecting guests from several places in the Bamilekéland, the Noun region,
the Adamawa highlands and even from British Cameroons.
The compound was already crowded by
14:00 hours that afternoon, justifying the need for the extra benches that Nana
Njike requested at the last minute from the king’s palace, and from families
and meeting groups in Banganté and nearby. However, it became evident that
there would be a shortage of sitting places, which even though not yet at a
crisis point, would become a major inconvenience in the next couple of hours.
There were tables at various spots in the large compound holding jugs of palm
wine, pots of corn beer and kwacha, imported beer and spirits, and large dishes
and pots of cooked food.
The percussionists became ferocious
with the beating of their drums and rattles at around 15:00 hours. Men, women, and children left their seats and
standing positions and then formed a
circle around the drummers, moving their legs and body in sync with the rhythm.
The song they sang and danced to was about a legendary or mythical Bamileké
ruler who escaped the sweep of the mounted and marauding Fulani warriors with
three wives and several followers.
Lore holds that he trekked across
inhospitable lands with his people, and
that he arrived in the South, in the Western High Plateau, where he began the
search for a place to build a home. Called the leopard king by many, the great
leader finally built a village whose exact location has become a source of
controversy in the Bamilekéland. Some groups hold that the settlement was
situated between two rivers while others maintain that its location is between
a river and a lake. However, the majority of the people of Bangoua considered
themselves the direct descendants of the leopard king. Not far away is Bangou
where the people hold a rival claim of their own that the leopard king moved
his settlement there from Bangoua, which he named Bangou, a shorter version of
Bangoua. But then, the people of the kingdom of Batie lay claim to a leopard
king of their own called Ngoua, who could have passed through Bangoua and
Bangou before settling in Batie with his favorite wife, whence he founded a
dynasty.
Now, the drummers and singers were
asking the legendary king to bless Hans and his freshly-wedded wife by making them successful in their efforts
to create a family in his name. When the song came to an end, some of the women
ululated for a while as if they were trying to make a point. Their activity
allowed the dancers to recede to their seats and rest stands while the drummers
laid aside their drums and rattle sticks. It was then that Nana Njike emerged
from the house to the cheerful applause of the wedding guests. He waved at them
with mixed joy and gratitude, shook the hands offered, embraced the bodies that
fell on him and exchanged words with the happy faces that spoke to him. That so
many people turned up to bless his first son in his new conjugal engagement was
a benevolent gesture he found overwhelming. He was thankful that there was
enough to drink and eat, plus a clear sky to make it a day to remember.
Nana Njike looked satisfied when he
mounted the podium in the portico where the wedding couple and their troupers
were seated. He greeted the bride and her parents, patted Hans and his best man
Alex on their shoulders and then addressed the guests.
He thanked them for honoring their
invitations by showing up in their great numbers for the wedding of their son
and brother to a daughter from afar. That Averill had found a home among them
as their daughter and sister was an achievement that the Njike family
cherished. He sounded like an orator as he told them about Hans and Averill. He
told them that Averill’s parents wanted him to tell their story, something he
did to the warm applause of the crowd.
Nana Njike was beaming with smiles as
he moved up to the table in front of the bride and groom, poured a horn-full of
palm wine, muttered words in the solicitation
of the blessings of their ancestors and then poured some of the drink on the
ground as a libation. He handed the rest
to Averill, before he passed it over to
Hans. The crowd roared good-humoredly as he too drank from the horn.
He dished out platefuls of the
plantain dish called Kondre and handed them to Averill and Hans to more
cheers and applause from the crowd. More ululating followed as the young couple
started eating. Then he moved to the edge of the podium and addressed the
people again, first in the dialect spoken in Banganté, then in French, and
later in English―urging the guests to enjoy themselves with the provisions of
the wedding. He was overjoyed when the people heeded his call and closed in on
the food and drinks. The drummers went back to work moments after. The wedding
party was now in full swing.
Hardly three hours into the evening,
Mami Njike realized that the beer and palm wine would run out before the later
hours of the day. She felt tired and worried. The activities of the past two
days had overworked her to the edge of her nerves, and the excitement of the
day had only worsened it. Still, she was enthusiastic. Even though she was
conscious of the fact that something needed to be done about the shortage, she, all the same, sagged into a chair at a
corner on the verandah and rested her chin on her right fist, making the effort
to put her thoughts together for a solution to the impending crisis.
Just as it dawned on her that the
corner was providing more rest than a solution to the problem at hand, the
drumming stopped, followed by an exchange of drummers. She watched the former
drummers move up to their table for food and refreshment and was amused by the
mounds that developed on their plates and bowls. But she did not mind. There
was more than enough food for the occasion.
Niatcham, a popular drummer from the
Banganté village of Kijifou, joined the new drummers. He settled in the lone
chair behind the drums, picked up his sticks and started striking a gentle note
on his wooden drum. The other drummers followed suit as the tempo increased.
The moving effect of the music spurred men, women and even children to their
feet as they shouted with glee and
delight. Shrilling sounds could be heard from a distance as a circle formed
around the drummers.
The upsurge in the festive spirit
around excited Mami Njike to the point where she defied her tiredness and
joined the growing circle. The popular foot dance called the tam-mbo’uh
was in motion, with its graceful and funny dengue-like movements.
Mami Njike did not dance for long
before she realized that the sudden jump in the festive mood around provided an
opportunity to work on her supply of booze. So, she slipped out of the circle
and started searching for her boys in a hurry. She found Philip and Nkabyo
drinking beer and beckoned them over. Paul joined them hardly a minute after
and looked amazed when she told him to go away. His immediate protest won his
brothers’ support, forcing Mami Njike to relent and let him re-join them.
Nkabyo raised his eyebrows inquiringly
at her mother. “Are you trying to tell us that you have already chosen wives
for us? You Bamileké women never stop trying to weave wives into the lives of
your sons,” he joked.
Mami Njike laughed despite herself. “Ah, Solomon! What makes you think I’m
inconsiderate to the point of being willing to make the life of another woman’s
daughter miserable, knowing that you think it is not a man’s job to split wood
for a woman, even if she happens to be his mother?”
“A price you must pay. Yes, you will
pay dearly for that. Don’t complain when you run out of firewood for the first
time,” Nkabyo joked again.
Mami Njike smiled and rested her left
arm on his shoulder. “I want you boys to drive to Bangoua and buy us some more
drinks. You can even proceed to Batoufam if there is a need for that. Nkepseu will drive you there.”
“Where is the money?” Nkabyo asked,
showing her his right palm.
Mami Njike tucked her hand into the
pocket of her gown and brought out a purse. She counted out money from it and
gave the bills to Nkabyo. “Make sure you use everything. My cousin’s son can
help you get to the suppliers in Batoufam. I mean Sandjou, Kwanchou’s son.
Don’t forget to tell them and Njojou too that I am disappointed with their
attitude. Only Wenga and his family are here for the wedding.”
“What if I decide to keep a quarter of
the money for myself?” Nkabyo teased, grimaced, and then beckoned his younger
brothers to follow him.
Mami Njike smiled warmly as she
watched them leave. Her first son’s peculiar way of glorifying his honesty
could be jarring sometimes.
Averill flushed with pride as she
received the gifts brought by the guests. She was genuinely happy to make it as
the wife of the first son of the renowned Njike family. She found the whole
development somehow mesmerizing, especially since everything was happening
hardly a year after her chaotic affair with Paul Abega and Jean-René Langmuir.
Digesting the fact that she now commanded so much attention, love, and respect, was proving to be somehow slow. It
wasn’t that she did not know her worth or potential. After all, as a graduate
from a renowned nursing school in the Senegalese capital of Dakar, and as one
of the top students in her batch, she was distinguished in her own right. Her
intention when she returned home from Senegal was to settle down in life. Paul
Abega initially looked promising until she found the true person in his skin.
He was a loving bastard capable of making her lose her head.
Averill cuddled the bride’s purse to
her belly as she watched the festivities in front of her with fascination. Some
of the old men and women who came into the portico to shower them with
blessings made her blush with their suggestions on how she could go about
keeping her man. One of them even advised Hans to be vigorous in his efforts
and seed as many children as the stars in the sky. Even Averill found herself
drawn into the confidence of some of the women who confided in her that
contrary to what many people thought, Bamileké women behaved like the female
panther and initiated copulation most of the time. They made it known in plain
terms that she needed to be strong to keep her man. She was forced to think
seriously about that after a tipsy guest moved up to Hans and suggested that he
take his daughter as his second wife.
A couple of minutes after 18:00 hours,
Averill excused herself and walked into the house to relieve her bladder,
making her way into the attached bathroom in the back.
Sitting alone without his bride, Hans
ruminated. He was convinced his life with women had not been stable before
because he felt confident going it alone. His line of defense back then was
that overtly emotional women made him uncomfortable,
and that the more he made an effort to be reciprocal, the more they demanded of
him. He felt like all his past relationships ended with none of the women believing that he was ever committed,
which he attributed to their insecurity. He thought he had hurt them all without
knowing it, lost them all without meaning to, and feared them all because of
his incomprehension. Even so, he could not remember a woman he had had a
relationship with for more than three months who did not confess one way or the
other that she would have a hard time forgetting him.
Now, Hans knew he would have to let go
of so many defenses in his life in order to build a successful conjugal home
with Averill. Still, he could not fool himself that it would be easy to keep
his eyes off the pretty women around, especially after two beautiful spinsters
made suggestive remarks about him that morning. One of them even winked at him as
an invitation. He would find out about that, at least after a year with his new
wife.
Hans came out of his thoughts to find
his father stoop-shouldered and conversely heartily with Madame Chloris Engono.
Her praise for the grandiose nature of the occasion was flattering and her
professed comfort with the Banganté climate was genuine. He stifled a laugh as
his father tried not to blush. However, Nana Njike was still beaming with pride
as he poured her a glass of red wine and then kissed
her hand. Then he looked at him and winked. His father straightened up after that, before leaving the portico to become a
part of the crowd again.
Nana Njike sauntered through the
multitude of people and made his way into the house to find Mami Njike standing
by the kitchen door, her hands at akimbo. Elizabeth was inside, directing the
distribution of the last reserve of drinks.
Mami Njike brightened up when she saw
her husband and then called him over with a smile on her face. “So, what is the
situation, my infallible husband? Are you going to admit to the fact that I was
right? Look at what we have left for our guests to saturate their throats with.
And you were against letting me have extra money just in case we ran out of
drinks.”
“But I gave you the money, didn’t I?”
“You did so, sounding grumpy, and only
after I persisted, as if I had plans to
get drunk for a year.”
Nana Njike grunted with slumped
shoulders as a bemused expression emerged on his face. “Now, where is the
money? Don’t tell me you haven’t sent for more drinks.”
Mami Njike chortled “You are never
short of words. Why don’t you admit the fact that you are not good at
organizing domestic events?”
“It is a wedding!” he said with a
smile.
“Still, it is domestic. You are not
good at estimating people’s consumption levels.”
Nana Njike stifled a laugh as he
watched her heave her shoulders in triumph. He knew she had already made
arrangements for the drinks and was about to tell her so when the sound of
screeching wheels coming from his Ford pickup truck distracted him. He peered
outside to find Nkepseu behind the wheel. The sight brought a smile to his
face. He turned around and thanked Mami Njike and then walked to the door and
stood there for a moment, watching his sons and some men load off jugs of palm
wine and crates of beer. Finally, he shook his head in fatigue and left the
kitchen, stopping every now and then to shake hands and share happy words with
the wedding guests.
The wedding party of Hans Wette Njike
and Averill Engono ended successfully that night. The guests returned to their
homes, beds, and other resting places tired, drunk, tipsy, or sober. They,
however, had one thing in common―they left the wedding party satisfied and in
high spirits, convinced that the Njike family appreciated their presence at
Hans's wedding.
Nana Njike retired to his bed
exhausted. He could not remember having felt so tired before. He pulled himself
out of bed around midday the next day and grumpily asked for breakfast. His
family found it amusing instead because they knew he was good at feigning moods
in a hilarious way to evade questions about his funny actions.
Mami Njike slept the sleep of a
satisfied custodian. She knew she had played a key role in the final settlement
of her stepson into a conjugal home and felt proud about making Hans feel at
home in his new community and the Njike family. But like most over-caring
Bamileké mothers, she went to bed weaving plots to get Nkabyo and Philip settled
down in life with wives of their own. Her wish was to see them married at a
younger age than Hans. She was impatient for grandchildren.
Nkabyo and Philip slept on the
verandah outside since relatives and
friends occupied their rooms. The benches proved to be comfortable sleeping places, after all, taking into account the alcohol
in their system and the warm blankets over their bodies.
Nkabyo had been elated when Hans told
him he was getting married. “It is about time the Njike family begins its drive
into the third generation,” he had told his older brother in an excited voice.
Philip, who now worked in Nkongsamba
under the tutelage of his scrutinizing father, was happy when he first heard
the news of Hans’s engagement and planned wedding.
Convinced that his elder brother’s conjugal commitments would force him to cut
back on his workload in the cooperation, Philip also looked at it as a unique
opportunity to become more involved in the family business. He thought he might
have to move down to Douala to give Hans and Alex a helping hand. Or he could
convince his father to transfer Alex to Nkongsamba and move him down to Douala
as a replacement.
Before they fell asleep on their
bamboo benches, the exhausted Philip and Nkabyo found some time together for a
conversation. But it was so brief that they couldn’t remember saying goodnight
to the others sleeping around them in the verandah.
The Njike girls had less in mind when
they fell asleep. Hans had enriched their lives with his company and wonderful
ideas. Now he was promising them babies
that they could show around. Only Elizabeth had another piece added to her joy.
She knew that Averill’s entry into Hans’s life would relieve her of some of her
domestic duties.
Unlike the rest of the family members,
Paul went to bed drunk, thinking that the wedding party was grand. But he never
had time to think of the merits and demerits. He slept with an enigmatic smile
on his face.
Han and Averill slept together in his renovated room in Banganté. Just before he fell asleep that night, Hans thought about the quiet-flowing stream behind his window, whose melodic sound added a peculiar rhythm to their lovemaking. Dawn found them making love before they fell asleep again. What better way to start the first day after our wedding? Hans thought, minutes before he slipped into his dream world...
