“Guys, I did it,” Rasheed announced with a triumphant grin, as he took another gulp of beer. “I convinced Zara to let me marry a second wife.” he continued, his voice buoyed with excitement.
Across the table, Chidi and Jimi exchanged looks that mixed amusement and disbelief.
They were at Mama B’s, a popular joint they had frequented for years. The restaurant buzzed with the lively mix of barbecue aromas and Afrobeat music. It was their weekly ritual, but tonight was special.
Chidi tore into his cow tail pepper soup, sweating as the steam rose to his face. “My guy! More grease to your elbow! Only a strong man can marry two wives. I cannot even handle the one wife I have.” He wiped his brow, gesturing for the waiter, “Another round, please! This calls for a celebration!”
“So, how did you swing it with Zara? She’s not one for such. Didn’t that almost stop your marriage?” Jimi, always the skeptic, leaned forward and asked.
Rasheed’s mind raced back to the challenging time he had faced convincing Zara’s family to let him marry her, they were wary of his polygamous background—especially since his father had recently taken a young fourth wife that was about Zara’s age at the time. Her family hesitated on his proposal for more than a year. Eventually, Zara getting pregnant forced their hands. His grandmother’s quiet advice did that trick.
He had promised Zara that he would never be like his father, that she would always be his one and only wife. They started out humble, and Zara had supported him through his rise at the bank to ultimately setting up his own business that was not very successful. She herself was doing well and had a fabric shop in Lagos Island.
“When I told Zara, she was initially resistant, but as a true African man, I put my foot down, and she had no choice but to agree,” Rasheed boasted, puffing his chest.
“Yinmu…” Jimi said mockingly, raising his lips to his nose. “Abeg, what really happened?”
“Okay okay… I won’t lie, Zara was very upset, she complained about how I would be shaming her in front of her friends, how I was abandoning our vows, she even moved to the guest room and didn’t talk to me for days.” Rasheed paused to drink some more beer.
He smiled, then continued, “That was when I played my ace card, I got my Imam whom she respects to plead with her. The man get sweet mouth ehn, he gently mixed scripture with modern reality in a relatable manner, by the time he finished, she calmed down.”
“So has Zara approved? I can’t believe she gave you her approval that easily,” Jimi asked, not yet convinced.
Rasheed adjusted his bùbá in his chair. “Let me correct you, I don’t need her approval. While it is preferable, it is not a requirement.”
He told them how the father of his bride-to-be was adamant that Zara be accepting of their daughter, otherwise there wouldn’t be any wedding. They wouldn’t put their daughter into a toxic situation.
“Anyways, she also demanded I buy her a new car and renovate her shop,” Rasheed added quietly, almost as an afterthought.
“Chai! That one cost o!” Chidi said
“A small price to pay,” Rasheed replied. His excitement was evident about his bride-to-be, Muinat, a recent university graduate who frequented his store.
She would address him with “ẹh”, the Yoruba way of addressing an older person with respect, yet she consistently complimented him, telling him how elegant his outfit looked, how she liked his salt-and-pepper hair, the mixture of grey and black hair.
The compliments later turned to gentle flirtations. He would tell her how her butt wiggled in her dress, and she would ask him if he had been working out, touching his arms. She told him how she admired mature men compared to younger boys. Despite his advances, she insisted on marriage as she was a devout Muslim and was okay being the second wife.
“Have they met yet?” Chidi asked, curious about the dynamics between the two women in Rasheed’s life.
By Adedamola
Read the full story here -> A Small Price to Pay by Damola
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