Theft of the magic!
The anticipation of magic carries
with it a bitter sweet charm only possible in the figment of the imagination,
one which the consummation of the wait itself cannot match. In the wait the mind is engaged and it engages
itself, loses itself in wonder and wanders into countless possibilities of what
the reality will or could be, until the experience itself robs it. Then the
magic is stolen with all what was once possible zeroed into a single moment of
one possibility out of all the countless and disappointment rushes in like air
into a vacuum.
This was the moment she had been
waiting, the moment they had been waiting for. The moment had finally come.
They were both dressed in immaculate white as a symbol of unadulterated purity
and a new beginning, one removed from the stains and dirt of the past, a virgin
page. Fuh waited at the altar like a dying man waiting for the second wind
which will give him a new lease on life, for an angel who walked in from the
other end and couldn’t come soon enough. Her name was Fideline. She looked
resplendently beautiful in her wedding dress and her eyes shone so bright, it
made the sun look like it was not shining. As she walked down the aisle in
feline majesty, delicately and meticulously placing each step as if she ran the
risk of stepping on the life line from which all humanity drew their breath,
she was stormed by volleys of confusing thoughts. Out of a sudden she wondered
if she was doing the right thing, she wondered if she was walking into a
sentence of life imprisonment plus hard labor, she wondered if by the act she
was about to finalize she wasn’t being the fish that voted the budget for the
hooks, she wondered if she was not by the words of her mouth and the signing of
her hand clipping the wings of her free reigning spirit. Fideline wondered if
she had disclosed all what should have been disclosed, knowing fully well that
she had not. There were ugly skeletons in her closet. She wondered if her marriage
will live up to all the hype which had helped quicken her steps into it and for
how long, she wondered if she was now only a few steps away from the magic she
had dreamed of from the first day she donned the consciousness of a pretty
little girl.
The pastor raised the tone of his
voice as he repeated for the third time, asking if there was anybody in the
crowd who knew anything that should stand in the way of the union he was about
to bless before God and before man. With each time he asked Fideline’s heart
raced with increasing speed, reaching velocities faster than Usain Bolt and it
was not hard to see her heart pounding within her chest, held tightly in check
by her tight fitting wedding gown which hugged her like her second skin.
Because Shakespeare was right when he said there is indeed no art to construe
the mind’s construction on the face, it was impossible for anyone but Fideline
to know the true cause of the pounding.
“I, Fuh, take you, Fideline, to be my partner,
loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know. I eagerly
anticipate the chance to grow together, getting to know the woman you will
become, and falling in love a little more every day. I promise to love and
cherish you through whatever life may bring us.” There was a pause which hushed every noise in the
room and you could hear a pin drop. And then he continued: “Fideline is coined
from the French word Fidelle which means faithful, and every time I call you it
will be a subtle but real reminder of the nerve center of fidelity around which
this union revolves. Fidel, je serais fidel avec et envers toi”. This was
followed by thunderous applause which waned to nothing over time as hands grew
tired of meeting like cymbal pairs. Fuh’s vow eclipsed Fideline’s rather shy
and quiet profession of marital vows.
The wedding ceremony was followed by a
reception full of pomp, dancing and fanfare but the couple was eager to go back
home, retreat into privacy and catch their breath from the tiresome marathon
which had characterized the preparations to that moment. When they went back
home the host in the radio from the living room which was never turned off started reading
a poem titled:
“Why did you marry?
Did you marry for the glory and fame?
Be careful that can be the price for shame,
Why did you marry?
Was it to grab headlines,
And at worst hit footlines,
Lines like 'wedding of the year?'
Where you conscious of all you have to bear,
All the storms you have to endure,
Which punctuate the bliss and make your humanity pure,
Why did you get married?
Was it merely an escape route for the sexual urge?
Is it a vent for all the things you feel the need to purge?
You'll be sure to find out life is bigger than emotions,
Larger than promotions and demotions,
Why did you get married?
Was it in order to make a social statement,
To get a waning prestige re-instatement?
Why did you get married?
Did you crack under peer pressure,
Pulled by a killing desire to meet the peer measure,
Was it used as a wheel to office,
Was it for the auspice,
Did you marry an engineer, some fancy profession or doctor,
Or did you marry a human being - the human factor,
Was it for the title,
Or was it for the mettle,
Was it for nationality,
Way out of internationality?
Why did you get married?
Was is just for the kids?
Sanctify your deeds,
You will be disappointed when you miss the point,
It is a union where purposes are joint,
It is deeper and more profound,
If you hurry experience will painfully expound,
Purify you motives,
Before you get on the marriage locomotive,
Know marriage is to make better,
Shouldn't be a fetter,
Let love be your aim,
Your method,
Your end,
For in the end,
Love still conquers all.”
The poem got Fideline thinking and suffering even more. She
brushed aside the funny feeling making a firm but short lived resolution in her
mind to embrace what had already happened and make the most of the new journey. On many levels they had a wonderful first
night together, and woke up to ordered service of total pampering delivered at
their sea side home in Limbe.
The second day was quiet and reflective, both parties of the
union spending all day together but not talking very much. Suddenly there was a
ring on the door which Fuh responded to, and found out it was the mail man with
one mail addressed to him. He reclined into the lazy chair on their balcony and
opened it. A terse, succinct sting loaded in a few words waited for him in the
envelope – a bombshell waiting to detonate.
“ Dear Fuh,
Find attached FYI – marriage certificate. I have been
married to Fideline for the past 5 years she has been in Germany. I worked my
connections and circle of friends to find out she was stealing herself away to
marry you in Cameroon. I am in Cameroon and will like to talk.
Angela – tel: 237XXXXXXXXX”
He sweated, his mouth was dry, he swallowed many invisible
lumps, his lachrymal springs opened, he was confused and caught in a web of
inexplicable emotions. The joy and bliss of marriage was short lived for these
two. They quickly learned that fairytale weddings like the one they just had
are just that, fairytales and only belong in the figment of the imagination and
in books to be read by young boys and girls waiting to be lured in some
deceptive web woven in lies and unrealistic expectations. While their wedding
was the talk of the town and their names dripped from every lip, the joys of
marriage which is real and true to some, had eluded these two.
Brussels © February 2015
afesehngwaHilary
