Marriage palaver -Part 1

Marriage is still a scared institution

These days, to marry in a decent acceptable way to both God and man is a well-nigh impossible feat, unless you go in for a bank loan which you can repay only after auc­tioning your father’s cocoa farm.

It is for this reason that young men in Sikaman are scared of marriage unless it could be contracted free of charge, which is unheard-of. In spite of this, young men continue to breed chil­dren, because the biological process of reproduction must continue with or without bank loans.

The growing incidence of produc­ing children out of wedlock is rather alarming. However, nothing can be done to help the situation because one cannot expect a man of about 35 who is unemployed to wait till manna falls from heaven before getting married, to begin procreation. In similar manner, it would be unfair to expect a woman to grow bald before getting a first- born.

In any case, however, marriage is still regarded as a sacred institution. And to make it feasible for young men to marry in order to preserve the sanc­tity of this institution, many communi­ties are waiving the high bride wealth associated with their marriage.

Many fathers-in-law are conde­scending enough to accept anything reasonable to get their ageing daugh­ters off their neck.

But some in-laws think differently. They believe that before a maiden leaves her paternal home to co-hab­it with a man, she must have been wedded in pomp and ostentation so that observers would become aware of her ‘social standing whether she is a beauty queen, or has the kind of face that is akin to a sad vulture.

Quite paradoxically, such expensive marriages do not last. Immediately the honeymoon is consummated, husband and wife are seen clutching at each other’s throat because of a trivial misunderstanding that could be solved peacefully in bed.

Before my good friend, Kofi Koko­tako, became a married man, he was an eligible bachelor in his own class. The parents of his girlfriend wanted an expensive wedding which he could not afford and therefore decided to do away with the girl altogether.

Kokotako was an insurance ex­ecutive then. One day, sported in a three-piece suit that fitted perfectly, he carved his way through the city crowd into a bank holding his briefcase tightly.

It was about 1:55 pm when he got to the bank and he smiled rather broadly to whoever will welcome it. Many admired his suit and moccasin shoes and long black tie to match. He was the perfect gentleman coming to withdraw money for the week-end.

Standing to allow for a little re­flection, Kokotako remembered that his cheque-book was stuck deep in an obscure compartment of his beautiful briefcase. He had made a mistake, he thought. He should have removed that damn cheque-book long ago and put it into his breast-pocket. To open the briefcase now in the full glare of fellow citizens of Sikaman would amount to revealing his marital status without being asked to.

Kofi Kokotako, however, managed to open the briefcase after placing it lightly on his left thigh as he half-stooped not to reveal the contents; he opened it slightly and poked his fingers into the upper compartment intent on retrieving that hell of a cheque book.

He was furious at it, and in this fit of anger, coupled with a little awk­wardness, the entire briefcase lost bal­ance and over-turned. Lo and behold, disaster had struck Kokotako.

Customers of the bank and officials immediately gathered around to see with their very eyes the terrible sight that lay at their feet. Scattered far and wide were palm-nuts (about one olonka in quantity), plantain, some cassava, pepper, tomato, onion and fish. The rest were maggi-cube, garden eggs and four large crabs that sought instance refuge from their predica­ment. The crabs now sped in different directions to seek political asylum in the nearest territory. They had nearly gone out of breath in the tight brief­case. In fact, Kokotako had wanted to prepare some palm- nut soup that would last him for some three days.

Now, as he held onto the empty briefcase in consternation and quite oblivious of what to do next, a smart lady helped to pack back the contra­band while the crowd burst into some good laughter. The day was hot and this nice incident, provoked more than a good amount of mirth and helped cool down their bodies.

As the fast lady chased one of the crabs, hell broke loose again. The crab raced with all its might, determined to avoid Kokotako’s soup-pot. Presently, it sought momentary peace under a seat in the open space of the bank, but the lady was also determined to extract it.

It was now time for some hide and seek, as spectators cheered and closely followed this lady-versus- crab contest. A sort of who-is-who. Not too long thereafter, the experienced lady cap­tured the crab and returned it. How­ever, before she got to the briefcase in triumph, the stubborn crab twisted slightly, and with an adjusted left claw held onto the middle finger of the lady in a wild attempt to snap it off, and damn the consequences.

The lady yelled maniacally before flinging of the wicked creature. A new dimension of the melodrama became underway and this was greeted with loud laughter from shocked spectators.

As the crab got thrown, it landed into a group of spectators who did not know it was coming their way. A stampede began almost immediately as all scattered in fear of the giant crab which had extra-large claws. Kokotako had done a good selection for the larg­est crab for his palm nut soup.

Kofi Kokotako was now confused. He closed his briefcase in disappointment, and with a face like a rainy-day left the bank premises cursing and threat­ening to close his account with the bank.

Whether the dangerous crab was eventually disarmed and carried away to custody, or whether it became a terrorist and took the bank officials hostage while brandishing a powerful left claw, or whether it was granted political asylum with stipend, I do not know. What I know is that, before my friend Kotoko was married, he was a bachelor who did not enjoy eating in a chop-bar.

He enjoyed preparing his own food, and had gone to the market straight from the office that day with a rubber bag. Later, he had packed the items and the crab into his briefcase before making it to the bank to withdraw some cash. It was there that the unex­pected happened to his bitter disap­pointment.

Bachelorship had done my friend the greatest injustice. After that incident, he decided that if he did not take steps to get married immediately, worse things would happen to him.

God save Kokotako of Sikaman

This article was first published On Saturday May 25, 1990