Mid-age has come; almost lost is the brags and security that goes with the beauty of youth. Will the colors of a peahen be for its survival or pleasantries? Nnenne dared for answers.
A non-conformist – Nnenne nurtured her confidence in the free-to-be-you household she grew up in with her mom – a teacher by profession yet a feminist at heart – and her father, a lifelong government worker in Port Harcourt. They named their little girl Nnenne because both her maternal and paternal grandmother bore a hint of Nne in their first names – Nneanyi and Nnebundu. Encouraged by her parents, she embraced medical sciences acquiring a doctorate in Virology. Constrained by male-obliging Ibo customs, her be-true-to-yourself ethos in matters of romantic relationships hasn’t paid off. Disparagers pained that a lady of sound upbringing and endowment would approach a man for a date vent their venom:
“She’s possessed; a pit stop for men in need a place to rest, a vacant vessel for guests, but nobody comes eager for a permanent stay.”
As far as she is concerned, such discernment smack of a lack of sophistication and envy.
“Jealousy is the last hurdle a snoop scale before becoming a witch.” She once lashed out at a male workmate who shared a table with her and Lolo at launch break.
“A lady shouldn’t put herself on the shelf.”
“Ibo custom frowns at harlotry; such isn’t the lot of a virtuous woman.”
“But announcing to the world, you’re ready to settle down and trying out three or five women as a prerequisite to finding a suitable wife is the prerogative of virtuous men,” Nnenne retorted.
“H’m, male-privilege doesn’t reckon – in picking one end of a stick, you also pick the other,” Lolo muttered.
“Getting married and raising a family is a desire dear to my heart. I am 43. Should I be resented? By society, for airing such opinion to a man, I feel eligible to fulfill such a role?
“Should I be branded a ‘Whore’ because I tendered a legitimate solicitation same as a man? Nnenne asked.
“How rude and condescending.” Lolo cut in.
“They way to go or should I say the norm is to sit tight for a ‘nice’ man instead of padding the cannon yourself.”
“What if Mr. Nice doesn’t knock at my door?” Nnenne asked.
“Patience! Without Patience, a palm wine tapper can’t make wine.”
As he excused himself and left their company, an ominous silence descended, in a bid to counter the quiet Lolo enquired: “What of your Bobo? Her voice startled Nnenne nibbling at her tapioca while lost in thought.
“You mean Arinze?”
“Um, promises, promises, promises. Arinze is an unsteady but faithful ship; maybe he needs to be anchored.”
“At least he’s not a skirt chaser like that numbskull. But how do you intend to get him clipped?”
“DIY is now the fad,” Nnenne answered.
(To be Continued)
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