January, 2074. 

She danced to their favorite song. Her hips swayed left and right as she slightly lifted the hem of her dress to give more movement to her legs. With a glass of a wine in her hand, Asari rested on the tall window in anticipation. 

“You know say I love you” 

Chike’s “Amen” played and she ran to increase the volume on the vinyl. The brown plate spun slowly round its holder while she turned her back to the view once more. Asari held the glass up to her chest and shut her eyes. She travelled. In her head, it was December 2022 all over again. It was the day she trod the field of the Botanical Garden to greet the vendors whose stands contained a variety of supplies that ranged from fabric to food and drinks. 

It was the worn out view of the Botanical Garden in Calabar, the one that came alive during special events like this. The one she always attended with her mother. The garden was a large field with walls on each side. There were at least three openings that led to an entrance for all guests. Asari marveled at how the people without an entry ticket or a tag, especially the young children on the streets of Chamely and Calabar South, made sure they weren’t left out. She would laugh as they climbed on obvious sides of the fences to bask in the event. It was the day of the trade fair.

That was the song she danced to while waiting for potential customers underneath her mother’s stand. Her mother, Asi, sold handmade jewelry threaded with raffia along with patterned footwear. The footwear sold out fast ahead of the Utom Obong. He interrupted her singing that day but when it came to Asi’s business, Asari would drop the world to see her mother smile at the end of every trade fair.

“I’m sorry to bother you this fine day. Aba di è?. How are you?” He asked.

“I’m well. And you didn’t interrupt anything. I should be scouting for customers and not dancing. I suppose you’re here for the slippers for your mom. She said to keep one for her.”

He nodded with a gentle grin. While she fetched for the purchased item, Otu turned his back to watch the singers on stage. Highlife was what his soul leaped to; his legs and forearms in sync with the smooth bangs of the drums. The lyrics fell at the tip of his tongue like a stream of needed water. Asari clung to one of the vertical iron rods that held the umbrella in place. She stood in awe of all that concerned him at that moment. 

His eyes birthed all kinds of nostalgia as the band members switched songs within two minutes. For each song, his eyes had stories to tell. Asari leaned forward to get a view of the tales in Otu’s eyes. From his lips, the songs were of honey and buttery sensations that left her with questions she was determined to get passed across.

Why does he like that song better? 

“It reminds me of home when it felt like it. As a child, oblivion is your partner for a decent amount of time. You pay no attention to the void of your household. Mma’s cries may just be the vexation over a packet of cheeseballs like the predicament of the young child. Ette’s shouts is him being him. It never mattered because it didn’t make sense to a child like me. One thing that did speak to me was the smile on their faces when the song came on. My parents would pull me in for a dance and in that moment, everything went still so our hearts could beat and mouths could sing. That was life.”

Why did he have both hands at the back of his head in surrender to the music?

“It was how my mother liked to listen to it and I imitated her all the time. She revered that song and every other mixtape that spoke to her directly. It was like worshipping the things that gave her joy. It was like God, she would say. Everything loving that’s profound in your life is birthed by God, through God himself, to you. So she would sing with joy as though she were in a holy place. My mother thanked God for everything that made her happy.”

Why did he look to the sky through the course of that one song?

“My father passed away and it makes sense to look to the heavens when I witness something that reminds me of him. Just then, I felt him smile at me. It was my own way of telling him that I think of him every chance I get. I looked up to reminisce on the days when that song sipped through the corners of the living room at our house as my parents spun me around and sang at the top of their lungs. It was the same reason I had my hands up in the air. I was thanking God for those times, just as I had been taught.”

There’s something about being lost in time till you’re unable to realize your steps during a course of action. Asari hadn’t realized when she let go of the iron rod and sat on the wooden table in front her mother’s stand. She sat right next Otu. The night of the trade fair was nothing short of a concert; people left their respective stands and gathered around the stage to dance to the band. Every change of song was met with screams from people who had stories behind their voices. People like him.

Sitting on the wooden table afforded them a close view of the highlife band as they watched others dance to the music. Otu was able to give all the answers to her yearnings about him. It was the night where she truly felt something — it pinched her to discomfort. When you’re foreign to a thing, it’s hard to make sense of it. Asari liked the discomfort. She was open to it. It may have been new, but it was something she could live with. Him. 

All good things come to an end. The trade fair was worth more than the previous years where Asari would cockily nod her head when her mother sold out on everything. It brought joy to her face but it became more of a norm she didn’t realize until she experienced a life out of sold-out stations and a quiet drive home after a well spent day. This time, she witnessed what could pass off as a first of its kind, a love that stood the course even though it was new. She was ready to take it. Arms opened wide, Asari took up the chance to fight for what may or may not be. 

A year later, they would coo at each other on the train that led to Akampa to visit the neighboring town. Dressed in a white sundress with a slit that ran up her left thigh, Asari‘s nerves ate her heart. She begged and begged for the nerves to visit some other day. 

That Sunday, Otu took Asari to see his own world. She would get to see his loved ones just as he saw her mother and her best friends, Nkechi and Stella. She would get to see the school that took him out of his shell. They would get to pass the house of the teacher who took him as a son. Asari would bask in the coolness of his family compound at dawn, when people sunk into their sheets and the birds of the air chirped them to sleep as they ignored the new day. She would get to live in the world of the man whose aura was an unexpected stream of genuine love. 

He had spent time in her world right from their encounter at the Botanical Garden. After being nervous about meeting her mother, Otu didn’t have to put in as much effort because Asi was happy to see that her daughter was with someone who felt like home — given that his mother was a loyal customer and good friend. That was the icing on the cake for an African parent who let their child into the world; being at peace knowing that they’re safe with the person who feels like home. 

Asari took him around Akpabuyo which was her local government. They stayed for two nights at Grandma Obio’s house where she made Asari’s favorite meal — Eba and Efere Afang. Grandma Obio told stories and backed them with photos of life in the early years. She held their hands on the evenings when they went on walks. She sang songs that put Asari to sleep — who rested her head on her grandmother’s legs as she stroked it. 

Asari woke up to the feel of the morning as the Ekoki seller rose to set her meal on the wooden table across the street. The morning was when the shoemaker bit the string of a metal to signal the street that he had resumed work. Mornings at her family home was a mixture of Ekoki and the graceful air of the Akara served with garri and sugar. Asari loved spending the days with Grandma Obio. Her mother always complained that the reason for Asari’s cockiness was because her grandmother treated her like an egg. 

“That’s why you think you’re on top of the world”, she would mockingly say. That was why Asari needed Otu to see grandma Obio desperately; it was the only approval she needed.

That Sunday, when they got to Otu’s family residence, Asari felt as though the wind had lifted her and she was floating on air. There was emptiness because it wasn’t real. She wasn’t flying. One true thing was where she was, spending a week with his family whom she hadn’t met before. Or maybe she was flying, but on the air of abyss.

Otu’s family lived on a land that could pass off as an estate if much consideration were given to it. The acres of land were enough to invest in ten structures. The single home that was still standing was that of his late father. Often referred to as Chief, Otu’s father was the type of man whose aura was daunting but highly respected. Asari had already pictured floor plans and interior design that she could’ve done for the enchanting home while she had a conversation with Otu about the receptiveness of his family. 

“If you’re looking for an interior designer, I’m your plug” she said. 

She told him that his family was sweet except his Aunty Arit who gave her a questionable look for all the times their eyes met. Otu explained that Aunty Arit was only doing what any concerned relative would do when a partner is brought to see them. What jarred Asari was the way in which families in Nigeria acted the same. It’s often the most random extended relative who did the scrutinizing than the nuclear counterparts. She wasn’t offended because it reminded her of the Amebo Uncle Frank whose care was only but a façade he used to get family gist. 

That evening, they walked up a hill along a path of the street. The sky was a blend of a warm orange and grey undertone. They sat and watched the clouds move until the night fell. Asari loved it there. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder as they both relished in the stillness and quiet. Cricket sounds were like songs and the lights that shone from neighboring households were as beautiful as ever. Otu took a glance at her every chance he got. 

“What?” she asked, lifting her head. 

“You look beautiful that’s all”

Asari smiled that it felt like her cheeks were burning. 

“You know that saying in the bible where love is likened to an army of Lilies that spring up on thorns? It’s what it feels like being with you. It’s what it has felt like since you’ve been in my life, Asa. I wonder what it was like when you weren’t here. You’ve completely sheathed me. Wholly and easily.”

From that day, not only did Asari weep at such an unexpected moment, she made sure to remind Otu that the least he could’ve done was tell her to wear a cute dress for a proposal atop a hill. 

“Being with you has been natural. The way you smile, speak, and laugh. Moments with you are just as natural. What more could I have given you than something of that caliber? Your love was so unexpected and crude, the same way I wanted to prove my own love for you.” He always had the words to say, almost like comebacks. She loved him more than anything. 

His family reveled in the good news, especially Aunty Arit who was already making plans to sew Asari’s Onyonyo, the flowing gown that Efik brides wear on the day of the traditional marriage that’s paired with an iron stick and wrapped around a regal cloth. The hair in itself was another masterpiece that Aunty Arit was ready to take on. 

The drive back home was an easy one. Journeys to the outskirt of cities were long but heading back to town was the opposite. Next thing you know, they were back in Calabar South to share the news to Asari’s family. Grandma Obio was visiting for the weekend. It was the perfect timing. Given that Asari’s father was late, custom had it that her brother, Asuquo, gave out her hand in marriage. The happiness on their faces was one of the sweetest moments. 

Weeks later, Asari and Otu spent the days together touring Calabar as if it were a new place. They shopped and visited like children hungry to explore a city at the back of their parent’s car. It was the back and forth decisions they made about the traditional wedding. They hassled with grandma Obio and Otu’s mother on the number of attendees. The event planner contacted them an unhinged number of times because it was hard for both families to settle on one thing. Chaos was the summary. In the end, no one had a say in the decision made by the couple. It was their word against everyone else. 

The word ‘enough’ is an insulting attribute given to time. One can never have enough time. That was what played in Asari’s head as she moved from side to side while clutching the glass to her chest. She moaned to the song as though it were the last time her ears would hear it. She looked up to the sky and smiled. She raised her hands to the heavens in reverence, thanking God for him. As she watched the clouds move, she smiled because Otu was speaking to her. Just as he had taught her, she sang the song at the top of her own lungs because not only did they dance to it every time they remembered, it birthed stories too hard to forget.