Dear Editor,
Family members arrived from NoKunda, Kerewan, and Kachang, all dressed in their finest suits and secondhand British dresses. The more colonial the outfit, the more admired one was. Some of them had never been to Fajara before, home to Sawagibi, their beloved son, their shining star, their pride, the nation’s komsohna!
“I hear he is a very, very big Komsohna,” Modou Yaya Jallow whispered.
“He is in charge of all human rights worldwide,” one Khadijatou Barrow announced with full confidence.
“I hear he is the richest Badibunka in Fajara,” Nenending added, lowering her voice less anyone thinks she was there for the money.
“They said that when we go back to Su, he will give all of us money,” Almamo Ceesay declared, dancing as if the cash had already entered his pocket.
They had all gathered in Fajara to witness the Tubabu Futuwo between their favourite son and his soon-to-be wife, Nnands. Sawagibi himself was ready. This was his day. The day he would cross the sacred bridge from ordinary man to full Alfaa status. He stood before the mirror, took a deep breath, and examined himself one last time. He believed the rest of his life would be determined by the next few minutes. He adjusted his clothes, wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, and polished his Vaselined bald head. Sawagibi looked at the Tanzanite glittering in the black box and smiled to himself. Everything was sampurrsang.
“Time to go,” he murmured
He took another deep breath and, surrounded by Masaneh Bajika, his uncle Omar Drammeh, and Ousman Ceesay, Sawajibi waltsed slowly into the front yard of his Fajara home, where friends, relatives, admirers, and professional eaters had gathered. His brother and friend, Mmajiki, was there. His elder and mentor, Madi Jobarteh, was present as well. So was his sister, Ida Kebba Lang, the quiet architect behind the whole occasion.
His intended, Nnands, was dressed for glory. She wore a tight-fitting powder-blue dress that honored every curve Daarmanso had drawn on her body. Her exaggerated baby curls rested beautifully on her forehead and cheeks, shining under the lights. Around her were her best friends, cousins, and aunts, including Kassa, who had come all the way from Atlanta to bless the surprise with American standards.
For months, Nnands had been practicing the moment. She knew exactly how to gasp when Sawagibi brought out the ring. She had rehearsed how to cry without ruining her makeup. She knew when to cover her mouth, when to widen her eyes, when to dab her eyelids, and when to let the guests say “awwww,” as if they had all been hired by Nollywood.
After that, she would hug Sawagibi, kiss him on the lips, and the crowd would erupt in cheers. She had rehearsed everything in her mind. Nothing feels better than watching your private fantasy become reality. And so Nnands sat there, surrounded by her people, waiting for Sawagibi to deliver the surprise everyone was pretending not to know.
Then Sawagibi emerged from the house, flanked by his ever-supportive uncle Bais Hydara and Sammy SSS Touray, who had travelled all the way from England to teach him the delicate art of romance. Sawagibi was nervous. Very nervous. The kind of nervousness that makes a grown man question both love and his digestion. He felt like he might vomit, but he kept moving.
He walked gently toward the guests, shaking one hand, smiling at another, nodding at people whose names had temporarily escaped his mind.
His mentor, Madi, had taught him exactly what to say to Nnands, but by the time Sawagibi reached the crowd, all the lines had left the UDP and ran to the NPP. He would have to wing it. He picked up a glass and a spoon, intending to clink them together like he saw one Alkali Dibba do. But because his nerves had taken over his body, he hit the glass too hard and shattered it. The crowd cheered loudly, because Badibunkas know how to turn disaster into encouragement. Sawajibi pretended as if he meant to break the glass. Honesty is not always welcome where deception is king. Then Sawagibi walked toward Nnands as Ifang Bondi’s Irene song blasted from Bluetooth speakers.
As a man deeply immersed in colonial ways, Sawajibi knew this was how things were done in the West. He knelt before Nnands, opened his heart, and waxed lyrical:
“Nnadingding Ceesay, I have loved you from the very first day I set my eyes on you. There was something beautiful about everything you did. Your grace, your aura, your very essence conquered my heart the moment I saw you. Since that day, I have not been myself. And there is something beautiful about not being myself, because losing myself in you helped me discover who I truly am.
Through this journey, I have come to understand that there is no me without you. Nnands, life without you is a void, completely empty. So today, before our families, our friends, our witnesses, and all these Badibunkas who came mainly for food and gossip, I offer you the gift of my heart and soul. I offer you myself. I offer you my being. I offer you my love, in the hope that you will accept me as your companion through this journey of life.
“Nnands, will you accept this gift of love from me?”
Kassa, who takes great pride in being more American than any living Badibunka, had prepared Nnands well. As Sawagibi poured out his heart, Nnands covered her mouth with both hands and began jumping up and down in excitement. She could hear him speaking, but she could not make out a single word. It did not matter. The performance was more important than what was being said. Right on cue, she stretched out her left hand. Sawagibi fumbled the Tanzanite from his pocket, his hands shaking like a Badibunka switching to a new party he had once criticised. Finally, he slid it onto Nnands’ ring finger.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed.
The Badibunka crowd erupted. People clapped. People shouted. People who had no idea what was happening celebrated with great conviction. Sawagibi and Nnands embraced, and for one shining moment, love stood in the middle of Fajara wearing powder blue and a Vaselined baldhead.
Then, suddenly, one very light-skinned woman leaped from the crowd and attacked Sawagibi and Nnands.
Alagie Saidy Barrow
US