Focus on the family

Focus on the family.

The ‘look alike’ look.

“It’s Tinuke’s wedding next week,” your wife calls out from the bedroom while you pore over some documents at the table. You  have a presentation at the office the following week and you want everything to be perfect. You really cannot remember who Tinuke is. You are hoping she will provide more information so you wisely keep your mouth shut.

“You know Tinuke now, that my second cousin?” your wife volunteers. “She sent her aso ebi to my office yesterday. She said its 10k for six yards. I think if we do it well we can both manage the 6 yards.”

“Hmm,” you say non-committal. Inwardly you bristle. Another 10k unbudgeted for, just because of a second cousin’s wedding. Actually you don’t mind spending that amount for a relative’s wedding. You would gladly use that money to buy her a gift rather than overburden your wardrobe with loads of Ankara material. You spent such a lot of money on buying aso ebi for so many occasions the previous year and you really do not want to spend more money on such frivolity. But the \’\’wifey\’\’ doesn’t see it as you do. “It’s just 5k,” she says sweetly. “Besides, they bought for our own wedding.” And to avoid any argument over ‘just 5k’, you have been giving in.  Sometimes with some skilful persuasion, you are able to convince her that you both wear one of the pairs of matching clothes that have crammed your wardrobe instead os spending money on a new one, and she grudgingly gives in.

You wonder silently though why you didn’t get the memo before the wedding, that to be a respectable Nigerian couple, you and your wife must always dress alike. To declare to the world that you are one, once you are together, you must always wear matching outfits. If it was left to you, you’d prefer to wear your white kaftan while she wears her purple lace. Or you’d rather dress corporate in a suit and tie, while she goes for the full traditional attire. But marriage comes with its own expectations. You had to try to make the most of every situation.

“’Dear,” you call out. “That 10k for Tinuke’s asoebi, do you mind lending it to me?”

“I can’t afford it right now.”

“What? But I can’t afford it either,” your wife responds and you hear her footsteps as she begins to come out of the room.

You smile mischievously. Perhaps now, she might be made to see things your way.

P.S: Just how far has the aso ebi fad eaten into the fabric of Nigerian homes? Is there an unwritten memo that for a Nigerian couple to be the picture of marital bliss, husbands and wives must always appear in matching outfits? /Use the comment box to express your opinions.