Ebube Anochili's blog

“Adannaya, kedu ihe I chere ? This shade of green is fine. In fact we’re not going with this green…” “Ada m , I know the perfect baker, Aunty Rose, she baked the cake for Uzo's youngest daughter's wedding…” “Ada ehhh, why don’t we use nwanyi Ijele again, you know we didn’t call her for your Igba nkwu, I’m sure she’s not happy…” And my mother’s suggestions went on and on. I wanted to object to so many things but my father had told me to let her be. It was her first daughter’s wedding, finally, let her plan. But I didn’t want my wedding to be what my mother wanted. If I had my way, my boo and I would go somewhere peaceful and quiet, invite just our family members and a few friends. I’d get married on a beach or at the banks of a river. I imagined myself descending from a slope, walking towards a river. With a few friends around. Lights would shine above us from the wooden arch that was set up, just for my wedding. The love of my life would be waiting for me, beside the priest and

Aphrodite : the Greek goddess of love and beauty. Pronounced: afrodaiti Venus : the Roman counterpart. Pronounced: veenos . So I just wanna let you guys know that this article isn’t about the Greek goddess Aphrodite or her Roman counterpart but about the planet Venus. I just felt like adding a little spice to the post with its Greek name. Hold on! Don’t run away, this should be interesting. What do you know about Venus? You might ask, what’s my business with it, is it giving me money? Well the truth is it might not give you money, but nothing is wrong with having a little knowledge about something else, something totally different. With this little seed I’ve planted, let’s talk about Venus. • Did you know that Venus was once called Lucifer? I woke up one morning and I went to the balcony. It was about 6:45am. It had been a while I was on the balcony that early, which made me realize that it had been a while I watched the sun rise. I’m a nature lover and watching the sun rise makes me

“If you would repeat after me my dear”, Father Collins said to my sister on the altar of St Leo’s Catholic Church,  “I… “I, Nmasinachi Okpara, take you, Kelechi Okoye, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” And Fr. Collins repeated the same words for Kelechi. I could see Kelechi grinning from ear to ear at my sister. The happiest people I knew on Earth were getting married. I could imagine how their home would be. Wonderful! “I now pronounce you, husband and wife”, Fr. Collins said, “you may kiss the bride.” And that was it, my second sister was officially married. I watched her kiss her husband and my heart was filled with joy. A tear dropped from my eye and I quickly wiped it with my handkerchief. Love is a beautiful thing indeed. I let my mind travel to the events of the past week, following Nma’s traditional marriage. How I met the good lo

“ Mechie cooler ahu, ugba ahu aburo maka mmadu niile ”, my mother yelled at me when I opened the yellow cooler filled with sweet scenting ugba. In fact, my mothed had practically yelled at me the entire day. No, no, not the entire day. She had yelled at me since I arrived in our village, Arondizuogu, few days ago. It was my younger sister, Nmasinachi's “igba nkwu”, traditional wedding and it was the talk of the entire town. Kelechi, her husband, was from a very wealthy home in Idemili and he was also doing good for himself. Sometimes I thought my mother was more excited than Nma. She talked about Nma's wedding at every gathering she went for and boasted of Kelechi's wealth. My father had cautioned her at some point, it was getting annoying.  My mother rubbed this recent development in my face. “You see your youngest sister, Nma, she’s just 22 and she’s getting married. Where’s your own husband Adanna?” “Your immediate younger sister Nmesommachi is also married now and expec

Lotanna, what do you think you are doing here?” my mum asked me as she dragged me by my ear away from the small gathering of children. She only called me by my full name when she was really angry. All the kids watched as I was dragged away. I’m sure they thought I was in big trouble. I never hung out with them, now at least, they knew why. In my neighbourhood, the children usually gathered every evening to play, talk and most importantly, dance. I was 8 years old at that time and I wasn’t allowed to play with the hood children. My parents, my mum especially, felt I would get corrupted. Corrupted in every way, my English would be mixed with vernacular. That was unacceptable.  “Loty, it’s either Queen’s English or Igbo, nothing else”, my mum would say.  She was the only one who called me Loty, I really liked it. Others just called me Lota or Lotanna. I was born shortly after my maternal grandfather died, hence, my name. It simply means “remember the father.” My mum must have really loved