Obelu is the name people called us in our childhood days. My friend, Obiageli and I. Others called us coke and fanta. I am the fanta. As a child, Obiageli was ebony, chubby, much like myself. We both seemed to carry the whole world at our backsides even as adolescents. Same way we carried the whole world in our heads, unlike girls in our school who always rubbed powder in the classroom. They made themselves up in class to attract guys.
“They never made their medulla oblongatas up,” Obiageli would joke and we would laugh over it. Obiageli was right. Beauty is never enough in a woman.
Now we are grown-ups. Men flock about us like ants and we are the two cubes of sugar. While we walk past in the village, men clash their heads with the trees in process of feasting their eyes on us. One lost his track on his bicycle and crashed into a girl selling egg, another steered his car into the bush and almost landed in the swamp. We would just burst out laughing. People say we are disasters. Are we?
Once, a man stopped me in my track on my way to farm. After moments of playing deaf-and-dumb to him, I succumbed and waited to hear his potential trash. He said he could die over me. And he could sell his father’s farm just to satisfy my needs. He swore that my backside intoxicated him more than the best palmwine in our village. I just hissed and walked out on him. It was the same man who proposed to Obiageli, and said he would jump into the river and get drowned if she wouldn’t agree to marry him.
Today, Obiageli and I are discussing men, their deceits and sugar-coated tongues, when Mama sent me on an errand. We went to help her get some apples and bunch of banana. On our way, Obiageli offers to assist me. And I would collect them when we are close to my compound. This has always been our doing. Tit-for-tat things.
” Carry it gently on my head o” Obiageli laughs, “else the apples would all break and I will run away.”
“Run to where!”
“To my father’s house, of course.” Obiageli says.
“And who will pay for the apples?”
“Like you don’t know I am now the Princess of Chief Chukwuemeka’s son,” Obiageli laughs, “A whole son of the second-in-command to the Igwe. Hehe!”
“Haha. That is the main reason I will take a truck load of apples in return.”
“One truck is not enough. My hubby is ready to buy the whole fruits in this village and its environs in place of this.” Obiageli says, wiggling her waist.
I am really happy for her. The date of her traditional wedding has been picked during the small introduction between the two families.
This is a girl we both went through tough times together. Much like twin sisters. We read together in the dead of the night. I even sleep in her house sometimes. Her fiancee had mentioned during the introduction:
“My in-laws, I would like to say this. I am truly in love with your daughter. And I swear by Amadioha that I will never leave her under any circumstances. Obiageli’s beauty is not restricted to her surplus curves and beautiful look alone, I have given her some altitude and intellectual test. My Obiageli is certainly a wife material and she is a professor in the making. ” And with this, the whole gathering had exploded in laughter.