Afterward, we visited my place and met my father's numerous wives. I also met my stepsisters with their children, and I could gaze the father of the children. Their mothers were among the wives, who were against my mother for speaking out and turned blind eyes when my father slept with them, and it paid off. At least, they were not killed like my mother and their sons were living. Now, Fidel and I were faced with a bridge too far to cross. I was informed that my father passed on some months back after a prolonged ill health.
My mother's co wives, both those he married after I left home, were disgruntled when I introduced Fidel as my husband to be. It was obvious that out of the sixteen daughters in the family, I would be the first to marry properly. They scowled at him maliciously, before the first wife looked at me and snarled, “Where is it done that a father had not been buried, and a daughter is getting married?”
Her statement left Fidel and I more confused. Meanwhile, their eyes had not left our car which he parked under the fruit tree in the middle of the compound, which had not experienced any changes except for the presence of more women and hungry children. To my delight, Fidel was not perturbed by their hostilities.
“What is stopping him from being buried?” He faced my father's first wife, and asked with a calm voice.
“Find out from the Priest. He is in a better position to explain.”
Without appreciating her, he grabbed me by the hand and commanded, “Let's see the priest.”
I followed him submissively to the car and waited for him to open the door for me. After he ensured that I was comfortable, he shut the door, and walked to the driver's door. He got in angrily and turned on his ignition. From the look of things, he may crush the unkempt children who clustered around his car, but the loud noise from his engine scared them away. He drove off and ensured that his car tyres raised enough dust to discomfort the family.
“Idlers,” he blurted out. “Who would bury their husband for them? You?” He asked as I directed him to the local church.
At the Church
“I am delighted to have you. Kindly take your seats,” the Priest welcomed us cheerfully.
“Thank you, Priest,” we responded simultaneously and took our seats. I introduced myself as the daughter of the man who was yet to be buried. Now, his countenance changed when he spoke, “Your father is indebted to the church to the tune of five hundred and twenty thousand Naira. The debt must be cleared before we embark on the burial.” “How?” I screamed in trepidation. At that point, Fidel was looking at the priest with a killing intent.
“Yes. This is the record. You can go through,” he said and placed an old register which was obviously older than the three of us in front of me. “Your father's name is on number six,” he pointed out. My eyes quickly went to the column and I looked at the debt and the various levies. I noticed that the items he bought during the bazaar sales at different periods, even before I was born, were recorded prudently against him.
“What happened here? What did he do to attract this fine?” I asked, and placed my hand on the column. He leaned forward and glanced through the register. Then, he saw the offense.
“He fought with the Catechist. If you look further, you will see where he challenged the Priest.” he explained. “I see,” I said, and carried on with my searching until his demise. To my amazement, I did not see the penalty of the reports of rape that my mother lodged against him. The killing of my mother and sibling was not recorded, either was there any fine attached to it.
“I have seen the record.”
“That's good.”
“Permit me to ask. Do you keep record of all his offenses?”
“Certainly. Records don't lie. I have advised your brothers to pay up his bill so that we would get it done with. It is unclear to me why he had not shown up.”
“Oh! Is it his children who would pay his debt?”
“Of course,” he responded with confidence.
“Were you aware that he was not committed to his family?”
“Yes. I heard of that even before I came to this Parish.”
“I see. Don't you think that he is to be punished for not training his children, who would pick up his bills in the future?”
“Settle your father's bill, young lady, before the church would be involved in his burial,” he ignored my question and responded dismissively.
“Let's go, Nne,” Fidel, who was sitting quietly by my side, said, and pulled me by the hand.
“Do we just marry without our family members?” I asked when we were in the vehicle.
“Never. They will not continue to make us look inferior to our equals. We must leave our lives to the fullest,” he said with pain in his voice.
After a few days, the Priest was kidnapped alongside some prominent members of the church. A month later, after the ransom was paid, and they were released, Fidel and I drove happily to the church and settled my father's bill before the church could be involved in his burial. The Priest was pleased to collect the money, which was the income from his ransom. Fidel, who hated the money, ensured that we did not use it for our personal affairs, gave the balance to my family members, and they used it for the burial. Subsequently, we happily got married.
“My in-law, it is a pleasure meeting you,” my step siblings greeted cheerfully after the marriage. I was not comfortable with such familiarity because it would only lead to one thing, butter him up and ruin my marriage. To my gratification, Fidel ignored their outstretched hands for a handshake, and faced me. Then, he requested.
“Nne, is there anything you are leaving behind?”
“No,” I answered at once.
“Get into the car and let's go,” he ordered, and held the door for me. After we got into the car, he drove off and shut them out of our world. When I sat back and pondered on all the teachings of the church and the impact it had on me, I wondered if my Sunday School Teachers were honest.)