TRIBUTE TO THE NRI
DAMSEL
Nine years has gone by today as I traversed a road never
traveled before to find my missing rib. The journey was not that rosy.
According to the holy books, “ Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing and obtained favor of the Lord”.
The road that leads to the
missing rib is not an easy road. There could be many thorns and scorpions on
the way. And you never know how successful you are until you’ve found one.
The journey on the road to find my missing rib was littered
with so many pitfalls and near misses. Before I found her, who wears my crown
of glory today, I fell in love a few times and while they could have been good
relationships, they would not have been what I have today.
My marriage was an
act of risk, an adventure, a leap into the unknown because I never knew or met
the girl I was marrying before paying the bride price. The first and only
contact I had with my wife was her voice and the sweetness of her voice struck
and engulfed me like a sweet breeze. The sweetness of her voice could disarm
and melt the heart of the worst terrorist.
Call it love unknown, blind love, love is blind,it would fit in and as blind as
love could be, I was too lovely blind not to have identified my wife the first day we met at the airport on
my arrival from abroad to fulfil the traditional marriage rites. In the spirit
of love and passion for my betrothed and in the bid to test run the act of “kissing”
a practice alien to my culture but I imbibed as “a been to” I grabbed and
kissed warmly another girl not knowing she was not the one I would pledge my
love to.
Thanks to the benevolent heart of the Nri kingdom, my great
inlaws, I would have served another seven years of marriage labour for kissing “Leah”
instead of the “Rachel” I paid for. And since then I only kiss economically and
diplomatically. For the rest of the story you can read, “My Missing Rib” (page
80) in The Road We Traveled, a Memoir of Two Worlds, by Uchendu Precious Onuoha.
Today I feel very proud to say it with a Gargantuas mouth, that I belong to whom I am involved,
Anthonia my Sweetheart, the Nri Damsel, whose voice can arrest Boko
haram and the Fulani herdsmen. She is like my buckler and shield. Even my
adversaries confess that when they want to strike me and remember Anthonia, they become weak and drop their weapons. In
celebration of the nine years we have traveled together with my lovely angel
Ucheoma Annabel as Evidence of this nine year journey, I dedicate this poem to
my Anthonia.
THE NRI DAMSEL
Ebony, dark, chocolate
Like the potters clay
Mixed together by the
great potter
Giving birth to a
complete beauty
A sleek frame statue
with features
Fittingly packaged by
The grand designer
Like a tree with many
branches
Bearing a budding
beautiful body
A charming smile with a
sweet lip
Encasing the snow white
open teeth
Like the lilies of a
valley
Opening their petals to
the
Early morning sun
A sweet voice
Never, ever heard of
A voice that would make
The hardest of men
Go to sleep like a baby
Known yet unknown
Seen only but the
shadow
Nearer yet like a
mirage
Present but only in the
mind
Once together but just
a sweet dream
A dream yet to come
true
The Nri damsel
My promised land soon
to enter
My precious jewel
Ever mine to be
Nice...very nice.
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