Weddings in Nigeria are not just events; they are full-blown productions. My auntie’s wedding last weekend was no exception. It had all the makings of a Nollywood blockbuster: drama, suspense, comedy, and a few uninvited guests (both human and goat).
The Dress Code Fiasco
The invitation boldly declared: “Gold and Burgundy – strictly enforced!” My cousin Chuka and I interpreted this loosely because we didn’t have any burgundy outfit and not sure if we have ever owned one ever. I showed up in a maroon shirt and brown trousers. Aunty Florence—the self-appointed wedding bouncer—took one look at me, clutched her gele dramatically, and said, “You want to scatter this wedding? Go and buy proper clothes now!”
Chukwu muo! Which kind wahala be this?
So, there I was at 9 a.m., bargaining with a roadside vendor for a shiny gold tie that made me look like an extra from Yoruba Angels Reloaded. Chuka, meanwhile, bought burgundy socks and called it a day. That one no dey stress himself. Aunty Florence glared but let us in after muttering something about “small boys and disrespect.” I don suffer.
The Caterer Saga
At every Nigerian wedding, the food is sacred. Unfortunately, this caterer seemed to be on a mission to test everyone’s patience. Guests started murmuring by 2 p.m., wondering why the jollof rice hadn’t landed. My uncle suggested we “call the caterer to remind her of her job,” only to find out she was stuck in traffic and had stopped to buy fuel on the way!
The food finally arrived at 4 p.m., and you’d think we were handing out visa lottery tickets. Auntie Florence’s daughter grabbed the microphone: “Please line up. ONE piece of meat per plate. Don’t embarrass the family!”
Chuka, ever the rebel, made it his life’s mission to smuggle an extra portion of goat meat. He succeeded but got caught red-handed when Aunty Florence walked past. His punishment? Explaining himself while holding the offending meat in full view of the elders.
The Party Crasher Parade
No Nigerian wedding is complete without uninvited guests. By 6 p.m., the hall was packed with “long-lost relatives” nobody could identify. One man even gave a speech, thanking my auntie for her “kindness during their secondary school days.” She squinted at him the entire time because she never attended secondary school in that town. Fear people.
The highlight was the goat. Yes, a goat wandered in, probably drawn by the smell of suya. Someone joked that it was sent by village people to disrupt the event. The goat casually walked to the dance floor and stood there, unbothered, while the DJ played Buga. It even got sprayed with cash! See my life. A goat got sprayed but I didn’t. The goat wasn’t even wearing the dress code.
The Aftermath
By 8 p.m., the bride had changed into her third outfit, the groom was sweating buckets, and Uncle Emeka was giving his usual unsolicited advice about the “importance of having seven children.” Meanwhile, Chuka and I sat in a corner, laughing about the goat and dodging Aunty Florence’s glares.
As chaotic as it was, the wedding was a success. The bride and groom looked happy, the food eventually came, and the goat? Well, rumor has it someone claimed it as part of their souvenir. Na this one weak me.
Lesson Learned
If you ever get invited to a Nigerian wedding, come prepared:
- Memorize the dress code.
- Eat before you arrive.
- And, most importantly, beware of Auntie Florence.
