Years ago, I got married. But the memories are so jumbled and disordered that I can barely piece them together into something I want to hold. People say their wedding day was the happiest of their lives. I simply cannot say the same. That is why my husband and I have decided to renew our vows on our tenth anniversary, to finally give ourselves the day we deserved.

It happened because my parents didn’t get married. They almost did. My mother told me, “Your father was so attached, in love with me, I was sure nothing would ever break us. Until I told him I missed my period.” He ran away because she was pregnant. I asked why. “Unless you ask him,” she said, and I was visibly irritated. “That is why,” she continued, “whatever you do, do not get pregnant for a man you are not married to.

I placed it at the back of my mind. It was always there when I picked the men I wanted to date. Every time a man showed signs that he was not responsible, I cancelled him out. Until I met Matt. We were at the point where only marriage made sense. We had built enough together. He was caring. He loved family, and he loved me. It took only six months for me to be sure he was the one. I did not foresee any trouble that would hinder our process. His family adored me. My mother cared for him. But that was not the end.

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A few days ago, a woman shared a story online about a boxing match between two families on her wedding day. It brought everything rushing back, the struggle, the chaos, the grief of it. So I decided to share mine.

During the pre-engagement, when he had to meet my family, he met my uncles and aunties because there was no father. My grandfather had also passed on earlier. That early morning of introduction was when the struggle started. They charged him a lateness fee. “You wasted our time. We are market women. Every minute is precious to us.” He paid a hefty amount. In my own presence, they shared it, smiling sheepishly as they tied their wrappers. Was I shy? I was frustrated. If my memory serves me right. These people had contributed almost nothing to who I was, yet here they were gleeful, reaping from something they never planted. I apologised to Matt afterward. He said, “Prepare yourself. I think they will be trouble in the months ahead.” He was not a prophet but he was right.

We decided to pay for a wedding venue since we did not have a big space to host the ceremony. My father’s side of the family knew it. They had no issue with it. They watched me go make payments and return with receipts. They said nothing. Until that day.

That morning, my aunties called. They had changed their minds. They did not like the venue. They wanted the compound or the hall. They said the big occasion would bring bad omen. They were screaming through the phone and I was standing there with guests already seated, decorations in place, money long spent. “Do what you want,” they said, “but it will not happen there. Our spirit is saying something.” Then they hung up.

They left me hanging on the call. My fiancé was calling. Friends were calling. My head was banging. I was wailing. No one could calm me down. Apparently, they were sending guests away and fighting the decorators. Were it not for my mother’s intervention, I would have never gotten married that day. My fiancé said he could not do it. He had enough. He was actually ready to leave with his family. They had successfully proven to his family that our family was a wreck.

True to their word, we had the ceremony in the hall. The place was packed. No proper ventilation. I felt stuck. My makeup was washing away fast. There was not enough space to perform the steps my girls and I had planned. My husband’s mood was not what he had described to me. My mother sat down and managed a few smiles. Maybe she was thinking about exactly how she had gotten herself into this position, judging her choice of man.

The engagement I had planned was nowhere near what I encountered. Every plan, down to the smallest detail, was gone.

Even my pictures. The memories that were supposed to stay in my head, the ones I was going to narrate to my kids, all jumbled and disordered. I got married that day, yes. But I never want to be reminded of the shame, the angst I felt. Sometimes I sit and ask myself whether it was jealousy, that I was getting what their children were not, because I cannot wrap my head around it.

But I thank God for the home he blessed me with. A good husband and amazing kids. Not one of my aunties even came to the event grounds, so I have always said they never meant well for me. Till today, I have not been able to post my engagement pictures because there is no joy in them.

It’s Not God’s Law For A Man To Apologize To A Woman

I am counting the days until we finally reach our tenth anniversary, so that I can properly walk down my aisle to my husband, say my vows emphatically and with so much emotion, take the pictures, do the dance, wear the dress, and have the hearty moments I deserved.

Maybe by that time those aunties will be gone. Maybe they will not. Either way, they are never going to be there or hear a whisper of it. Sometimes you think your enemies are strangers or friends, when they are your own family.

My dear sister, if you have the means, please renew your vows. Put on your wedding gown and relive the experience. Because this scar is hard to heal.

—Anny

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