Dear God,
I think it must be hard for you to create someone like me. Someone who thinks as I do, who asks you a series of questions almost on a daily.
Dear God, I try to imagine how you do it. How you love everyone unconditionally. Because the truth is, in my family, we’re not up to fifty yet I find it hard to love them unconditionally.
Dear God,
On Saturday I went to a wedding. The type of Wedding we call “Yoru-Igbo.” If you’re wondering what it means; it’s simple, a couple from the two tribes, Yoruba & Igbo.
Dear God, I didn’t know I was dressed for the occasion until one fine girl called me a Yoruba demon. Me? An Igbo man? I looked up at her. She was draped in a blue transparent gown that exposed her cleavage slightly. On her neck was something I’d later learn to be pure ice. She was adorable that I had to say it. I remember smiling at her and she, giggling in return. We were outside the hall. The front where the couple’s banner was hoisted. Maybe ‘single’ was written all over me because this girl I knew from nowhere came at me, tugging at my elbow.
“Coman snap me na.”
The scene was awkward but I managed to hold it under control.
“With my phone or yours?” I tendered, flipping my techno Phone. She saw the pouch and said,
“Let’s use my own.”
I took her iPhone and watched her take amusing postures. I acted as a photographer but when I was done and decided to return her phone. She grabbed me and took a selfie. No, not a selfie but series of selfies. At a point, I think my mind felt like she was my date.
Dear God,
When I left her and ambled into the hall. Nothing prepared me for what I saw. The place was filled to the brim. But one thing stood out: the array of female species. God! I was in awe of the faces peering at my entrance. The sway of their bodies, the fake cum original smiles from their made-up faces. Some of them had grace in their steps while others had gait. For Christ’s sake, I wasn’t the groom but there was attention. I shrunk into my cell and found a seat. While sitting, I had to ask if the wedding was strictly for ladies.
Dear God,
I must ask again how do you do it? I mean how do you concentrate when creating those masterpieces, just seeing the ladies in there, made me throw cautions to the wind. But I don’t need the answer to the question.
Feasting my eyes around the interior design, I thought of marriage, not like ordinary people but as unusual people do.
God… As some of the ladies gawked, pouted, giggled and swatted themselves, I had an epiphany. And it was modest. I thought of the quote that attributes men’s success to the support of women. And wished.
Dear God, I hope that the wish I wished that afternoon as an usher bent and served my meal is not the reason I’m having these dreams. Because it was the mind you gave me that concocted such thought. The thought that you shouldn’t have mandated men to marry just one wife.
I mean statistics say that for every man, there are at least three women. Ratio 1 : 3. And beside every successful man stands a woman.
So why should You mandate people like me who believe in you to marry one woman when the prospect of having two or more multiplies our successes?
Dear God, you never change but sometime between the old and new testament, You evolved. Can you kindly look into this, sir?
Thank you for letting me think.
Till I write you again,
Stephen.
#STWStep
