If you are here just because the headline says Noble Igwe’s Engagement Stories then maybe you should leave now because my mother’s daily reminder to get married is enough.
It all started some time in 2013 at Olamide’s house when he announced that he was going to get married before Ebuka and I. We didn’t believe him, not because he was the youngest amongst us but because so many things Olamide has said in the past went the way of the 4th Mainland Bridge.
Fast forward to 2014, when Olamide sent me a special invite with drinks asking me to consider being one of this groomsmen. It wasn’t an easy decision considering the fact that I have retired from groomsmanship (that and video-vixensm) but the beautiful card that came with a cigar helped make up my mind.
That was how we started groomsman duties which consisted of occasional drinks at Bay Lounge and movie nights at Olamide’s with zero conversation on the actual wedding or plan but I wasn’t complaining because Ebuka would be doing most of the work as the Best Man, and all I wanted to do was attend the wedding looking fly in my Agbada.
I was getting ready for bed when I got a message from Ebuka.
Bubu: “Nna, kedi ebe ino?”
Nobs: “I’m home.”
Bubu: “Please come down and hold your dog.”
Nobs: “Okay, nna.”
I went down to the gate to get him and he handed me my #SLAM2014 carrier bag containing my Agbada fresh from the tailor’s.
I was very happy but in Noble Igwe’s way, I needed to do more.
Nobs: “Nna, I need to go to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow.”
Bubu: “Chibuzor, your cloth will not dry ooo.”
Nobs: “I will warn them and then pay a bit more to make it happen.”
Bubu: “Just remember that I warned you.”
The following morning, I stopped over at the dry cleaners to drop off my Agbada with instructions that it should be starched hard enough to trap air while walking about at the traditional wedding.
People that know me well will tell you that I don’t know how to pack light.
To me, every outing is a competition because you don’t know if you’ll run into your ex with her new man.
I packed my most Igbo looking beads and headed out to the dressing point, Olamide’s house, where I met other groomsmen dressed in their lightly starched Agbada.
It was like we were getting ready to send Olamide to Jupiter and he was so happy to be getting married to his best friend.
We got ready to leave but first, a #celfie.
We got to the venue and as soon I put on the last piece of my ensemble, Olamide asked;
Olams: “Nobs, why is your Agbada making you look so proud?”
Nobs: “Olams, when you are not very tall, you need to be noticed by all.”
Olams: “But it’s not your wedding?”
Nobs: “Yes, but I didn’t notice it at home.”
When it was time for us to walk into the hall to meet with our in-laws, I stayed in front, no to show off but that was the only place with enough space for my Agbada but what I didn’t know was that staying in the front comes with great financial responsibility.
We hadn’t even taken 3 steps when the Alaga walked up to us to demand ask for money – from the money used to buy nappies to the one used for her graduation gown.
This is one Yoruba tradition that I like as it somehow shows the capability of the groom to take care of their daughter.
We finally got into the hall, went to meet the in-laws and “dobaled” as required of the Yoruba groom and his friends.
Minutes after, the bride walked in and the engagement ceremony started proper.
It was an evening of fun, good music and wonderful friends, however I kept asking myself “Noble, when are you getting married”?