Love On Paper 2
It was nerve racking as I made my way to the house. There were no mobile phones in 1992, so I couldn’t call kev to pick me. I had to rely on his letter which had specific instructions on what to do once I arrived Warri. I looked down at my outfit, was I dressed appropriately? Was I too shabby? My dress sense had taken a big hit once I became a Christian. I was told I could not wear certain things, make up and earrings inclusive. I also wasn’t meant to wear trousers as women were not meant to wear “things that pertain to men”. Unfortunately, all my clothes at that time were trousers. In the end, I had to slit the sides of my trousers to join them up into skirts. They were the most uncomfortable, restrictive skirts ever. The jeans one didn’t look too bad but there was hardly any leg room to walk. I had to take small steps. As a new Christian, I was very zealous and accepted everything I was told without questioning.
As I walked the final few steps to the house, I became very conscious of the scar on the edge of my lip. I had always felt that it tugged it to the side and disfigured me although Kev didn’t agree. I had been involved in a road traffic accident three years earlier where I had sustained some major injuries. Would his family like me? I was so nervous but took comfort in praying silently. I met an old lady sitting by the gate who turned out to be his grandmother. I asked for Kev and she pointed to the house.
During that first visit, I was received warmly, especially by his mum. It was a rainy day and we had gone to the mechanics to fix the car. We stopped at an impressive supermarket and he encouraged me pick whatever I wanted. I wasn’t used to men spending money on me, so I declined. In the end, I had to take something, a reasonably priced nice smelling body cream. Kev made sure he popped the question again and I said yes. I also got to meet his brothers and sisters who turned to be a lot like him. They were all Type A personalities, strong and opinionated. There was a lot of banter between them, going back and forth. Everyone was quick on the draw, with a response to anything that was thrown at them. They didn’t need to think, they could give fire for fire in quick succession. It was such a stark contrast to my quiet family and lifestyle in Jos. I remember on the second night; Kev asking me how I was and how I was finding the visit. I didn’t know how to answer, and just burst into tears sobbing and heaving. He was panic stricken and stunned. “What’s wrong Hennang? Who upset you?” I was crying so hard I could barely get the words out. It’s comical looking back now. “Your, your, your… family is sooo noisy.” I barely managed to get it out, choking on my sobs. That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting but he had a good response for me. “Don’t worry about them, it’s me you’re getting married to.” I explained to him about being overwhelmed by the whole visit, feeling under pressure to talk more. I also couldn’t speak the pidgin English which was the local vernacular in the home.
After that weekend, I was now officially engaged to Kev and I needed to inform my mum. I wasn’t sure how she would take it as I was her only daughter. She had never hidden the fact that she didn’t want me getting married too far away. She wanted me to be a rallying point for my brothers, a mother to them after she was gone. When I got home, I told her about my trip to Warri and that I was in a relationship with Kev. As was her style, she didn’t say a word, staring into space as if I had said nothing. The next day she asked me why I wasn’t considering marrying from my state, Plateau State. If not Plateau, what about Kaduna, Taraba or Adamawa. She was not happy with my choice of Bendel State. It was too far, and their customs were not our customs. She said I should rethink my decision. I tried to explain to her that God had told me he was my husband which I think made it even worse. It sounded ludicrous to her, that little Hennang was hearing from God Almighty. After about one week, she started coming round and informing the extended family that Hennang was in a serious relationship. Kev’s family had also asked permission to come for the first official visit.
Kev was faithful in his letter writing, using Speed Post as an alternative to the National Post Office. He would always include a little money to cover my reply postage. He had such a caring heart and I thought myself fortunate to have been chosen by him. As we began to learn more about each other, there was trouble in paradise. We were polar opposite in almost everything. He loved being with people, I loved being alone. He was very expressive, I held everything in. He said what was on his mind, I “thought” what was on my mind. He had to drag everything out of me with questions and interrogations. I could sense that he was getting frustrated. I would always just agree with him on everything even when deep inside, I wasn’t totally convinced. I felt he was too intense and I didn’t have the energy to engage him in an “argument”. The funny thing was that he would think we were having a normal discussion, but I would feel it was an argument. Our personality differences were a huge pressure during our courtship and during the early years of marriage. He had a way of asking questions which made me feel like I was standing before a judge. In his normal Warri style, his line of questioning would be open ended and would not really sound like a question. For example, instead of asking “did you buy the dress?”, he would say “you bought the dress”. I would translate it to mean I was being accused of buying the dress. “You were not meant to buy the dress and you bought it. Why did you buy it? Did we agree on it.” Those were the things I was hearing.
Back then, he had a fantastic job with an American Oil Company in Port Harcourt and his salary blew my mind. A lot of it went to support Missions work. He was very open, showing me his pay slip every month and saying we needed to plan for our new home. He was also very organised and meticulous, especially with his money. He planned and had lists which he ticked off. He kept records and never destroyed anything. As for me, I couldn’t spell those words. I was at the other end of the spectrum. I didn’t know how to plan and budget my money. I think we used to be paid in cash and I would have my whole salary in my handbag, spending as I went along. The only planning I did was to pay my tithe which I did faithfully. When the money in my bag finished, that was it; God would have to provide the rest. I loved my life of carrying my salary in my handbag and Kev was trying to ruin it for me. He was always planning and wanting us to agree on everything before spending. Years later, we tried having a joint bank account, it was a disaster. I still haven’t gotten over the trauma yet.
My boss’s wife was the one that taught me how to plan my money. Sister Affy was a very sweet lady and as the months went by, I got close to her. I can’t remember how we got round talking about it but she took a piece of paper and made a budget for me. My salary was N750 and she asked me what I’d usually use it for. She broke it down to 10% tithe, Sunday offering, transport fare, office lunch and contribution to the house. She wisely added “savings” to the list. I was so impressed by her and wondered where she got that kind of superior intelligence.
Kev and I were very much in love and lived for the moments we spent together. His work schedule meant he was away on the rig for four weeks at a stretch and on leave for twelve days. As soon as he was off, he’d pack up and go to Ayingba to visit Brother Tokunbo Salami of Pleroma Missions. Brother Toks and his wife have since become very close to us. Out of curiousity I once asked him how he had ended up in Anyinbga seeing he was a British citizen. He responded by saying that after his NYSC in Benue State, the Lord had asked him to go and sit in a Church to await further instructions in the village of Ayingba. It’s been over forty years and he has never left. He shared some amazing stories of Gods faithfulness in the work he had been called to do. There was never a salary at the end of the month but they never lacked. After visiting Anyigba, Kev would travel down to Jos to spend a week with me. In the beginning, I would leave my room for him and share my mum’s room with her. One day, she felt it wasn’t proper to have “my boyfriend” staying in the house with us and so, he had to make other arrangements.
In April 1993, his family came to see my family to declare their intention. We had a mini feast and plans were made. They were given a list of things to buy, and the wedding venue was agreed for Warri. We would marry in Warri but live in Jos.
Kev and I began our house hunting in earnest which turned out to be a feat. He showed me a beautiful, new house which he liked, I didn’t like it. I felt it was too small although I didn’t tell him that. I showed him an older but spacious one, but he didn’t like it. He felt it was too old and too close to my family home. We argued about it and he couldn’t understand why I didn’t like the new house he had shown me. He ended up returning to the rig without us getting a house. As the weeks went by, we were getting desperate because we still hadn’t found a house. I remember he came to see me one afternoon and we went to buy some items from Ahmadu Bello Way Jos. We got into a heated argument all the way back to the office. We were so engrossed that we didn’t see my bosses in the car park and Kev turned around and walked off. I looked up and was shocked to see three people looking at us in front of the office. My boss, brother Gideon Mallam later called me and asked why kev hadn’t stopped to say hello. I explained that we had been arguing and we didn’t see any of them. He couldn’t suppress his smile.
House hunting was most frustrating. Kev informed me in his next letter that if it meant taking out all his money to secure a house in Jos, so be it. He would do that on his next trip. By this time, his dad and mum had visited my family and paid the bride price and a date had been set for November the 27th 1993. On his next trip, true to his word, Kev wanted to withdraw a fortune for the house but all the banks in Nigeria went on strike. It was a very frustrating period for both of us.
In that season, I decided to take a personal retreat and spend some quiet time with God. During the retreat, God told me the wedding would be taking place in Jos instead of Warri as planned. I would also be moving to Warri to live with my husband afterwards. He also told me He would be passing me through fire. I understood the first message but wasn’t sure what He meant by saying He would be “passing me through fire”. He told me to read Malachi 2:2. It was a surprising message, but I knew it was from God. I decided to write it in French in my journal so as not to lose it.
I got a surprise when Kev came on his next visit. He told me there had been a change of plans and he felt we should have the wedding in Jos rather than Warri. My mother had also had a sudden change of heart and wanted the wedding in Jos. So, Jos it was.
God took control of all our needs regarding the wedding. A prominent lady in Jos gave us her hotel to use for free for the reception. Her reason was that she remembered some kindness my mum’s brother had shown them when they were getting married. My friend in Church also offered to bake the wedding cake for free. Kev got us a semi-detached three-bedroom bungalow in Warri. It had a massive master bedroom with an ensuite toilet/bathroom. It was better than anything we had seen in Jos. All was set for the big day and for the big move. Another phase of my life was about to start in a new land. But first, the drama of the wedding!
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