Husband Material

“Mummy, in the next few days, I will become Mrs. Bamidele”. My mother chuckled in excitement when she heard me say that. I could see she was happy and proud. I was getting married in a few days, and I would be the first of my siblings to go down that road. My favourite aunt was with us. She came to assist in planning the wedding. We had just returned from Lagos where we shopped for Aso - ebi, and were deciding which one my family would wear and which my husband-to-be’s family would wear. My close friend had taken on the task of choosing which Aso-ebi my friends would wear and she was coordinating to make sure everyone paid and collected their piece of material. In Nigerian weddings, Aso - ebi is important. It signifies which camp you belong to, and your relationship to the couple. Aso - ebi is very important.

In addition to the fact that I was getting married in a few days, everyone was very pleased with the kind of man I was marrying. He was what many Nigerians consider “husband material”. As a joke I used to wonder whether that meant a kind of fabric, or a means to an end. But that is discussion for another day. Once, we traveled to visit his mother in their hometown. On our way back, he stopped to buy a big basket of tomatoes. He also bought lots of onions, yams, potatoes, and several gallons of palm wine. When we got back to Abuja, we drove straight to my parents’ home and dropped off their share of the goodies. Then we distributed what remained to my aunts and uncles who also lived in the city. His relatives got their own share as well. Fabian was the kind of guy. My parents loved him. Everyone loved him.

I met Fabian through a mutual friend. She and I were in America at the time, while he was in Nigeria. She spoke so well of him that I wanted to confirm if indeed he was a hundred yards of ‘husband material’. We started talking over the phone. He was very soft-spoken. He never raised his voice and he didn't argue much. He became interested in things I was interested in, and would offer suggestions when I asked. I finally met Fabian physically in December of that year. I came to Nigeria for about three weeks, and he was one of the major reasons I visited. 

It turned out that Fabian was actually a long lost family friend. Apparently, my dad and his dad used to be very good friends, and when his father died, they moved back to their hometown and both families lost touch. That was many years ago. My father was elated when he discovered Fabian and I were dating. It was like a lost son came home. He and my mother welcomed Fabian with open arms. 

Fabian was a great cook. He would cook the most delicious meals even without my asking. I hated going to the market and he knew it. On days when he saw that I was the least interested in cooking, he would go to market to shop for ingredients and return to create an ensemble fit for a queen. He cleaned the house, fixed everything that needed fixing, and loved to host people at home, which was very surprising because he seemed to be a very shy introvert. He was really good with Nigerian soups, especially groundnut soup. That was his specialty, and a favourite of mine as well. He prepared it with dry pawpaw, bitter leaf, stock-fish, and snails. Delicious. 

He was also a good Christian. Catholic. Never missed mass. I think that’s another reason my parents were so happy with him. They were sure that I would continue in the catholic faith, and when our children came, they will also be baptised into the Catholic Church. That made them very happy. Fabian was humble, and unassuming. He always put my needs before his. He respected me and his number one priority was that I was happy. When we were planning the wedding, he deferred to anything that made me happy. All he did was provide money. 

***************************

When I thought about the kind of man I wanted to get married to, Fabian fit the bill. He checked all the boxes, including being tall, dark, and good looking. There was no reason to not marry him. In all-female discussions about marriage, and the type of husband many Nigerian women are looking for, they would describe a man like Fabian.

But as good as Fabian was, he wasn't the right fit for me for the very fact that he was a man, even though I didn’t let myself think that far at the time. I was more intrigued by the fact that in finding my own “husband material”, I would undoubtedly be making my parents happy. Many would also envy me because I would finally be getting all the perks and privileges that came with being a “Mrs.” in Nigeria. Not to mention the glitz and glamour of having a Nigerian wedding. The thought was fascinating. 

Although we attended marriage classes at church, we spent more time planning the wedding than talking about ourselves and the kind of marriage we wanted to have. I found that I fell into the category of Nigerians who looked for the spouses based on what society deemed the “right kind of…”, and without considering the rightness of fit.

While I have no regrets about marriage to Fabian, it did teach me a lot about myself first, and was a catalyst in helping me identify who I really was, what I wanted and what I most certainly did not want. The ‘husband’ in ‘husband material’ was definitely not what I wanted or needed.