2
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The Marriage-Counselling Test
Tensed moments for Segun in a hall-like examination room as he stared at the exit—hard and long.
He expected or dreamed of a tiny dusty room with just him before an old rotting desk, but rather, he was received with a neat room of some fifty-something examinees quietly seated in an orderly manner, in five rows, and desks well-spaced apart.
Memories from his WAEC examinations some ten years ago came flooding, floating and flowing into his head, and this sent cold and frightening quivers through and down his backbone.
The room, struck with grave silence, had this rattling sound of four wrecking ceiling fans blaring into his ears. He was dripping profusely in sweat, partly because the room was hot, and he was beyond nervous. He stared hard and ahead at the question paper that laid before his eyes, and then at his empty answer sheet to the right.
‘What a shame?’ He shook his head.
It was already thirty minutes into the one-hour-long test, and he hadn’t answered a single damn question, correctly or not. All fifty objective questions though printed in simple day-to-day English, seemed to Segun, to be inscribed in Hebrew or some foreign ancient language that had gone extinct for more than a century ago. He tapped his green HB pencil on the wooden desk before him, creating a sharp disturbing sound, as he panted uneasily. Mallam Hassan sat at a well-appointed desk in front of the entire class, next to a huge pile of backpacks and handbags, and each time Segun had a sneak peek at his roughly bearded face, it seemed like he was glaring right back at him with a squint.
This didn’t put Segun at ease.
The hall was properly-illuminated by the midday Sun streaming in from the West, casting beautiful shadows of everyone to the East. The warm floor was nicely decorated with a lovely pattern of the moon and stars, but Segun had a different opinion of it. In fact, he had a different and contrasting opinion of everything and everyone contained within the room. Planted on the walls were regular light switches and old-fashion announcement speakers. His eyes roamed across the hall that swallowed him much like a black hole, and froze at a small chalkboard next to Mallam Hassan. Silently, he read through Mallam Hassan’s dreadful handwriting on the board.
‘Marriage-Counselling Test
Batch: 2
Duration: 1 Hour
Start: 11:00am
Stop: 12:00pm
Venue: Central Mosque, Eti-Osa
Supervisor: Mallam Hassan Kadiri
May Almighty Allah help those who studied’
Segun found the last phrase particularly offensive—because ‘offended’—that’s how he felt. He glared at his Rolex, it was 11:36am already. His eyes quickly reverted to the exit that lead to the stairs. He left like getting up, marching over to Mallam Hassan, hand in his empty answer sheet, and dash off to anywhere with some little level of sanity. Everybody hunched over, cautiously reading questions and brilliantly shading their answers, except Segun who had one leg strayed along the gangway.
His face was pale, void of any facial expression. His eyes were narrowed, willing to steal answers off other’s sheet. He hunched over, lifted the question paper for the first time, and decided to give it a fair shot. The paper was already filled with superhero sketches. Now we know what he did with the last half-hour of his time. He raised the question paper up to his face, blocking Mallam Hassan from getting any further pleasing picture of his terrified face.
Remember, I noted earlier that Segun wasn’t a huge fan of Mallam Hassan—well, the feeling was mutual. Mallam Hassan hated Segun’s guts. He thought he was a spoilt rich little brat who was nothing without his father’s overwhelming identity in the society. Well, Segun didn’t think any better of him. ‘Was this test born out of a typewriter? Haven’t they heard of a computer and printer? Seems like something photocopied from years ago. Cheapos!’ he thought within himself as he flipped the question paper over. ‘Fifty questions to be answered in an hour. That’s seventy two seconds to give the correct answer to a single question. That’s so unfair!’ he rebelled within.
‘Now that I’ve wasted half the entire time, I just have about thirty seconds for each question. That’s not so bad at all. I was excellent at speed work in school. I will probably pass this one too,’ he encouraged himself, but then he glanced at the questions again, and was stripped of all hope. ‘I probably will fail this one. What am I going to do?’ His eyes wandered across the hall and were locked on Mallam Hassan again who gave him a sharp glance of disapproval. He leaned back, and stared at the ceiling fan just above him. ‘You are never going to amount to anything. You’ll definitely fail this exam and also at life too. You don’t take anything seriously, and failure is what you deserve,’ he heard his father’s voice in his head.
‘Get out of my head!’
He shook his father’s voice away.
‘Don’t listen to your father. When I married him, he was completely lost. I set him straight. Maybe Amina will set you straight too. If you fail this test, don’t worry, I will plead with Mallam Hassan to get you married anyway. I believe Amina will set you straight too,’ his mother’s calming voice replaced his father’s.
It was a Saturday morning, and Segun always spent the weekend throwing wild pool parties at home. Last Saturday, he was seated by the pool with Rasheed and his girlfriend, Sade. ‘Secondary school has been over for ten years now. I’m done with medical school. Sade is done with her MBA. Everybody at school are done with their university education, and are all working, doing well, and living alone, independent from their parents. Everybody, except you. Yes, your father is loaded and you drive the most fancy car on the Island, but you need to carve out an identity for yourself because right now it seems like you’re buried under your father’s shadow,’ Rasheed advised.
‘Look at your siblings, your sister Halima is a registered nurse at Oman. Your younger brother is a junior resident doctor at Lagos University Teaching Hospital. Your girlfriend in secondary school, Vivian, remember her? She is a dental surgeon in California. Everybody has forged a path for themselves, except you, and you were the brightest of us all. I expected greater things for you,’ Sade took over. ‘Rasheed and I are getting married. You’re the first of our friends to know this. He asked me last night.’ Sade flaunted her diamond engagement ring before Segun’s eyes. In reaction, Segun laughed and urged them to be less serious and get drunk a little.
Later that day, they all drove around the Island, recklessly, with Rasheed and Segun taking turns on the wheel. Rasheed would turn his head around and stare at Sade every five minutes—even after dating for four years, he was clearly still in the love bubble. They all sipped chilled Pepsi, chitchatting with one another and laughing throughout the cruise. An FC Barcelona badge hanged from the reverse mirror between Segun and Rasheed. Segun had a signed Barcelona jersey of Lionel Messi that cost him a mountain. Neither Segun nor Rasheed had a seatbelt on. They stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet at Victoria Garden City. There they sat on a round table, and had chicken, chips, cakes, chocolates, fruit juice, and more Pepsi. They continued their chitchats and laughter, often with others throwing them sharp gazes of disapproval.
The game-shop wasn’t left out of the many stops. They played arcade video games and bought FIFA 17, Far Cry, Medal of Honor, God of War, Grand Theft Auto, Need for Speed, and Assassin’s Creed for PlayStation. Segun also purchased an Xbox1 console for himself and Rasheed. They stopped at Shoprite, where Sade tried out new dresses, and Segun yanked out tee-shirts and jean trousers from the rail. Again, he paid with his father’s Discovery credit card, and they all walked out with at least three plastic bags in their hands, in chitter chatter and laughter.
Later that night, they had a final stop at a Karaoke bar, where they had beer, champagne, and several shots of expensive liquor. They bounced all night long, stamping their feet and nodding their heads to the dancehall mix booming from the Dee-jay’s speakers. Eyes clamped shut, fists raised high in the air, singing along to Tinie Tempah’s ‘Mamacita’ hit, under the influence of liquor—they all danced till their feet hurt.
♫’Oh, mamacita
Come, let’s get more familiar
I like your style
I like your style
Oh, mamacita
Come, let’s stay ‘til mañana
I like your style
I like your style
We grew up learning things the hard way, close ties
You only make it if you grow free, don't die
Remember startin' up my own wave, won't lie
I used to bus it, baby, no train, no sky…’♫
‘Thanks for tonight. Though silly, I really enjoyed myself,’ Rasheed whispered into Segun’s ears with a tight, squeezing hug. They literally crawled out of the bar early in the morning, completely unaware of how last night was spent. This time, Sade took the wheels.
She was the only one sober enough to drive.
Again, Segun’s Range Rover hugged the road, breezing through the morning Sun, with Segun’s waist through the window, hands wide apart, eyes clinched shut, feeling the wind as they brushed his face in relief. Segun tried paying for roasted corn by the roadside with his father’s card. It came as a surprise to him that the uneducated woman didn’t accept it. ‘You don’t accept cards?’ Segun asked. ‘Money, give me money. Three hundred naira. Take this thing away and give me my money,’ she replied with a frown. Segun had no cash on him, so Rasheed had to pay this time. On the way home, he pulled out his Leica and took several photographs of Sade and Rasheed, which he pinned to his wallboard later in the day. They breezed through the blue atmosphere until Segun was home. Sade and Rasheed took a taxi home, while Segun flung his backpack on the couch, marched off his sneakers, slipped under his duvet, and slept the alcohol off.
Well, back to the test.
Segun’s eyes wandered across every female face in the hall, guessing which Amina was. ‘Amina!’ he called out, to be certain for sure. Unfortunately, everyone in the room, man and woman, including Mallam Hassan, had their eyes locked on him. The final bell rang.
‘Time up!’ Mallam Hassan called out.
‘Okay everyone, pencils down. Stop shading. Make sure your name and your exam number are shaded correctly. Come on! Come on! Submit your answer sheet.’ He stood up and paced through the gangway, towards the examinees. Inaudible noises diffused throughout the room as the examinees whispered across the gangway to each other. Segun was the first to get up and hand over his answer sheet. ‘Stay behind, Segun. I will like to have a word with you when everyone is gone,’ Mallam Hassan held Segun’s wrist firmly, stopping him dead in his tracks, and Segun was startled, losing his breath.
Few minutes after, the room was empty, and the pile of backpacks and handbags were gone as well. Segun stood tall before Mallam Hassan who was seated at his desk glaring at Segun’s empty answer sheet in shock. He was in his famous Scooby Doo tee-shirt, with an inscription ‘Shaggy and Scooby. Best Friends Forever’ and he wore that shirt like forever.
‘What?! You didn’t study for the test, Segun?’
‘Where is my wife to be? Shouldn’t she be here like everyone else, writing the test too? Or were you paid to let someone else write it for her?’
‘The first test was conducted from nine to ten, so she was here earlier, and she is done with hers. Such a brilliant young lady. I knew you couldn’t make it for the first batch, so I fixed you in the second batch. Look at you, I’m sure you woke up late and didn’t have time to shower, because this was the same shirt and jean you wore yesterday. I saw you at the store yesterday in this same outfit. My question is, if you slept late last night, what did you do throughout the night if you didn’t study for the test?’
‘Are you keeping Amina away from me or what? Why do we have to write our tests separately? Couldn’t she write hers in the second batch with me?’
‘That’s the custom, Segun. If you read the text your father gave you, you’ll already know this. This shows you didn’t open the book at all. You two, the husband and wife to be, are to first meet at the wedding.’
‘The text I read yesterday said that I have to get married on my own free will. This doesn’t feel like free will to me. I can’t marry a complete stranger. Arranged marriages are not the way of Allah. People should get married because they are in love with each other. You should be ashamed of yourself…’ Segun stopped himself from venting any further but it was already too late. He’d delivered the final lecture, and Mallam Hassan was more than provoked. ‘Out of here, you miscreant! I will speak to your father about this. I pray that Almighty Allah forgives your ignorance.’ Segun marched out from the hall without an afterthought, and was gone in a blink.