THIS BODY IS FOR SALE -By Chinwe Judith Okafo

 

We should have been getting married today. 

I and this young man I once called my lover.

But circumstances crept in. 

Circumstances beyond our control.

Last year we were clinking glasses. Eating cakes and making toasts.

This year we are counting losses.

Of things that ought to be but never were.

Of dreams shared, laughter, tears and smiles.

Ours was not just the tale of tradition hitting us on the face.

But hereditary.

Blood flowing this way and that. Bad blood.

And so today my Cheta marched to the altar with a bride devoid of the stigma called 'osu'- outcast.

And I marched to the altar with a groom devoid of the stigma called 'ara'- madness.

This is our tale. Of two love birds who were scared to take the bull by the horn.

But later this night, we will each look into the eyes of our spouse and see the other within.

We will take that kiss and picture our lips interlocked the way it used to be.

This shall be our story.

 For we are weaklings.