The super feminine, warm floral scent of jasmine on her first greeted me when I neared her. And before she said a greeting for me to respond, I wondered how she was able to afford such an expensive perfume. Everyone in the community was a farmer. Incomes were low. And expensive possessions were rare.
She greeted, looked away, and giggled. Her sweet voice nearly flicked my thoughts from what I was about to ask her, not because it plunged me into some sort of romantic tickles; it was because I had never heard her speak with such a voice. Perhaps, I didn’t know her as much as I thought.
“I was told you are looking for me,” I said to initiate a conversation after I had responded to her greeting.
Before she could reply me, grandma slowly walked past us and headed to Esther’s sister who was standing few meters away.
“Yes,” she replied, and giggled again. “We are on our way to visit our aunt, and I just decided to stop by and check on you.”
My mind wandered momentarily before I spoke. She wasn’t my friend, and I could not remember when I had ever had any sort of conversation with her.
“That’s good of you. Thank you for checking on me,” I said, bringing my wandering mind home.
Esther giggled once more. And glanced at me quickly. I smiled as ours eyes met again. I understood the silent words that her eyes were speaking to me, but I had no urge to reply her same way as she probably expected.
Silence followed until the sound of grandma’s feigned cough coincided with a hen's cackle. Then, Esther’s sister turned to look at us. “How are you, Quasi?” she asked me. I responded. And, jokingly, she added, “Your wife will visit you another time. May I have your permission to go with her now?”
Grandma laughed heartily. It was the first time I saw her laugh so cheerfully after the death of grandpa. I could guess the depth of her joy – it was deep. But why? Why was she so happy to hear Esther’s sister refer to me as the husband of Esther?
Like an unstoppable, contagious, airborne disease, grandma's laughter spread to Esther and her sister. The three women laughed as I stood watching them. I felt embarrassed at a point so, I frowned.
Esther’s sister got wind of my mood, and stopped laughing. “Don’t mind us, Quasi,” she said, with the intent of letting me forgo any ill perception of their actions, “we women often laugh without any reason.”
Hiding my thoughts, I feigned a smile in response to her, and however ungenuine my smile was, she perceived she had been able to persuade me to believe that there was no reason behind their laughter.
Grandma understood my mood better. She knew me more than I knew myself. She gave me a sign to brighten up. Grandma was excellent in signs and gestures.
Slowly, grandma took few steps to get closer to me when Esther and her sister left the village and continued on their way. I knew her intent. Her usual facial expressions when she was bent on persuading someone showed up. I didn’t give her the chance to speak first.
“I know what you have done,” I said with a voice that she understood so well, a voice that she always reacted negatively to – one that displeased her always.
I expected her usual negative reaction to the voice that so much irritated her, but this time, she smiled and stood silent, staring at me. She swallowed her saliva before she spoke. She perhaps found it uneasy to voice out what she intended to tell me.
“You are growing,” she said simply, held my hand and led me to a bench on the veranda. It was obvious she didn’t want anyone to hear what she wanted to tell me. “You are growing,” she repeated her words as she straightened the bench for us to sit. “It is time you consider getting a girlfriend.”
I chuckled silently, shaking my head. “I haven’t told you that I can’t make a choice when I’m ready. She’s not attractive to me. You connived with your friend to give me her daughter?”
“When are you going to be ready? And who says she’s ugly? Do you know who an ugly girl is? You didn’t see her backside, her flawless skin, the beautiful diastema in her front teeth, and her beautiful smile?”
“And why are you not talking about her face and her small titties?” I replied grandma before she could end her persuasive reasoning.
Taken by surprise by my undiluted utterance, grandma kept quiet, shook her head, looked at me and laughed. “I didn’t know you are spoilt already, grandson,” she said, still laughing. “What are you going to do with her titties?”
I wondered the answer she wanted me to give her. She probably didn’t know that I cherished plump and beautiful titties, not the overly large ones anyway. “I’m not spoilt,” I said, leaving out her question about the titties.
“Quasi,” she called loudly as if I was far away from her. I knew what that meant – she demanded my full attention. “Every girl and every woman is beautiful, but the most beautiful one of all is not the one with the most attractive physical features. The most beautiful girl or woman is one whose heart is hidden from predators; one whose yes always mean yes; one who loves you not because you love her; one whose tongue doesn’t pronounce words that are hard to understand, and whose lips feigns not a smile.
“And, if it happens that a handsome man, a man of dignity meets this most beautiful girl I have described to you, even in the grave, their bones rattle memories of the nights when sugar and honey were eaten with the skin instead with the tongue.”
The proverbs were new to me; their meanings were not clear, but I decided not to interrupt her till she finished everything she had to say. Grandma had the habit of changing topics whenever she was interrupted when making a point. Her examples and explanations almost always led to different discussions. I didn’t want that to happen.
“My grandson,” she continued, narrowing her point around Esther, “the girl who just left here is beautiful. It will take you a little more time to see. I see what you don’t see.”
I sat quiet, ignoring all distractions, and listened attentively to grandma when her sermon creeped back to the young woman she was trying to get me yoked with. She sounded convincing, but my young, masculine mind could not agree with her. Yes, grandma was right to an extent – Esther wasn’t completely ugly. Apart from her face and her small titties, I admired everything she was endowed with. But, I wanted my dream woman to be complete. That was my choice.
Though my mind was unreceptive to Grandma’s persuasions, I knew she spoke with genuine concern and wisdom. She simply wanted the best for me, but I doubted she fully considered what my heart desired. Or, did she think I was green about romance, so youthful folly and exuberance would cause me to swallow any bait and get hooked? No, I was not at all ready to negotiate what my heart desired.
So, when grandma brought her well-meaning sermon to an end, I respectfully made it known to her my feelings about her friend’s daughter. “I don’t love her,” I said without realizing that I had raised my voice. One of my uncle’s sons heard me and laughed.
Grandma grinned. She was enthused over my stand, I thought. I was wrong.
“That’s how it has always been, grandson,” she said and cast her eyes down, shaking her head. I could see her mood swing from one of hope to one that was reflective. She thought deeply. She remained silent for close to a minute before she spoke again. “Grandson,” she bounced back much spiritedly, with warmth in her voice, “romance is like a dice; it always takes two sides to win a fortune but often, it is only one side that gets the attention. The one you love may not love you back. And it is highly unlikely that two people would love each other equally. Like the downside of a dice, a true lover isn’t one that comes with glory to seek your praise. There would be no top side of a dice if the down side decides not to rest.
“Grandson, you have the right to choose who your heart desires, but be careful so that you don’t throw away the precious pearl that finds you, and go chasing after a mere shining stone.”
The words of grandma, though filled with proverbs and hard to understand to the full, made me think. “Isn’t love all about choosing a partner that appeals to one the most? Who would chose gold over diamonds, and stones over gold?” Many were the silent questions that my juvenile mind could not answer.
“I don’t understand all that,” I told grandma as she stood up from the bench to continue her morning activities.
“You will understand someday, grandson. I was once like you, and you will be like me someday. We become wise only when life's lessons leave a stain in our lives. A time may come when you will remember our chat today.”
I said nothing again. My eyes were fixed on grandma as she walked to the kitchen, but I wasn’t actually looking at her; my mind was still occupied with the many unanswered questions about romance and one’s choice of a partner.
