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Concerns of a famished soul

Concerns of a famished soul

I'm in a rush to consume my "soakings". But let me pause and wish you the best of the season. This wish is straight from my heart, okay?


The best gifts can’t often be packed inside a box.  How can you wrap shared laughter and tears, or talks that run into hours? They can only be wrapped and treasured inside my heart.  So here is to say, have a Merry Christmas. 

It's a little after seven in the evening. I am so hungry. Just got home from a wedding. I have never been this hungry on a Saturday. That's why I have determined never to starve myself this whole festive season. No matter where I am invited to, I shall eat at home and take some nibbles with me.

I should have eaten this afternoon after taking my medication but for some strange reason, I was feeling too lazy to go find anything decent to buy. My other excuse was that, the church was packed full and I was seated in the middle of a middle aisle pew. Didn't want all eyes to be on me and my bulging mid-section. Walking past 20 or so rows of seriously dressed congregants is no kids play, you know?

I should have left early. I would if I could, but I couldn’t.  My name was on the programme.  I had a role to play – Vote of Thanks at the reception. Or maybe I should have found a substitute to hold that fort for me, and left.  After all, I had sent the couple my cash present three days earlier.

I had known both of them for a little over half a decade, and had to support them in whichever way I could. Actually, the bride was my niece's roommate at the university. A very good girl, she had a positive influence on my sister's daughter with whom she paired up for four years at Legon.

But it was all the fault of the bride. I intend to talk privately to her when she and her husband return from their honeymoon. She can't go into marriage with that kind of attitude. What was that lateness for?  Most of us were seated by 9:45 am for a ten- start function. At ten thirty, she had still not arrived. 

It was not uncommon to see pouted lips nonverbally insulting her.  Their body language spoke loudly. As some fanned their chiffon-invoked sweat (because that was the common fabric worn by many seated females), others joined in the acapella choruses being belted out by the choir - the chapel was experiencing a "Dum".

The taste of agitation was creasing almost every face in that room. The bride didn't appear till ten after twelve. The implication? A non-exciting triumphant entry. I watched with embarrassment as one of the mass servers rushed to tell the bridal party to walk in fast because the priest had other engagements he was turning late for. The server too should have exhibited a bit of decorum. He said that to the hearing of some of us. 

The priest did well. In a matter 45 minutes, the sermon, exchange of vows, signing of certificates ... everything was over. It was the picture taking bit which lasted a while -about another 45 minutes. They posed and posed for all sorts of snapping. Youthful exuberance!

 By the time the MC gave an announcement for the crowd to be seated for the reception to commence on the well-arranged lawn of the parish, three-thirty had struck. I was surprised that so many tired celebrants still stayed to participate in the reception.

We sat in expectation of a good meal to at least compensate our parched throats. After the opening prayer, the MC asked us to humbly line up to be served from a lonely table which had been laid with a white table cloth. Although I couldn't see any packed snacks or chaffing dishes as I usually saw at such functions, I was still hopeful of something warm and nice.

I was hungry; my dried mouth had started giving off an implicating odour of a famished soul. I was about the 27th person in the one "logologo" line. I could have passed out from hunger. But I had to be patient.  After all, it takes patience to dissect an ant to know its entrails. 

I eagerly waited for that which was being given out in cute plastic bags. And my case would have worsened if I had worn anything apart from flat soles. The queue was slow moving.

I smiled as the pretty lady who stood serving at the table handed me my plastic bag. Thanking her, I "anticipatingly" took my seat and opened my rubber bag. My hopes came dashing down as I spotted a chilled sachet of Jolly Juice and "toh gberh" (one bough float wraped in a transparent plastic bag).

I smiled, shook my head, and placed the bag in my handbag. I wanted to abandon it on the table but knew it would look rude. There was no way I was going to take that small millilitered drink and the soggy "bofrot". I could perceive disenchantment on the faces of everyone who thought their day's ration of a balanced diet was nigh.

With the little strength left inside of me, I quickly took the mic when it was my turn so to do, gave a quick thank you message to the not less than 150 hungry looking well-wishers, and headed straight for my steering wheel.  Managing to feebly treadle my clutch, break and accelerator, I reached home safely.  I am so hungry. Wedding reception.  Is it by force?

Oh!  My gari has over swollen.  Let me quickly prepare fresh “soakings" to fill my belly and then I will tell you what I really wanted to write about today.

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