BETHROTHED (2)

 

MENA

The beauty of her father’s farm lived in the quiet confidence of his cows and the healthy robustness of his chickens.

Dawn had barely stretched across the sky when Mena adjusted the feed trays inside the chicken cages, watching with soft amusement as the birds hurried toward the grain, pecking joyfully as though celebrating a feast.

Her father’s booming laughter rang across the farmland, “Haaa, my Chief! This is the best price you will get for these five cows. I am giving you the offer of a lifetime!”

Mena peeked out from behind the chicken house, her gaze lingering on the well-adorned native attire that sat so gracefully on her father’s lean frame. Anyone hearing his voice without seeing him would imagine a robust man with a round belly and heavy shoulders. But Papa Mena was the exact opposite; tall, wiry, and effortlessly elegant in his simplicity.

“Excuse me, Papa. I am done feeding the chickens,” she said quietly, holding up the empty feed sack.

Her father’s eyes softened immediately. “Okay, Mena. Thank you, my daughter.”

Chief Keef watched her as she walked toward the house. The sun had suddenly risen, casting a gentle glow that danced over her radiant, medium-deep brown skin. Her cheeks seemed to glimmer with her natural joy. Her fuller, voluptuous figure was gracefully outlined in the native top and wrapper she wore, modest but undeniably striking.

“Your daughter will make a fine bride for my son, Mensa,” Chief Keef announced with confidence.

Papa Mena smiled, following his daughter’s disappearing silhouette.

“You came for cows, Chief Keef. Let us focus on that. My daughter is preparing to further her education, and I will soon be sending her to the neighbouring village to continue her studies. Marriage will come later, when the Lord Himself ordains it. When that time comes, let Mensa come as a man and ask for her hand. Until then… let us talk cows, ehen?”

Chief Keef’s ego deflated slightly, but he nodded. He knew better than to push the matter with Papa Mena, the man’s love for his daughter was no secret. The negotiation ended with a firm handshake and the exchange of money, satisfaction evident on both men’s faces.

Hidden behind the doorway, Mena held the curtain with trembling fingers, pressing her left ear closer to hear clearly. Her heart fluttered with gratitude. She had prayed endlessly that her father would let her pursue tertiary education outside Gumba Village. Though he had not given her a direct answer, hearing him speak so boldly in her defense was the confirmation she needed.

Many girls her age had already been married off after completing Senior Secondary School. But Mena wanted more, she longed for a fuller, wider life beyond the familiar borders of the village. A holistic life.

“Thank You, God,” she whispered, eyes closed. “Thank You for answering my prayers. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

She heard her father approaching the house, still whistling joyfully as he pocketed the money from the sale. Quickly, Mena slipped away into the kitchen and busied herself with preparing dinner. The last thing she wanted was for him to find her eavesdropping.