T’s father thanked all the guests before T made her glorious entrance. My sister handed the framed wedding proposal from the Murphy family to T’s family who accepted the marriage proposal on behalf of their daughter (this was a formality – my brother and T had married in Puerto Rico during lockdown already remember). The wedding proposal sounded quite grand and florid. I should know as I wrote it. My instructions from T had been ‘You can’t go over the top, in terms of praise for me in the proposal. It’s expected, so go for it.’ In return we accepted a framed acceptance letter to bring back to Ireland.

After the acceptance the couple were surrounded by well-wishers who ‘sprayed’ them with banknotes – a tradition to wish health and wealth on them for the years ahead. This time we were prepared and we sprayed with gusto.

The engagement ceremony lasted about five hours. After the more formal element was over I made my way to the exit only to be stopped by Secret Service Michael who asked where I was going. He looked alarmed when I answered that I was going to the toilet. I was accompanied by two armed secret service agents as I made my way to the Gents’. This felt strange but I guess this was what their assignment was and they were taking it seriously.

As Nigeria is so close to the Equator day turns to night very quickly. Sunset that evening was at 7.03pm. We arrived back from the engagement party at 6.30pm where I repaired to the balcony in my first floor room, to see the sun set rapidly. I had googled ‘bars in the neighbourhood’ and discovered a bar called the Greol Lounge close to our hotel. I decided against visiting, not wanting to incur the wrath of Michael. We dined in T’s room (my brother had a separate room as technically they were still unmarried – in the Yoruba tradition at least) where a bottle of South African wine appeared. This was the first glass I’d had since arrival. I was in bed by 10.30pm. The following day was the main event.

Saturday 17^th June – Wedding!

Saturday’s wedding agbada was a purple, striped number that was more comfortable and lighter than the previous day’s outfit. My sister wore a dress in the same pattern as well as an elaborate hat (and shoes borrowed from T’s mum – there was still no indication from Air France as to when the missing suitcase would surface). When we arrived at the Baptist Church we were greeted by T’s parents who were attired similarly to us. There had been a wedding earlier that morning that had still not finished so we waited. Upon entrance to the church the Secret Service woman touched my arm and whispered ‘Take your hat off, you’re in a church.’ I complied. The ‘parents’ (including us siblings posing as parents) were seated together in the front row. T was walked up the aisle by her father. She and my brother were then joined in matrimony. The vows were the same as you’d have at an Irish wedding. What was different about this was the presence of two different, Nigerian gospel choirs who sounded inspirational and uplifting. The sermon by the Baptist preacher was about the sanctity of marriage. A man must leave his parents. Then he must meet a woman and they must cleave to each other. Through the sanctity of marriage they become one. He also spoke of the folly of people who leave their parents but don’t marry. I decided that it was not the time or the place to ask if a man can cleave and unite with another man (or a woman with a woman). Nor was it the time to ask his thoughts on Kylie’s latest smash hit ‘Padam Padam’. Nigeria is a country where in law homosexuality is punishable by fourteen years in prison (a thriving underground scene exists nonetheless according to my pre-travel online research). Choosing your battles is a wise decision. He spoke for forty minutes. I am not criticising here, but some judicious editing of his speech would have made it more effective. More is not always more.

The whole event was captured by the photography team who captured every element of the ceremony (there was also a drone flying overhead filming anything that was missed from the ground. The big screens above the altar made the whole ceremony visible for those at the back. This was useful as every time I saw myself onscreen I could make sure that I was still camera ready.

Finally as they were declared husband and wife the audience burst into applause. We made our way outside for another round of photographs (some of which have subsequently appeared in the Nigerian press).

As it was so hot, C and I were driven back to the hotel where we changed into our final outfit for the wedding reception – an Ankara made of see-through blue lace. I made the executive decision to wear a blue t-shirt underneath this number to avoid getting sunburned.

We arrived at the beautiful tree-lined gardens of the university of Ibadan where the reception was to be held, before both the couple and T’s parents. We were directed to the head table. Looking out over the crowd I guess there may have been about five hundred people there. It seemed vast. When T’s parents and the couple arrived we made our way out again so we could formally dance up to our table to the sound of a Nigerian drumbeat. A newspaper has described this as a ‘comic dance that made everyone in the Hall laugh hysterically’. I took it quite seriously – although I am happy enough if I amused the crowd with my clunky gait. There was a band behind the two top tables playing a mixture of Nigerian and American songs. There was finger food and drinks at all tables, and speeches thanking people for their attendance. Then some more dancing and spraying of banknotes on the couple and their families – that included me. After a few hours T’s brother approached us and told us to follow him to the more intimate reception which was just for close family and friends.

I dined on a meal of jollof rice and curried chicken which was very tasty, and also nibbled on diced goat. I was curious about this dish as it had been recommended to me but was not too impressed. Goat tastes very gamey and chewy. The texture of the skin wasn’t for my palate either. Goat is much more palatable as part of a soup – which we had later than evening back in the hotel.

We located a bottle of red wine on our table. Alcohol is not massively popular in Nigeria the way it would be in Ireland so the bottle was still corked. We found a waiter and C and I quickly sampled a few glasses. DJ Fiesta entertained the crowd with his music and the comedian and host onstage roasted the new couple and played party games with the crowd. It was great fun. My favourite song was ‘Now that we’ve found love’ which I know from Heavy D and the Boyz version from 1991. DJ Fiesta played a different version but I could still sing along. ‘When we were young’ by Adele saw C and T shout the lyrics to each other.

At about 6pm the crowd started to disperse. Night would fall in an hour and parties seemed to be daytime events here. As this was the last ‘official’ event of the wedding our secret service security detail’s assignment to protect us was complete and now our safety lay solely in the hands of the armed Special Protection Unit. This suited us. Michael gave C his number before he left, however.

Back at the hotel I fell into a deep sleep at about nine o’clock. Tomorrow was to be our last day.

Sunday 18^th June – Blessing
On Sunday morning we rose early. I went to the restaurant for breakfast where I persuaded the waitress to give me a second sachet of Maxwell House coffee (apparently a single cup of coffee should have been sufficient). My brother informed me that we needed to pack our bags ready to be collected, immediately after the church service when we would be taken to the airport in Lagos for our evening flight.

‘Another church service, wasn’t that yesterday?’ I asked.

Indeed it was, but as it was now Sunday it was a day of worship. The venue this time was to be a different Baptist church. This church was not air conditioned and was located in a crowded community. Dressed in my Ankara from the formal introduction to T’s parents I stood out. There was another sermon and a blessing. And then twenty minutes of singing from the choir and celebratory dancing. In the thirty two degree heat. I had my daily workout for sure that day. Afterwards there was another round of photographs.

Back at the hotel we bid farewell to the newly married couple and T’s parents, loaded our suitcases into the cars, and a similar convoy to the one which had transported us to Ibadan made its way back to Lagos.

C’s missing suitcase had arrived from France the night before so she collected it at the airport before we made our way to departures. The S.P.U. agents wanted a selfie with me. I acquiesced on the condition that I could get a selfie on my phone as well. I wanted to show that our armed guards were not some figment of my fevered imagination.

Passing through the airport to get to the gates was easy (although I suspect the Customs agent who told us that it was not possible to bring Nigerian currency out of the country was fibbing – especially as he accepted five US dollars instead of Naira to allow me to pass with my remaining Nigerian currency untouched). The bag check man saw the harp on my passport and said ‘Guinness’ – this is the most popular alcoholic beverage in Nigeria but has little association with Ireland for the Nigerian population – in that country it is a quintessentially African drink.

As we sat in the MetroLounge beside the departure gate eating our jollof rice evening meal we looked at each other.

‘We did it’ we said. We’d come to Nigeria for the wedding and it had been a thundering success. There was only the flight back to Amsterdam to go and then homewards to Dublin.

The flight back to Amsterdam would turn out to be the most memorable of my life – so bizarre that it merits its very own article.

Continued at the link – https://midnightmurphy.com/2023/06/23/nigerian-wedding-chapter-3-the-flight-home-and-the-extra-passenger-upon-arrival/