African Weddings and the Ominous effects of Evil Principalities.

Among Nigerians, very much like other Africans, there is always a very strong belief in the ominous effects of juju, voodoo or evil powers. This belief is sustained by the constant occurrence of mysterious phenomena in the lives of the people. And the belief can not really be discounted as unfounded or rubbished as a mere superstition because even the Holy Scriptures acknowledged the existence of witches, familiar spirits and other evil principalities.

The problem with this belief however is the flawed tendency of our African folks to ascribe every incident, including the consequences of personal recklessness and negligence to the unseen spiritual forces.

In 1987, my wife and I had a huge society wedding. This occasion came on the heels of some scary, mysterious events that occurred a few months before the wedding. From a strange illness that almost claimed the life of my wife to the subtle threats of spiritual harms from certain quarters, a low-keyed wedding ceremony would have been the ideal thing to do under the circumstance. As a couple however, we chose to brave through the scare.

And we did have our fun-filled wedding while enjoying the momentary fame as the cynosure of all eyes. Finally, we thanked God that everything went well as planned.

A few months after the wedding, my wife and I invited Goddy (the best man at our wedding) and Bimbo (Best Lady), to the annual Christmas party hosted by my employers.

We all went to the party in my car.

The week preceding the party had been one of great accomplishments for me in terms of my professional life and private business. With this sheer sense of joy in mind, I proceeded on a drinking binge as soon as we arrived at Federal Palace Hotel, Victoria Island, the venue of the party. When the bar ran out of my choice of white wine, I simply switched to VSOP Brandy that was much stronger.

We called it a day at about one o’clock in the morning of the following day. I remembered vividly how I opened the front passenger's door for my wife and the rear doors for our guests.

But that was all I could remember.

About an hour later, I looked in the rear-view mirror and found the rear seats empty.

“Where is Goddy…and Bimbo?” I turned to ask my wife.

Thinking that I was about launching into one of my dry jokes, she stared at me without a response.

“Listen…” I continued to say. “I’m serious. And by the way, where are we now?”

This time, my wife stared at me with a controlled anger before responding to my question.

“What are you talking about?” she asked irritably. “Can’t you see that we are in Ikeja?”

“Ah!” I exclaimed in panic.

“What do you mean by ah?” my wife asked again. “Aren’t you the one driving the car?”

In place of a response however, I continued to drive toward home.

Finally, we both arrived at home.

That was when I called my wife aside to tell her that I could not remember how I drove the car from the parking lot of the Federal Palace Hotel in Victoria Island all the way to Ikeja, covering several miles of distance in the process.

For a few seconds, all she did was stare at me in shock.

“What really are you trying to say?” she finally asked in fright. “…that you passed out while driving?”

“I guess so…” I answered, nodding my head solemnly. “Because I can’t remember anything.”

“Oh my God.” she remarked. “No wonder you were so quiet all the time Goddy, Bimbo and I were chatting and laughing. You just kept staring at the road ahead….”

“No, my eyes were shut tight.” I stated. “I only opened them when we got to Ikeja.”

“Really?” she screamed while clasping her palms atop her head in shock. “But…but you pulled over for Goddy to step out of the car at Palm Grove bus stop.”

“I did?” I asked, staring at her in surprise. “I can’t remember doing anything of sort.”

“What?” my wife yelled in astonishment. “And what about the time you pulled over at Maryland for Bimbo to get off?”

“I can’t remember doing that either.” I shook my head.

“But how then did you drive so smoothly all the way to Ikeja?” she wailed in shock.

“I don’t know…” again, I stated, shaking my head.

“Ah!” she exclaimed for the umpteenth time. “For God’s sake, you drove all the way from Victoria Island, a journey of several miles with curves and turns…all through the long Third Mainland Bridge and you can’t remember anything?”

“No…I can’t.” I answered.

For the next few minutes, we both meditated quietly over the strange phenomenon.

We both wondered aloud about whatever strange force had taken control of the car all the time I was unconscious. Without the benefits of that strange force or providence, which we finally ascribed to another special grace of God in my life, the car could have plunged into the looming, dark Lagoon beneath the Third Mainland Bridge if I had lost control of the car. And this was more so, after such a very flashy, lavished wedding ceremony.

“Do you know what people would have said?” my wife asked in consternation. “Our families, relations and friends would have blamed it all on the wicked engine of witch-crafty, sorcery or some other evil principalities.”

“Of course, yes. “ I nodded solemnly. “Even though, it would all have been my fault.” 

I marveled at the phenomenal event of that fateful day and resolved never again to drink, eat or do anything whatsoever in excess.

It has been 25 years since the incident took place. Had the situation been the other way around, someone else would probably have written this story as an eulogy in a memorial to me, my wife and our guests. May God be praised, thanked and glorified at all times.