Photo credit; CNN
Save for the parked cars, it did not seem as if anything was happening there. I had to ask some guy who probably came to enjoy the fresh air outside if that was number sixty – five.
Taking him for a security man, my voice was rather condescending, or so I thought. But on questioning him, he said he was a guest.
He affirmed it was the place I was looking for.
He took me inside the building. A lady was sitting behind a table. She was possibly in charge of ‘fencing’ uninvited guests.
However, since the event had almost ended, she took no notice of me. If she had, I could have been made to answer some questions.
I was not dressed like a party goer in my blue jeans trousers and collarless white shirt. I even put on a jacket topped with the ‘bentigo’ that has become my signature.
While the sample of what to see inside was already apparent from outside, I must say it that it was a very poor comparison.
It’s like comparing death, not with sleep, but with life.
The grandeur of the hall itself, with its chandelier lit roof. The tables all had smaller chandelier lights.
Thinking twice about going to ask anyone for the whereabouts of my inviter, I decided to call them. It was as if they had been expecting my call. With two rings of my phone, they stood up and signaled me.
Immediately I sat down, they asked me to go to the buffet tables and serve myself. Being the choosy type, I picked this and that.
Meanwhile, the wedding had reached the cake cutting stage. Soon, they got to the picture taking stage.
The bride and groom opened the dance floor. It was soon the turn of everyone who cared to dance.
But one thing I noticed was the fact that people were not dancing as if it was the last day they would shake their waists. In fact, alcohol which was in abundance, was barely touched.
Truly, ‘Olowo ijo bahun, die die l’olowo njo’.
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