By Uzor Maxim Uzoatu
Wedlock ought to be serious business of very serious people who ought to be serious for a very long time.
The pity is that Nigerian marriages have been turned into a very unserious matter like the jokes of slapstick comedians.
The news all about town currently is the crash of the marriage of the ace comedian AY.
It is definitely not my cup of tea apportioning blames on who is responsible for the collapse of the high profile wedlock.
It suffices just to stress that I am sick and tired of being sick tired over the crashing of all the so-called celebrity marriages in good old Nollywood and in high society generally.
Everything must not be reduced to unserious comedy, least of all the institution called Holy Matrimony by the Catholics.
Even if one should liken matrimony to show-business, there must be the “show” and of course there must be the “business” side of the matter.
If the business dimension of the show is lacking, then the marriage crashes like the old nursery rhyme known as “Humpty-Dumpty.”
It is incumbent on all dutiful husbands to marry their wives in cash and kind because it ought to be a lifelong bond.
Nothing should be lacking, especially the action that calls for continuous servicing with all the powers available to one.
The problem is that in a place like Lagos there is the saying “Eko for show,” but the show calls for hard action.
The fact that a fine man has played the role of husband to some beautiful Nollywood damsels in a dozen or so movies does not qualify the bloke as a real-time husband.
Yes, “reel-time” is so different from “real-time.”
In the movie, there are the klieg lights shining, but in an actual marriage one must perforce negotiate very dark corners and contours.
Marriage is not about speaking American phonetics capped with the elocution of Queen’s English, or is it now King’s English now that King Charles is on the throne?
To underscore how tough marriage is, the girl compels the wannabe husband to marry her traditionally, in the church, in the registry, and it is all rounded off with a big society wedding.
It is an insult upon the great institution of marriage that the clowns who call themselves celebrities end up getting married after eating a plate of Nkwobi at OJEZ Restaurant at National Stadium, Surulere, Lagos.
Trust “otimkpu” journalists who address themselves as celebrity writers to ballyhoo the “wedlock” to the high heavens only for the marriage to collapse before their newspapers reach the newsstands.
Then words such as “irreconcilable differences” are bandied about as the cause of the break-up of the non-union.
Their differences may have been reconcilable while they were eating the hot Nkwobi only to suddenly turn into irreconcilable once the Nkwobi gets cold in short seconds inside their tummies.
As a serious business, marriage demands cream and cash because one must not be found wanting in performance.
The gymnastics needed in getting a lady singing goes from the bedroom to the bank and shop-room.
The fact that you performed excellently last night is no excuse not to perform more excellently inside the shopping mall at high noon.
The balancing act of the phallus and the purse leaves many a lover-boy staggering in the giddy echelons of marriage.
This reminds me of this Nollywood dude who acted in a film on a boat in the high seas and then started walking in a staggering manner like he was being swayed by the waves.
His father was alarmed that his son was walking this way.
When the dude explained that he was walking that way because of the waves that kept swaying him this way and that while acting in the movie on the high seas, his father was aghast.
“How long were you on the high seas acting?” asked the father.
“Two weeks,” replied the son.
“Only two weeks, and you are already walking jagajaga like the waves,” said the father, shaking his head. “So me that I’ve been married to your mother for all of fifty years I should be walking like a he-goat in action?”
And the old man promptly demonstrated the thrusting movement of a he-goat-on-heat jerking back and forth in one-corner action!
Now I have to stop writing because I just heard that a fellow journalist’s tryst has just collapsed even before the wedding!
As they say, he who lives in a glass house should not be throwing stones at the so-called marriages of the Nollywood blokes!
Uzoatu is the author of God of Poetry
