Wedding planning has got to be the most angst filled experience a couple can go through. Well, that is, if the groom decides to even be involved. Of course, 99% of the grooms just show up for the wedding, which is the smart way to go. Me? Come on, now. What makes you think I would do the smart thing? Or do what everyone else does? I am in that 1% of grooms who have been actively involved. Seeing all the craziness. The scams. The spats. The underbelly of a sacrament that should be filled with joy, but carries an undercurrent of raw and unwanted emotions.
Thus, I have adopted a sentence, a theme, a mantra that fully captures my thoughts and opinions when vocalized to the willing public:
I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS NONSENSE!!!
So, exactly what does that mean? What are the underlying passions, rationalizations and deductions that qualify this declaration? (See, that's what going to college does for you, you start speaking like Thomas Webster or William Thesaurus)
For one, this particular statement was designed, developed and deployed by the understated (I'm being sarcastic) and dynamic (depends) people of Nigeria. A common and widely used statement, it gives the declarer the go-ahead to literally wash away all of his/her issues. First, the time issue. You don't have any. You are letting folks know your time is valuable. Then comes the fact that nonsense is being thrown at you and you are irked by the fact that your valuable time is being occupied by nonsense.
So for instance, if you were told by your boss to write a report and build an uber financial business model that would help her convince the CEO that the company could make gazillions by developing the new super gizmo, the Naija thing to say is, "I don't have time for this nonsense." Just like a priest administering self-confession, you have, in essence, absolved yourself of all duties/concerns.
Would you get fired? Absolutely. But at least you didn't have time for all that nonsense.
Now, I have tagged along to pretty much most of the meetings that TheNgozi scheduled with the various vendors who will help with the wedding. Being the anu nchi that I am, whenever she asks me to tag along, I always initiate negotiations to define and lock down the terms under which I would tag along. You know, I get five percent more control of the DVR remote control for picking out the tuxedos for myself and the guys. Or an extra goat meat in the next bowl of soup for visiting the Reverend who will be conducting our ceremony. I mean, stuff that a groom has no business being a part of. As an exasperated TheNgozi humors me and plays along, I would attempt to make outrageous requests that might encourage her to drop me as a tag-along. But one sunny, clear and rainy day she dropped the bomb. I was in the middle of explaining why I was convinced having a caterer was a scam, unless I was given more access to the pint of Vanilla Heath Bar Crunch, when she calmly and cooly said to me:
"Chidi, I swear I don't have time for this nonsense o!"
Ah-ah! See me see wahala.
I knew marriage meant sharing everything, but my mantras too? Damn, is there anything I get to keep for myself?