I've always seen it happen in the movies, and I thought it was just something to entertain the viewers and would never happen in reality. Not until it happened before my eyes.
That afternoon I sat in the wedding hall listening to the cool tunes played by the DJ. Trust me, he had a knack for switching through music and I was enjoying it.
The wedding hall was alive with humans. Children ran around until their mothers yelled them back to their seats. Loud chatter from women in shimmering lace blouses and buba, moving from table to table. Balancing plates of steaming jollof and pepper soup from their hands to the tables. Some guests were yelling at the top of their voices, as if they hadn't eaten food before. But I didn't blame them; that was the proper effect of Nigerian jellof on Nigerian parties.
I was on drink duty, weaving through the crowd with bottles of beer and wine on a crate, and somehow decided to give myself a little break.
Before me was my uncle, the groom, sitting closely beside his new wife. It was his big day, the kind he had dreamed about for years. The master of ceremonies tapped the microphone and announced that it was time for the best man’s toast.
I dropped the phone I was fondling and looked up to the tall and confident man whom I had known as a good friend of my uncle for years. But even from where I was, I noticed there was redness in his eyes and the slight swaying of his body.
He must have been drinking. I wasn't surprised. It was his thing.
In fact, I had seen my uncle warn him that morning while we took pictures to keep the alcohol away until after the reception. But here he was, holding a glass of wine like a weapon.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice loud and cheerful, “For more than twenty years, I have known this man. This means we share secrets, mistakes, and wild nights.” he belched loudly into the microphone.
The crowd chuckled politely pretending not to be irritated by his behaviour. I was irritated, but when I looked at the bride, I saw her smile faintly. I shrugged.
“This man,” he went on, “this man you see here, was once the king of late-night parties. I swear!"
The laughter from the crowd quickly grew uneasy. I watch him chuckle to himself. He was probably enjoying the attention. I was almost fuming. I knew my uncle had lived recklessly as a bachelor but exposing such a past life on his wedding day from a man who was his partner in crime was such a painful thing.
“Hmm! If his in-laws knew the kind of debts he once carried because of women eh, they would have thought twice before giving him their daughter!"
The hall fell silent. A few guests gasped. Some started shouting. "Take the mic from him! He's drunk! Where's the MC?"
I saw my aunt lower her face. I saw the bride’s mother’s expression harden.
"But he's changed now. He's a good man now." The best man said. I guess he had realised that he had let out too much.
I cursed him hard from my seat. I had never liked him anyway. Because he was the one who encouraged the recklessness of my uncle.
Quickly, the MC rushed forward and stylishly grabbed the microphone from him with a nervous laugh.
“Thank you, best man! What a... toast!”
p forget the toast. The murmurs kept coming, especially from the old women.
Later that evening, I carried drinks through the back of the hall to guests. I nearly collided with my uncle.
"Sorry," I apologised.
But he didn't reply to me. He was more focused on dragging his best man into a quiet corner. He had no happy look on his face. I froze, unsure if I should move. I stood there.
“You wan disgrace me (Do you want to disgrace me),” my uncle hissed, his voice sharp but low.
The best man shook his head. “Na joke o (It was just a joke)”
“Joke?” my uncle cut in. His eyes were blazing. “What kind of costly joke was that? Guy, I warned you. I begged you not to drink. I told you this day was not about you. Yet you stood before my wife’s family and opened your mouth to mock me?”
“No reason am like that (I didn’t mean it like that)”
“Shut up, guy!” my uncle snapped. “You nearly ruined my wedding for me. Twenty years of friendship, and you choose today to disgrace me. If not for my guests eh, I for comot you here (I would have thrown you out).”
I saw the best man’s shoulders slump. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his palm. He stuttered. All of a sudden, it seems like the alcohol was out of his system. “I’m sorry."
My uncle's face was already red. I could tell how angry he was.
“Pray I survive today, you will face the music. You sed our friendship, it will be by God's mercy, not by your apology.” Then he walked off angrily back into the hall.
The best man turned to see if anyone saw the fracas. I quickly looked away pretending to arrange bottles on the crates.
The best man remained there, leaning on the wall, glass still in hand but empty. Then he dropped the glass on the floor and walked back dejectedly to the hall. For the first time that day, he wasn't loud.
I turned and grabbed the crate of drinks back to the gold room. Although I didn't like the best man that much. But seeing the pain in his eyes made me realise that one of the hardest things to face is being played by a friend you had just disappointed.
