It was the eve of Easter, a sunny day in Ofakaga, a village in Ofu Local Government Area of Kogi State quintessential of a perfect paradise of beautiful things and serenity. I was there to attend the wedding reception of an acquaintance.
Gorgeously dressed in an enchanting black native attire splendidly sewn and skillfully embroidered by Emeka my Aba tailor, I ambulated regally into the reception hall and was led by an usher, an average height slender lady with a gap in the upper dentition to a table in the front row.
More than forty guests appeared while I sat watching, but one lady stuck out when she entered as a glooming rose in a pot of grass and weed — a tall baroness so bold, bright and beautiful like a woman created on God’s public holiday.
Her aroma was seductive and I felt as though I was being taken over by it. Moreover, it may rival the most expensive perfume, and no earthly flower I have ever encountered has a scent like it. She tucked her hair, which had obstinately fallen out, back behind her ears with a wiry finger that was topped with well-groomed toenails.
She occupied the seat next to me. I made an effort to avoid her gaze since I was unsure of how to respond if, in the unlikely event that she did, smile at me. I was unsure about how I would respond.
Something about this amazing skyscraper-height duchess made me want to have my heart ripped out of my chest. The graceful bloom of her sparkling countenance plus her appealing grin, multiplied by her endearing posture left me utterly dumbstruck. She was a perfect representation of an exquisite luminous, winsome, sensual, iridescent and seductive beauty tremendously endowed with a body shape typical of a chubby curvaceous and voluptuous form.
I took out time to scan her thoroughly. Her eyes sparkled like a single star in the night sky, shining brighter than the radiance of a full moon and deeper than the Pacific. Her face was as smooth as silk and appeared wealthier than a field that yields grains, even if it was planted with scraps. My heart was severely affected by her grin, which made it difficult for me to breathe.
Her lips curled like a crescent moon and grew narrower the more it expanded when she smiled in response to the compere’s hilarious quips. When a tiny dimple appeared on her cheeks in the course of smiling, my heart weighed as heavy as Zuma Rock. I surmised the wedding guest seated next to me could hear the rhythmic pulse of my heart occasioned by irrational anxiety. In utter bewilderment, I placed my palm on my chest in an attempt to suppress the rhythmic expansion and contraction of my heart but to no avail.
“Hi”, she remarked in a dulcet sounding voice which was made sweeter by her grin and outstretched palm towards me. “My name is Unyóaba, a first class graduate of Architecture. You look good. I’m glad to meet you”, she added. Her mastery of the English language was exceptional.
“Hi”, I responded with a trembling voice, “I am Odaudu, a Corporate Communications Strategist”.
I mustered the bravery to take her hand, only to realize that I had never in my life handled something so delicate.
By and large, Igbele Alefiya is a combo of everything any man would desire: magnetic beauty, cultural sophistication, mind-blowing intelligence, and unfathomable humility.
– Odaudu Joel Minister
