Civil Ceremonies

Mike secures a transfer to Linda's school only to find that he has placed Linda in a difficult situation.

Civil Ceremonies

On a January morning Mike motored towards the education office in Hadejia across from the Emir’s palace. He had calculated that the transfer would take two to three months. The Headmaster would want him to finish out the school term.

 Al Haji Abubakar, District Superintendent of Education, sat at his glass topped desk, it’s surface  buried under personnel files. Above him an ancient ceiling fan turned, proof that the power was actually working.

He looked up as his assistant came in to tell him that Mallam Mike from G.S.S. Hadejia wished to see him about a possible transfer.  “Another teacher trying to get to Kano,” Abubakar muttered. He had already lost Mallam Dan. “Let him come in.”

Mike stepped in. Abubakar waved him into a chair.

“So you want a transfer.”

“Yes sir.” 

Abubakar pointed at the papers on his desk. “So do they. Everyone wants to go to Kano. So, Mallam Mike, why should I listen to you?”

“I don’t want to go to Kano.”

Surprised the director leaned forward. “You don’t? So where do you want to go? Lagos?”

“Uhh; Mallam Maduri. Women’s Teachers College.”

“You’re at a Secondary School. Why do you want to go there?”

Everyone knew that only students not good enough for Secondary Schools went to Teachers Colleges.

“Well, you see sir, Mallama Linda and I are engaged to be married. We want to be together.”

About to lecture Mike on the importance of duty and remaining at one’s post, Abubakar paused. Then he broke into a broad grin. “Well, that’s wonderful.”

From a desk drawer he drew out three copies of transfer forms. He placed carbon paper between the two bottom forms. With a flourish he typed in the forms. He then signed and stamped them, all in three minutes. He put the top form in an envelope and handed it to Mike.

***

At two o’clock a white Renault taxi preceded by Mike on his Vespa, stopped in front of the gate of Linda’s house.   A few minutes later Mike and Linda left the house in search of the headmaster.

They walked up to the administration building a small white single story structure divided between principal’s office, staff room and secretary’s office. In front of the building were two flagpoles. Attached to each pole was a half of the green and white Nigerian flag.  “Cheaper than buying a new flag” said Linda.

Not finding the headmaster at his desk they stepped into the school office. The secretary, Fatima, looked up from her ancient typewriter. “Headmaster’s gone for prayer.”

They found the headmaster, Al Haji Mohammed, having done his afternoon prayers, sitting on a mat sharing tea with friends in the shade of an acacia tree.  Seeing Linda and Mike approach Al Haji Mohammed beamed.  “Maaallama Linda. Mallam Mike.”

Everytime the headmaster used the long a, Linda could not keep from reddening.

Mike gave Al Haji Mohammed the letter. “I’ve been transferred here, sir.”

Nodding, the headmaster took the envelope. He read the paper. “Come to me tomorrow at eight. I will  give you your classes.”

Linda spoke up. “Sir. Mallam Mike needs a place to stay.”

The headmaster frowned. “He will stay with you Mallama Linda. You have a big house. You have room.”

Linda shoke her head. “No sir. It’s not possible.”

“Why not?” Then he smiled. “Ah, a lover’s fight.” “ He nodded. “It will pass. I have them with my wives all the time. It will pass.”

“No sir. It’s not that.  In my country a woman that is not married cannot live with a man. That is not right. She is a bad woman.”

“Mallama Linda. This is not the Philippines. You like Mallam Mike?  Yes?” he asked giving a fatherly smile.

Linda glanced at Mike. “Yes,” she whispered, trying not to blush.

Mohammed beamed. “He likes you too.  There is room for you both in the house.”

“But . . . ”

“Maaallama Linda.”

Linda wilted. “ Yes sir.”

Mike and Linda walked back to the house. 

“You will stay in the servant’s quarters” said Linda.

“What? There’s nothing there.”

“We can sweep it out.”

“Linda . . .”

“Don’t Linda me. You came too early.”

“I thought it would take months, not minutes.”

“People will laugh at me.”

“Linda . . .”

“It will be months before we are married. What will people think of me?”

“What if . . . What if we are married today?”

Linda, looking up, frowned. “Today?”

“We go to the magistrate’s office. Bring our passport. Have him marry us.”

“He can do that?”

“I think so. It’s worth a try.”

***

Mike parked the Vespa in front of the Federal Court Building, a two �" storied white concrete building just across from the mosque.  Next to the open door was a sign bearing a hand painted copy of the coat of arms of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. In front of the building the Nigerian flag hung lifeless from its pole.

Al Haji Salisu half-dozed at his desk, the ceiling fan stirring the air around him.

His assistant Ahmed; spectacled and thin, overworked and underpaid. wearing a well-worn babariga and a gray cap, knocked on Salisu’s door and stepped inside.

“Yes Ahmed?”

“Two baturis sir; wishing to see you.”

“Do these Baturis have names?”

“One is Malama Linda. The other, Malam Mike teaches at G. S. S. Hadejia. They wish to marry.”

“Ah. Well, have them come in.”

Of all of his duties the one Al Haji Salisu enjoyed the most was conducting weddings.

Usually he would beam benevolently and lecture the young couple on the duties and importance of marriage quoting related passages from the Koran. However he had never presided over Baturis. Deciding to omit the Koran he concentrated on formalities.

An odd looking couple he thought, she short, he tall. Of course Baturis were always odd looking with their pale skins usually burnt red by the sun.  He thought of the children shouting "Baturi Corrogo". He invited them to sit.  "I understand that you wish to marry?"

Mike nodded. "Yes sir."

Opening a desk drawer he  took out the suitable form, one for each of them. "There is a twenty naira fee."

Salisu handed them the forms and a pen. "Please fill these out. You have your passports?"

They both nodded.

 "Fine. After you finish the forms I must ask you some questions."

  Salisu looked over the completed forms. “Miss Linda Quirino. Spinster. You consent to marry this man of your own free will?”

She glanced at Mike and then back at the magistrate. “Yes. I do.”

“Mister Michael McDonald, bachelor; you consent to take this woman as your lawful wife, of your own free will?”

Mike looked at Linda. “Yes I do.” He looked back at the magistrate.

Al Haji Salisu nodded. “Then by the powers given to me by the Republic of Nigeria, I declare you man and wife.” He signed and stamped their forms.  Ahmed was called upon to witness.

Salisu extended his right hand. “May Allah bless you with many children. Twenty nairas please.”

Before returning to the school Mike and Linda celebrated their union with two packets of Bagauda Shortbread Biscuits and coca cola.

”I guess I won’t be sleeping in the servant’s quarters tonight.”

“Only if you want to,” said Linda.

“No. I don’t think I do. Let’s go home.”

The newlyweds mounted the scooter. The engine sputtered into life. The machine surged forward leading them back onto the road towards their new home.