Broken

Her mothers mother

Rebecca Wura olayemi. That was my name, before I became Mrs Wallace. A name that didn't belong to my Husband. A name so branded in his skin, he made me face the bed while he did his duties.

My Parents were land owners in the parts of Lagos, under the tutelage of the white men, they ran some parts of the sea ports and they were landlords.

My father spent most of his time at her majesty's service in Buckingham Palace. He would travel back and forth and sometimes would take me with him.

I barely remember it but I knew I had seen the royal family.

Father never let me go outside to play. He never let me talk to the maids. He would send me off to lessons. I didn't need to know too much just enough to handle my future husband's account and be a good tradeswoman and house keeper.

I was the only child of my mother. My mother had a blood disease that caused miscarriages frequently. It was a miracle I existed.

She feared I would not have children. She would regularly subject me to the prodding of the light skinned men who smelled like mustard and wet coins.

I was dark of skin. So dark, I glistened in the rain. So many times, my classmates would touch my skin to see if the "ink" would rub off.

So when I was 15, I was shown my husband. A man from the coal city state. The previous weeks, the word husband was drummed into my head so many times. My etiquette classes was rigourous, my skin rubbed raw with sugar and Egyptian scents to give the soft mirage of womanly essence.





Not only Egyptian scents but Arabic too.





Most of this scents were given to me by my husband to be prior before I met him.

A lot of gifts ranging from house hold items to clothing and one one time he gave me a doll. I loved that one out off all the gifts he gave me.

The gift of money too was included, he gave it to my parents. My monthly upkeep.

A fifteen year old girl with so much money on her hands and beautiful English gowns on her body.

I would go to the church, the cathedral draped in finery, smelling like finery. All giddy and proud of my husband to be.

My wardrobe updated from the wane school girl brown to silks appropriate for woman hood. I was given different colors of oké, asóebi and varieties of bubá and silks. All of then in varying colors to represent the blessings of the earth that this was embedded in this colors.



Black gold for riches and surplus of money.



Yellow gold



Blue to call upon the waters to fertilise the union and a reflection 0f the blue skies.



Green for the earth. The fertile earth



Red for the flaming passion of our love.



A representation of my wedding aso oke as per the yoruba tradition.