FIFTEEN : The surprise guest who made a scene at the wedding

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The following Saturday, in the third week of March, Yolanda stood in front of the full-length mirror and smoothed her hands over her wedding gown. As much as she had loved her baby bump, there was no way she was ever walking down the aisle looking like she had swallowed a balloon. It was why she had chosen to have the wedding after the birth.

‘How do I look?’

‘Marvellous,’ Sofia replied from the sofa, champagne flute in hand. ‘Seeing you this happy makes me want to get married. But no. Marriage is not for me.’

Yolanda laughed as she ran her hands down the length of the gown. Sheer cutouts covered in lattice-patterned beading ran down both sides of the figure-hugging lace dress.

It is not really for me either, she thought. The only reason she had taken things this far was that she had come to understand it was the fastest route to Gershom’s money. Having a child with him was the bonus – the child was her one-way ticket to a life she intended to keep.

‘By the way, you will never guess who is sitting in the front row.’

Yolanda turned to look at her expectantly. ‘Is it Mum? Did she come?’

Sofia scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘Are you still expecting her after the way she treated you when you went to introduce Luthanda? Forget her. If I did not know any better, I would say she is jealous of you.’

‘That is not it…’

‘Yolanda, your mother does not have your best interests at heart. She did not show up for your Viphiko or your kitchen party. What makes you think today would be different? I think it hurts her to see you happy and living the life she never had.’

‘Then who came?’

‘Your mother-in-law. Mrs. Irene Chomba.’

Yolanda spun around. ‘You are lying.’

‘It seems you won her over after all.’

Yolanda went to the window. From the second-floor suite, she could see only the back of the elderly woman seated in the front row among the hundred-plus guests gathered in the tropical gardens below.

‘She came alone though,’ Sofia noted, joining her at the window.

Yolanda adjusted the diamond-encrusted wreath tiara on her head and smiled. ‘It does not matter. Gershom always said that once his mother accepted us, the rest of the family would follow.’

The wedding planner walked in and announced the ceremony was about to begin. Before leaving, she asked for the remaining balance. Yolanda picked up her phone and made the transfer from the joint account she shared with Gershom. Once it went through, she made a second, quieter transfer to her own account, as she always did.

Her phone confirmed both transactions. She could not resist a quick peek at her balance. The number made her heart lift.

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Somewhere in the tropical gardens, Gershom’s phone pinged.

He reached for it hoping it was a message from one of his siblings, or better still, a text saying they were on their way.

It was a bank notification.

He stared at it. The three celebrations leading up to today had burnt through his accounts in ways he had not fully prepared for. He had no clear idea yet how he was going to dig himself out. Another notification followed before he could put the phone away. He pressed his fingers to his brow and prayed quietly that it would be the last one for a long while.

Then the music began.

And when he looked up and saw Yolanda moving towards him through the garden, the string orchestra carrying the bridal march across the warm afternoon air, every other thought dissolved. She floated in the long-sleeved lace gown, the hand-sewn motifs on the cathedral-length train shifting dramatically with each step. The dwindling bank balance became the last thing on his mind.

To Gershom, she was the most beautiful woman alive.

The ceremony proceeded smoothly for the next thirty minutes.

Just after the officiating judge pronounced them husband and wife, as the guests clapped and cheered and ululated and as Gershom kissed his bride, a young woman dressed to perfection rose from her seat. Her handbag hung neatly in the crook of her elbow. She walked with complete calm towards the newlywed couple and called out Yolanda’s name.

The kiss broke.

Yolanda turned to face her with a relaxed smile.

The woman reached into her handbag and produced a brown paper bag. Inside was a large jar.

Before anyone standing nearby could register what was happening, the woman’s mouth curved into a slow, mocking smile. She opened the lid and threw the contents directly at Yolanda’s face.

Yolanda screamed, but a second too late.

The contents landed across her hair, her face, her neck, her gown. She raised her arm to wipe her face and the terror-filled scream that followed was something the guests would not forget. Hundreds of tiny red ants crawled across her arm, her chest, her scalp.

She yelped and jumped, clawing at her gown, trying to get it off. The woman threw the second jar while she was still spinning. Gershom pulled Yolanda into him to shield her and took half of it himself.

The guests stood frozen for one collective second, watching in stunned silence.

The ants, small and furious and held captive for far too long, had already found their way into her hair and beneath her clothes. They moved fast and bit at everything ; every strip of exposed skin, every gap in the fabric. Yolanda tried to flick them off and failed. Her screams had become continuous.

Small, frantic clusters of equally outraged ants writhed on the ground around her feet.

Sofia, being the loyal friend she had always been, sprinted over immediately and began stomping on the creatures while simultaneously trying to get to Yolanda. Other members of the bridal committee followed. Together they stamped out what they could before rushing the bride into the nearest building, her screams fading as they disappeared through the doors.

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VOCAB

Viphiko ( Chewa/ Ngoni version of Chilanga Mulilo) — a traditional Zambian ceremony held before a wedding where the bride’s family prepare diverse tradional dishes to honour her husband to be’s family featuring an array of traditional food

Ululated — a high-pitched, rapid, wavering vocal sound made by women at celebrations across many African cultures to express joy or excitement