Chapter 22: Umunna, Clock It! 💍
Umunna, clock it! Clock it real good, because I am grinning from ear to ear! The day we’ve all been waiting for has finally come!
he Isiagu, the coral beads, the crystal chandeliers, the marble floors my people, this man said, “You want my daughter? Let me show you the standard.” And he showed them oh! Uncle Chidi with his teacher energy, asking all the right questions? And the fact that he’s Chukwudera’s uncle?! The plot thickens beautifully! Uncle Nnamdi with that quiet, watchful presence? The Ogbonna brothers came prepared! - Barbie as narrator
OBIM BY Timi dakolo,Noble Igwe,Ebuka
Ìkụ Aka – The Knocking
Just a few days had passed since Wale’s grand celebration in New York—a night of champagne toasts, jazz music, and the glittering skyline as his backdrop. But now, thousands of miles away in Lagos, the atmosphere was entirely different. This wasn’t about corporate triumphs or business milestones. This was about family, tradition, and the sacred act of asking for a woman’s hand in marriage.
The morning light washed softly over Ikoyi, glinting off the cream walls of the new house Nneoma had secretly bought for her parents a beautifully furnished four-bedroom apartment with a sweeping double circular staircase and framed pictures of her and her siblings lining the hallways. The house carried her signature warmth elegant, modern, yet deeply personal. Outside, the event decorators had transformed the compound with a soft-glam theme: muted golds, ivory drapes, and delicate palm fronds that shimmered under the Lagos sun.
From the balcony upstairs, Nneoma stood quietly, watching everything unfold. She looked ethereal a beautiful caramel-skinned woman with the most captivating pair of eyes, dressed in a red nchafu (a head gear for Igbo women) with a white long-sleeve blouse with a cupped bust design, paired with a Kirikiri Star yellow wrapper patterned with black stars, her head tied in a matching scarf. She looked every bit the stylish Umu Ada poised, proud, radiant.
She leaned gently on the railing, her mind drifting. This house had been her secret her gift of love to her parents. She wanted them to have a home that reflected their sacrifices. Wale, however, had found out about it while planning his own surprise for them. At first, he was livid not out of pride, but from the quiet frustration of a man who always wanted to provide. But when Nneoma explained that it was her way of showing gratitude to her parents, his heart softened.
In true Wale fashion, though, he didn’t stop there. Instead, he took it a step further he bought her parents a home in New York City, complete with a private jet and a dedicated pilot on standby to fly them abroad whenever they wished. When he told her, Nneoma’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She had known Wale was thoughtful, but this... this was beyond anything she had imagined.
Now, she stood on the balcony, her heart swelling as she watched a fleet of luxury cars roll into the compound sleek Lamborghinis, Range Rovers, and Benzes gliding in like royalty. The air hummed with excitement, perfumed with the scent of fresh flowers and the distant aroma of jollof rice wafting from the catering tents. But even with all the noise, the guests, and the glamour, her eyes searched for one person her man, her prince, the calm at the center of it all.
And then she saw him.
Wale Osadebe stepped out of his car like a scene out of a classic film tall, poised, and effortlessly regal. Though born to an Edo father and a Yoruba mother, today he had chosen to honor his Igbo side, blending cultures with quiet grace. He wore a white Isi Agu top the richly embroidered lion-head fabric worn by Igbo men of status paired with a black George wrapper tied at his waist. His top was adorned with subtle gold accents that gleamed when the sun hit, and a red Okpu Nze cap sat proudly on his head. Heavy coral beads hung around his neck, and in his hand, he carried a traditional horsetail fan (Akupe Nza) the kind reserved for titled men, a symbol of dignity and authority.
He moved with the confidence of a man who had just closed a major deal in New York, yet his demeanor today was softer, more reverent. This wasn’t the boardroom Wale this was the man preparing to honor tradition, to kneel before elders, to ask permission rather than command it.
Every step he took carried weight, yet his gaze softened the moment he looked up and saw Nneoma standing on the balcony. Their eyes met hers glistening, his steady and full of quiet pride.
For a brief moment, the world around them blurred: the laughter, the chatter, the sound of palm wine bottles clinking below. It was just the two of them the woman who had built a home out of love, and the man who had matched her heart for heart, gesture for gesture.
Today wasn’t just about tradition. It was the day two worlds Edo and Igbo, love and legacy came knocking on the same door.
Inside: Chief Ogbonna’s Grand Presence
Inside the main parlor, Chief Emeka Ogbonna Nneoma’s father sat in his favorite armchair like a man who had earned every accolade life had given him. His recently bestowed chieftaincy title sat well on his shoulders, a recognition of his contributions to his community back home in the East. His salt-and-pepper beard was immaculately groomed, and he wore a stunning cream-colored Isiagu top with intricate gold threading that caught the light with every slight movement. The fabric was expensive custom-made from the finest George material and his coral beads were large, genuine, and heavy around his neck, the kind that announced status without saying a word.
In his hand, he held a walking stick carved from the finest iroko wood, its handle wrapped in leather and adorned with small brass fittings. It wasn’t just functional—it was a statement. This was a man who had worked hard, yes, but who now enjoyed the fruits of his labor and wore his success with pride.
The parlor itself was a testament to Chief Ogbonna’s taste and generosity. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting prismatic light across marble floors. The furniture was plush Italian leather, and every surface gleamed. This wasn’t just about hosting a ceremony—this was about showing the world that his daughter came from a family of substance, a family that knew how to honor tradition with style and elegance.
Beside him sat his younger brother, Uncle Chidi, dressed in a deep blue Isiagu with silver embroidery that shimmered like moonlight. Uncle Chidi had always been the sharp-tongued one, the family’s unofficial spokesperson, and today he was dressed for the role. His coral beads were slightly smaller than his brother’s but no less impressive, and his expression carried that mix of amusement and scrutiny that made every suitor nervous.
What made today even more interesting was that Uncle Chidi was also the uncle of Chukwudera Wale’s best friend and business partner. The connection between the families ran deeper than anyone had initially realized, and Uncle Chidi couldn’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction at how things had come full circle. His nephew’s best friend was now seeking to marry his niece. It was the kind of beautiful coincidence that made tradition feel even more meaningful.
He leaned toward Chief Ogbonna and whispered, “Brother, I hope this young man knows what kind of family he’s asking to join. We don’t do things small.”
Chief Ogbonna chuckled, adjusting his Okpu Agu cap. “Let him show us what he’s made of. Our Nneoma deserves a man who can match our standard.”
On the other side of the room sat Uncle Nnamdi, the eldest of the Ogbonna brothers, dressed in pristine white Isiagu with minimal but exquisite gold detailing. His presence commanded respect not through flash, but through the quiet authority of a man who had seen decades of tradition and wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection. His eyes were sharp, watchful, taking in every detail of the visitors who would soon arrive.
The table before them was laden with the finest palm wine, imported whiskeys, and trays of perfectly arranged kola nuts and alligator pepper. Nothing was out of place. Everything spoke of a man who had the means and the will to throw an unforgettable ceremony.
Outside: Wale’s Uncles Take the Lead
Outside the gate, Wale stood flanked by his own uncles the men who had raised him, guided him, and now prepared to speak on his behalf.
At the forefront was Uncle Osamede Osadebe, Wale’s paternal uncle from his Edo side a tall, broad-shouldered man with a commanding presence. He wore a rich burgundy agbada with gold embroidery so intricate it looked like art, and a coral necklace that marked him as a man of high standing. His voice was deep and resonant, the kind that could quiet a room with a single word. He had been a lawyer for forty years, and his skill with words was legendary. Today, he would be the one to knock on the door, to speak the poetic lines that tradition required.
Beside him stood Uncle Femi, Wale’s maternal uncle from his Yoruba lineage a shorter, rounder man with a warm smile and an infectious laugh. He wore a blue agbada with intricate aso-oke detailing, and his presence brought a lightness to the group. Uncle Femi was a businessman, a man who understood negotiation and relationship-building. He carried the gifts yams wrapped in the finest cloth, bottles of premium champagne and cognac, and a beautifully carved wooden box containing the best kola nuts and alligator pepper money could buy.
And then there was Uncle Dubem, Wale’s chosen representative from his Igbo circle a close family friend who had become like blood over the years. Uncle Dubem wore a striking red Isiagu with black threading, his Okpu Agu cap tilted at a confident angle. He was a man of culture, a historian who had spent his life documenting Igbo traditions. Today, he was here to ensure that every word spoken, every gesture made, honored the customs of Nneoma’s people.
Behind them, a procession of younger men carried trays laden with gifts bottles of the finest wines, crates of premium beer, bags of imported rice, live goats adorned with ribbons, and wrapped packages that gleamed with gold paper and satin bows. This wasn’t just a knocking ceremony this was a display of respect, wealth, and serious intention.
Wale stood among them, his heart pounding in his chest. Just days ago, he had been in New York, surrounded by colleagues and investors, celebrating a major business achievement. But this was different. This required a different kind of courage. Here, he was not the CEO, not the decision-maker. Here, he was a suitor, a man asking permission, and that humility grounded him in a way nothing else could.
Uncle Osamede placed a firm hand on Wale’s shoulder and said quietly, “Are you ready, my son?”
Wale nodded, his voice steady. “Yes, Uncle. I’m ready.”
Uncle Osamede smiled. “Good. Then let us go and ask for your bride.”
The Ceremony Begins
The compound came alive with the sound of talking drums, their rhythm deep and resonant, calling everyone to attention. The Umu Ada the distinguished daughters of the family were already gathered, their coral beads glinting under the sunlight, their laughter echoing like music. They wore matching George wrappers in shades of gold and burgundy, their elegance a reflection of the family’s pride.
When the time was right, Wale’s family led by his uncles and elders approached the main gate with rhythmic dignity. The procession was impressive, each person carrying something of value, their faces solemn with the weight of tradition.
Uncle Osamede stepped forward and knocked lightly on the ornate wooden door three deliberate taps that echoed through the compound.
“Kpim kpim kpim... is anyone home?” he called out in a deep, measured voice, his tone playful yet formal.
From inside, Uncle Chidi responded, his voice carrying through the door with theatrical flair. “Yes, we are home! Who are you, and what do you seek in our house this fine day?”
The visitors exchanged knowing glances, suppressing smiles. Uncle Osamede cleared his throat and replied with poetic precision, “We are travelers who have journeyed from afar. We have found a beautiful flower in your garden, and we have come to ask if we may pluck it not by force, but with respect, honor, and good intention.”
Inside, Uncle Chidi turned to his brother and said loud enough for those nearby to hear, “Ah, they speak well. Let’s see if their gifts match their words.”
Chief Ogbonna smiled a knowing, confident smile and nodded to one of the younger men to open the door and welcome them in.
The Meeting of Elders
The guests were ushered into the parlor, and there was an audible pause as Wale’s family took in the sheer opulence of the space. The crystal chandeliers, the marble floors, the Italian leather furniture it was clear that Chief Ogbonna had spared no expense.
Uncle Osamede, Uncle Femi, and Uncle Dubem took their seats opposite Chief Ogbonna, Uncle Chidi, and Uncle Nnamdi. Premium palm wine was served in crystal glasses not wooden cups, but fine glassware that caught the light beautifully. Kola nuts were presented on silver trays.
Uncle Nnamdi, as the eldest, spoke first. His voice was calm, measured, and carried the weight of decades of wisdom. “We welcome you into our home. You have traveled far, and we honor your presence. But before we proceed, we must know what is the purpose of your visit?”
Uncle Osamede rose to his feet, his agbada billowing impressively as he moved. He was in his element now, every word carefully chosen. “We thank you for your gracious welcome, esteemed elders. We have not come empty-handed, nor have we come without purpose. We have come because there is a rare jewel in your family a woman of grace, intelligence, beauty, and substance. Her name is Nneoma, and she has captured the heart of this young man beside us.”
He gestured toward Wale, who stood and bowed respectfully to the elders, his coral beads swinging slightly with the movement.
Uncle Chidi leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and familial pride. He knew Wale well had watched him grow alongside his nephew Chukwudera, had seen their friendship evolve from childhood mischief to a powerful business partnership. But today, he had to play his role as the skeptical uncle, even if inside he was already pleased with the match.
“A jewel, you say? We have raised our children well, and they all shine. How do we know you speak of the right one?”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Wale stepped forward, his voice clear and confident despite the rapid beating of his heart. “Her name is Nneoma Ogbonna, daughter of Chief Emeka Ogbonna and Mrs. Adaeze Ogbonna. She is the woman who has brought light into my life, and it is her hand I seek in marriage.”
The room grew quiet. Chief Ogbonna’s gaze settled on Wale, studying him with the sharp eyes of a man who had built his wealth and status through wisdom and hard work. This wasn’t hostility it was assessment.
After a long, deliberate moment, Chief Ogbonna spoke, his voice carrying the authority of his title. “Young man, you speak well. But I did not raise my daughter and give her the best of everything just to hand her over to fine words. What will you do to ensure she continues to live the life she deserves?”
Wale met his gaze without flinching. “Chief Ogbonna, sir, I cannot promise perfection, because I am not perfect. But I can promise that your daughter will never lack. She will be honored, respected, and cherished. She will never feel less than the queen she is. I will be her partner, her protector, and her greatest supporter. And I will love her with everything I have, for as long as I live.”
Uncle Nnamdi nodded slowly, his expression softening. Uncle Chidi stroked his chin thoughtfully, clearly impressed though he had expected nothing less from the man who had proven himself as both his nephew’s loyal friend and now as a worthy suitor for his niece. Chief Ogbonna leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
“Then,” Chief Ogbonna said, his voice warm but still commanding, “let us bring in the one you seek.”
Nneoma’s Entrance
The doors opened, and the Umu Ada led Nneoma into the room. She moved with slow, deliberate grace, her steps measured, her face partially veiled in the finest silk. The room seemed to hold its breath as she knelt before the elders, greeting each one with the respect tradition demanded.
Uncle Chidi, unable to resist, asked with a teasing grin, “Nneoma, do you know these people? Should we give you to them?”
Nneoma lifted her eyes, and for the first time, her gaze found Wale’s. A soft, knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. “Yes, Uncle. I know them.”
The room erupted in laughter, applause, and ululation. Chief Ogbonna’s chest swelled with pride as he reached out to gently touch his daughter’s shoulder. “Then it is settled.”
The Palm Wine Ceremony
A crystal goblet filled with the finest palm wine was placed in Nneoma’s hands by her mother. The room fell silent once more as she rose to her feet, her wrapper shimmering in the afternoon light, every movement deliberate and graceful.
She moved through the crowd, her anklets chiming softly with each step. Her eyes never left Wale’s as she walked toward him, and when she finally knelt before him, offering the goblet, time itself seemed to pause.
Wale accepted it, took a slow, reverent sip, and then raised the goblet in gratitude before placing his hand gently on her shoulder. The elders clapped. The Umu Ada ululated with joy. The drums resumed, this time with a celebratory rhythm that made the very walls seem to pulse with life.
Chief Ogbonna stood, his walking stick tapping lightly on the marble floor as he raised his hand for silence. When he spoke, his voice rang through the room with pride and authority.
“From today, you are not strangers but family. My daughter has chosen you, and we have accepted you. May your union be blessed with love, prosperity, and children who will carry on both our legacies. And may you always remember” he paused, his eyes twinkling, “that she comes from a family that knows how to honor tradition with excellence.”
Uncle Osamede rose as well, his own voice thick with emotion and respect. “And may the bond between our families remain strong for generations to come. Chief Ogbonna, you have shown us what it means to raise a daughter with pride and dignity. We are honored to join our families together.”
The two men embraced, and with that gesture, the knocking was complete. Two powerful families united not just by love, but by mutual respect and shared values of excellence.
Barbie’s Narrator POV 💅🏽
Umunna, clock it! Clock it real good, because I am grinning from ear to ear! The day we’ve all been waiting for has finally come!
You probably didn’t spot me I was with Nneoma’s girls, screaming, “Umunna, clock itttt! Aww, see our girl!” I mean, can we just take a moment to clap for the author? The way she brought all the Igbo sauce out from the décor to the music, to that soft glam of Ikoyi elegance chef’s kiss!
And can we talk about Chief Ogbonna?! The way that man sat there in that parlor looking like money and respect personified?! The Isiagu, the coral beads, the crystal chandeliers, the marble floors my people, this man said, “You want my daughter? Let me show you the standard.” And he showed them oh! Uncle Chidi with his teacher energy, asking all the right questions? And the fact that he’s Chukwudera’s uncle?! The plot thickens beautifully! Uncle Nnamdi with that quiet, watchful presence? The Ogbonna brothers came prepared!
And Wale’s uncles? Uncle Osamede with that voice that could negotiate world peace? Uncle Femi with the warmth and the gifts? Uncle Dubem making sure the culture was respected? They matched the energy perfectly!
After the formalities? My people, there was serious partying! The DJ did not come to play Igbo highlife scattered everywhere! The compound transformed into a sea of color and movement, with guests showing off their best dance moves, coral beads swinging, wrappers twirling, champagne flowing like water.
Then I shouted, “Please, let’s take a moment to danceeeeeeee!”
Ladies and gentlemen, the moment to dance is here! The music was eating, and everyone was feeling themselves! 🔥
And just between us our author has been MIA for a reason. She’s been deeply involved in planning four major events, including the Flutter Book Club Code-a-thon dinner an overnight activity, by the way. She sends her kisses and, yes, I forced her to attach a picture from that dinner.
Because if you know, you know when she’s not writing about love, she’s out there building it in real life.
