FICTION: Salewa's Love Quest — Sophistication, fashion, and the pauper

BY MYRA HEARTWORD

What is love? And when you find it, how do you know? “Salewa’s Love Quest” is a story of Salewa, a Nigerian American, who has always been skeptical about true love. She always thought it to be nothing but empty myths of great legends, fairytales, and Hollywood movies. But now she is not so sure. Could it be true? Has she found love? Join her as her heart takes a whirlwind of adventures, channeling the seas of family and cultural expectations. Will she find love?

It’s a girls’ night out and I enter our taxi.

“Oh… Oh! Salewa the pauper, here you go again!” hiss the diva Moyin, clapping in exaggeration. “Do you not see yourself in the mirror before coming?”

“Tell her Moyin, you tell her!” Bisi joins, before breaking out in laughter.

“What!” I could not keep a straight face as giggles threaten to erupt. It has been weeks since I saw these two. My two best friends; sisters in another lifetime.

“Look O… you will never find a man dressing like this, never.” Moyin stresses imitating a Nigerian accent and claps further. Bisi rolls in the back seat, looking like she’s going to die from laughter.

I shook my head. What have I gotten myself into? Me? A man? Wait, I hope this isn’t a setup like a few months ago.

“Bisi, you told me we were going to an art exhibition.” Bisi looks every which way, but straight at me. “Look at me, Bisi.”

“Well… yes… and no, yeah, something like that.”

“Something like what? What is it…? I am not getting set on a blind date again, am I? Please, the last one was a disaster.”

“No… No… it’s just that there’s going to be a lot of fine men there.”

“Yes, fine as in capital FINE!” Moyin cuts in as she applies her last-minute makeup. “Advertise a little to show you’re available, you know.”

“Girls, I came for the art, no… we came for the art.” This is my time to enjoy and relax, not worry about finding a man.

The two look at each other for a second, then at me, and burst out laughing again. “No… you came for man’s art, but we… we came for God’s living walking fine art.” Moyin smirks.

“Yesss O, Men!” Bisi blurts out in a wide grin.

I laugh. Oh god… Moyin and Bisi are at it again.

A loud honk sounds. The bald taxi man is in outrage. Another driver stole his parking space. We pull up at the Art Extravaganza venue, and my girls look ready for the hunt. Oh God help whatever man becomes their prey. Finally parked, the girls and I get out of the car in turns. As we start towards the exhibition, spotlighting the best of African Art, I take in the cool breeze. Above, a full moon brightens the evening in a calming ambiance. Warm lights decorate the entrance to the art show. Oh, I am burning with excitement. It’s been too long since I have enjoyed an art show like this, especially that of Ebony Art. As an avid fan, this is a dream come true. His Nigerian artistic flare crosses modern with historical styles; it speaks to me in ways I can’t even try to put in words. Yes, enjoying this is my focus tonight. We walk side by side, Moyin and Bisi’s high heels knocking against the cement, and my sneakers… well, doing what sneakers do. Sophistication, fashion, and the pauper, I laugh inside. Hopefully, I am not too underdressed. I had no clue we were man hunting tonight.

From the moment we step in through the door, the manhunt begins. And Moyin is taking the lead, already charming a gentleman in an expensive suit and tie. Gosh! Na Wa O! I have attended many art shows before, but none as extravagant as this. Before me flow a parade of fashion; native attires from all over Africa, elegant suits, and lavish sexy cocktail gowns. People stand in groups socializing with wine and light snacks and refreshments. Is this a party or art show? I mean, what about the art? I shake my head. Seems like no one is here for the art. Shit… so not prepared for this. Well, on the positive side, I will be the last one on anyone’s mind, to introduce one’s-self to or socialize with. Yeah, they can leave me alone in peace. I place my iPhone earpieces in so I can enjoy the art show with some classical music. The best combination. I can now lose myself in my world, far from the hunt.

Ebony Art, my eyes lock on to the pamphlet display. It most likely presents important information about the artist, no doubt. It always baffled me why they never included his picture. Hmm… I reach for it, only to graze another hand, reaching for the same one.

“Oh, sorry…” I apologize.

I reach for it again, and it happens again. What’s wrong with… HIM? My eyes lock onto the young man, owner of the straying hand. Wow, the definition of elegance and style, dashing in his native wear. Hmm… For a second, I lose my train of thought. Classical piano caresses my ears, ushering in his presence in the most spectacular manner. His lips were moving… oh… Oh! I remove my headphones. “OH… I am so sorry.”

“Me too, I apologize,” he smiles.

“Yes…” I can barely form a sentence. A pleasurable awkwardness, that’s the word for it.

“So, you like Ebony Art?”

“Ebony… Ebony Art?” I pause for a second. God help me! What is he asking?

He smiles and points to the pamphlet. “Ebony Art?”

“Right…” I giggle. “Please pardon me for my absentmindedness. Yes, I love his art. It’s just…”

“MY SON!!! MY SON!!” an elderly man’s voice rings from behind. He reaches past me as if I was invisible and touches the young man’s shoulder. “Chief Ebony Master Art! Well done!” the old man praises.

“Oh Kabiyesi!” the young man bows. “Thank you so much for attending. It is a great honor.”

I step back, suddenly feeling out of place, as the elderly man raises his hand in acknowledgement of the young man’s bow before they shake hands. The old man is also displaying an extravagant native style and behind him follows an entourage oozing with royalty.

My eyes look on as he walks away with the so called Kabiyesi. I take seconds, no, minutes, to digest what had just taken place. Lord God! What? A nervousness settles in, enough for me to glance at the exit that was oh so tempting right now. But I could not turn back now. I need this. Just relax… yes, enjoy yourself. Take in the ambiance of art that you so love. I brush what just took place aside and make my way through the marble arches to enjoy Ebony Art, putting my headphones back in place. Ahhh! Would you look at that? The abstract painting is a delicious mystery and adventure for my mind and soul.

After observing several wonders of art brought to life by the language of music, I reach my mental Zen. So, at peace. Now I balance a complimentary glass of wine in one hand, looking on at a beautiful bronze statue. A spectacular work of art. I feel a light tap on my shoulder, startling me. It is none other than the same young man. I yank out one earpiece and leave in the other as the music playing was doing him esthetic justice. Yes, he is a piece of living art any woman would thank God for.

“How are you enjoying the art show?”

“Oh, well…” My heart tap dances around my chest.

He turns to face the statue. “This here is the pure soul, one of my favorite works of art.” He goes on, detailing how he came up with the concept for the artwork, and on and on he talks. As you can see, nothing he says reaches me. I can’t even tell you if I try. Don’t judge… I’m too busy taking in his beauty. I mean, look at his build, so masculine, such broad shoulders, his eyes a deep seductive brown, and his lips. Yes… Who could blame me?

When he finishes, he pauses and smiles. With a modest hesitancy slipping into his demeanor, he pulls out a business card and gives it to me. “It was lovely speaking with you…?” He delays, as if waiting for me. I think he is hoping I will fill in the last bit of the sentence, maybe state my name. That isn’t happening. My mind is on a hiatus, entertaining thoughts like. Ebony art… so graceful, so handsome. Is he married? Wow, the fragrance of his cologne is tempting. Oh no, I should have worn something more fascinating.

So, he took a more direct approach. “May I ask your name, please?”

“Salewa, my name is Salewa.” Lord knows it took everything in me to say that.

“Oh, beautiful, such a beautiful name. Please, if you have questions, call me,” he smiles, melting my already floating heart. “I would be delighted to offer you a private tour sometime if that’s OK.” After saying that, he walks away to attend to some other admirers.

The Ebony art!!! My insides mushy and raging with butterflies. A sudden slap on the back brings me to the present.

“That was a fine-looking man right there!” Moyin exclaims, squinting her eyes to get a better look. “Yeah… I think you blew it.”

“Our ride’s here, anyway. And you know him, he never likes to wait.” Bisi motions towards the exit.

“Yeah, better luck next time, Salewa.” Moyin softly rubs my back. “It’s time to go… come on.”

I follow as we walk towards our ride. My mind trying to make sense of what had happened tonight. In the car, we are all lost in our own thoughts. Smooth Jazz plays as each one peers out the window of the back seat at the nightlife now gathered downtown. My uncle hums along, tapping on his steering wheel to the rhythm.

“What is Kabeyosi?” I blurt out. Moyin and Bisi both look at me, their faces displaying shock and confusion.

“I don’t know, never heard of it,” Moyin states.

Bisi shrugs, “me neither. Why?”

I lean forward, pulling myself towards the driver’s seat, “Uncle Sunday… what is Kabeyosi?”

“Wow, he laughs. My dear, you butchered it. We pronounce it Kabiyesi. It’s a title for a King,”

Uh-oh! A King! My heart drops to my stomach.

“Oooh… it looks like you have something to spill… girl!” Bisi lights up, eyeing me up and down.

“Go on… tell us… what is it? What about this Kabe thing?” Moyin joins.

“It is Kabiyesi!!” Uncle enunciates. “Say it right, not Kabe thing.”

Moyin and Bisi both roll their eyes at him, then turn to me with eagerness, each scooting closer.

“Ok… so… you can never guess what happened to me tonight. Holy shit… Ok so…”

(To be continued)