Everyone thought I was brilliant as a child, and I never really understood the fuss. I was just me, nothing particularly extraordinary. But as I grew older, I began to notice a pattern. I gravitated toward people I could engage with intellectually. That often meant older individuals with a wealth of experience and a depth I found grounding. I felt most at home around people who could challenge me to think, unlearn and grow.
I had been estranged from my ex-husband for a couple of years when Gary Reiman waltzed into my life. Highly intelligent, and still very much so, he had a way of making me see beyond black and white. I found the white moustache and beard very attractive. I loved listening to his sonorous voice. Our conversations gave me life. Little did I know at that time that he was not just enjoying my company; he was clear about what he wanted. He wanted a wife. And he had found one in me.
I was not thinking along those lines at all. I did not want a romantic relationship with anyone. I did not want a husband. I did not want a lover, nor did I want a partner. Or so I thought.
We spoke a great deal about our late mothers and discovered how similar they were. He talked about his dad. I never spoke about mine. Then, out of the blue one day, he said he wanted to meet my dad. At the time, I was not on speaking terms with my father. I shut him out of my life 35 years previously when he disrupted our family by deciding to become a village king. I only responded to his messages in monosyllables thereafter and only communicated when necessary. I hated being called a “Princess”;. So I told Gary I had no father. Then he surprised me by saying, “I want to marry you, and there must be someone from whom to ask for your hand.”; I laughed. “I am a full-grown adult in charge of my own life,”; I responded. He said, “I want to do things properly and can not treat you like I picked you up from the streets.”; Am l not even supposed to say “Yes”; before he goes asking for my hand in marriage from other people? I thought. What exactly does this man want from me? Those were difficult days. I was not ready to be a wife, but I also was not ready to lose his friendship.
I spoke to my pastor, who counselled me and invited Gary over for an interview. I do not know what they discussed that night because I was convinced to take a walk. By the time I returned, they were both in good moods. Pastor Femi Paul had given him a pass mark and told me I needed to make up my mind and stop stringing the gentleman along. The gentleman wanted more than friendship. He wanted a wife, he did not want a girlfriend, and neither did he want a mistress. I said, “Yes.”;
I reconciled with my father, thanks to the pressures from both Gary and my pastor. We couldn’t move forward if I didn’t do that. I also needed to file divorce papers to officially end the marriage I had walked away from. I took Gary home. My dad did not accept him. He was still in contact with my ex and was hoping for a reconciliation. He said there was no history of divorce in his family. I told him there was always a first time. He asked if I couldn’t find a black man to bring home if I wasn’t going to reconcile with the ex. I told him I was colour blind. He was angry. He chased Gary out of his house. I was upset. “I am an adult and do not need anyone’s permission to get married.’’ He said his instruction to get out of his house was directed at Gary and not me. Of course, I followed Gary. And then he instructed his security to ensure we left his premises. This was 11 pm. We were in an unfamiliar village where I knew no one. Where did he expect us to go? I was scared. But I am my father’s daughter. I am as stubborn as him. I got into the car and drove out of the Palace inner court, the gates closing behind us.
Then I begged the guards at the Palace outer courts to allow us stay till morning. They opened the gates to usher us out onto the streets. They were afraid of losing their jobs, but I promised we would leave at the crack of dawn. They eventually allowed us to sleep in our car parked inside the outer courts of the Palace. We left first thing in the morning.
This was a man who had been sending emissaries to plead with me to come home all these years. Now I was home with my guest, and he treated my guest in such a mean way? I was there out of respect for Gary and my Pastor. This was why I stayed away from this man all these years. For me, he was now completely written off my books. Not even a monosyllable response will come from me to him again, l resolved.
I also thought that would be the end of my friendship with Gary, having seen how mean my father treated him. But Gary had nothing but wise words. He said, “We didn’t meet your dad today, we met the King. We will come back to meet your dad.”;
And we did. We kept going back. Ever so frequently. Till my dad accepted him. And they both became good pals. Chatting and laughing heartily. As if Gary knew my father’s days were numbered, he had many recorded interviews with him. Asking questions upon questions about his early life, my childhood and how he felt when I shut him out of my life.
I was used to taking care of myself, so when Gary started taking extra care of me, I became scared and broke off the engagement. I was brought up to carry my own water, and have been carrying my own water. I wasn’t going to let any man control me. Everything seemed too good to be true. But he did not accept the ring I tried to return.
He waited patiently and proposed with another ring. I accepted his proposal, but I grew cold feet again when he began to talk about wedding dates. He stayed away. We were not even friends anymore. I missed him. Months passed, and I couldn’t get him out of my system. Then one day, I reached out to him. He had been waiting. He proposed with a third ring, and I said “Yes”; again. 3 proposals, 3 engagement rings, 3 acceptances, 2 breakups, 1 confused woman and 1 man who knew exactly what he wanted.
Being married to Gary is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
He has taught me to embrace who I am and never box myself into the world’s expectations. He has lived that way his whole life, starting his career as a nurse at a time when nursing was considered “a woman’s job.”; He later transitioned to become a lecturer in Electrical Engineering and retired with grace and dignity.
At 75, this man still runs, cycles, swims, sings in the choir, and volunteers his time teaching crafts at the Arts Centres. He is ageing with purpose, intention and joy.
I always say he is my forerunner. He shows me all the things I can still do as I age, just by watching him live fully. People think I am tech-savvy, but Gary is the one who has taught me all I know. He keeps proving that maybe I wasn’t as brilliant as people assumed. It’s just that in the country of the blind, the one-eyed person is king.
So, how do I celebrate a man like this? A man who has loved me intentionally and persistently? For being my cradle-snatcher, my best friend, my tutor, my companion, my muse, my sugar daddy, my prayer partner, the lover of my soul.
I know we do not have 75 more years ahead of us, but I also know this: we will make the very best of what is left and create memories strong enough to sustain whoever is left behind to mourn the departed.
Happy 75th Birthday, Baba. I love you deeply. I love you intentionally. I love you still.
