Page 3 of Queen of Barrakesch
“And when your assignment is completed, and you return to Zamibia, you will settle down.” Her mother’s voice had firmed, and Imani straightened in the chair at her adamancy.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
Her mother cleared her throat. “You might as well know, but since yet another of your relationships recently ended, your father has picked a man we both think would be a suitable husband for you.”
“What!” The situation was worse than she thought.
“Don’t be too quick to hate the idea. He is a successful businessman from Ghana and a cousin of one of the members of The Most High Council. Financially, you’re both in a good place and would be a good match.”
“I don’t care whose son he is. I’m not marrying him.” She should choose her husband. He shouldn’t be chosen for her.
“Imani Karunzika, watch your tone with me!” Her mother’s voice cracked down the line with authority. “Your father is right. You have to watch your fiery temper. That mouth and attitude is going to get you into a lot of trouble.”
Out of respect, Imani clamped her lips shut, but she was not pleased.
“Do not be so quick to dismiss the idea. Your father and I only want the best for you, and this is a very good man. At least give him a chance. Spend some time with him.”
“I have someone I’m already interested in.”
“The Senegalese man? He’s not worthy of your station.”
Imani had met Abdou on a trip to Senegal. They’d stayed in touch sporadically over the years, and with his gentle nature she thought he could be the perfect husband.
“Imani, are you there?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Benu’s voice softened. “Be open to the idea, okay? Love can come later, which is why it’s so important that you are compatible in the first place. Arranged marriages have been practiced for centuries all over the world and many have done well. Look at your father and me. I will send you a photo of your potential suitor. He is very handsome.”
Imani heard the smile in her mother’s voice and became more annoyed. “What’s his name?”
When her mother gave the name, she didn’t need to see a photo because she remembered him. He was certainly better off financially than Abdou—a filthy-rich, domineering forty-something-year-old who’d inherited his father’s utility empire. Absolutely not.
“Baba said I could choose my own husband. We had an agreement. Besides, since the last fiasco, I’ve decided to take a break from men and concentrate on my work when I return to Zamibia.”
Benu sighed dramatically. “You’ll never find a husband if you’re busy with international trade agreements, business deals, and women empowerment seminars. I’m proud of you—we both are—but you must consider your future. Your father is concerned.”
“Is he also concerned about my brothers?” Imani asked in a saccharine-sweet voice.
“Did you know a woman is born with all the eggs she will ever have?” her mother asked, deftly ignoring the question. She often shared medical facts, as if to remind herself that at one time she had planned to become a doctor, before she dropped out of college and married Imani’s father.
“Yes,” Imani answered dully.
“We are born with millions of eggs but lose approximately 11,000 every month. Your brothers can have children at almost any age. You cannot. You’re twenty-eight years old, my love. You need to find a husband and have some babies before you run out of eggs.”
Imani rolled her eyes.
“Let us see where this will go, okay? Humor me. Can I send you a photo of Kwadzo?”
There was no way she’d marry her parents’ choice. She wouldn’t even entertain him. He would most certainly try to stifle her independence and curtail her work, and she’d be miserable in a marriage like that. “Yes, please, send a photo.”
“Good. Let me know what you think so that I can pass on your thoughts to your father.”
“Will you also pass on my thoughts about how I feel about him setting me up for marriage?”
“Imani…”
She sighed without making a sound. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mama. Unfortunately, I have to go now because I have paperwork to take care of. I love you.”
