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CHAPTER 1
She's Funny That Way - Brenda C. Meridith
I had planned to share my secret with Uncle Stoo. He was to be the one to relieve me of the burden I felt in not having told at least one of my relatives the truth about my marriage. Uncle Stoo was the first person I thought of telling, but now I was never going to have the chance. I knew that he would love me no matter what I told him, and would speak out against anyone judging me harshly for my choices in life.
I married Kweisi in November of 1993 just two months before Uncle Stoo died. He is a tall, dark, statuesque African with a deep resonating melodic voice, born in the Republic of Cameroon, and a citizen of Nigeria. As a child, his family lived in several parts of Nigeria: Ijebu-Ode, and Iddo-Ekiti in the former western region; Sapele, and Benin-City, in the former mid-western region. In 1970, after the Nigerian Civil War (1967-1970) they settled in Agbor, a small town in the former mid-western region, later Bendel State, and now Delta State. During the Nigerian Civil War, his family was in the breakaway part of Nigeria, Biafra, and they experienced the warfare, death and destruction that ravaged that area. They escaped one night, late in the war, by stealing aboard a plane that had brought relief materials to Biafra. They were taken to the island of Sao Tome, off the coast of Nigeria, and later re-evacuated to the city of Libreville, Gabon.
I met Kweisi in 1991 in Boston, through my best friend Eddie. They were roommates at that time, sharing an apartment with a third guy named Jeff and Kweisi’s Boa constrictor snake. Kweisi was pursuing his Ph.D. in voice at Boston University. I too was a student at that time at Suffolk University Law School, located in Boston’s Government Center area. I had entered law school after Polyfab announced their intention to close their production facility in Fitchburg, and move to Beaver Valley, Pennsylvania. In my management capacity with the company, I was actively engaged in relocating my research group to what would be the new research headquarters, but I had already declined an offer to transfer there myself. I kept my day job, and became an evening student, while Kweisi was in the day division. Kweisi quite unexpectedly broached the subject of marriage to me one day early in July of the year we married. Early evening on one particular day, I stopped by the apartment on my way to class; not expecting anyone to be home, but just to pick up some adult videotapes that I figured Eddie wouldn’t mind me taking. Eddie had given me the keys to the apartment, just in case I ever needed a place to crash. There were many other times when I had gone by the apartment during that time of day, so I was a little surprised to find Kweisi at home, since no one had been there before.
As I headed up the stairs to their apartment, I heard some quick shuffling about. My immediate thought was that my impromptu visit was giving someone quite a startle. I reached the top stair, and believed that someone to be Kweisi. I could hear him in his bedroom, which was adjacent to the landing at the top of the staircase.
So as to dampen the surprise that I had created, I shouted out, “Hello, hello, anybody home?” I passed through the living room, and on toward the dining room, where Kweisi was standing.
“Hi Briana. How are you?” he asked.
“Hey Kweisi,” I replied as he stepped forward and hugged me. “I trust that I didn’t give you too much of a jolt,” quickly eyeing him up and down to see if maybe he had rushed to clothe himself when he heard me coming up the stairs.
“Not really,” he said, sounding a little bit winded. “You know how this place is. One can never tell just who will put a key in that door down there and let themselves in. I believe Eddie has given his entire circle of acquaintances the key to our little humble abode.”
I laughed, for what he said was so true. Eddie had actually placed a key under a brick along side of the house, and several people knew about this.
“I just stopped by to pick up a couple of Eddie’s tapes,” I said. “And what brings you home this time of day? I don’t usually run into you when I come by early in the evenings.”
Kweisi sat down at his computer, which was surrounded by three large stacks of papers inside manila folders. He had been typing a document, part of which was displayed on the computer monitor.
“I’m just sitting here working on my dissertation, and really struggling to get it typed up for the second time.” His jaws locked in frustration as he stared at the monitor shaking his head from side to side in disgust.
“For the second time!” I exclaimed. “What happened when you typed it the first time?”
He turned to face me smiling ever so slightly. “Honey,” he said, “getting this paper typed has been prime time drama. I think I’ve finally got it now, but woo—it has given me fits. Three nights ago, I thought that I had saved my paper onto a diskette, but it didn’t save. I don’t know what happened. Many other times it saved, but this one time it didn’t.”
“Oh my God Kweisi,” I said. “That’s terrible.” I felt so bad to hear of his ordeal.
“And so now you’re typing it all over again?” I hoped for his sake that I hadn’t heard him correctly the first time.
“Yes, yes, dear lord yes,” he said. He shook his head from side to side in disbelief. “Now I’ve lost so much time.”
“Oh Kweisi, I wish that there was something that I could do,” I said, “but what you need is a typist and I can’t type a lick.” I rested my jacket on the back of one of the dining room chairs, and plopped myself down into the seat, feeling somewhat flabbergasted at Kweisi’s situation.
“Well, I’ve just got to make up all of that lost time now,” he said. “That’s why I’m home today. The temporary employment agency wanted me to go to a catering job, but I turned it down so that I could come home and start retyping this paper. I can’t afford to turn down an opportunity to make some money, but I’ve got no choice on this one.” Having heard all of that, I didn’t want to interrupt him any further.
“I better let you get back to your typing,” I said.
I got up and went to Eddie’s room. I grabbed a couple of tapes that he had lying on top of the VCR without bothering to preview them. I had never gotten a tape from Eddie that I didn’t like. I’m three years older than Eddie, and we have very similar taste in adult entertainment, although there is no question that Eddie is much more into the really bizarre stuff. I walked back to the dining room where Kweisi was fiddling through all his papers.
“I’m about to head out for school, Kweisi,” I said. “I’ve got a six o’clock class.”
“Before you go,” said Kweisi. “Did you see a movie called The Wedding Banquet?”
“No, I didn’t,” I replied. “That’s another one, along with about fifty more that I want to see.” Going to movies was strictly forbidden until after finishing law school, along with dating. “I’ve heard of it. People say it’s a must see.”
“Do you know what it’s about?” he asked.
"Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Eddie was telling me that it’s about an illegal alien who marries an American to get a green card.” Kweisi had a faint smile on his face, and he was looking at me quite intently. “Is that what it’s about?”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “Could you ever do that for someone?” I understood the question asked of me, but I wanted to understand if there was something other than idle curiosity behind it.
“Do what Kweisi?” I asked. “Are you asking if I would marry an alien to give him citizenship?” A smile was fixed upon Kweisi’s face.
"Yes,” he said. By the tone of his voice, I could tell that this line of questioning was leading somewhere, and I knew just where.
“It would depend on who it was,” I said. “I guess it would depend on a lot of things. I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it under any circumstances.”
Kweisi walked over to the dining table and picked up a cup and saucer to take to the kitchen. I followed him. He had now piqued my curiosity, and I wanted to know if there was more to his inquiries.
I said, “Why do you ask?” He placed the dishes in the sink, and turned around with a deep penetrating look into my eyes. He had a serious look on his face that was totally unfamiliar to me.
“Briana, would you marry me under those circumstances?” he asked. The question put to me rippled down my back, and to my toes. His voice made me think of Geoffrey Holder, the guy who made the Uncola soft drink commercial for Seven-up, and who became known as the Uncola man.
“Wow, Kweisi,” I said. “I’m speechless.” I placed both hands over my face and wiped away my stunned expression. “I wish I had more time to talk to you this evening about what you just asked me, but I’ve got a class to go to.” I glanced at my watch, and walked back to the dining room to get my jacket. “Kweisi, how about we leave things this way. I’ll give it some thought, and we’ll talk about it again over the next several days. Okay?”
“That’s fine,” he said. I headed for the stairs as he walked with me.
“I’ll be talking to you soon,” I said, reassuring him that I would give the matter serious consideration. I could feel Kweisi staring at me as I descended the staircase.
“Briana,” he called out. “I didn’t upset you or anything, did I?” I stopped and turned my head up toward the landing. Looking up at Kweisi, I felt that I had to give his marriage proposal the most serious attention. In those few seconds, I felt driven to help this beautiful, intelligent, and magnificent African.
“Everything is okay Kweisi,” I replied. “I’ll be in touch. Take care.” I wanted him to hear something in my voice that would sustain him through these next few days, and offer him some hope while he waited for my call.
On my way to class, I thought about the pros and cons of marrying Kweisi. Of course the biggest con of all was getting caught. I could very well get fined and jail time for any misrepresentations made to the immigration and naturalization office. The immediate impact of a criminal record for me would be that it could prevent my admittance to any state bar, even if I passed the bar examination.
My other concern was in regard to taxes. I knew that keeping our tax business separated by filing under the status of married filing separately would kill us both financially. This filing status was most undesirable. To minimize our tax liability, married filing jointly was the only way to file.
I also knew that if I was going to marry Kweisi, I would have to invest the necessary time to learn the most intimate details concerning him, as well as him learning all about me.
The other important factor to consider was that Kweisi was gay, and Nigerians don’t take to kindly too gays. If he had to leave the United States and return to his homeland, his life would be at risk living as a “girly man.”
I arrived at my business law class with five minutes to spare, and I forced myself to stop thinking about marriage. I knew that I would have to be on top of my game tonight. My name was due to come up on Professor Alton’s assignment list. I’d give the marriage proposal more thought tomorrow.
Kweisi didn’t wait for me to call him. He called me four days later. We talked about the timing around his need to get married, and I found out that his need was pretty urgent. He was currently in the United States on a temporary student visa. If he didn’t get married, he would have to stay in school in order to stay in the country. Kweisi was ready to get on with his professional life.
He talked about his interest in classical music and the opera. His operatic credits consisted of the roles of Sarastro in The Magic Flute, Bartolo in The Marriage of Figaro, and Ned in Scott Joplin’s Treemonisha. His orchestral experiences showed his zest for the classics with solo parts in Mozart’s Requiem, Hayden’s Paukenmesse, and Rocco in Fidelio. To add to Kweisi’s magnificent talents, he is fluent in six different languages; two different dialects of Ibuzu, Spanish, Italian, English, and French. He learned French while in Libreville, Gabon. He studied the Spanish language to assist in his doctoral thesis on Spanish music.
Kweisi and I continued to talk over the next few weeks. The more I got to know him, the more I knew what I had to do. Late October, I made my decision to marry him. By this time, we had discussed all the concerns that I had, and I was ready to go through with it and take the risks.
I told Kweisi that I didn’t have time to coordinate any of the marriage arrangements because of my work load and school commitments. He understood fully and agreed to take care of everything. He told me that I was saving his life by doing this, and that he was eternally grateful for that.
Over the next two weeks, Kweisi went and got the marriage license, and we both went and had a blood test run. We decided that we would be married by a Justice of the Peace, and planned a date for a mid-November ceremony. My school and work schedule kept us from being able to set a definite date. The day before we entered into wedded bliss, I telephoned Kweisi to check on his availability to complete the deed. I was so nervous dialing his number; finally getting it right on the fourth try. After all the discussions we had and the preparations we had made, we were going to take that final step towards our very own Wedding Banquet.
“Hello Kweisi,” I said. “Its Briana. Guess...Wh..at. If you’re available tomorrow morning, we can get married.”
“Oh wow!” he exclaimed. “Yes, we can do it tomorrow. Oh Briana, you have no idea how much this means to me,” his voice quivering a bit.
“Kweisi, I’m glad to do it,” I said. “But you’re right. Unless someone is in your situation, I don’t think one can relate to having deportation staring him or her in the face. Do you have a JP picked out?”
“Yes,” said Kweisi. “There’s a place in Brookline. It’s a beautiful old Victorian home that houses the business office of attorney Belcher. He’s also a JP.”
“How about if we plan to get there around ten o’clock?" I suggested. “I’ll meet you at your apartment and we’ll ride over together.”
“That sounds good,” said Kweisi. “What are you going to wear?”
“Well, I don’t have too much to choose from,” I said. “I think I’ll wear that brown suit that you said you liked so much—you know, the suit that I wore to moot court.”
“How about you?” I asked. “What are you going to wear?”
“I think I’ll wear a pair of dark dress slacks, and a dark sports jacket,” replied Kweisi.
“I’ll have to raid Eddie’s collection of ties, because I don’t have any nice ties.”
“I’m sure Eddie will be very happy to help with the occasion and accessorize you as well,” I laughed. “I bet he has ties he’s never even worn. Look Hun, so I’ll meet you tomorrow at ten o’clock, and we’ll do it. Okay?”
“Okay Briana,” said Kweisi. “You sleep tight, have pleasant dreams, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye-bye.”
I said, “Good night.”
I awoke the next morning feeling wonderfully rested even though I had a difficult struggle getting to sleep only six hours earlier. My first thought was to call Kweisi, but I didn’t. I wondered how he had slept, knowing that within hours he could actually start to plan his life living in America.
I arrived at Kweisi’s house a little after ten o’clock. He was all dressed and ready to go. Since we were both operating under very tight schedules, we headed out quickly for Brookline. Kweisi was very nervous, and was constantly wiping tiny beads of sweat from the bridge of his nose. He looked uncomfortable being dressed up. When we arrived at the Justice of the Peace, we intentionally parked about two blocks away from the office entrance, so that we could relax into our role as a couple. The blocks we walked seemed more like a mile. We walked slowly making goo-goo eyes at each other like a blushing bride and groom would be expected to behave.
When we entered the house, Kweisi mentioned that Rodney was supposed to come and be a witness, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Rodney is Kweisi’s best friend. I had thought for a microsecond to invite Eddie, but quickly dismissed the thought. Eddie is too much of a jokester, and I knew that he would take every opportunity to make a mockery out of this very important day.
Rodney arrived about ten minutes after us. Kweisi and I had already completed the signing formalities, and had been awaiting Rodney’s arrival. Kweisi gave Rodney a silver ring to hold. This ring that Kweisi had worn on his ring finger was about to become my wedding band; at least one size too large for me, but it would serve the purpose.
I went to the restroom to fix my hair. When I got back, attorney Belcher escorted us to the ceremonial room. It was an especially quaint surrounding. There was a beautiful stone fireplace in the room. On the wall, above the mantel, was a large shield made of pewter. The walls were painted red, and the whole room had a very quiet elegance about it.
I glanced at Rodney, and he had started to weep. Kweisi hadn’t noticed this, so with quick rolls of my eyes in Rodney’s direction, I was able to get Kweisi to look at him. Kweisi broke out into a smile spanning from ear to ear. I knew that he too thought Rodney was being a sentimental fool, boo-hooing over this marriage of convenience.
We took our place in front of the fireplace. After attorney Belcher mouthed all of the legally binding words, we exchanged our I-Dos. And just like that, we were married. |
