The smell of food, good food hit me as soon as I entered the hall. Four banquet tables had been set up in each corner of the hall. The expert in wedding-reception crashing said we were not to push our luck so we sat at one of the tables at the back of the hall and put the tripod and backpack out of sight under the table. Most of the tables in front had been reserved. The entire hall was draped in baby pink and white colours. The chairs had white chair covers with pink bows. There were white and pink rose centrepieces on the tables. Little white and pink candles floated in bowls of water.

Each table seated ten guests. There was a bottle of Moët champagne and a bottle of non-alcoholic wine beside the centrepieces. Sparkling confetti had been thrown on the tables and on the floor at the guest sitting area. The aisle from a side door that led to the high table was covered entirely in rose petals.

Sarfoa joined us as soon as we were seated. She was so excited. I was still taking deep breaths to get my heart rate to settle down.

“Did I do well?”

“You were excellent. Wasn’t she, Gyikua?” Chidi said.

“She was,” I agreed.

“You are a natural. I think you should seriously consider being an actress when you grow up,” Chidi said.

“Do they make a lot of money?”

“Tons.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sarfoa said seriously.

Though the hall was practically empty, the first batch of gifts had to be taken out because there was no more space at the gift table.

I spent the time watching people and eavesdropping on people’s conversation as they made their way to the tables closer to the high table.

I found out the bride was the daughter of one of the Asante sub-chiefs and the groom was also an Asante royal. All types of royalty majestically trickled in and displayed an assortment of rich kente cloth and gold ornaments. I even recognized some TV personalities and some ministers of state.

I was glad we had come straight from church and I was in presentable clothes—a flowery skirt with a yellow shirt. I knew I didn’t look super rich, but at least I didn’t look like I didn’t belong either.

I spotted Nhyiraa and her family at one of the tables close to the high table. I was glad when the intervening tables between us filled up with people, though I doubted she’d see me even if she happened to look back.

In no time at all the gift table had to be cleared a second time. Maa Sarfoa got Chidi to show her how to operate his camera and she took some pictures.

We waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity. When the hall was two-thirds full, a waiter came to ask us what we’d like to drink. I began saying a bottle of malt when Chidi said, “Virgin mojitos for all three of us.”

“You’ll like it, I promise,” he said to me when the waiter left. A second waiter brought a wedding guest book to our table and a bubble gun. She asked Sarfoa to join the other kids shoot bubbles into the air when the bride and groom arrived.

“Can I keep it afterwards?”

“Yes. It’s yours.”

Chidi took out his pen.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

I leaned over his shoulder to read what he had written:

Maame Serwaa and Kwame, you have been like an older sister and brother to me and I will forever cherish your words of encouragement and good advise. Have a blessed married life and may you always remember today with joy. Chidi Anukwe.

I laughed. “They don’t even know you. They’ll spend their entire lives trying to remember who you are, where they met you, what ‘words of encouragement and good advice’ they gave you.”

“You really think they’ll always remember me?”

I nodded and somehow that made him happy. “You spelt ‘advice’ wrong.”

He shrugged. “So?”

He handed the pen over to me. I shook my head. He gave it to Sarfoa who took it and wrote:

I reeli like your weden and the food lukes delishos. Thank you for the bable gun. God bless you. Maa Sarfoa Ampofo.