Hi everyone! It’s been quite a while…
This is a flash fiction piece I sent in as an entry for ‘The Writer’ competition on The Naked Convos‘ site. Didn’t get in though *sad face*. Anyway here’s hoping you like this…
It was the first time she’d made a dress.
Well, a wedding dress to be precise. Mrs. Onochie’s daughter had come into her shop with eighteen yards of custom print Ankara and sketches and had asked for a wedding dress.
“Nne, did you say wedding dress?” she’d asked thoroughly confused
“Yes, Aunty just like in my sketches”, Zikora replied with that cute, slightly-crazy, excited smile on her face.
She tried to impress on her the strangeness of her request.
“Nne, nnwanyi n’anu di n’eyi if’ocha, Dear, women getting married wear white”
The young girl had laughed that full laugh – throwing her head back and slapping her thigh and almost falling off the stool.
“Aunty, I know. But this is what I really want” she replied with laughter in her voice.
She went on to describe her ‘vision’ and had explained the sketches to her before leaving in a whirlwind of afro, dark shades and oversized bag.
‘Aunty dalu so, thank you so much’ she called out running out and rambling on in Igbo about how she was late for some appointment.
It was a weird day; she, looking at that pile of fabric on the table and wondering if Mrs. Onochie made the right decision sending the girl to Paris to study – she remembered a precious little girl who even at seven, wore some of the weirdest things she’d ever seen. Her mother was always proud of her ‘creativity’.
“She will be the best at what she does some day, just chelu I g’afu, just wait, you’ll see” she always said while watching her daughter examine fabric at the corner of the shop.
And she had, becoming one of Nigeria’s foremost product designers and was even in some magazines sold around. She was proud of her and bragged to some of her friends how her favourite client’s daughter made custom furniture for her workshop.
“Aunty, biko, you’re the only one I trust to do this” she’d said when this old tailor’s face started to show worry lines.
She looked up at the completed dress on the mannequin in front of the inspiration board with Zikora’s sketches.
“I can’t wait for her to see it” she thought to herself with a smile.