The Scarf That Got Me A Ring 💍
Hauwa Lawal, will you marry me?
It all started with a shiny red scarf.
Studying in South India, my two most hated stereotypes about muslims were -
they procreated like ocean fish.
they were deeply attracted to shiny clothing.
The former proved to be true because every time I ran into muslim families outside uni, they were always tailed by a bunch of kids. Still, I rolled my eyes because I was muslim and my own father didn’t give birth to 12 children.
The second stereotype only hit me, years later, on a random wednesday afternoon in Turkey.
I lived in a shared apartment and it was my turn to buy water for the house but I didn’t want to leave my room. I tried to get my flatmate to do it but he ignored me so I dragged my feet to the wardrobe to pick out something to wear.
I threw on a shirt and was looking for a scarf when the shiny red scarf caught my eye. I had never worn it but I grabbed it because today seemed like a good day to launch it.
I draped it over my head, grabbed my keys and left my apartment for the supermarket.
That was the beginning of my relationship.
I was crossing the busy road that separated my apartment from the supermarket, when I heard, “Hi!” “Hey” “Hello”
I looked back in the middle of crossing the road to find a very olive-looking young man running after me. I continued to run because who shouts hello in the middle of a busy road? Are you mad?
Side note: I would come to find out he was indeed mad.
When I was safely on the other side, I waited for him to reach me.
“Hi, I just saw you crossing the street”
That’s pretty obvious.
“I just wanted to ask if you would like to have tea with me”
I shrugged. Okay. I needed to buy my water first though.
“I’ll wait for you outside”
With that, I turned and walked into the supermarket. 10 minutes later, I emerged with my water to find him still waiting. We found our way to a 24-hour bakery nearby and while I blew on my tea, he told me about how he saw my scarf and just had to say hello.
Is this one okay? *stuffing my mouth with baklava*
I tried imagine what he must have seen. A girl running through the street, scarf flailing in the air, the sun catching the glitter on the scarf, causing it to sparkle in slow motion.
Was the second stereotype proving to be true?
I don’t remember his name anymore but let’s call him Ali.
Ali and I started hanging out but I knew I wasn’t going to be in a relationship with him. I didn’t fancy men that looked like him but Ali seemed to think I was in love with him. I’d assume it was because I agreed to meet him at the bakery each time.
But me, I just liked hot bread.
Ali told me he was Syrian but had a business back in Istanbul. He sold sweets in a shop. Weird but okay.
Ali showed me a picture of his mum and his siblings. He said his sister was getting married in a few months and asked if I wanted to come. I had never been to a Syrian wedding before so why not?
Ali laughed before he looked condescendingly at my jeans, telling me that I could not wear that. I had to wear an Abaya.
It was not a problem. It was a wedding after all.
I didn’t mind.
I was a fool.
The last time I would see Ali was around 2am.
I was working into the night. I held three jobs at the time. I was working at an arcade shop in the morning, I wrote for KraksTV in the afternoon and at night, I worked at EdQuest.
That night, I was working on some research material for EdQuest when Ali called in. I groaned. Clearly, it was late but some people don’t have sense. He told me to come down to the bakery and when I said I couldn’t make it, he begged because he was going back to Istanbul the next day. I saved my work on my computer and grabbed a random jacket.
As soon as I stepped out of my apartment and the cold wind hit my face, I regretted my decision to go. The only consolation was the bakery was a 2 minute walk from my place and their hot bread was really the best.
I met Ali smiling adorably like a fool and even though I was dying of cold, I smiled back.
Why was he so happy at 2am?
I don’t remember what we said. I only remembered that I bought bread and he paid.
On our way back, Ali asked me for my last name and I told him it was Lawal. I continued walking when I heard;
Hauwa Lawal, will you marry me?
I turned and saw Ali on one knee, holding the ugliest fattest gold ring I had ever seen.
If they blow you with that ring, you’ll bleed for 7 days.
I was hot.
I helped Ali to his feet. I should have run inside my apartment but instead I asked us to take a walk and slowly explained to this man that where I came from, you do not marry a woman 2 weeks after meeting her.
He said that was not the Syrian way.
Well, I am not Syrian.
You will be if you marry me. And you don’t have to go back to Nigeria.
Okay hold on. I know I told you Nigeria was not great but it’s definitely not marry-a-syrian-in-two-weeks bad.
So I will leave Nigerian passport to collect Syrian passport? Abeg, wetin be the difference? Are they not two twins? Is there not a civil war going on in Syria right now? Was Nigeria not even better?
The next thing Ali would say would knock me out of the water.
I told my mum about you and she has agreed that we can marry along with my sister.
So the wedding I needed to wear an Abaya for… WAS MY WEDDING???
It was time for me to go. I had to get the fuck out of that situation. I told Ali I needed to leave. He asked me to go with the ring, saying it belonged to his mother and he would like me to wear it.
First of all, your mama no get taste because wetin be dis?
Second, the ring is not even my size. Your mummy’s hand is big. Do you want the ring to be falling from my finger?
Third, I don’t want passport nauuuu. Na by force?
But I didn’t tell him all this. I simply said the ring was too big and he asked me to wear it on my thumb.
I told you this man was mad.
I said I wanted to think about it without the ring and ran into my apartment before he could argue.
Ali would text, call and dm me for the next 3 months. I didn’t have the heart to block him but he started calling me on Instagram. That’s when I tapped ‘block’.
And my shiny red scarf?
I never used it again. It’s still hanging from my wardrobe and will continue to stay there. May we not use our hand to buy problem.
Thank God I didn’t marry this man oh. I would have been sending you people snap from Syria.
Get ready with me to sleep with my husband while bomb flies over my head. *insert hot tears emoji*
Anyway, I’m happy to report that I have not gotten any marriage proposal since then.
As always, I love you.
Hauwa Lawal - The nearly engaged hot babe.
The first song of the year is ‘Lost In The Light’ by Bahamas.
The fact that he asked what your last name was on the way to propose 😭😭 I’m screaming
😂😂😂😂
Thank God you didn’t marry him
How would we be getting this hot gists now😂