You want 50 people. Your mother wants 500. You want intimate. She wants the entire village. You want savings. She wants debt. The wedding is not yours. It hasn't been yours since you announced the engagement. The Nigerian wedding is a community project with your face on the poster. The couple is incidental. The families are central. The village is invited. The church is mandatory. The colleagues are expected. The strangers are welcomed. The wedding is not a marriage. It's a census. And the guilt! "Your father didn't see his child married." "Your uncle traveled from Canada." "Your cousin contributed to the aso-ebi." The obligations multiply. The couple shrinks. The budget explodes. The marriage starts in debt, in stress, in resentment. The "small wedding" couple is revolutionary. They're selfish, according to family. They're modern, according to friends. They're scared, according to tradition. They're just trying to afford their life, according to reality. But the compromise! The court wedding that's actually small. The traditional wedding that's actually family-only. The reception that's actually a party. The deception is creative. The deception is necessary. The deception is love — love for sanity, love for savings, love for a marriage that starts with peace. Did you have a big wedding, small wedding, or strategic deception? And would you do it differently?
