Ladies and gentlemen I rarely go to the holy house of our lord God and his son Jesus (the church) but from my childhood Sunday school classes, I remember the old bearded priest quoting from the bible “a good wife comes from God” and I couldn’t agree more.
I have been married to this exemplary woman for many years now but the faith and trust is still unprecedented irrespective of my mischievousness. People, Yunia is the real woman.
Now, this is the period of time during the year when people become high on their spiritual beliefs and everyone celebrates the birth of Jesus the son of God or the great prophet like some call him.
During the cold winter of 1987, I had gone to Jamaica for my annual vacation and one evening sipping from our cold drinks with my host Gardner, Christmas carols were being played in the bar named after Bob Marley the reggae icon. Gardner and I had met in Ethiopia in 1984 while covering the infamous hunger.
Two beautiful women in their late twenties appeared and the entire clientele of this Bob Marley bar came to a standstill.
I could notice that almost every man in there besides me of course, their mouths had fallen wide open.
The beautiful ladies’ presence completely subdued most of the coward idiot men that the chatterboxes earlier started to vacate the spot and this was playing to my advantage.
“Why has the mood suddenly changed?” I asked Gardner, may be as a native of the island he would by some chance know.
“Look Shooter, these are wealthy business women and besides they come from a rich lineage,” he intimidated me.
Gardner, so what if they got the money, I wanted to ask him but for some reasons I don’t know I didn’t and instead I continued romancing my beer as I lay strategies to launch a grand attack.
“I know one of them, she is called Yunia Booker. She went to school with my young sister and she was Miss University,” Gardner continued telling me about these Jamaican angels.
At this moment I was forced to speak. “So my work is well cut out?” signaling that he would mediate.
Hahahaha, he laughed at and made me look a fool.
“Shooter, I have always trusted you but this is not your league so don’t even think about them because wealthy and famous people have not succeeded.”
“But if you did it, it would be my Christmas gift Shooter,” he dared me.
Before long, Yunia noticed Gardner and approached our table to greet “us” or him. “Hi Gard, been here and never said a word?” she spoke in fluent English unlike most of the Jamaicans.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he forged an excuse.
“My friend Shooter from Africa is a journalist we have known each other for three years now,” he began the introduction that turned out to be a union.
“Hi, I have been to Africa (South Africa). I loved the place. Where do you come from?” She became so inquisitive. “I come from Rwanda, East Africa,” I said while looking deep into her eyes.
What God blesses no man curses the old story goes. People, destiny can’t be avoided; it was meant long before we met that we would be husband and wife. We never went out for any date or bought her gifts. “Shooter will you take me with you to Rwanda?” destiny was playing out. “I would not leave a beautiful girl like you,” I joked.
And before we knew it, I was giving Gardner his Christmas gift and that same December we privately married in Kigali and she is never gone back to Jamaica because she can’t leave her “candy husband” alone.
I will not forget that exceptional Christmas that presented me with an exceptional woman. Yunia I love you so.