How I Lied To Make Her My Wife- Ralph Nwadike Tells Story To Celebrate 19 Year Old Marriage

Source: Maryjane Ezeh/

Ralph Nwadike needs no introduction in the entertainment industry, but for the benefit of those who are not so familiar with the name.

Ralph is a reputable filmmaker who started on National Television Authority (NTA) way back in the ' 80s when he wrote scripts for the television station as a teenager.

The thespian is one of the brains that masterminded the classics soaps that rocked airwaves in the '80s/'90s. If you remember Palace, Ripples, or Fortunes, then you will understand the skills that put together these great works.

Today, the proud father and husband is celebrating his 19th wedding Anniversary.

He went down memory to recall how he meet his wife and how he lied to convince her be on his side.

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It was one of those beautiful days that you woke up in the morning believing it's going to be a good day. We had just wrapped production for the week on Fortunes,my soap opera,(well, l am one of the other producers) and l slept pretty late the other night. It wasn't any big deal that l woke up that Saturday morning late after the hustle and bustle of making sure we don't have a program failure.

One of the gifts that follows is a sound sleep; the type of sleep that your neighbor in the face me l face you apartment you lived comes knocking your door if you were still alive the next morning. I lived in one of those neighborhood in Orile where everyone knows everyone.

A environment where the cock crows so close to you that you hear the sound in your dreams, while at the same time you are inundated with a cacophony of voices of food vendors, each one trying to outdo the other as they advertised to the already noisy neighborhood their trade.

My own side of Orile is the one where poverty stares at you straight in the face, and the dawn of a new day comes with the hope that it's going to be a good day. Such was the hope, and the prospect of Such boisterous environment.

Just behind my building which is a two floor house that tilts on the side as you stand in the long corridor, is another street that seemed pulled from somewhere in Victoria Island, and planted in that neighborhood.

I haven't had too much business navigating that neighborhood, but this morning, perhaps because l woke up feeling good, and needed to see a brighter side of Orile Ignamu, l came out into my shaky balcony.

Some of my neighbors greeted me, late risers like me, some with chewing stick in their mouth , and one already drinking a hot beer, with cigaret stick dangling between his lips. Our good morning wasn't that of real brotherhood, neither was it that of a family.

We were two different people, each one caught in a neighborhood that one only hopes for some jackpot or some sort of lottery that will rescue you from the poverty stricken environment .It was one of those hopes of a better life, a better environment, a brighter future that made me look towards the left of my building, into this street that seemed a mistake in that community.

Behold,straight ahead of me was a neatly cut backyard of a bungalow house.I saw a make-shift football field, and two young boys playing catch-up football with, …with perhaps the most beautiful young lady l have ever set my eyes upon.

I still remember what she was wearing, a red short, and a yellow round neck T.Shirt. Although the morning sun was already over head, yet she glowed in the mild sunny morning like one who had never been burned by the sun.She ran round with the football between her long legs like one who was born with a ball attached to her feet. With an elegance better than that of a stallion, she ran, or was it dribbling the young boys that l will later get to know were her younger ones.

I ran back into my room, quickly combed my hair, and used a wet towel to dab my face.Drank some water, that also helped in brushing my teeth, and off l went in search of this Angel of beauty. With some short cut, and crossing through some neighbors houses, behold, l was standing right in front of her.

Bold as brass, l put out my hands in a sign of friendship. 'Hi, l said smiling, and for once words failed me.' My name is Ralph, l am a football coach, l lied, 'l coach the National football team, and l want to make up my player”, l concluded. She looked straight into my eyes, avoiding my handshake. 'I'm sorry, l am not a footballer, l am just playing with my younger ones”, she said, still avoiding my handshake.

Made bold by her conversation with me, l pressed further. 'My job is to search for potential footballers, and the way you dribble shows you've got prospect, and l can…, 'My father wouldn't like to see you here, l think you should leave now,she said still looking at me in the eyes.

'Okay, at least , let me know your name, in case I'll come ask for your dad's permission to allow you play in my team', at this she smiled. 'Like l told you, l am not a footballer'. 'And your name, l probed further, my hand thrust forward. A brief hesitation that seemed like a hundred years, she said. 'My name is Nkechi'. I held her hands, and grabbed on to my future. 'You will be My footballer, my team captain'.

Some few days, weeks, months, and perhaps a few years of friendship later, my footballer is indeed my captain. Nineteen years on, we are still a team. To My Wife, and the mother of my beautiful children, l say thank you my Captain of life," he wrote.