Syncopated fish tail wiggling

Graceful, energetic, syncopated dance steps

I attended the traditional wedding of a very close relative in Port harcourt, Nigeria. It was the first time I was so close to all the preparations of an event of this nature. I experienced so much of the richness of the culture, and observed the amusing interplay between the people of the two families.The very serious, heated negotiations between the menfolk of both families that went on for the bride price, and then a very small token was decided upon, as an expression of how priceless our relative was.
  
The choice of fabrics, the colours, the jewellery worn by the bride and all the women close to her, was of prime importance. Everything was carefully chosen to showcase the superior worth of our bride. To let the other side know without a shadow of doubt, the calibre of family they were marrying from. I kitted myself out in the colours for the day as well, and got involved with various aspects of the proceedings, like assisting with dressing the bride. We just surrendered ourselves to the older women of the family who were more conversant with the requirements, and how much coral would be an accurate expression of the status of the bride......And none of this 'understated elegance' nonsense was remotely allowed.

It is all part of the ceremony that 'fake brides' are sent out first- they were each shrouded in a large lace wrapper such that one could not tell who was under each covering. This also had the effect of creating mystery, suspense and bringing the time that the real bride was revealed into the realms of a euphoric revelation.It was also a test of how well the groom knew his bride, he was expected to recognise her distinctly from all other women. As well, it is just how things are done, that nothing is done directly. The ambience and decorations were elegant, all echoing the chosen colours with accents of the traditional cloth which is a chequered cotton, called 'George' everywhere. The decorative fabric swags gave a  festive setting.

White handkerchiefs were twirled and expertly used to highlight the elegance of hand movements.The dancing, by both the family and the visitors was quite a show. I kept well away, preferring to be a 'supporter' from a distance, but getting into the groove in my own way from the sidelines.

The bridal tent festooned with 'George' and other fabric swags

All I can say is this.... That my waist movements did not do the proverbial continental rhythm proud! Witnesses will tell you that I tried to do my bit, escorting the real bride after the two decoys had been rejected by the groom ,and the women of the family compound had extracted as much as they could for 'return transport fares'.  I stayed within my safety zone and just shuffled my feet along with a tiny hint of waist swaying. That was a great effort for me, and I felt that was quite enough without running the risk of total ridicule. That frenetic bottom wiggling is something else, awe inspiring at the least, and that is just the men. I tried, honestly, I tried mentally, to locate the right muscles. How did they separate from each other, the beats of their posterior cheeks, feet, hand and head movements? How is it that each was distinct, yet a graceful part of the flow of scintillating movement? I could feel the beat in my being and attempted to connect to the syncopation. The action preview that ran in my head did me no favours. In order that I would not subject on lookers to my embarrassing mis steps, I left the real wiggling to the pros.

The music with its earthy, enchanting and inviting rhythms, was hauntingly resonant with one's vital inner organs. One could just imagine being hypnotised and eerily wondering off into a deep trance whilst being led zombie-like by this deeply moving, pulsating beat. This, a live experience of folklore intertwined with present reality, had raw emotional connections and I was not averse to surrendering to it's charms.

Ahem... So where was I ? Erm, yes, so, I busted any idea of posterior wiggling but I planned to revisit this some other time when I have had some lessons in secret.

I suspect that something was sprayed into the air. There was a heady joy, stopping just shy of delirium, that set the tone. We all embraced the various events and enjoyed ourselves. My face hurt from smiling and my vocal chords knew about the myriad vibrations they had gone through from hearty laughter. There was just sooooo much joy and goodwill, it was a real blast and a jolly good show. A most energising and engaging display of rich Opobo culture. I am told that many other groups of people who live by the sea have dance steps similar to this. For example the people of Hawaii. Also, that the conceptual basis of their traditional dance steps is similar to that of Opobo people: the wiggling of fish tails. Well! I am not sure about this hypothesis, but yes, coastal people live in close proximity to fish. Perhaps indeed they are inspired by the movements of fish tails!

The bride looked fabulous, i imagined her neck muscles had a full work out,  adorned in several strands of thick, coral beads, each  the diameter of mop sticks. The high point of the day was when the groom gently unveiled his bride as is the tradition. The rich purple and silver lace fabric that enveloped our new bride in sweltering heat was removed. She looked a perfect mixture of coy and joyful in the right proportions, and he looked ecstatic as though he was seeing her for the first time, and he was.
He was seeing her for the first time, as his fresh, 'hot off the press new wife'.

Her eyes, momentarily cast downwards fringed by long, heavy, thick, black eye lashes seemed as though they could not raise themselves to look up. She never looked more radiant and beautiful! Such was the power of whatever it was that consumed her heart at that moment, but it made for a longing  to recapture whatever that was in mine. That moment, her happy downcast eyes, his patent pleasure in unveiling her, remains frozen in time in my mind. If it were possible, I would package it and sell it to newly weds, branded with my logo of course. But no, I think I would give it away for free as my contribution to the institution of marriage.

This whole event set about some strange longings that I am yet to understand.
I want this for my daughters too, and my son to similarly unveil his bride in the traditions of our forefathers. I want these unique cultural expressions. All the fully loaded stuff: the regalia, absolutely stunning, lively colours and traditional clothes, music and clever ad libbing of both family spokes people. For my children, I want this, but to be honest, I want this for myself.

I want to be approached by my daughters for my blessing on their marriages in front of several of their kins men as witnesses. I want them to kneel before their father for his blessing in like manner and for us to pronounce our okays before they can take their places seated next to their husbands. I want to welcome the woman my son so unveils into our family too.

I have come round full circle, back to where our people began. I made the crossing from curiosity to full participation without being conscious of how I got here. I am home and returned from being afar off, and now,  I feel welcome. My multicultural experience took a back seat as I embraced this beautiful, traditional Opobo marriage ceremony as my own.

Let the deep, meaningful rhythms of yesteryears direct all our footsteps.
Let us dance out the joyful union of two families.
Let fellowship and kin ship remain at  the centre ,and be the King over all our deliberations.
Let us bring this depth, colour and majesty of our own traditions, under our value system and enjoy fully loaded bottom wiggling to the max as an expression of love, unity and Peace.  


Lara Cookey
Ijesha correspondent to Opobo territory in Port Harcourt
Nigeria

March 2009