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

Counterpoised spirals

Artist: Bie Cookey

Wounds heal

Scars seal over

Fresh armour plating

Visual reminders

Similar situations Stir

Same feelings

Crop up

An old spiral is set on edge

Waiting to spin

Downward it goes

If we permit the thoughts

Pulled down with it

Counterpoised spin

Unfurl

Unwind

Acknowledge what is past

The faint glimmer of pain

Prepares to flare up

Imminent  raging fire again

Holy Spirit of God, Douse the dying embers

Now no more than smoke

God of all creation

Blow the smoke away

To the far corners of creation

Where they will be un recognisable

Watered down by the power of your beauty

Unable to regroup

Unable to cause any further harm

Let my scars be the evidence

That I have lived boldly for Him

And not something I nurse for self pity

Or loathing

Or blame

Or resentment and accusation

Ah but what are these black charred remains?

A rousing and fabulous welcome to Naija

Google images

Tempers rising, loud shrieking as names are called out, followed by a call for a microphone. Followed shortly after by the death of the microphone's batteries, so back to adrenaline pumping decibels and tones!   

Struggling air conditioning and baggage trolleys mostly with wonky wheels four or five deep running head to head for the same spot. 

Hot and sweaty throngs of people, screaming children, crying babies, hyper toddlers buzzing around at disturbing speeds, some turning the dead carousel into a newly discovered playground. 

Parents handling overought children by their wrists in an attempt to restrain them from instant demise as they throw tantrums amidst sharp metal trolleys and a hard granite floor.   

Everyone hurtling towards the baggage handlers, at once hampering their attempts to manually do the job and blaming them for being too slow! 

After several appeals for the new process to be respected and given a chance, sad, sad looking people resigned to waiting as long as it took. 

Suitcases like a wholesale luggage store, I have never seen such large ones before. 

Not to talk of wobbling cantilevered female bits, imprisoned in clothes designed for flat bottomed waifs. 

Bad weaves and teetering heels all combine to unfold out of this chaos a comedy scene unparalleled. 

One person had 17 pieces of baggage, don't these people know about air freight? 

How do they afford to carry so much excess at commercial rates? Ha! Naija, we are special. 

This is God's own country for as the evening progressed, people settled down to mutually commiserate or congratulate as bags appeared or did not. 

There was a way we all pulled together, united in our joint predicament. 

It was back to smiles, laughter and endless jokes and mirth. 

Three hours later, our ordeal was over and I was utterly exhausted but amazed at our continued resilience. 

From landing to reaching home, the time span could have flown me back to London as I finally reached home through check points, traffic and wahala.

  

No wonder we are one of the happiest people on earth. We defy all logic!

Lara Cookey

Baggage hall, Muritala Mohamed Airport Lagos

03 September 2008

Unseen Enemy

I was fighting an unseen enemy

I did not know who or what

I was totally oblivious

Until such ground over me was gained

I battled with wrong labels and attitudes

Mine and others combined

That produced an insidious disquiet

A slow undercurrent

A torment that was hidden

When the battle broke

And my enemy's face was revealed

And I knew clearly from whence the war was waged

I came to a place of realisation

A place of strength

Utilisation of the wisdom of my years

And then some

Guiding principles of my life

I kinda stumbled upon these scriptures as an approximation of my life's guiding principles over time. I was stuck on Romans 12: 2 for ages. That scripture just spoke to me. It started with what I called my 'Romans 12:2 hair'. I had cut off my long permed hair and opted for a natural Afro.

My Romans 12:2 hair:

There is something powerful about a drastic change like that.

 Watch out!

Any time a woman cuts her hair drastically, it is an indicator of some significant psychological and emotional change.

When I decided to cut my hair short, and started keeping it natural, it was more than a fashion statement, or convenience thing.

You see, this word of God -Romans 12:2, had become so embedded in me, that I was running out of ways of demonstrating my full understanding of it. I sought to transform every part of my being, in all dimensions. These were interesting times, as I poured my creativity into creating all sorts of styles, and researched all sorts of natural hair maintenance techniques for my Romans 12:2 hair . My hair became co opted into a 'witnessing' ministry of another kind.

I got a lot of comments and these were the trigger points with which I told the unsuspecting admirer that they are looking at a symbolic representation of a decision to be non conformist for a purose, that this is my Romans '12:2 hair'.

Reactions varied from outbursts of laughter, to patent expressions of confusion and surprise plus various renditions of- 'that's incredible!'

9 months of Romans 12:2 natural hair!

Anyway, moving right along.....

Romans 12:2 says:

DO NOT BE CONFORMED TO THE PATTERN OF THIS WORLD BUT BE TRANSFORMED BY THE RENEWAL OF YOUR MIND

What this said to me was that it was okay to be non conformist, but the purpose of non conformism is for transformation of one's mind. The hair thing was a lot of fun, and I came to a realisation that this drastic change was an outward expression of an inner commitment. A commitment to open my mind to new possibilities, to open my mind to whatever God would have me be.

This is essentially talking about paradigm shifts- For me , God said not to stay in boxes but to think out of the box. Hey, I got a cool new hairstyle and lots of practice at verbalising these ideas as well.

Genesis 1:3 says:

GOD SAID LET THERE BE LIGHT

This statement came across to me as both simple and complex, in that there is the simplicity of the statement itself, and then the intricate beauty of this necessity for all who live on this earth called light. What this said to me was that this is God's spontaneous creativity- it brought about so much of the beauty of the earth and was the beginning of order. Also, darkness was shifted out of the way; for me this translates to the power of mountain/obstacles being  moved and some new thing being revealed. A new dimension that illuminates one's path.

Beauty for ashes

Silver lined cloud

Abracadabra!

Whatever you would like to call it, it simply is a wonderful statement of God's spontaneous creativity!

Genesis 1:31 says:

GOD SAW ALL THAT HE MADE, AND IT WAS VERY GOOD.

All that I am made of was created by Him, for His purpose, and the testimony about me should be what my father said about me when I was created 'it is very good!' -in my walk, in my talk, my appearance, relationships, my service etc etc.  

These are the underlying scriptures which are more or less guiding principles of my life.

What do I mean by 'spontaneous creativity and paradigm shifts can move mountains?'

I came to discover that 'paradigm shifting' and 'spontaneous creativity' were the principles by which virtually all my worst battles were fought and won. They were also the genesis of many life changing discoveries about myself.

'God said let there be light'-A stunning sunset over the desert in Dubai on our 25th anniversary trip