AN ODE TO A BATA DANCER

Fate has brought me to a strange fertile land.

I stood at my old wooden-framed window,

Sounds of artistic music travelled to my ears,

I watched as excited children and adults

Hurriedly makes their way down to the village square.

I became a bewildered and curious Oyinbo

A name they fondly ascribe to our kind,

I hearkened to the sound of the drums,

As it compelled my feet to its temple.

Behold the center of attraction,

My eyes have seen a rare kind,

Bedazzled as she charms my mind,

While she danced her way in like a Queen.

Cladded in a wild silk textured Iro and Buba.

A dark-skinned African beauty has captured my heart.

Hair, ears, neck, wrist and ankle graciously adorned with

crimson coloured beads.

Her neatly woven Suku reminds me of the famously read

African legend, Sango.

The god of Thunder!

The twinkle in her eyes lighted a flame in me,

A flame that sped up my heartbeat.

Her charming smile reveals her white-gapped teeth

And her pride as a daughter of the soil.

I watched her twirl around,

dancing and wriggling her bold shoulders

To the dictates of the Batà drummers.

Stunned as she strikes her dusty feet,

Generously commanding the dust of her homeland to

bless her.

Her tapered waist seized my breathe

Each second it swayed rhythmically to the beat.

Who is this beautiful, happy and proud Nigerian woman?

If only I could lay my hands on those drums

And beat my own sounds so she can dance to my tune.

Iwalewa, they say, is her name,

Indeed, she is a beautiful woman.