Under the Guava Tree by Annetjie van Wynegaard (South Africa)

The red earth under my nails makes the teacher scarlet rant and jump and jive as I stare out the window for 2 o’clock.

My body is dragged to the bathroom where brush and file and cloth and soap do the necessary work and tangled knots are pulled hither and thither.

I stare with open mouth at the string of sun that moves along the green and white until the devilled bell and 30 pairs of bare feet race across the dirt to white bread and cheese and netball games.

Vetkoek and jam in hand, zip inside the shadow of the sweet smells my friends with bees and white small leaves and the thing that scares the ladies in hats en route to church is that I am content with being happy.

The seeds let off a mist of pink and yellow zest and the ants steady on, steady on for the moment I could pickle and put in the pantry.

Deep the deep the roots the red the dirt the rife life lies inside the unexplored colonies

Orukoro Dancer                                                                                                                                               

“Child, weep not

Mother will be fine”

Still Tonye’s voice went out

Surpassing the rolling drums

To win mother’s attention,

Her hands stretched forth

Forcing body through dense crowd

To mar mother’s drunken steps,

She, solitary Lass, soaked with her tears,

Weaved a cry:

“Mother! Mother!

What have they done to you mother!?

It’s me your daughter!

Come! Come homeward!”

But all were health tips for pigs.

Dancer, canoe to the unseen paddler

Dancer, slave to the spiritual native banter

Feet, chalk-patterned by her painter

Body, clad with white and red George-wrapper,

Danced forward, danced backward,

Danced drummers-ward, danced viewers-ward,

Danced, Shell to her marine partner

Danced she, beats after beats, songs after songs,

Swung, palm leaves at wind’s gate.

Ah! Several fresh eggs went lost to her belly.

Then I replaced the soil on my soles with another

Weaving pity in my heart

Pity for viewers, lost in spirit’s huddle

Spirits who seek for more canoes to paddle.

Note:

Orukoro dancers are women ( most times men) who dance to certain drumbeats under the influence of a marine spirit, at this times, songs and drums are played for them by members of their Orukoro society. Viewers usually come out in their numbers to witness the dancesteps and drumbeats. This experience does not happen frequently, but occasionally.

The word Orukoro means the coming down of a deity, but in this case it is usually the marine deity that  possesses a person.

The Orukoro society are worshippers of marine deities in many Ijaw communities in Bayelsa , Delta and Rivers States of Nigeria.