*********Andy sat somewhere in the back, seeing only at the mercy of the fat female heads before him, Heads wrapped in wide outstretching geles²: the bulky head cloth usually called “canopy”. He crooned fervently, his eyes groping for the scene in the center of the compound. The MC was a tall and lanky man. His wiry build swayed like a perturbed reed in his bogus attire. The long native gown seemed to be wearing the man, instead of vice versa and he struggled to keep his ankara wrapper at his waist, stopping every now and then to adjust the forever slipping clothing.
*********My heart danced tunes of joy and every atom in my body vibrated which each step I took, softly, step after step, a little sway to the hips, a little toss of my face to the side, just like Mother taught. I emerged from my shelter and out into the full glare of ogling. My eyes briefly swept through the crowd of guests seated in the canopies. The traditional tunes were loud but their cheers were louder. The women bubbled, waving at me in adoration. The men hooted, jeering in envy. I blushed. I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.
*********I walked away.