After thirteen years, Araromi Olamide returns to his hometown in Ibudun with his father, Biyi, and twin sister, Olamipo, to spend Christmas.
The experience takes a dramatic turn when he meets a beautiful new girl. Like most things, it starts out w...
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The night finally came. The night Ibudun town usually celebrated her past heroes, the ones that fought during the Odudu war, and reclaimed her lands, women, and gold from the outcasts.
The night of the Onire festival.
Everyone in the town, the young and old were excited to celebrate another Onire festival in their lifetime. The festival was a place of unrestrained joy. The costumes were as colourful as a summer garden. Bold yellows, magenta, cyan, and emerald green. Wherever I looked, there were faces painted in some traditional patterns.
Music filled the air, festive beats lifted the spirits and made the people want to move, jump, and sing. It was a time to celebrate being alive and be one with the community. The air tasted so heavenly with the chefs alongside the parade, every delicious thing ready to be shared with friends.
The King's palace was big but couldn't contain the large crowd that was present at the festival, as many hung around the palace. People had come from neighboring cities and towns to celebrate the Onire festival.
There were more than enough policemen you would see in insurgent areas around to secure the area. The ones that usually guarded the palace, the ones offered by the state government, and the ones that escorted the notable and influential visitors of the king.
The air smelled like the festival already, my fingers were electric. My mind was buzzing, my limbs were so charged up, and I couldn't wait to climb that big stage and put up a great show in the drama presentation.
We waited behind the stage for the festival to finally begin and be called to perform on the stage. Everyone was dressed in their appropriate costumes. The students performing the dance were dressed in uniform blue Aso-oke. The girls had their Bubaon with their Iro tied around their waists while the boys wore their kembes without shirts on.
The drama students were also dressed in the costume of their respective characters. The market women were dressed in their different Ankara, the warriors in their animal skins, the chiefs in their expensive Aso-okes, and so on. I was also dressed in my animal skin which had a lot of charms attached to it. I as well had my wooden gun and other charms that portrayed me as a Balogun.
The singers were the most beautifully dressed with their black Iro tied firmly around their breasts and their waists, red beads finely arranged on their necks, wrists, ankles, and their koroba-styled hairs. Their lead singer, Aderera dressed differently from them. She wore a shiny black gown that glued to her skin and made her banging body apparent. Her watermelons were not unnoticeable. She also had beads decorated around her neck, wrists, and ankles. It was the first time she looked like a real princess to me.
I walked up to her the moment I saw her in that costume. It was not something I could control, I just found myself dragging towards where she sat quietly.
