The Alpha in my Pool

CHAPTER THREE- THE FESTIVAL.

The drums hit my chest before I see the crowd. Bata drums—fast, rolling and thunderous—pull people into a river of gold cloth and white beads. Waists sway, necks roll, bodies sway. I can feel myself swaying too. I flash back to the last time I was here with my grandma. We were both carried by the goddess herself. I remember feeling so light, I became air. I don’t remember how long it lasted but it felt like forever. I look around, my eyes greedily trying to take everything in. Oshogbo is alive tonight. Everything is more beautiful than I remember. The sounds and smells are more vivid. It feels like I’m seeing through a camera lens. The colors of the fabrics and people are bright and crisp. It’s everything.

“This is everything!”, Bibi yells, laughter in her voice. Sometimes I like to think my twin came back as my best friend. She always says what I’m thinking. I laugh and follow her through the thick crowd. Heat rises from bodies swaying shoulder to shoulder. Incense curls through the air—sweet, heavy, holy. The Osun River glimmers under the moonlight. A procession sweeps by—elderly women and young girls dressed in white iro and buba, adorned with white beads around their necks and wrists, with gold wrappers tied around their waists, chanting, "Ore Yeye o…" Goosebumps spread across my skin. We move with the crowd toward the grove, earthen candles lighting the path. Someone hands us white hibiscus petals to throw into the river. I feel like I’m in another realm. The air is charged. People murmur blessings, prayers, songs and supplications. I want to sing to but I don’t remember any songs. I feel a sting of shame. I disconnected myself from anything that would remind me of the pain of loss but I ended up losing myself. Which makes it worse. A tear rolls down my cheek. Bibi gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I turn to her and give her my ‘I’m okay smile'. She nods. People start to throw in their offerings, then... whispers fill the air. Prayers and supplications are murmured more intensely, but also more quietly, than they were before. I swallow. What do I even say? How do I start? I tell myself not to overthink then I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“Ore Yeye, If I’m being honest, I don’t know where to start. I’m angry. Very angry. At you and at God and at the universe and at myself. Every single moment of my life has been marked with despair. So, I’m not sorry that I left you. That I stopped praying because you don’t get to take everyone I love from me and still have a loyal devotee. But for this one night I’m going to pretend like you give a s**t about me and pour out my heart. So, here it goes. I’m tired. I’m lonely. I’m scared, and everything feels like... like s**t. Pardon my language. I have dreams, but I don’t know how to make them a reality. I want my dreams to become a reality. I want everything I’ll ever need to make it happen. And love—I don’t have that. I’ve never had that. I want love, and not just any love. I want a love that stays. A love that’s unconditional. Cheesy, I know. I just want to be happy. Please, help me.” A warm breeze brushes my cheek. I open my eyes. The river’s surface ripples, and I’m suddenly aware that tears are streaming down my face. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Which is funny because I kinda just cussed out a goddess. The drumming and music resume. People are dancing again. Bibi taps my shoulder. I look up at her.

“Let’s dance,” she says as she reaches for me. We dance and sway to the music as the moon showers us in her holy light. And for the first time in a long time, I feel light. Lighter than air.