My father is a Nigerian from Uduere village in Ughelli town. When I was a kid growing up in Los Angeles, he would take me to his “meetings” every third Saturday of the month. It was like a city council meeting made up of different Nigerian communities spread out across Southern California.
Nicole Edenedo encourages her boy to dance. Source: Nicole Edenedo
It was a way for Nigerians living in Southern California to organize and build community while also carrying on traditions and giving their children the opportunity to socialize with other children of similar cultural backgrounds.
During the meeting, the men would conduct business. Women will cook. And the children will play. At the end of the year, a large banquet was held featuring Nigerian food, live music, and usually dance performances by children.
One year, I performed at one of the banquet dances. I forget the actual performance, but I remember the rehearsal. Learning how to move, lifting my chest in and out as I bent over and back up for two steps on each count, I was sandwiched between the other girls as we all moved in a circle.
More than anything, I remember the napkin. Having the women teach us girls was the cherry on top of the dance routines, at least in my opinion. We would do our routine, moving in a circle, holding a napkin, swiping it up in the air as if sweeping the sky, and then swiping it down on the ground as if we were sweeping the floor or dusting off our shoes.
I didn't understand any of it. The dance routine, how I got into this, and when it would end. I was 6 or 7 years old and had better things to do. For example, there were things like watching the main entrance to the ballroom to keep an eye on Andy, the first boy I loved, who only came to this group's important events. Because his family lived far away, in San Diego.
But I understood the napkin and its sole purpose was as a prop to complete this dance routine. So, both during the rehearsal and later during the banquet performance, I swept and swept and swept again, relying on my calling.
Little did I know that 20 years later I would be using the napkin sweep dance technique while working in a drum and dance club in the village of Dumbutu, part of the Kiang West region along the Gambia River. 7-night river cruise with Variety Cruises. The village is located right next to Kiang West National Park, an important wildlife reserve home to many species of birds, baboons and wild boars.
Dumbutu is also about a 20-minute drive from Tendaba Camp, a safari-style tourist camp and cultural center that offers guided bush trips, bird-watching trips and village tours.
Nicole Edenedo gestures for a welcome drum and feet sweep in a dance circle. Source: Nicole Edenedo
I heard that you don't see many tourist groups in the village other than the Variety Cruise guests. So as a way to thank them for their passing, women in the community sometimes come out beforehand to cook lunch for their families. Please welcome us with a drum and dance circle.
The energy was like any other folk dance gathering. A woman was tapping a plastic kettle with two of her wooden sticks, and a baby, wrapped in her cloth, was hanging on her back. I could hear her clapping rhythmically and stamping her feet. Her body spins and her hands are pumped in the air. Toddlers try their best to hold on to their souls and imitate other people's movements until they realize they have taken a step too far from her and quickly run back to her mom.
I moved like a woman. clap. clap. clap. Stomp. clap. Stomp. Stomp. clap.
During this time, I knew there was more within me. Was Gambia ready for the Nigerian? Ancestor, can you hear me calling? Oh, if Andy could see me now. I went for it.
clap. Stomp. Stomp. clap. clap. Stomp. sweep. sweep. sweep. sweep.
