UYAI ✔️

Uyai (One)

Story setting is in Nigeria...
I am Nigerian you know. Excuse the dialect and strange names... They are all native.

Uyai means Beauty

Hope u enjoy...

******

Dun! Dun! Dun! Went the sounds of the drums... 

Both the conga and the talking drums elicited beautiful beats and rhythms. The sounds of rain drops on thatched roofs and tapping feet on the muddy soil was a melody on its own. The light from the burning coal illuminated the faces of the dancers, accentuating their beautiful features. Beads of sweat lined their temple while some escaped as tear drops. It was an enchanting sight indeed as mouths were agape and sighs escaped wet lips. They were all beautiful, as their feet and hands moved in tune with the beats of the drums; as waist sashayed, and hips swayed in circular motion. Even their ebony skin glistened as drops of rain lingered...

Suddenly she was envious, not because of their graceful movement, but of the rounded figures showcased in their brief tops and skirts.  Unlike others, she wore a long skirt that hid any hint of a curve. It was her mother's old skirt which she had folded twice on her waist to fit.

Uyai felt compelled to examine her non existent breast, her bony hips with her thighs wide apart. Even with the skirt as a shield she already knew how she looked. She had memorized her features after staring at herself numerous times; she was a walking skeleton, only with a little meat. It definitely wasn't a wonder how every yam festival, when young maidens showcased their dance skills, she was absent, hiding in the background concealed by a tall palm tree. 

No one ever noticed her, for she faded into the background easily.

Uyai could only let out a sigh just as drops of rain from a lone palm leaf splattered on her forehead as if trying to cool her feverish mind that swirled with depressed thought.

"Uyai!" someone whispered close to her ear. Startled, she stiffened. Her hiding spot had been discovered.

Slowly she turned...

"Mma...I- I was just..." she averted her gaze to ground embarrassed as her eyes met with the eyes of her grand mother. The one person who had always praised her looks encouraging her to love her body more, knowing the extent of Uyai's thoughts towards her body.

"Hush, my child, why are you not with the maidens? You should be out there having fun. Don't you know the young men are scouting for a bride? Go on! Join them." Her face was schooled in a frown as she appraised her granddaughter's depressed state.

Like the older women present, she had worn the traditional attire which consisted of a fine patterned ankara wrapper which rounded her waist, a was once white lace top, her favorite she had said. On her head was the same patterned ankara hair tie which concealed her gray hairs. However, like everyone else present, her feet were bare.

Uyai raised her head and reluctantly looked back at the crowd rapidly forming. It seemed most of the young men had arrived in tow with their latest harvest. A yam. Their aged tradition during a festival to compare the their harvest and hence reward the harvester of the largest yam.

Uyai turned back to her grandmother, her expression grave, she said, "Mma, I can't even dance-I'm not curvy enough." she muttered quietly to herself. But Grandmother's hearing was more sharp than she thought because she took her by the arm and ushered her out of the confines of the palm tree to a secluded area where she was sure no one will find them. It was darker than the other region, few feet away from the dancing maidens and besotted men, with overgrown trees being it's main occupants and having few large boulders finely decorated with algae.