Monday, 29 January 2018


This happened at a wedding service... 

It was pulling me up not by the hands but literally by my heart. It's thump, reverberating thump was pushing me to the edge of my sit to stand and let the dancing beast in me free. 

Unfortunately I belong to the class of people who haven't thoroughly mastered the art of shuffling feet properly. Guess I used my dancing school fees to play nairabet and lost it to the ups and down of the game. 

Who invented such an instrument, such lovely sound that could cause the heart of a lackadaisical soul to come alive with the zeal of a fanatic? 

The animal whose skin could produce such sound should be posthumously nominated for an OSCAR award. 

I heard that in some quarters it is called the talking drum. The name fits it properly with no inch to spare. 

I wish I could take it to class. Wish my hands could conjure that unique sound that speaks volume in a rhythmic language. It could be my mouth piece, convey my thoughts with much clarity than spoken words. 

Could my school authority allow me take it to class as an instructional aid? 

I looked around me, the church was half empty. The bride and groom were already heading out. I gently stood up, consigned my phone to my jacket and headed out to join celebrate the day God has made. 

Papa Mmeso

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