It was a sound that travels through your body before your mind even processes anything. The deep, rhythmic, unmistakable beat of African drums. A call that moves the body, the heart and the spirit. Before I could turn to look at him, Gary, my husband, had already taken a step forward. One minute, he was standing beside me. Next, he joined the drummers and dancers on stage, moving as though he had always belonged. He wore Adire, the same as the dancers. It was a rare, magical coincidence, the kind that makes me wonder if some moments exist simply to happen. I felt proud.
If a person didn’t know him, no one would have guessed. My husband is American. White. Raised in a completely different world from the one unfolding on that stage. And yet, every movement looked natural. He did not try to fit into the culture. He responded to the culture. Freely. Joyfully. Naturally.
Along our journey together, my husband had adopted the Yoruba name, Enitanwa, “One whose arrival is significant.” The name was presented to him by Chief Mrs Nike Okundaye of Nike Arts Gallery in Osogbo. Whenever called, he responds with “O ti de, ‘‘He has arrived’’.
It might be just a name, but it’s also a simple ritual that holds profound significance of presence, respect, and belonging. Names carry weight. Names carry identity, history and meaning. Over time, I watched him grow into the name. When he stepped onto the stage, the moment felt consistent. A continuation of a journey that began long before anyone noticed. Culture, when approached with respect, does not push anyone away. Culture creates space.
As I watched him completely in sync with the rhythm and completely at ease, I realised something new. Africa does not always ask where someone comes from. She opens her arms and waits to see how a person will show up. My husband showed up. He did not try to take the moment. He did not try to perform. He became part of the experience. And in return, the stage, the dancers and the rhythm embraced him.
Maybe that is what belonging truly feels like. Belonging meets the heart halfway when the spirit moves willingly.
That day, the drums called, and my husband, an American, responded. Somewhere between the rhythm, the movement and the quiet understanding that needed no explanation. A white American escaped into the background, and Enitanwa, fully, freely and beautifully remained.
The post Dayo Akinbode: My American Husband Jumped on Stage to Dance with African Drummers appeared first on BellaNaija – Showcasing Africa to the world. Read today!.
