Aso Oke are like memories —writing from the lens of my aunty.

Photo by Adeola Alatishe

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You fold one and you sigh and relive the events of the past night and you say a prayer and you wish them well.

You think of how this person seem like and what they would be like in life generally .

There’s that one that her happiness is radiating and illuminating the place, her joy true, as it is within, and after all she’s the star of the day.

There’s the mysterious young man, but you see there’s an edge to him.

There’s every girl who thinks she must shine the brightest.

There are beams and gladness in every shade of blue, smiles that sparkles like silver jewelry.

There’s collective joy, dances in the thick blanket of love. Your heart is easy, you forget your worries for those hours and life feels better than it really is; for this is all it could be if we’re not running helter-skelter. You can easily offer a smile, because even if you don’t know these people, you know they’re wishing well.

Photo by Adeola Alatishe

I attended my most Owambe this year, and that’s at a number 3. I’ve been able to share in the unions of certain people, of what I hope is everlasting love and there’s a thing to it. My most recent one stayed with me the most because I was in a way able to have the full experience. It was more intimate and I felt a part of the love story, I felt lucky to partake in their blessings and I said a prayer directly to them; wishing and hoping.

On the next day of folding my dress and my Aso Oke Gele, I fondly remember my aunt. She had a wardrobe of Aso Oke. She had always attended so much parties, up to the point that growing up, matches and detergent were mostly souvenirs from parties. She was the only one I knew to attend a party by a Monday afternoon. And she balanced it amongst everything else; in her faith and her business. She was diligent like that.

Photo by Dan Cristian Pădureț on Unsplash

My point is, all the memories she had gathered through these fabrics. Each one so distinct yet so familiar. How much joy she has shared and how all of these people always extended their hands to her, to partake in their blessings. I really didn’t know how she was, at these places, at every different twists of her gele and every shade it came with. I do not know how all of the love, celebrations or exits must have come and go but I do know she lived a beautiful life, sharing in the joys of other people, giving pieces of herself fully, firmly, fiercely, softly, always with a great smile, and Godlike.

In all my awareness of her, she always gave, in her friendship, sisterhood and motherhood..

I hope to be such a woman; giving, in all the best places, sharing joys that run like river.

Then there’s you. Where are you in these memories ?

Reaching….

Table 23 was symbolic to me, representing a phase in my life, a halt, if you’ll have it. And I managed to stay still and allow life happen that day, at that place. If there were things it meant to teach me at that round table and in that hall, I have learnt it.