Intricate scarves piled high on women’s heads.
Ankara cloths in every colour decorated with
lace, silk, and gold embroidery, draped across
their bodies.
Blood red beads dangled from their necks and
wrists in elegant display.
Igbo Kwenu.
Men grouped together with feathered caps
tilted just so on the crowns of their heads.
Elders with long beads and matching caps,
watched the room in silence with a slight
nod to their left and right, while women
curtsied at their feet.
Igbo Kwenu.
The smell of sensual Africa swarmed the
exuberant air.
Mouth-watering recipes that their mothers
created but never wrote down. The food that
their children would eat and would pass on
for generations to come, dazzled the eyes.
Igbo Kwenu.
Yahh.Igbo Kwenu.
Yahh.
Cha, cha, cha, Igbo Kwenu
Igbo Kwezu onu ooo.
Inside Iliana Ike 