Encounters with an African Goddess - Diane Esguerra
Memory is visceral. All I can recall, about the drive into the southern Nigerian town of Oshogbo that November afternoon in 1986, is the screech of worn tyres on khaki-coloured roads, the all-pervading dust, the torrid heat and the rivulets of sweat trickling down the back of the albino driver’s neck. After the 150-mile drive from
Pulling up outside her home – if you could call
it a home – was a different matter. After all these years the image of that baroque, semi-dilapidated Portuguese-colonial
edifice with alien-like carvings clinging to its walls remains soldered
to my brain.
Something in me hesitated before knocking on her
front door; a crisis of confidence, I suppose. I’d given no thought as to how I
was going to present myself to the woman I’d travelled all this distance to
meet. As an English writer and performance artist with a keen interest in
anthropology? The ex-wife of an architect working in
‘Come
away. Your persistence may anger her,’ Ebis advised, leading me gently back to
the car. ‘Let us take some refreshment and return later.’
In the windowless, earthen-floored bar with its
ineffective plastic fly-screen and unwiped tables we sipped Fanta and chewed on
stale
I let out a sigh. ‘I can’t believe I’ve come all
this way for nothing.'
Ebis smiled. ‘No journey is ever wasted.’
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