Zini in February, dusty ochre and dry. Where the village & I
fulfill ceremony prescribed. From sun up to sun down for days. Nursing akpeteshie, the men sit
beneath a fruitless mango tree. But Goddesses cast in all shades of night
Yoginis of their own Rite—Women
wield elements in malasana. They cook and bear the weight of womb-fruit bound
to their backs. Always eyes look to them, feeding. They raise fire by instinct. A summoning
sequenced with Sun and Moon salutations. Stir. Dab, taste, cover. OPEN taste add stir—
flow. While mudras infuse their words. These native practitioners brandish sonics deepening
flavor others cannot touch. Still universal sentiments emanate from twisting wrists, flounced
shoulders, hand claps & kissed teeth. Hallowed be the life-size mortar and three wooden pestles.
The ensemble’s percussive invocation takes shape. Dough-like offerings form
meant only for right palm and thumb kneading. Silky spoons gather the soup. Scent is a cradle
one that carries food ways across bodies of water, in blood and tastes that bud even in foreign
lands.
In the new world, I am okro seeds, hued rice, reimagined recipes carried within the Mother’s
ancient flames.
Fati D. is a Ghanaian-American literary and visual artist. She is the editor-in-chief of The Banyan Review and is a 2023 Best of the Net nominee. In 2022, Fati’s poem “Cape Coast” was performed in Echoes of Us, a series of curated monologues, directed by Tony Award nominee Michele Shay.
