"Nigerian Princess"

Unwana Ekpa

I don my offspring iwud--lacy, vibrant scarf wrapping around my head.
"Sine offong! Ini ekem edidaka!"
Mommy yells at the top of her lungs, rushing me to hurry up and get ready to go.
What to wear... what to wear
I choose the pink outfit, but
stares of admiration slip from my eyes.
I can't help it,
falling into this daydream;
this outfit transforms me.
In the midst of the vast, deafening Independence Day festival
looking down at myself brings such glee.
Floating in the embroidered pink lace,
the pattern of the silver vines.
The silky, cloisonne designs
are a clever alternative to gold.
A scalloped edge intertwines the colors: the gentle pinks and the striking silvers and golds,
and finishes my appearance.
How do i look?
Outsides
hating the itchy Nigerian clothing;
insides churning--I do not do my garb justice
Frantically, I search for a mirror
the revealing glass brings tears to my eyes.
Is this me? Me,
black girl whose parents happen to be born in Africa?
Or me,
governor's daughter, niece, something?
Anyone but me.
Whenever mommy wears her Nigerian garb,
she is so blissful.
The stunning queen of her terrain.
Not the Houstonian.
Akwa Ibom royalty.
One who says, "Abadiye! Idioko?"
To her state that knows her so well,
and "Hello! How are you?"
to the outside world who does not.
She represents my country.
Where NEPA frequently turns off the electricity;
where fufu and egusi soup are eaten daily.
And I, fruit of her womb,
I have never felt this pride
until now
though I see it
in her eyes all the time?
Born with innocent embarrassment around my heart,
these clothes make me feel what she feels.
Please to embrace me, Nigeria
simply because
that's who I am.
Nigerian princess.