St. Croix Bamboula
Great Grandmother
~Dr. Chenzira Davis-Kahina of St. Croix~
Great Grandmother
~Dr. Chenzira Davis-Kahina of St. Croix~
Bamboula Dance
by J. Antonio Jarvis
Can I in pride mock sad buffoons
Who ape ancestral circumstance?
My fathers, too, these thousand moons
Cavorted in some tribal dance.
I still can feel, when drumbeats call,
The pulsing blood new rhythms take;
As garment-like refinements fall
Unconscious longings spring awake!
My honored sire now would say,
For all his solemn high degrees,
That drums recall Nigerian play
And drown out later dignities.
Few naked tribesmen yet remain
To dance the sacred dance for rain!
by J. Antonio Jarvis
Can I in pride mock sad buffoons
Who ape ancestral circumstance?
My fathers, too, these thousand moons
Cavorted in some tribal dance.
I still can feel, when drumbeats call,
The pulsing blood new rhythms take;
As garment-like refinements fall
Unconscious longings spring awake!
My honored sire now would say,
For all his solemn high degrees,
That drums recall Nigerian play
And drown out later dignities.
Few naked tribesmen yet remain
To dance the sacred dance for rain!
Reimagined Bamboula I
by Ushindi Niwetu
Can I in pride mock sad buffoons
Who ignore ancestral circumstance?
My mothers, too, these thousand moons
Cavorted in this indigenous dance.
I still can feel, when drumbeats call,
The pulsing blood new rhythms take;
As colonized refinements fall
Unconscious longings spring awake!
My honored daughter now would say,
For all her solemn high degrees,
That drums recall our African way
And drown out imposing perplexities.
Many of us do remain
To dance the sacred dance for rain!
by Ushindi Niwetu
Can I in pride mock sad buffoons
Who ignore ancestral circumstance?
My mothers, too, these thousand moons
Cavorted in this indigenous dance.
I still can feel, when drumbeats call,
The pulsing blood new rhythms take;
As colonized refinements fall
Unconscious longings spring awake!
My honored daughter now would say,
For all her solemn high degrees,
That drums recall our African way
And drown out imposing perplexities.
Many of us do remain
To dance the sacred dance for rain!
Reimagined Bamboula II
by Ushindi Niwetu
No pride, these sad buffoons
Who ignore ancestral circumstance.
My mothers and fathers, too, these thousand suns and moons
Cavorted in this familiar dance.
I still can feel, when drums yell,
The pulsing blood new rhythms take;
As colonized refinements fail
Conscious longings stay woke.
My honored daughter and son now would say,
For all their solemn high decrees,
That drums recall our African way
And bury imposing perplexities.
Many of us do remain
To dance this sacred dance, no suffering or pain!
by Ushindi Niwetu
No pride, these sad buffoons
Who ignore ancestral circumstance.
My mothers and fathers, too, these thousand suns and moons
Cavorted in this familiar dance.
I still can feel, when drums yell,
The pulsing blood new rhythms take;
As colonized refinements fail
Conscious longings stay woke.
My honored daughter and son now would say,
For all their solemn high decrees,
That drums recall our African way
And bury imposing perplexities.
Many of us do remain
To dance this sacred dance, no suffering or pain!
