Dances of Yesterday - Antoine Abel

I still hear the staccatos

The extension of the sounds of the drums

The drums from the old days

Then the hills ignite (flare)

In the dry night

The dancers’ feet

bathe in the fine dust

of laterite

And their steps wildly chant

A frenzied rhythm

I still hear the quick notes

The muffled voice of the « commander »

Modulating in the warm evening air.

Then the backs bridge

One with the other

And the hips roll like swells

The bellies of the voluptuous dancers

Wave sensually…

And confused voices call out

Impudently.

I still perceive the staccatos

The rumblings of the “big drums”

Beyond the years of my childhood…

I carry them in me

Like stigmas.

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Antoine Abel (1934 - 2004) Seychelles

Translated by Dr. Y.

Source: African Heritage