The Lone Dancer

By

Obododimma Oha

The lone dancer is an important figure in our culture and is identified as ọgbannaaya (ọgbannaniya in Standard Igbo. Did you notice the interesting phonological transformation?). At the end of every dance performance, the spectators still wait. They have not really seen the “end.” To see the end is the height of it all and it is to see how the performance is wrapped up neatly and in a memorable or grand way by the lone dancer. Indeed, the dance of the lone dancer is the climax. The lone dancer has come to summarize it all and leave the watcher with something to remember as the spectators walk away. So, the ọgbannaaya is actually the dance. The ọgbannaaya holds the dance as the impression of the dance. It all means that the handlers of the dance have to be careful in picking and training the ọgbannaaya. All eyes at the village square would be settled on the ọgbannaaya in the performance. The eyes would particularly like to observe the dance steps. That obviously means that there is enormous responsibility for the handlers as well as for the ọgbannaaya.

Do you blame ọgbannaaya? It is a unique role, too. Who would not be proud of it? In fact, if one is not proud to be ọgbannaaya, that is the beginning of the disappointment. So it is good that ọgbannaaya is proud to be ọgbannaaya!

The ọgbannaaaya is a symbol of responsibility in Igbo thought and goes beyond dance performance. In fact, in everything, we can see the ọgbannaaya on whom everything depends. All eyes are on that lone dancer. When the ọgbaannaya is done, the dance is over. It is as if it is a destiny thing. The ogbannaya often stands alone, even facing opposition from those for whom he or she is carrying the cross to Golgotha. It is as if ọgbannaaya has been created to carry others who are just satisfied that somebody is carrying them!

The ọgbannaaya loves the role anyway. Who wouldn’t be, with all eyes on him or her? And how can we help the ọgbannaaya? Are to take his or her legs and dance for him or her? Are we to miraculously disappear and enter into him or her, and to physically become ọgbannaaya? Surely, we have already seen that this single person is many people. The ọgbannaaya is the whole dance troupe and would give the impact of this “us.” But, from the outside, we cannot become part of the troupe, even though our comments and criticisms matter in the overall meaning of the performance. But we assist the ọgbannaaya without by allowing him or her to do it on our village square and leave. The ọgbannaaya is only a role in the wider social drama within which each of us is acting. Play your role and leave! And that role may be linked to another’s role; maybe to serve as John the Baptizer who has to provide a prelude to the emergence of the Star of David.

The ọgbannaaya has to learn to depend on personal ability, not on the ovation or criticism of the spectators; not on the trainer’s words; not on any of these. As one that carries the dance and has to carry  the day, the ọgbannaaya has to dance as if nobody has danced like that before.

The ọgbannaaya learns also in dancing for many and teaches us. If one is ọgbannaaya anywhere, one should not expect any spectator to assist and play this role. Joseph of Arimathea may help in carrying the cross, but he is not the one to be crucified. He is not the sacrifice of the cross. He, too, has to carry his own cross, after assisting Jesus to make it to Golgotha.

Those who dance alone are easily identified as heroes. Why not call ọgbannaaya a one-person army. This one person is multitasking, showing us how to dance alone, how to carry ọdụ ịnyịnya the horsetail. When one gets the horsetail from ọgbannaaya, one often thinks of gifts (for the ọgbannaaya). But ọgbannaaya is saying more than that through the horsetail. The horsetail says: “You have been picked.” The real gift is “you”!

It is not only the return of ọgbannaaaya’s horsetail and the little gift that are the next. The next is “you,” or “how would you dance alone and hand over the horsetail?” The next: how dancing challenges you. The next: your dancing alone, without expecting an applause. The next: your knowing that you are the next.

I like as the ọgbannaaya entertains us in the arena of life. Yes, telling us that we are all actors, and we are all actions. It thrills in contemplation that that one person, ọgbannaaya, is many people; is dancing for many; is all of us. In watching ọgbannaaya, we watch ourselves perform. We are in the arena of life, dancing.

When the spectator becomes the entertainer, is the former not entertaining self? Don’t mind the circulating horsetail. That circulation is not an offertory collection! That circulation is just a confirmation that one is many dancing. Finally, the one is not really dancing alone. The lone dancer is us, although physically we have not donated legs and hands.

Lone dancer, you are not alone. We are with you.