Dear Stella Nyanzi
You said you should prepare your little skirts
That you should fetch your high-pitched anklets
And ready yourself for a larakaraka dance, celebrating Oulanyah’s death.
No, you don’t need the skirts. Neither do you need the anklets either?
Wizards dance topless and pantless,
Are you forgetting your trade already?
Larakaraka dance is a courtship dance
Where young men meet young women
They are for young girls with standing breasts
And seductive smiles!
They ain’t for seasoned harlots like you
With a flat chest and gloomy witch-like face.
It is true that larakaraka dancers arrange themselves in heterosexual pairs
Yes, because it ain’t for lesbians like you. It ain’t for the homos either.
You don’t qualify for this dance; you preacher of Western immorality.
Bwola is for the royals, you witch.
The songs, the patterns, and the moves aren’t for the aliens like you.
Let’s do our trade. Mind your business
The only dance
You could have qualified for is the apiti.
But you don’t have the moral metrics to join our esteemed women
Good, you recognize it as a dance for married women, show us your spouse. For it is a gate pass to this dance.
Exiled in Germany and fxxxed by a fellow woman, you don’t have a moral obligation to even write about our dance, wasted gametes.
Apiti is for celebrant women, not mourning ones
Mourning women throw themselves in agonistic wails, cursing deaths.
When their sons die
Not fill their pages with laughing emojis, on hearing the news of the death
That’s reserved for the witches
While for otole dance, wait to learn it when the last banana in your village catches fire When warriors take over your tinny settlements as you seek refugee in Germany, or seek a white woman’s fingers for a f**k.
Stella, you hear about Acholi dances but you have no idea how and when they are danced. You need a lecture after your brain tumor has been established.
Alcoholics don’t celebrate death, we celebrate the life of the deceased if he or she has already lived to the age of a grandparent.
That, we leave it to you, the wizards of this country.
By T.G Latitlok:
Responding to Stella Nyanzi’s poem dancing on the grave of Oulanyah in her hypocritical claim to understand Acholi cultural dance diversity.
