EKOMBI AND THE MYSTERIOUS DRUM

It was an ordinary afternoon in an Efik village by the river.

The sun was beginning to soften, and the heat that had held the village captive all day was slowly giving way to a cool breeze from the water.

A group of young women had gone to the river.

Some came to wash.

Some came to fetch water.

Others simply wanted to sit by the shore, talk, laugh and enjoy the evening breeze before returning home.

Nobody knew that before sunset, they would witness something they would never forget.

The river was unusually calm.

Not a single strong wave disturbed its surface.

The women were talking when suddenly…

BOOOOOOM!

Everyone froze.

A deep drumbeat came from somewhere beneath the water.

The women looked at one another.

“What was that?”

Nobody answered.

Then it came again.

BOOM… BOOM… BOOOOOOM!

This time, the sound was louder.

The water trembled.

One of the women dropped the calabash in her hand.

Another immediately stepped away from the river.

“Let’s go!”

But before anyone could move…

BOOM!

The women felt something strange pass through their bodies.

It began in their feet.

Then their knees.

Then their hips.

Their arms lifted almost at the same time.

They stared at one another in terror.

“What is happening to us?”

Nobody knew.

They tried to lower their hands.

They couldn’t.

Their bodies began to move.

Slowly at first.

A gentle sway from side to side.

Then their shoulders followed.

Their arms curved through the air like the movement of waves.

Their waists began to roll.

Their knees bent softly and rose again.

They stepped forward…

then backward…

turning their bodies as though an invisible current was carrying them.

They were not choosing the movements.

Something was moving them.

The women cried out.

But even as they screamed, their bodies continued to dance.

And then they heard it.

Not just the drum.

There was something else beneath it.

A deep, rhythmic sound rising from the depths of the river.

Boom…

The women swayed.

Boom… boom…

They turned.

BOOOOOOM!

Their bodies moved together.

Suddenly, they were no longer frightened.

They began to feel the rhythm.

Their fear disappeared.

Their movements became graceful.

Their arms rose and fell like waves.

Their waists moved with the gentle rocking of a canoe.

Their feet touched the ground lightly, as though they were walking upon water.

They bent low…

then rose.

They turned…

then swayed.

They moved in perfect harmony.

It was beautiful.

It was terrifying.

It was as though the river had borrowed their bodies.

And the strange thing was…

the music had no drummer.

There was nobody on the shore.

Nobody in a canoe.

Nobody beating a drum anywhere in sight.

The sound was coming from beneath them.

From beneath the river.

Back in the village, people heard the same thing.

A mother preparing food suddenly stopped.

A man repairing his fishing net lifted his head.

Children playing outside became silent.

Then the drum rolled again.

BOOM… BOOM… BOOOOOOM!

The mother dropped the wooden spoon in her hand.

Her shoulders moved.

She tried to stop herself.

She couldn’t.

Her waist began to sway.

Her feet started moving.

Across the village, the same thing was happening.

A woman carrying firewood began to move.

A young girl fetching water began to sway.

Even the women who had never heard the mysterious sound before suddenly found themselves moving to a rhythm they could not explain.

One woman screamed,

“Why am I dancing?”

But she kept dancing.

Another laughed.

Another cried.

Another simply stood there, staring at her own moving hands.

The entire village seemed to have become one body.

And the rhythm continued.

BOOM…

The women moved.

BOOM… BOOM…

They turned.

BOOOOOOM!

They swayed like the waves of the river.

At the shoreline, the first group of women were now dancing faster.

Their movements became more confident.

One stretched both arms outward and moved them slowly from side to side, like waves spreading across the water.

Another bent her knees and rose gently, her body following the rise and fall of the tide.

Another turned in a slow circle, her waist flowing behind her.

Soon, they began moving together.

Not because anyone had taught them.

Not because they had rehearsed.

But because the rhythm seemed to be teaching their bodies what to do.

And then something even more frightening happened.

The river began to move.

The water that had been completely still moments earlier started forming small waves.

The waves rolled toward the dancers.

One after another.

As though the river itself was watching them.

As though it was pleased.

Then…

silence.

The drum stopped.

The dancers froze.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

The river became still again.

For several seconds, the only sound was the wind.

Then one of the women whispered:

“Who was playing that drum?”

Nobody knew.

They searched the shore.

They searched the canoes.

They looked across the river.

There was no drummer.

Nothing.

Only the water.

An elderly woman who had witnessed everything slowly stepped forward.

She looked at the dancers.

Then she looked at the river.

Her voice trembled.

“The water has shown us something.”

Everyone gathered around her.

“What did it show us?”

She looked at the women.

“A dance.”

The women looked at their hands.

They were still trembling.

The old woman smiled.

“You were not dancing for the river.”

She paused.

“The river was dancing through you.”

Nobody spoke.

From that day, the women began practising the movements they had experienced at the river.

They remembered the slow sway.

The bending of the knees.

The rolling of the waist.

The graceful movement of the arms.

The turning of the body.

The rise and fall.

The rhythm of the waves.

They taught other women.

The women taught their daughters.

The daughters taught another generation.

And slowly, the mysterious dance that began at the river became part of the people’s celebrations.

The drums were added.

Songs were created.

Costumes became part of the performance.

And whenever the dancers stepped forward, they moved with the same graceful rhythm they had first discovered beside the water.

They called it Ekombi.

The dance that carried the movement of the sea.

Years passed.

The mysterious drumbeat was never heard beneath the river again.

But the dance remained.

And even today, when an Ekombi dancer raises her hands…

when her waist begins to sway…

when her body bends and rises like the tide…

when the drums begin to speak…

it is almost as though the old river is remembering that evening.

The evening when the water called.

The women answered.

And for one unforgettable moment…

the sea came out of the water and danced through them.

Written by: ESTHER BASSEY ETIM (Obong Awan II )

Fictional story inspired by Efik culture and the graceful movements of Ekombi.

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