Aura

"The Eccentric Princess"

What does it mean to be ‘eccentric’? It surely isn’t a new term! Generally it means when you suppose to do one thing, you do another!

The life of a royal princess whether Black or White is very demanding! You are given the correct things to think about and given certain expectations as well as certain freedoms! You really don’t have a life of your own!

The political arena is open wide to you and it has certain demands! Even in the Yoruba culture these things ring true! All that I say in English is also true in Yoruba! Except the interpretation would also include that if you choose to divorce, you can only marry certain individuals if you remarry! By certain, usually of certain financial, psychological and family backgrounds!

We dress differently when we attend functions denoting our high status in society the same as the European culture, but we wear Royal African attire!

The 90’s makes it easier because the African dress is popular! But imagine in the late 60’s wearing African attire! It was something new for many African Americans, but a must for Aura! So she adorned herself in African wear while on campus and became known as what they called a ‘Cultural Nationalist!’ What was unusual to her was that it developed her into the Queen she later became known as in the 80’s and 90’s!

African royalty is no different in responsibility than European royalty. Sure in the 1940’s the British had their hands in the honey jar over in African, especially Nigeria-West Africa. Wherever there was oil, gold, diamonds and people of color, there were Europeans. Salt and pepper together, although the salt was taking advantage of the pepper. I survived the 60’s and 90’s and kept my dignity, rather or not I followed their traditions. In essence, I was myself! I guess if my mother had known at the time that I married into royalty she would have known how I really felt. I wanted to get away from the United States and it’s racism and those terrible Negro rapists. Flight is one of the patterns that people who have been raped adhere too; an understanding. It’s a reaction to their peril. They can’t stand the place where the rape occurred, it’s a subconscious urge to flee irregardless to when it took place.

I appeared to be eccentric, but I wasn’t. I was just hurt from the injustices put upon me as a young adult by a society engulfed in prejudices and barbaric activities of the 70’s. I made it somehow listening to the Queen of soul, Aretha Franklin and my pal Chaka Khan.

Every other room in the under graduate dorm blasted Aretha with black or white occupants! Songs from "Respect" to " Think About It!" I couldn’t write a paper without listening to Aretha or go to rehearsals or even class. She was my motivation, my uplift when I was down, and I was down a lot. Thank you Aretha and Chaka Khan for the help your songs gave me all those years, Thanks.

When my mom was a maid a doctor she worked for was ill and bed written, the doctor taught my mom how to care for her and so began her days as a nurse’s assistant. But the white doc’s favorite singer was Aretha Franklin. She would lie motionless in her bed and tell my mom to play one of Aretha’s songs, "Respect". The doctor’s husband abandoned her when she became ill. Listening to Aretha made her feel better.

I dedicate both of my degrees to Martin Luther King and Aretha Franklin because without "You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman" and her other tunes, I would have felt like far less! But the Queen state I obtained was there far before I married into the Royal African family, we are all queens in our own right, whether we wear a crown or not! One must feel comfortable with himself and to me that was my goal.

I was indeed an Over-Achiever, trying to balance the feelings of low self-esteem and self-doubt brought on by being violated! I will always be in a state of perpetual motion, always wanting more, doing more to feel better about myself. It has nothing at all to do with being African-American! I will not suddenly forget the abuse, but I will eventually forget it. I in fact suffer from, P.T.S.= Post Traumatic Syndrome and require therapy once a week.

What’s a princess without a prince?

Somewhere in a town near Lagos a Chief sat perplexed in thought about life. He was a bit nervous on this day in particular. His third wife was giving birth to his child. She was the youngest wife and so he considered all of this and didn’t get too upset with her short-temper and bouts of tears. The elders had predicted that March twenty-third would be the arrival of his child. They also said that felt he would be a future king.

As they prepared the room for the grand occasion, he prayed to God for a safe delivery. All the town wanted to know about this day. They also prayed for a safe delivery of a future King or Queen! The midwives as we call them made numerous trips to the room with white sheets, rubbing oil, herbs, hot water and towels, all in preparation for this event.

The baby turned again in her tummy and she lay quietly on the mat. Her back ached and she just wanted to rest. The baby kicked again and she pulled up her top to look at her huge stomach. Its roundness was all that she could see. Perspiration began to pour from her brow, the sun was almost up. The sound of the birds flying overhead and a roar of a lion in the distance all were heard by Princess Ajayi. She wanted so badly to lay on her side, but she ached so bad. The grassy smells and the sea breeze filled her nostrils,