As 100-level students of the Faculty of Communications and Media Studies, we were handed a task that went far beyond books and lectures — to breathe life into the heartbeat of Nigeria’s many ethnic groups and embody their essence on stage. My department was entrusted with the honor of representing the Gbagyi culture, a responsibility we embraced with pride and determination. From that moment, our mission was clear: to showcase the tribe in all its beauty, strength, and vibrancy.
A week before the big day, the air in our rehearsal hall seemed to thrum with excitement. Every meeting became a kaleidoscope of colors, rhythms, and laughter. The sound of traditional drums echoed in our ears, the clapping of hands kept the beat alive, and the scent of chalky ash and freshly woven wrappers filled the space. With every practice, I found myself falling deeper in love with the Gbagyi heritage — as though I were rediscovering a hidden treasure that had been in my backyard all along. It felt strange yet magical, considering I had grown up surrounded by Gbagyi people but had never explored the depths of their customs quite like this.
Then came Wednesday, 16th July — the day our passion would meet the stage. The sun shone warmly, casting a golden hue over the school grounds, as if blessing the day’s events. Backstage, my heart beat like a talking drum, a rhythm of both nerves and anticipation. We had our final rehearsal, and though our palms were sweaty and our legs trembled slightly, we were determined — determined enough to make even Dr. Ladi Kwali proud.
When our turn arrived, the stage lights bathed us in a soft glow. The first thing the audience saw was the striking male Gbagyi attire — bare chests painted with ash in swirling patterns, and a single piece of cloth artfully tied around the waist, preserving modesty but revealing tradition. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. The women followed gracefully, draped in beautifully patterned Gbagyi wrappers, their white T-shirts glowing under the lights. As for me, I proudly tied my own wrapper and wore a T-shirt emblazoned with the bold words “mhizi Gbagyi zanu” — “I’m a proud Gbagyi.” The phrase sat over my heart like a badge of honor.
We brought the Gbagyi world to life: the rich aroma of their traditional dishes floated into the air, the pounding of drums shook the stage, and the dancers’ feet traced stories in the dust. The rhythm was infectious — the audience clapped, swayed, and cheered. For twenty minutes, it felt as though the boundaries of tribe and language had dissolved, replaced by a shared heartbeat.
Other departments showcased their own assigned cultures with equal brilliance, and the atmosphere became a vivid festival of Nigeria’s diversity. I loved that the organizers mixed people with cultures different from their own — it was as though we were weaving a grand tapestry of unity, each thread unique but tied to the others.
By the end of the day, my heart was full. It was more than just a performance; it was a journey — one that deepened my love for not only the Gbagyi people but for cultures beyond my own. If I were ever given the chance to portray another culture, I would throw my entire heart, strength, and soul into it again, for such moments remind us that, despite our differences, we are one people under the same sun.
