Down the lane..

*sigh*

Watching the young girls contort themelves into every shape imaginable under the sun, I could not help the sigh that escaped from my lips!

*free education alert* - sigh = hmmmmmmm; hiss = mtchewwwww!

And no, my sigh was not borne of any jealous or envious desire to contort my bulk so willfully. My sigh bothered on amazement and a little bit of disgust thrown in for good measure. The girls all fell within the age bracket of 5 -10 (who else has noticed that from 10, our smallies have started forming "bigz gials" for us and find the art of dancing in parties extremely childish)? The girls were also dancing to some sort of music, the likes of which I am highly reluctant to class under rock, pop, funk, r&b, minor erotica or highlife.

For want of a better moniker, I will call the music "rofuarrrohipop"!

The jerky movements were reminiscent of someone going into an epileptic fit. Now they would crouch down and at the command of the unseen wailer, *sigh*, they would jump up and reach their hands "up to the skayi, to the skayi". Sincerely, I promise you, that was the only phrase in that song that made meaning to me. The rest either sounded like some form of gibberish, or else there was some sort of falsehood stated on my birth certificate as my tired old ears felt like they belonged in another century long past and were unwilling participants in this audio visual time travel my eyes had chosen to embark on.

Now the dancers lean forward and stick out their underdeveloped bakkasis and begin to wind them furiously. Now they combine some weird looking arm, hand, shoulders and leg movement, I fear for the mental health of their knee and ankle joints. *double sigh*. Since one of these eager contortionists is my very own small madam, I resolve to look on the bright side since she is getting some sort of exercise out of this after all and the benefits to me would be a temporary reduction in her current rapacious, voracious appetite, an early bedtime after a warm bath and an assurance that she would sleep as soundly as you may wish.

Still, I could not help taking a brief trip down memory lane and reliving those days when music was music and you were made a star, not by noting how many eardrums were pierced by the cacophony of decibel defying sounds you could produce from your drum set, or how many nude or near nude ladies could be found contorting in your music videos;  not by how close your music videos could flirt with porn without actually being labeled as such; or how high any of the male lead vocals could jump and scream while ensuring they were as fully clothed as eskimos in the deepest reaches of Alaska, while fondling and admiring suspicious looking girls looking like they wandered into the wrong set on their way to shoot a hollywood beach scene.

Those were the days when we had an 80 leaves notebook reserved for penning down the lyrics of our most cherished songs which we eventually learnt by heart and entertained our selves with singing them when the fancy caught us.

Ah, I remember with nostalgic feelings, Phil Collins, Lionel Richie, Michael Bolton, Boys to Men, Onyeka Onwenu, Christie Essien, Felix Lebarty (The lover boy), Mandy Brown, Abami Eda himself, etc...

Of course, there were those who still hammered out gibberish in tune to music, but back then, they were the exception, rather than the rule.

Today, attempt to write out lyrics to songs by some of our homegrown artistes and half way through, you would begin to wonder at what point you missed the program!

Chances are, it would sound either like the lyrics to an adult multiple x rated hard core movie, or it would sound something like...

"Emerememe dancy alingo. E e yah"

"Something something something ua goody bag o"

"Poropotom kpom kpom, awusha awusha"

I recall a couple of years back at a friend's housewarming party, we had gotten into the thick of the party when suddenly, my daughter walked up to me and asked,

"Mummy, what is the meaning of poropotom, ashawo".

I blushed a deep aubergine, well red is unlikely as I am milk chocolate toned, and directed her to the house warmer since she owned the house, was playing the music and should therefore strategically  advantaged to explain better than I could, what those lyrics meant. I also resolved silently then, that however interesting or rave of the moment the music was, when in my company, my daughter would only listen to good wholesome gospel music, or only those secular music I would not be ashamed to explain the lyrics to. The worst for me are the songs crooned by my ethnic brazzer aka "flavour tonight!"

Unfortunately, by dint of association, some of the music and dance steps still filter past the sensors and get embedded in her impressionable young mind and she sees her mates digging it out on the dance floor, knows she can probably best them at it and jumps up to prove it. Poor old mummy, otherwise known as "Le Moi" on the other hand, cringes at the very suggestive natures of the dance steps and trying not to be a spoil sport, lets her dance it out and then holds the all Important pre sleep jaw jaw on the pros and cons, the whys and wheretofores of waist winding dances.

Seriously mothers, are the lyrics of the songs our children sing and dance along to something we would feel proud if they stepped out in a sitting room full of our peers and proceeded to recite? If you cringe at the thought of it, then they probably should not be listening to it.

The dances they watch on the tv and proceed to mimic at parties and events, are they dances we can proudly beat our chest and affirm to have not only been taught by us, but is indicative of how good our musical ears are and how nimble dancers can be traced back far way back in our lineage?

Would we feel exceedingly proud if our daughters dressed the way some of their idols dress in the music videos? Do we actually give thought to the fact that like the sponge, their brains are soaking up all that they see, the eye still being the gateway to the mind?

Have we considered the fact that these music videos objectify and sexify womanhood and reduced them to little more than quivering bottoms and jiggling waists? Do we really want our daughters to grow up believing that where dressing is concerned, the less you can find to put on, the more attractive you appear to the opposite sex who in the meantime, are permitted to cover every inch of their bodies, down to heavy socks and shoes, hoods and hats covering the heads, gloves on the hands, etc! Or would we feel accomplished when we raise sons who view women as sex objects to be pawed and mauled over and discarded as soon as a more daringly dressed one walks past our line of vision?

Little wonder at the rising rate of child rape and molestation by fellow children (in some instances, even siblings), and the lax attitude to morality that is evident whichever way we turn.

We have complained enough about how the present generation of teenagers and twenty somethings have gone to the dogs in thoughts, words and deeds and yet daily, we subconsciously train those that would take over from them in attaining deeper levels of moral decadence.

Let us resolve in this speed of light paced world we find ourselves in, to watch a little more closely, activities our children are engaged in. What do they listen to? What are they reading? What do they watch? Whom are they associating with? What family values do their associations have? If they are still at the age where as Africans you can step in and reshape, remould and restrict in order to redirect, have no shame or fears in doing that. If they have however grown past that age but are still within your sphere of influence, utilise it wisely - have a sit down discussion to reassess values and pray... a lot!

*dragging my weary bones off to bed*, *old fuddy duddy like me*

P.S: Just for fun, which song takes you the furthest down memory lane? Can you remember the lyrics to it? If yes, please share!
       Which present day song gets your goat the most? You may not want to mention the artist's name, but you can hum the most irritating, with a word or two thrown as a clue.