I like to think of myself as the center of the universe.
Which would be fine if it were true.
While living with the Adioukrou, one of the many fêtes (celebratory rituals) we experienced was the Fête of Eb Eb.
The society was divided into seven age classes, each with their role clearly defined, from those in power down to the youngest age class who did what they were told—sweeping the village, running errands.
The celebration marked the time the age classes moved up to the next rung on the ladder.
Seven chairs were set out in a courtyard going from a large overstuffed easy chair to a small one-bun stool. The leader of each age class sat in the chairs according to their rank. With great ceremony, they moved to the next larger chair, and those in the highest position moving to the lowest. It was a participatory experience with music, dance, speeches and food.
The Adioukrou have helped me celebrate the passing of the baton as a wonderful, natural and necessary thing.
I’m one small link in a long line, reaching as far back as I can see—through my parents and grandparents. And reaching forward through my kids and grandkids, friends and colleagues, who will take things to levels I never dreamed of.
