He covered me, like a skirt covers my thighs and legs. He sheltered me, buried my shame like a dress protects the breasts from outside invasions and eyes and stares. Traditionally he could have walked away… but he chose to stay and be with me. We had come a long way from where we started, culturally. I was the feisty one, the confused one, the one that thought I could never be loved but he picked me. I looked down on myself and questioned his affections towards me but he was always there: like the moon in the night I could always see him, like a mountain he couldn’t be shaken. He was my pillar. Like a light I would look for in the darkness, I would always find it when I looked at him. Whenever I was in need, in pain, in need of saving, in need of strength, I would get it from him.
We lived in a small house on the open field next to a forest with huge trees. I would walk away from him every now and then in my short traditional skirt at night fall because I didn’t believe he loved me… I thought he was doing it on purpose, trying to hurt me but he would just be being himself and I would always find a reason to leave. And he would follow me through the jungle in a light traditional outfit that exposed his strong chest and ask me to come back. I would fight and tell him to leave me alone and scratch and try to let loose of his grip but he kept me close to him, kept my arms away from his face as I beat his brown proudly african chest. And when I had finally calmed down, with his muscular, hardworking arms he would raise my chin towards his face, kiss my cheeks, take my hand and lead me back to our home. I never knew how far I walked away because I’d walk back in my dirty traditional skirt, teary, feeling appreciated but sad that I had put him through all of that. But because all I knew was that he would find me and because I knew he was always behind me, I stopped running away.
My sister was getting married a couple of years later and she wanted a traditional wedding and that all her guests should wear traditional outfits. Happy times these were because I loved being dressed for the occasion and what better occasion than the traditional wedding coming up. Traditional weddings meant traditional wedding outfits, traditional outfits meant traditional wedding wear and looking for where to buy this traditional outfits or traditional skirt.
My man loved traditional wear, he was very cultured and he loved choosing the best traditional fabrics for me so that I looked good representing him. My man had proved to me that he only had eyes for me and because of that I never looked anywhere else other than his handsome chocolate toned face.
The wedding came and my sister looked gorgeous in her traditional wedding outfit. She wore a long western design dress but it was made with bright traditional colors and textures. She looked beautiful, but so did we. I wore a printed traditional skirt with pink trimmings on the sides but it was really short. He didn’t mind the length though because we were used to wearing almost nothing in this African sun. He wore a similar fabric to mine but wrapped the fabric over and around his broad chest but wore brown long pants. We went barefoot but carried our sandals by incase because the wedding was in a village and the bride and groom had requested we go barefoot.
When we got to the wedding, the setup was breath taking with wedding guests of about 100 all wearing traditional outfits. Cool brown and orange tones were the order of the day as the wedding couple faced the sunset and said their vows. We saw a forest that looked like the one I used to run to whenever I thought he wasn’t serious about me a couple of years back. He looked at the opening of the forest, while we were seated with the rest of the bridal quests in their nice traditional outfits, on the plain but long green heel, after the ceremony, waiting to be served lunch.? He then said, ‘there is where you always wanted to go, as he pointed towards the forest, there is where you left me almost every day. I looked at him and apologized. He turned his body towards me, took my face in his hands and whispered in my mouth just before he kissed me, its ok. I needed to prove myself to you. I’m just glad you finally saw that I love you so much I was not prepared to let you go.
Traditional Skirt is R550.00: excluding shipping/delivery. Free Delivery only in Pretoria
How to Order this skirt: SMS 0766 930 660 with your waist size and desired length of the skirt.
Skirt Ready within: 5 Working days
Shoes: Madison Shoes
Pictures taken by: Linda Mudika