Echoes from Lady Niagra

“Hey, tape that loose cable!” one of the camera crew screamed to another, who rushed forward in no time and started using black duct tape on the cable just a few feet from me. I took another glance at the script in my hands. I went through a few of the questions on it and thought this should be a simple interview, but something seemed different about my guest tonight. Seated in the chair adjacent to me, she was going through her last touch of makeup. Although very pretty with her leaf-green eyes, close-cropped hair, and long white gown, she couldn't hide the tired look in her eyes. Her once rich brown skin was now dark and pale like a chicken in harmattan. The makeup crew scattered as she gave me a smile just as the countdown began.

Five, four, three, two, one.

"Well, I would love to start at the origin, the primal heartbeat of existence,” I said. "So, Niagara, tell me of your origins. Who are you, and where do you hail from?"

“Hmmm...” she sighed, shifting her gaze beyond the studio lights, beyond the overly polished studio we were in, and said:

"I was named by my mother, a queen, but long before I had a name, I was alive. I lived as a primordial force flowing through the veins of my ancestors. I knew home before I even set one foot on it. I knew the long rivers, those sinuous arteries teeming with vitality beneath their surface, creativity swirling like an artist's palette of life. I knew the rain forests, not just for their sustenance, but for their stories intertwined with ancestral whispers. The deserts, those arid stretches that held secrets, rare materials, and hidden gems. Sands that whispered forgotten tales. As a baby, I stepped out, not into oblivion, but into a symphony of existence—a roar and a deafening silence, the paradox of creation."

"I could go on and tell you all about me: how I am a peaceful but forceful woman, not a whisper but a proclamation loud and distinct; how I am diverse and proud, loving my neighbors and engaging in humorous banter with them; how I look after my siblings and try to give what I have; how I am peaceful but can be forceful and powerful. My siblings look to me and call me a giant—not because of my size but because of the magnitude of my footprints. My shoes are big to wear, but I do, and I dance my leg-works in them. But I would be ungrateful to say that my story started with me."