It was my first time at a Latin American carnival where they exploded in spectacle of colour and texture so vivid that it felt like a dream. The streets were alive, chaotic, and debaucherously fun. I stood among the dancing crowd, but I couldn’t get my eyes off of a 9-foot tall figure. Her beauty was alluring—everywhere she went, my eyes followed. She donned a lavish-feathered costume and lacquered her body in gold glitter—one could not deny her features were fashioned by angels. I loved her curves of softness. She swayed like water transformed by music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, painting a picture sound alone can never achieve.

She danced past me like she had noticed I was staring at her, then she charged the span of the street party, flapping her multi-coloured wings like she was about to take flight. She was the most elegant stilt walker I had ever seen. I knew I had to talk to her. Her charismatic stilt walking performance was a fascinating expression of emotions that was told through movements within a dreamscape of arts. I wriggled my way through the parade to get to where she was when I crashed into another young man coming from the opposite side. I bumped my head into his. I was in so much pain that I had to abort my plans. I used my time in the ambulance to enquire about my mystery stilt lady.

The very next day, I used all of the information I had gathered about the stilt lady. I was told she was an historian at the city’s national museum and also a dance instructor. Even though I couldn’t get a translator for my trip, I was determined to take my chances. I had practiced a little Spanish from an app I had downloaded prior to my visit. English wasn’t widely spoken in the city. I got into the auditorium as she was instructing a group of students to lock eyes with a partner. She had come down from her high stilt to her normal height and patched jeans. I sat down quietly and watched her passionately teach her students several rhythmic variants on stilts.

A soon as her practice was over, I walked up to her with a rose bouquet. “Tu pasión no tiene precio,” I stuttered as I handed her the flowers.

“Gracias. Estas flores están muy bien arregladas son mis favoritas.”

I went mute. My mouth was opened but no words were coming out. Instead of speaking, I was making odd movements and funny hand gestures. Did I just place my hands on her shoulder in the bid to say something in Spanish? Oh, no! I had forgotten the other things I had learnt to say to her in Spanish.

“Oh dear, you can’t speak Spanish, Can you?” she laughed. I still wasn’t saying anything that made sense.

“Come on now, don’t be too gawky. You can talk to me in English. I speak English fluently—I studied in the U.S.”

“Oh, what a relief!” We both laughed at the previous awkward moment, and I became so excited that we could communicate in English.

“I am one of your admirers. I watched you at the carnival a night ago.”

“Are you stalking me? Should I be scared?” she joked with a broad smile. “My name is Renata Santos. Are you from around here?”

“Not exactly, I’m Solomon Bekele. I am originally from Ethiopia, but I moved to Atlanta in the United States three years ago.”

“Okay. You are a tourist then. Nice to meet you, Solomon. Is it your first time in the city?” she asked.

“Yes. I have always wanted to attend a Latino carnival of colours."

“Please don’t call us that,” she interrupted. “I am not a fan of that term, and I think 'Latino' is elitist or created by white progressives. Enough of the tags.”

“I am so sorry, beautiful,” I bent my head forward. “Apology accepted,” she giggled.

“I had an incredibly great evening. You were the muse of the entire carnival. I have never been to any street party like that in my life. I see stilt walking in a different light now. You ladies slayed in your outfits. In my country, stilts were primarily used for practical purposes, such as navigating marshy terrains or working in flooded fields. I always thought that was its only purpose.”

“Of course not. Stilt walking is ingrained in most African cultures and heritage. In the central plateau region of Mali, the Dogon people celebrate the 'Dama' ceremony, a funeral ritual where stilt walkers, known as 'antogolé,' perform enthralling dances on stilts as a tribute to the departed. Likewise, the 'Dossi' festival, a vibrant festival of harvest and fertility, is celebrated yearly in Burkina Faso among the Bwa tribe. They engage in stilt dancing with blended elements of jumping-motions and daring athletic displays. Also, in the Omo Valley in your country, among the Bena people, stilts are a more of a cultural representation than a safety measure, means of transportation or communication. It is however, a significant demonstration of the rite of passage for young men.”

“Wow! She was beautiful, confident, and intelligent,” I thought. I loved that she was politely stating her preferences and sharing her knowledge. We were now walking towards an enclosed office. I was guessing it was her space. I stopped at the door, and she asked me to come in.

“You know so much about Africa. Have you ever visited the continent?” I asked as I took the seat she had offered me.

“Yes. I have been to seven African countries: South Africa, Equatorial Guinea, Egypt, Morocco, Gambia, Ghana, and Cameroon. The indescribable sensation of Africa is better experienced than expressed,” she affirmed.

“Africa gave me the much anticipated succour I needed to move on after my partner died of cancer nine years ago. Stilt walking helped me overcome the waves of grief. My deep loss derailed my intended part. My life took a different course after I set out traveling the world, first falling in with a circus troupe that showed me that life could be different than the one I had envisioned. When I first saw a stilt performance, I was fascinated too. However, I saw the possibility of the craft as an instrument to build self-trust and personal awareness, thereby fostering community bonds and lasting relationships.”

“I am glad you enjoyed your period in Africa. I love it there too.” In order to keep the conversation going, I knew I had to ask some more questions.

“In what other ways is stilt walking significant?” I asked.

She simpered and continued, “Stilt walking is evolving and has become a thriving art form. Many artists and performers like me have pushed the boundaries of stilt walking, incorporating elements of dance, theatre, and visual spectacle. In today’s world, stilt walkers are synonymous at various outdoor events, festivals, and parades, captivating the minds of both young and old. For me, stilt walking is much more than a show—it’s ancestral and ritualistic and a catalyst for people to completely change their lives and themselves by exploring their vulnerabilities and reckoning with their inner self. I have successfully tutored over 1,000 children and adults over the last eight years.”

“Hmm… interesting. You sound like a great teacher. I should sign up for some lessons. Maybe private classes?"

“If you want to, we have lessons here every day of the week,” she suggested. "Stilt walking has exceeded mere entertainment and found representations in various spheres of life. There are stilt-walkers in construction now. They utilise stilts to navigate challenging construction sites, providing them with better reach and stability. In certain sports, such as power stilts or jumping stilts, athletes push their physical limits, achieving impressive heights and performing gravity-defying tricks.”

I found her knowledge of her line of work fascinating. I was truly impressed. I think it’s pretty sexy. Her intelligence didn’t make her socially awkward. She was confident yet fun and moderately flirtatious. I loved the balance—my ex-girlfriend was way smarter than me in all academic sense. She was a real scientist who worked at a lab, and that was totally cool with me. She was horrible at cooking and she was impressed with most recipes I made even though I knew I wasn’t so much of a good cook. So it was a decent balance," I thought.

“You are truly amazing at what you do.”

“Thank you. Over the years, I have been able to combine my study of history, love for dancing, and my interest in teaching. These three things make up who I truly am. Just like the art of stilt walking, I am evolving. From its humble origins in ancient civilisations to its modern incarnation as a captivating art form, stilt walking has enchanted people throughout history. Whether it's the sophisticated movements of traditional performers or the daring heights of modern stilt walkers, this unique art continues to stimulate and scintillate imaginations."

Bee-dee-dee-deep! Her phone alarm went off.

“That’s my cue, I have another class in a few minutes.” She said.

“Could we grab a drink sometime?” I asked.

“Do mean like a date?”

“Yes! I would like to see you again.”

"Okay, sure. Here is my number. You can call me any time after close of work.” She handed me a note with her number on it.