Why I love Nigeria? Why I love Africa?
Tell me, where else in the whole wide world can you make a khaki cocktail with big stout and emu funfun?
I love Nigeria I nor go lie.
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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Thirteen)
As Rufus exited the buka, it was clear that Obaseki was disappointed.
With Madam Ngu and Prof. Wangboje present at the dining table, the circumstances for a total mediation of the crisis were perfect.
They would have just instructed Rufus to cut it, and that would have been the end. Obaseki could not have wished for a better opportunity.
But Rufus left to start his audition with his theater students without the discussion of the crisis coming up. One thing was certain: Rufus was mad and did not hide it.
FINALLY, I FIGURED IT OUT.
FINALLY, I FIGURED IT OUT: A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream? The time was exactly 01:23 am. “Iya…
THE RETURN (Part Two)
He was unable to eat or sleep, as anxiety and depression began to unravel his characteristic calm disposition. Only a couple of months prior to the abduction, the wife of the Commissioner of Works was kidnapped and an undisclosed but generous ransom was paid for her release. Kidnapping had become the new strategy adopted by members of the underworld, who targeted the rich and famous in their bid to get rich quick. Business tycoons, expatriate oil executives, journalists, politicians, and even religious leaders and their families were constant targets. Abduction had become a multi million naira enterprise in Nigeria, and the police seemed unable to find any solution to the problem. No kidnapper had been arrested, and huge sums of ransom money had been paid. Many people complained that there was evidence of collusion between the security forces and the criminals.
WHO ARE YOU?
We often talk of three ethnic groups: Hausa, Yoruba and Igbo.
But in reality we are a lot more than these.
Do you belong to any of the following 371 ethnic groups in Nigeria?
If not write your ethnic group here and tell us the state in which you are classified.
Exactly one year ago today.
Exactly one year ago today, my father, the venerated Yoruba writer, Oladejo Okediji, joined the ancestors. His transition proved to me the truth in the saying that death is an illusion.
One does not die.
I still see him in the house,
discuss with him in my studio,
drink with him in my parlor,
dance with him at my parties,
just as I used to.
INNER VISION: OJÚ INÚ
About 50 villages, mostly located in Ogun States, have been abandoned by Yoruba farmers and their families, but now occupied by Fulani invaders who drove out these villagers.
This morning I saw videos of the officers of the Nigerian Customs and Excises raiding the shops of poor market women, removing items that these women bought for sale to their customers.
This is a two-prong attack: the villagers driven out of their villages are unable to farm and provide food supplies for the people in towns and cities.
