I am speechless.
Anthonia Nneji has done me again.
I am speechless.
I must write her a poem.
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Anthonia Nneji has done me again.
I am speechless.
I must write her a poem.
Gbogbo igi kọ́ lejò ń gùn (Not all trees can be scaled by the snake)
Gbogbo omi kọ́ lẹdun ń mu (The colobus monkey doesn’t drink all types of water)
Àyàfi wèrè, àyàfi dìgbòlugi (Only the insane, only the raving lunatic)
REMOVE THESE ANIMALS NOW
If before I wavered
I no longer hesitate to say it:
Drag these monsters off our land
these foul Fulani curs
who rape my women with abandon
like they rape their cursed cows.
I saw a video yesterday.
So much to say!
Gist plenty.
Ọ̀rọ́ pọ̀ láti sọ.
Adamants who chase the future are overwhelmed by the past and lost in the present.The heaven you seek lies now under your feet.Take it.
I am joyful today that I gave birth to a new baby.
As a writer, I am always very happy to see my new book in print.
A book is like a child: it takes a lot of work to raise a child.
But the credit for raising a child doesn’t belong to the parents only: the community also supports the parents as they raise the child from infancy to adulthood.
When I was a kid between the ages of three to ten, my friends and I were fond of watching Lọ́baníkà, an egúngún masquerade that performed regularly once a year in my neighborhood at Iremo in Ile Ife. Lobanika’s annual act was the highlight of the entire community, and we always waited with joy for the week when Lobanika performed to the delight of all and sundry