My 62nd Anniversary

ByMoyo Okediji

For my 62nd anniversary, the wonderful artist Afolabi Damilare made this portrait for me.

It’s amazing how time flies.

I still remember when I was a child, and I used to run around naked in the rain, with my dondolo dangling for everybody to enjoy, on the streets of Ile Ife.

This was only yesterday, really.

And now the calendar says I’m 62!

At best I’m 6 years and 2 months old.

A loud round of applause for Afolabi Damilare for rendering this image of me.

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a picture showing moyo okedijis grand daughter

ÀMỌ̀TẸ́KÙN: No kidding

ByMoyo Okediji

ÀMỌ̀TẸ́KÙN: No kidding

The Yoruba forests have already lost too many animals to local hunters who spare nothing with life in the bushes.

And the Yoruba language has lost too many words to the brainwashed indigenes who refuse to speak the language or pass it down to their children.

It is not a good time to ask for the meaning of Àmọ̀tékùn.

The meaning is totally lost, to be honest with everyone.

a picture showing moyo okediji standing next to his artwork

The philosopher of sensiotics.

ByMoyo Okediji

Henry Drewall, the philosopher of sensiotics, wrote a couple of days ago that, “Moyo mi owon — you have turned pain into paint…for us to see and feel….”

He should know. Sensiotics is the archeology of feelings within the human sensibility.

This painting shared here is about the pain and joy of departures and arrivals, as one of my Transatlantic Series: in 1992, I started it in Nigeria just as I was relocating to the to the United States, where I completed it.

Talking

Talking

ByMoyo Okediji

or a living.

As an art historian, I talk for a living.

Politicians, lawyers, teachers and other professionals also make a living from talking.

But many people actually have to make something to earn a living.

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