The stuffs in my office
The stuff in my office needs organizing. One day I’ll get to it. One of these days when I have nothing to do.
Interested in some of my published works?
Follow Me
Similar Posts
Road rage
“Oloriburuku! Were! Olosi! Alakori!” Road rage yelling coming from all angles.
I am covered in sweat as I sit patiently behind the wheel.
The AC of my truck has broken down. And the automatic window winder is not working. But my sweat glands are working.
The greatest news.
The greatest news.
I met my granddaughter yesterday for the first time.
Because of the Covid 19 pandemic, we were unable to meet until yesterday.
She is now 13 months.
IV
“The Police Area Commander (AC) is interested in the case,” a police officer with a cellphone said. “He just called to say that he is now at his seat, and wants to see all of you in his office.” The AC’s office was about one hundred meters across the yard, from where we were seated. We all filed into the AC’s office. He was seated, and his large desk was decorated with pictures, flags and small objects with personal sentimental values. He was a handsome middle-aged man who seemed rather too pleasant looking to be a police officer. Not until he stood up did I realize that his gait was forward-leaning, with the robust physique of a football tackler. You wouldn’t want to be in his way despite his handsome mien.
“Two husbands are better than one”
“Two husbands are better than one;
So also vice-versa,” this sixty-something year old woman informed me in Ile Ife.
In indigenous Yoruba systems, I still grew up to witness polygamy–when a man had several women, and when a woman engaged several men.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Nine)
Madam Ngu finally cornered me in the buka.
If I had any inkling she was coming to that buka that fateful day, I would rather have starved than be found dead there. She had been looking for me for weeks. And I had been evading her. I was trying to break free of her influence and she was trying her very best to ensure that she stamped herself into my art, my being, my style of creating, and my idioms of expression. She had studied at the Royal College in London and was trying to make me a master draughtsman who painted in the European fashion. And I was a radical looking for a way to break out of the western mold of painting.
How to train an apprentice artist?
How to train an apprentice artist?
Get her to work with you on your own art.
Get her to go through the process that you go through.
Get her to understand that it is a lot of work.
But there is no amount of talking that can convey that fact to her.