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.
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My granddaughter fine sha!
My granddaughter fine sha!
Those of you who don’t have granddaughters, Olodumare will pese o.
But your granddaughter still won’t be as fine as mine o: just so you know. Kẹ́lẹ́gbẹ́ mẹgbẹ́.
She already eats amala and okra like a professional at seven months.
When we visit Nigeria after the Koro, she will take a tour of all the major Amala joints in Ibadan, starting from Inanstrate at Mokola.
GRATITUDE
Words cannot express the magnitude of my gratitude to you, my great and wonderful friends, for the beautiful messages of love you sent to me on my birthday.
That day a friend took me to a secret hideout by the Colorado River, and we had so much fun.
I love you all.
PARABLE OF IJAPA and CHILD
PARABLE OF IJAPA and CHILD
There is an old Yoruba proverb that says “The child insisting that his mother must not sleep will also not get any sleep.” (Ọmọ tó ní ìyá òun ò ní í sùn kò ní fojú ba oorun).
Women who nurse babies know the challenge of getting enough sleep while a baby is still unable to understand the difference between night and day. The baby keeps waking up to feed, cry, poo and pee.
The mother must attend to all the needs of the baby during the night. Typically, for the mother, therefore, it is a long, wearying night.
The poor mother gets up in the morning having caught almost no sleep, exhausted and drained physically and emotionally.
Yet she must face another day of sleeplessness and ceaseless labor until the baby grows up.
Now think of the story of Ijapa.
IRONY OF A NEGRO CURATOR
When I became the Curator of African art in 1999 for a major art museum in the United States, the irony was not lost on me.How do you steal, loot, confiscate or pillage something, display the stolen or contraband goods publicly in your house, and hire the owner of the objects as the guard for the contraband or stolen goods?
Potter
Potter:
What wants you from us,
One legged man?
Me: I’m here to study with you
the ancient art of terra-cotta.
Potter:
You, a university professor,
Coming to us to study,
We humble peasants and illiterates?
THE RETURN (Part one)
His ordeal began with a brief phone call.
“Hallo? Hallo? Honorable! Are you there? Your mother. She was stolen from her house.”
A sharp pain pinched him in the middle of the chest and traveled slowly down to the bottom of his stomach.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he thought.
For the past week he had been nursing an ominous feeling that something beyond his control was going to happen. Somehow his mind kept going to his mother.
He was thinking of driving to the village this weekend to visit her.
“Hallo? Hallo? Are you still there?” the voice asked again.