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
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.
Àkòdì Òrìṣà at sunset, Ile Ife, Nigeria.
Àkòdì Òrìṣà at sunset, Ile Ife, Nigeria.
This is the location of the Àkòdì Òrìṣà, the home of the ancestral orisa in Yoruba country.
The curator of the Àkòdì Òrìṣà sent me this picture to inform me of the treat that awaits me when I return to Ile Ife. I’ll be there soon. Soon.
Demolition
A silent demolition is going on.
When I was about 8 years old, I walked from Akarabata Line 2 to Iremo in Ile Ife, a distance of about three miles, every morning, at dawn. I was attending a private coaching class that started at 6 am, two hours before formal classes began at 8 am.
Things are happening rapidly in Nigeria.
Things are happening rapidly in Nigeria.
Terrorism has fully found a home in the southwest.
Who attacked Sunday Igboho’s house, destroyed the place and left human blood and tissues all over the property?
Igboho’s house has become a monument to the struggle for freedom, independence and peace in Africa.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Eight)
His jaw was clenched as Rufus advanced toward Obaseki. I realized that he was shutting off the reasoning valve and pressing on the throttle of turmoil within the engine of his brain. His sense, judgment, calculation and intelligence was at this point on vacation. The agents of automation were now in control of his anatomy. He was more machine than person, and his entire being was on remote control as Rufus began to press forward.
TRUE STORY
TRUE STORY
This story actually happened to me.
I am making up none of it.
It was just another boring day in 1987.
I left my house early in the morning for the University of Ife where I was teaching art.