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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HOW MANY IGBO BOYS HAVE WE SHOT THIS MONTH?
Can someone help me to translate this into as many Nigerian languages as possible, please?Many of the boys I played soccer with in Ile Ife on bare rough grounds in-between houses, using oranges and rags tied together to form balls, all the way from infancy to age ten, were Igbo kids.In 1965, they told me they were leaving, returning home.“When are you coming back?”“Papa says we are not coming back.”
ỌLỌ́PǍ
The Fear of Cops Is the Beginning of Wisdom when I was a child of about four years old, my father attended a one-month residential workshop in Ibadan.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-two)
“You’re kidding me, right?” I asked Steve when he said that Gina was probably in my room. He extended his bottle of beer to Rufus who yanked off the top with his teeth and handed it back.
“Why sounding so alarmed?” Steve asked. “If you asked me, I’d say let’s swap places.”
“What!” I said, alarmed at his suggestion.
“You can stay in my cold room tonight,” Steve, “and I can use your warm room.”
“Is that British custom?” I asked sarcastically.
Did he wink? I couldn’t quite tell in the dark. He said, “The British have no custom. Only Africans have customs.”
LET THERE BE SOME QUIET, PLEASE
Could the Christians in southern Nigeria please help us in reducing the environmental noise pollution level in the region?
It is impossible to do any serious intellectual work as Christians yell and scream on their megaphones and public address systems from their churches every hour of the day.
Like a bird
Like a bird, I mostly live on seeds and fruits these days.
The seeds last long, and I can easily store them in my self-isolated den.
But the fruits, I prefer them “fresh.” I, therefore, buy only enough to last for about a week whenever I visit the grocery store near my house.
So, I put on my Koro hijab and went to the grocery store.
THE CROSS AND THE WALKING STICK
I was three years old. He just bought a bicycle and I asked him to give me a ride. It was already night.
He placed me on the top tube of his bicycle. Excited, I leaned forward and held the handles. He also held the handles with the left hand, and the saddle with the other, while walking and pushing the bicycle. I imagined that I was riding the bicycle. I looked up and saw the moon.
