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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PARABLE OF THE TICK AND THE DOG
Once upon a time, a tick and a dog sat together on a green field.
Quickly, the tick buried itself inside the skin of the dog and began to suck the blood of the dog.
The dog, feeling dizzy from the loss of blood, wanted to remove the tick from its skin, but the tick invited the other ticks on the field to join in the blood-sucking feast.
Hahahaha! Look at his Johnny Walker!
Yesterday I made this funny painting. Hahahaha! Look at his Johnny Walker!
I sampled the painting from a wood panel sculptured by Dada Arowoogun, a Yoruba artist whose work narrates Yoruba life during the 19th century.
The work is relevant because Yoruba people are still doing what we used to call “two-fighting.” In our primary school days, when the teacher forbade speaking in vernacular, and all the English we knew were three words: “Two fighting” were two crucial words of the three.
WHO OWNS YOUR NAME?
The most central building on our school campus was also the building that gave me claustrophobia. It was the school chapel.
Right in front of the building was a stone monument. Within the monument was a plaque, with the inscription, “STUDY TO SHEW THYSELF APPROVED UNTO GOD. 2 Timothy, 2:15”
That, certainly, was not good English, I concluded. Even at age eleven, I felt they needed a copyeditor.
Semioptics of Yoruba Language: Word as Image
On Friday, March 2, from 6:30-8pm, I will present a lecture titled, “Semioptics of Yoruba Language: Word as Image.”
The lecture takes place at the Center for African Studies, Department of African American and African Studies, of the Ohio State University.
19 years
I was 19 years old in 1975 and an undergraduate studying painting at the University of Ife when my friend, Augusta Akusu-Ossai, took this picture of me.
The attire I’m wearing in the picture is typical of what I always wore in those days: a long adire (batik) top that I designed and sewed myself, and the baggy pants of that era.
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.
