(Computer + Odu Ifa)
(Computer + Odu Ifa) = Deeper knowledge
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Ọ̀yẹ̀kú Méjì Dome
Architect-artist: Moyo Okediji Curator: Bisola Oladunjoye Builders: The Àkòdì Òrìṣà artists Title: Ọ̀yẹ̀kú Méjì Dome Date: 2018 Location: Ile Ife, NigeriaIn this building, called Ọ̀yẹ̀kú Méjì, I designed a structure serving as a home of sacred art, using innovative designs and materials that explore indigenous African traditions. I will post details of the building below.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY,1981 (Part Nineteen)
I had never seen Papa Ru in such a subdued mood. Nothing could have slugged him harder than the thought of Kongi maltreating him. He used to boast that it was because of Kongi that he returned to Nigeria from Britain.
Kongi had attended an event that Rufus produced for the BBC in London in 1979. And after the event, Rufus said, “Kongi met me backstage and asked, ‘Young man, what are you doing here, with all this talent that you have? You need to return to Nigeria immediately and contribute to the development of your country.’”
ON CONFUSION
John McArthur, the internationally renowned evangelist, is quoted as observing that “It is confusing to watch people demand justice by violating the law.”
What is even more confusing is to watch the law perpetuate injustice.
And infinitely most perplexing is to watch the officers of the law flout legal procedures and violate human rights with impunity.
This is why SARS provoked such hostile reception from the Nigerian community that it was meant to serve.
It is most confusing to watch Nigerian politicians loot the funds meant for the entire nation.
It is confusing to see the police refuse to prosecute them.
ÀMỌ̀TẸ́KÙN: No kidding
ÀMỌ̀TẸ́KÙN: No kidding
The Yoruba forests have already lost too many animals to local hunters who spare nothing with life in the bushes.
And the Yoruba language has lost too many words to the brainwashed indigenes who refuse to speak the language or pass it down to their children.
It is not a good time to ask for the meaning of Àmọ̀tékùn.
The meaning is totally lost, to be honest with everyone.
SONG OF THE BANDIT 1: The Stupid Man
“Ina jin yunwa, Sule,” said the short, stocky man holding the cellphone.
“You are always hungry,” hissed the tall one. “Yaro will soon be back. Then you can eat yourself silly. I only need a cigarette. Really, really. bad. If I don’t have a smoke soon, walahi, I will kill this stupid man. He makes me jittery with his stupid coughing. If he coughs one more time, walahi, I will blow off his head.”
With his heavy boots, he delivered a severe kick to the fellow sitting on the ground. The blow caught the man in the ribs.
The three of them were directly under the shade of a large mango tree, its huge branches drooping from the weight of fruits hanging all the way from the top to the lowest branches.
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.