At the airport

ByMoyo Okediji

At the airport, just about to check in for my flight back to the US.

I’ve been here for two full months in Nigeria.

And, incredibly, within this period, I gave birth to the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ, the building in the background of this picture.

It is a dream I have had for some 25 years, and it is now real.

I could not have done this alone.

I’m grateful to all those who have contributed to the realization of this dream–especially the women artists in residence at the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ, those for whom the project was intended.

The contributors to the realization of this dream include Hilda Oduwole-busari, Titilope Ganiyat Adeosun,Aderounke Olawunmi, Oladele Temilade, Adesina Rukayat, Oluseyi Ogunjobi, Elubode Orisabunmi, Charles Akindiji Akinola, Femi IfaturotiFatah Toromade, Michael Olusegun Fajuyigbe, Osupa Creatives Adetola Wewe, Folake Akindele, Dayo Fasola Gem, Bode Elemide, and Kayode Akintade, from whom I purchased the land.

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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Thirty-One)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Thirty-One)

ByMoyo Okediji

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Thirty-One)

Gina did not look glad or relaxed. I could read it in her posture, without even getting close to her.

Rufus said, “Moyo, Gina is back!”

Steve hardly allowed the bus to stop properly before jumping down to run and hug her.

“Is that her?” Adolo asked Felicia rather softly.

“Yes,” Felicia responded. “That’s her.”

I got down slowly, and took my time locking up the door. Then I went to Gina. She looked down and didn’t meet my eyes. I thought, “She must be mad because she didn’t see us at her father’s funeral.”

THE RAFTER’S BURDEN—the English translation of Oladejo Okediji’s AJA LO LERU

THE RAFTER’S BURDEN—the English translation of Oladejo Okediji’s AJA LO LERU

ByMoyo Okediji

THE RAFTER’S BURDEN—the English translation of Oladejo Okediji’s AJA LO LERU is out

Three days before his transition, my father, the Yoruba writer Oladejo Okediji, had only one worry: “Akanbi,” he told me, “make sure you work with Sola Owonibi to get Aja Lo Leru translated and published.”

I was suspicious. “We are already working on it,” I said. “You are worried we won’t do a good job?” It was another hint he gave me about his impending departure during that last call. And I did not miss it.

“I’m just saying,” Baba said with a dismissive laugh. “I would love to read a good translation of the novel.”

The Hausa did not name us Yorùbá.

The Hausa did not name us Yorùbá.

ByMoyo Okediji

The Hausa did not name us Yorùbá.

The Hausa cannot even pronounce Yorùbá.

They say they pejoratively called us Yarubawa and we creatively changed it to Yorùbá. Rárá o. It’s the other way round.

We call ourselves Yorùbá and they pejoratively call us Yarubawa.

To be able to pronounce Yorùba correctly, you must understand the nuances of our triptych intonation.

BEFORE THE BLACKOUT

BEFORE THE BLACKOUT

ByMoyo Okediji

As I think about my new granddaughter, my daughter and what they know about me, about Africa, and about their tradition, a tormenting thought ran through my mind:

We, members of my generation, stand between the light and the void. And we are the last stand holding up the ancestral heritage. We must mine what is available and keep them in a culture bank, or too much will perish.

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