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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Three)
Josephine was embarrassed when I informed her that her white uniform was soaked with blood at the back.
She immediately opened the door and jumped into the bus. As she entered the bus, she realized that the seat from which she got up was already soaked in blood also. She became confused. She didn’t know whether to sit on the bloody seat, but as she hesitated, I gently led her down to the seat. Just as her uniform, the seat was already stained. No further damage could be done. What was most important at that point was her health.
BISCUIT BONES.
BISCUIT BONES.
Let me introduce you to Jẹgúdújẹrá, (Chop-and-quench).
Do you know how the Jẹgúdújẹrá Nigerian eats chicken thigh?
I will tell you:
Set the plate of chicken thigh in front of Jẹgúdújẹrá, and the eyes bulge, opening as wide as possible.
A wide smile distorts Jẹgúdújẹrá’s face into a demonic mask of inner delight.
Jẹgúdújẹrá starts with the flesh. With studied concentration, Jẹgúdújẹrá bites deep into the flesh until the entire mouth is full, with both cheeks bulging.
ÌWÀ
ÌWÀ
“Olódùmarè has several wives,” my father said. “Do you know that?”
We were strolling back home from his writing workshop that evening, and I was seventeen. I always accompanied him to his writing workshops where he taught playwriting
THE RETURN (Part Two)
He was unable to eat or sleep, as anxiety and depression began to unravel his characteristic calm disposition. Only a couple of months prior to the abduction, the wife of the Commissioner of Works was kidnapped and an undisclosed but generous ransom was paid for her release. Kidnapping had become the new strategy adopted by members of the underworld, who targeted the rich and famous in their bid to get rich quick. Business tycoons, expatriate oil executives, journalists, politicians, and even religious leaders and their families were constant targets. Abduction had become a multi million naira enterprise in Nigeria, and the police seemed unable to find any solution to the problem. No kidnapper had been arrested, and huge sums of ransom money had been paid. Many people complained that there was evidence of collusion between the security forces and the criminals.
We Never Die
We Never Die
“Òkú is not dead,” said Iya Oyo. “In our [Yoruba] culture, we do not die.”
“How is that possible?” I asked her, astonished.
“We already defeated Ikú (Death),” Iya Oyo announced. “The defeat of Ikú is what the Odù Ifá called Ọ̀yẹ̀kú focuses on. Olójòǹgbòdú, the wife of Ikú is the great woman who accomplished the defeat of Ikú, and since then we no longer die.”
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.