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HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Is it merely a coincidence that the news of the abduction and assassination by suspected Fulani invaders of Oba Israel Adeusi, the Olufon of Ifon, happened the very same day that the United States is celebrating the annual Thanksgiving event?
There is no coincidence in history.
Nature times things with organic orchestration.
SILICON PAINTINGS
Eight of my paintings will be shown at an art exhibition opening tomorrow Saturday, November 9, in Nairobi, Kenya.
These paintings I am showing in the exhibition are open—meaning that the paintings have no figures that can be identified as a person, place, object, tree, water or anything else that one could recognize and name. The paintings do not attempt to tell any story, nor do they illustrate any scene. The paintings are open to absorb whatever story the viewers may bring them, and they also assist in opening up the viewers’ minds to excavate memories and ideas that are in the subconscious of the viewers.
THE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE
I woke up during the night and went to the bathroom.
There was no water to wash my hands.
No hot water. No cold water.
What was going on?
I went downstairs.
No running water.
They have discovered that they gain nothing from being part of Nigeria.
The Yoruba people are agitating to be free from Nigeria.
They have discovered that they gain nothing from being part of Nigeria, but they lose a lot by remaining in Nigeria.
I ask, “Why do they want to move away from Nigeria?”
They say they are concerned that northerners are invading their villages, abducting their women and children, polluting their rivers with illegal mining, driving cattle through their farmlands—and making legislation (with the assistance of the few Omo Aale among them), to strip their lands to build the north.
The philosopher of sensiotics.
Henry Drewall, the philosopher of sensiotics, wrote a couple of days ago that, “Moyo mi owon — you have turned pain into paint…for us to see and feel….”
He should know. Sensiotics is the archeology of feelings within the human sensibility.
This painting shared here is about the pain and joy of departures and arrivals, as one of my Transatlantic Series: in 1992, I started it in Nigeria just as I was relocating to the to the United States, where I completed it.
Obituary
Oladejo Okediji, 1929-2019.
Death knocked on the door, ko ko ko ko; ko ko ko ko.
My father got up from the bed and went to the door and, very boldly, opened the door, saying, “Here I am. I’m ready for your very worst.”
Death: It’s not my fault. It’s just a job. This is what I’m paid to do.
Baba: I understand. Do it. Let’s get it over with.
