Weather is turning cold.
Weather is turning cold.
Really chilly and rainy
Time to look for those warm things, and drink tea laced with honey. Or whatever.
Interested in some of my published works?
Follow Me
Weather is turning cold.
Really chilly and rainy
Time to look for those warm things, and drink tea laced with honey. Or whatever.
“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.
I found this 2001 painting in my garage. At that time, my friend, Moyo Ogundipe was staying with me.As the curator for African and Oceanic Arts at the Denver Art Museum, I had invited Moyo Ogundipe for a solo exhibition at the museum. He had one year to prepare for the exhibition.
Does anyone know where to get aásà? My grandma, her soul is resting in peace, She…
If you went to the University of Ife in the late 70s or early 80s, can you identify anybody in this picture?
A museum is doing a research on the work of Munio Makuchi, and wants info from anyone in this picture, or anyone able to identify someone in the picture.
Iyalode: Before the Invention of Women
My grandmother, Iya Oyo, belonged to the generation of women who didn’t experience what the sociology scholar, Professor Oyeronke Oyewumi described as the “invention of women.”
What Professor Oyewumi means is that nowadays, there are lots of rules and regulations that appear to specify what a woman is supposed to do, and what she is not supposed to be.
I studied with the Ìyàmi,
the Power Mothers who
suspend the global ball
on a single frail string,
yet it cannot snap.
After they gave me the name Ọ̀rìságbèmí Arígbábuwó, I transcend the boundaries of gender, race, time, and geography.
Here is the story of that transcendental embodiment, in its most concise form.