MAKING AFRICA
Yes, tomorrow I will give a gallery talk in the MAKING AFRICA exhibition at the Blanton Museum, University of Texas, Austin.
I will title the talk, “I am Africa.”
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Hahahaha! Look at his Johnny Walker!
Yesterday I made this funny painting. Hahahaha! Look at his Johnny Walker!
I sampled the painting from a wood panel sculptured by Dada Arowoogun, a Yoruba artist whose work narrates Yoruba life during the 19th century.
The work is relevant because Yoruba people are still doing what we used to call “two-fighting.” In our primary school days, when the teacher forbade speaking in vernacular, and all the English we knew were three words: “Two fighting” were two crucial words of the three.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982 (Part Forty-Three)
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982 (Part Forty-Three)
“Hey, Moyo,” Hilda yelled. “Are you alright? Are you with us?”
“Yes, I am,” I responded. I pulled myself back to the moment.
The traffic was light and the road excellent. The Lagos to Benin expressway was the best road I had ever driven on. The bus zoomed along on it effortlessly.
“You went so silent and looked so vacant, I could have sworn you were not here,” Steve said.
“I was here alright,” I answered.
“Thinking about Gina?” Hilda asked.
Wèrèpè
Wèrèpè má so mọ́.
Devil bean weed, stop producing seeds,
Èyí tó o so lésǐn,
The seeds you produced last season
Baba ẹnìkan ò ka.
Now that all galleries, museums and cultural centers are closed.
Now that all galleries, museums and cultural centers are closed, the only option left to see…
Africans living in voluntary and compelled exile
Africans living in voluntary and compelled exile:
Do we deserve the “comfort” of exile, if we are only concerned about the comfort of our immediate families?
We all realize that a country like Nigeria has become a lion’s den, and many of the citizens feel trapped inside it.
We realize that many of us escaped with nothing in our pockets. I left with only $98 in my pocket in 1992.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Thirty-One)
Gina sat on the floor by the doorstep waiting for us when we returned late to Benin City from Iludun. I didn’t she was sitting there until the headlamps lit up the spot where she was and Felicia said, “Hey, is that not Gina?”
It had been a long day spent mostly on the road and it took me a minute to adjust my mind to what was happening. I was exhausted from hours of driving on rough roads to and fro Iludun, Mama Rufus’s place.