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NEW MESSAGE FROM HUSHPUPPIE
Scammer: Hello, how are you doing?
Me: Very good. How about you?
Scammer: I’m fine, thanks for asking. how’s your day going so far?
Me: Excellent. Who are you?
Scammer: I’m Susan, from Idaho but currently living in Jacksonville Florida. I’m a registered nurse working with the UN nations overseas.
Facebook suggested you as someone I may know so I viewed your profile and decided to send you a request out of curiosity hoping we could get to know more about ourselves and maybe become friends.
Me: That’s great. Where are you currently working overseas?
William Shakespeare, KING CHARLES III, Act 1, Scene 1 (#4)
William Shakespeare, KING CHARLES III, Act 1, Scene 1 (#4) EGUNGUN: How, oh king, would you…
Say My Name
Say My Name
My middle name is Benjamin.
Says a lot about me, right,
since I’m not from the Middle East.
I wasn’t born Benjamin.
BEFORE THE BLACKOUT
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.
PARABLE OF IJAPA and CHILD
PARABLE OF IJAPA and CHILD
There is an old Yoruba proverb that says “The child insisting that his mother must not sleep will also not get any sleep.” (Ọmọ tó ní ìyá òun ò ní í sùn kò ní fojú ba oorun).
Women who nurse babies know the challenge of getting enough sleep while a baby is still unable to understand the difference between night and day. The baby keeps waking up to feed, cry, poo and pee.
The mother must attend to all the needs of the baby during the night. Typically, for the mother, therefore, it is a long, wearying night.
The poor mother gets up in the morning having caught almost no sleep, exhausted and drained physically and emotionally.
Yet she must face another day of sleeplessness and ceaseless labor until the baby grows up.
Now think of the story of Ijapa.
CAN WE INHALE?
My friend called me from Dallas last night and asked “Are you watching the trial of Derek Chauvin?”
I said no.
She continued, saying, “One must be careful not to spend too much time listening to the ongoing trial of the former police officer accused of murdering George Floyd, or you will become an expert in forensic pathology.”
“I don’t stand that risk,” I said.
“Unfortunately,” she replied, “I am becoming an expert in forensic pathology.”