Àkòdì Òrìṣà
Àkòdì Òrìṣà:
a dream is gradually taking shape.
Interested in some of my published works?
Follow Me
Àkòdì Òrìṣà:
a dream is gradually taking shape.
Those who love you
often don’t let you know;
you may discover their love
in their whispers, looks or gestures.
But it is those who hate you
that shout hostility at you loud and clear.
Ifa reads the ọpọ́n of 2019 elections in Nigeria and shakes his head at Ìwòrì Méjì, which says inter alia, that:
Pregnant women will no longer be delivered.
The barren ones will remain barren.
The sick will remain infirm.
Small rivers will dry up.
I am joyful today that I gave birth to a new baby.
As a writer, I am always very happy to see my new book in print.
A book is like a child: it takes a lot of work to raise a child.
But the credit for raising a child doesn’t belong to the parents only: the community also supports the parents as they raise the child from infancy to adulthood.
Two New African Proverbs:
1. The same people who place their knee on your neck will also be the first to ask “Why can’t you breathe?”
2. The same people who are causing your sadness will also be the first to ask “Why can’t you laugh?”
(Adapted from the Yoruba proverb, “Ẹ́ni tí ó bá sọ ni di olóríburúkú ni ó kọ́kọ́ má a ń fi bú ni:
You Are Our Sunshine
If your skin is dark, we praise you as Adúmáradán.
If your skin is light, we hail you as Apọ́nbéporẹ́.
If you are thin, we salute you as Ọ̀pẹ́lẹ́ńgẹ́.
There is an ancient Yoruba poem about Àró, the alien.
Listen, the translation is below the Yoruba original.
Mo gbinlá mi sóko
Mo gbinkàn mi sóko
Ewúrẹ́ Àró fi jẹ;
Àgùtàn Àró fi jẹ
Èmi ò mọ ohun Àró ní mo ṣe.
I planted okra on my farmland