This cold weather is here again.
This cold weather is here again.
How many layers do I wear just to go and get a cup of coffee from Starbucks?
Six layers.
This cold weather is here again.
How many layers do I wear just to go and get a cup of coffee from Starbucks?
Six layers.
The Àkòdì Orisa artists did not know how to design textiles when they joined the center.
So, the first thing they did was to produce their own uniforms. We took them through the process of designing and making their uniforms, as the picture here shows
When I became the Curator of African art in 1999 for a major art museum in the United States, the irony was not lost on me.How do you steal, loot, confiscate or pillage something, display the stolen or contraband goods publicly in your house, and hire the owner of the objects as the guard for the contraband or stolen goods?
Less than 1000 people are holding the entire country of Nigeria to ransom.
And they are all blind and deaf.
They are practically no more than 1000 people destroying the lives of two hundred million people.
These blind and deaf people include governors, senators, national assembly members and other appointed officials who have turned the national treasury into their mothers’ pot of stew.
HOW MUCH? Èrò Ni Ọkọ Dídó
Check the naira amount in your pocket or the bottom line in your bank account.
Has that transfer gone through?
But what does a fellow do with money that rapidly gets useless?
What do you do when a piece of paper loses its promisedvalue?
It still says One thousand Naira, but it only buys One hundred Naira worth of garri.
In the year 2019 when I left Nigeria, I brought with me some naira currency notes, stacked in one-thousand denominations.
Sisi Eko, Lagos Lady Waiting for Okada
Does anybody understand the meaning of the word “Okada?”
How did the use of Uber bikes start?
The first time I saw the Okada Uber was during my NYSC at Awka in 1977.
In the whole of the southwest of Nigeria, nobody used a bike for a taxi.
We used luxurious cars for taxis in the southwest.
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.