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.
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.
His jaw was clenched as Rufus advanced toward Obaseki. I realized that he was shutting off the reasoning valve and pressing on the throttle of turmoil within the engine of his brain. His sense, judgment, calculation and intelligence was at this point on vacation. The agents of automation were now in control of his anatomy. He was more machine than person, and his entire being was on remote control as Rufus began to press forward.
ÌWÀ
“Olódùmarè has several wives,” my father said. “Do you know that?”
We were strolling back home from his writing workshop that evening, and I was seventeen. I always accompanied him to his writing workshops where he taught playwriting
One may live long
And one may not.
One should share whatever one could to posterity when one is still able to do so.
This morning I decided to share this Odu because it is very important.
On my way to the Murtala Muhammed Airport.
Checking out, US bound.
We will find out what happens in Nigeria after elections this Saturday.
Nor be me dabaru 9ja
Another African child born in this US exile. Truckloads of soldiers were speeding down the street in their huge vehicles. I felt I was dreaming but it was true:
As usual, I sat in front of my mother’s textiles shop, feeding my eyes with the typically boring activities on the narrow street.
Nothing really ever happened.