THE REAL ẸKÙN
I went to see the REAL ẸKÙN to pay my respects, soon after his coronation.
This is not imported. It was from the ancient
forests of Ile Ife.
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SWEET ORANGES
My phone rang.
“Àlàó?” I said after picking it up.
“Hello, prof,” said the sweet voice on the other side.
It is definitely a woman, I decided. But I don’t know the number. I shouldn’t have picked up the call. But it was too late.
So, I kept quiet.
REMOVE THESE ANIMALS NOW
REMOVE THESE ANIMALS NOW
If before I wavered
I no longer hesitate to say it:
Drag these monsters off our land
these foul Fulani curs
who rape my women with abandon
like they rape their cursed cows.
I saw a video yesterday.
Captive No More part VIII
Tanto, my grandfather’s dog,
shook the rain off his furs
as vigorously as he could
being a dog who hated water
and always tried to escape
whenever Iya, my great grandma
made any move whatsoever
to give him his weekly scrub.
He could easily tell it was his bath time
as soon as grandma brought out a large pot
filled to the brim with water
together with a sponge and black soap
placing the bathing things
And it still remains legible.
I turn the same painting upside down, as Iya Afilaka instructed me. And it still remains legible.
Why?
Because we have paid Iba (homage)
to the vagina that is turned
upside down, yet
does not drip
To all Omo a yọ orù bá wọn tọ́jú ọmọ tuntun
To all Omo a yọ orù bá wọn tọ́jú ọmọ tuntun;
Ọmọ́ gbó,
Orù ò gbó:
the offspring of those who bring out the orù pot of herbs to care for infants;
the baby prospers,
and the pot does not falter.”
Portrait of Moyo Okediji
This is the latest Portrait of Moyo Okediji by a young Nigerian artist, Femi Okediji. I really enjoy his mastery of chiaroscuro. The loose strokes of his composition merge structurally into a coherent musical gradient that gives form to my facial expression.