Evening.
Evening.
The sun is setting.
The night is falling in Ile Ife.
For many years after I arrived in the United States, whenever I slept, I would dream of Ile Ife.
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Evening.
The sun is setting.
The night is falling in Ile Ife.
For many years after I arrived in the United States, whenever I slept, I would dream of Ile Ife.
About 50 villages, mostly located in Ogun States, have been abandoned by Yoruba farmers and their families, but now occupied by Fulani invaders who drove out these villagers.
This morning I saw videos of the officers of the Nigerian Customs and Excises raiding the shops of poor market women, removing items that these women bought for sale to their customers.
This is a two-prong attack: the villagers driven out of their villages are unable to farm and provide food supplies for the people in towns and cities.
If you got up early enough, you would catch Anti Toyosi bathing at the back of the Face-Me-I-Face-You building in which I grew up in Ile Ife. Her husband, a sign-writer, would still be fast asleep.
But Anti Toyosi always got up early to prepare rice that she sold to school students as breakfast before they went to school.
Nightfall.
Ile Ife.
For many years after arriving in the US, whenever I slept, I would dream of Ile Ife, where I grew up.
We are getting close to the end of the architectural sculpture.
Arresting house. The house, because it is so arresting, led to my arrest as its owner and builder. They came to arrest the house—not just the architect.
The house is the culprit. They came to place it behind bars. They had no problems with setting the designers and builders free as long as they are able to lock away the arresting building.
The construction process at the Àkòdì Òrìṣà proceeds with the building of Ìwòrì-Òdí, an architectural monumentality of the third and fourth programs of the Ifa computer.