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.
HOT NEWS: Time to go get Gbékúdè
My friend sent me this note:
“I got back safely, however, I got back in pieces, as parts of me did not come back.
I took a taxi to a park in Abuja [Nigeria] and along the way was robbed of my Laptop, phone, power bank and earpiece.
The most central building on our school campus was also the building that gave me claustrophobia. It was the school chapel.
Right in front of the building was a stone monument. Within the monument was a plaque, with the inscription, “STUDY TO SHEW THYSELF APPROVED UNTO GOD. 2 Timothy, 2:15”
That, certainly, was not good English, I concluded. Even at age eleven, I felt they needed a copyeditor.
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.
TRUE STORY AGAIN: She was fully dressed when she climbed into bed next to me. She…
“Oloriburuku! Were! Olosi! Alakori!” Road rage yelling coming from all angles.
I am covered in sweat as I sit patiently behind the wheel.
The AC of my truck has broken down. And the automatic window winder is not working. But my sweat glands are working.
My phone rings and, recognizing the name of the caller, I pick up the call. It is the wife of a friend living in Nigeria. I say the usual, “Hello,” but there is no response. There is a faint conversation in the background. She is discussing with her friend.