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.
THE PAID OFFICERS BOAST THEY DID THE KILLING, MAIMING AND DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTIES
To those who obey orders to kill and maim:
To those whose salaries, allowances and food are from the business of death:
Let nobody convince you that you could kill another HUMAN, and remain alive and well.
Let nobody persuade you that killing and maiming people is a legitimate job.
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.
TRUE STORY
This story actually happened to me.
I am making up none of it.
It was just another boring day in 1987.
I left my house early in the morning for the University of Ife where I was teaching art.
LOOKING BACK
I
Exile, however sweet,
for home makes the heart yearn.
Àjò kìí dùn
kónílé gbàgbé ilé.
I colored the Yoruba proverb above for emphasis.
Why?
Because everybody living in Nigeria is a hero.
It is often akin to being a kamikaze pilot in WWII.
They just survived the #EndSars uprising.
“The Police Area Commander (AC) is interested in the case,” a police officer with a cellphone said. “He just called to say that he is now at his seat, and wants to see all of you in his office.” The AC’s office was about one hundred meters across the yard, from where we were seated. We all filed into the AC’s office. He was seated, and his large desk was decorated with pictures, flags and small objects with personal sentimental values. He was a handsome middle-aged man who seemed rather too pleasant looking to be a police officer. Not until he stood up did I realize that his gait was forward-leaning, with the robust physique of a football tackler. You wouldn’t want to be in his way despite his handsome mien.
I was 19 years old in 1975 and an undergraduate studying painting at the University of Ife when my friend, Augusta Akusu-Ossai, took this picture of me.
The attire I’m wearing in the picture is typical of what I always wore in those days: a long adire (batik) top that I designed and sewed myself, and the baggy pants of that era.