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I went on a walk this morning

ByMoyo Okediji

I went on a walk this morning, and it felt really good.

As I walked, something occurred to me: The world is an incredible garden in which we were meant to simply hang out, enjoy, party, make love and multiply.

But what do we really do?

We bitch, hate, steal, cheat, lie, cry and even kill.

The Corona prophet, therefore, came to warn us.

He sent us to our rooms and instructed us NOT to come out until we have learned our lessons.

But no. We don’t listen. For example, this morning I left my room and went on a long walk. And it felt really good.

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SILICON PAINTINGS

ByMoyo Okediji

Eight of my paintings will be shown at an art exhibition opening tomorrow Saturday, November 9, in Nairobi, Kenya.

These paintings I am showing in the exhibition are open—meaning that the paintings have no figures that can be identified as a person, place, object, tree, water or anything else that one could recognize and name. The paintings do not attempt to tell any story, nor do they illustrate any scene. The paintings are open to absorb whatever story the viewers may bring them, and they also assist in opening up the viewers’ minds to excavate memories and ideas that are in the subconscious of the viewers.

A PICTURE OF ONE OF THE SCULPTURES FROM THE AKODI ORISA

Oluorogbo–the first scholar.

ByMoyo Okediji

Oluorogbo–the first scholar.

In Ile Ife is a fellow to whom the invention of writing is ascribed.

His name is Oluorogbo.

(But this fellow is different from Olurorogbo, the son of Moremi).

Over the centuries, Oluorogbo’s scripts have disappeared because his books were buried during a conflict–a failed attempt to preserve the scripts and prevent them from getting into the hands of the enemies.

a picture showing moyo okediji sitting next to his artwork

ÌWÀ

ByMoyo Okediji

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

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982 (Part 38)

ByMoyo Okediji

“Wole Soyinka wants to have a word with Rufus. Tell him to come as soon as possible. Kongi travels out of the country next week,” was the simple message that I got back from Kole Omotosho.

Omotosho was the head of the Dramatic Art Department, University of Ife. He sent a driver to me to collect a manuscript, “Marx and Mask,” written by the brilliant Ghanaian writer, Ayi Kwei Armah.

Soyinka regularly received manuscripts from several writers, and after making copies, he would distribute the manuscripts among his circle of intellectuals who met at least once a week to read and discuss the manuscripts.

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