We are home alone
dying to be alive
at this silent hour
when the trees are dancing
and the bars are closed
at the street corners
where the liquor store
meets young men flirting
with their cigarettes
watching time slow by
praying just for an ass
to carry home my burden
too heavy to bear
Baba Rowland Abiodun, author of the groundbreaking treatise, YORUBA ART AND LANGUAGE: SEEKING THE AFRICAN IN AFRICAN ART, enlightening the audience at the University of Texas, Austin.
After my Ph.D., I returned to the roots to learn from the source.
These iyas who have no university degrees taught me things none of my professors knew.
What audacity have the leaders and elders of Nigeria to judge the youths when they have pillaged the entire treasury of the country and left the young with nothing!
What sort of nation have the elders built for the young ones to be proud of?
It is annoying to see the elders gripe about the young ones in Nigeria when the elders have totally failed to lead.
A scale drops from my eyes, and gradually these terrains of the future open out to me.
All around me, I find these characters from the future visiting the present domain.
They are sculpted out of fire.
In about 9 to 12 months, the results of the corona siesta will be out: twins, triplets, etc, will be common.
I went to the grocery stores, and the shelves were packed as never before with all sorts of consumables.
There was hardly anybody shopping.
I saw an interracial couple, and they were holding hands!
I was three years old. He just bought a bicycle and I asked him to give me a ride. It was already night.
He placed me on the top tube of his bicycle. Excited, I leaned forward and held the handles. He also held the handles with the left hand, and the saddle with the other, while walking and pushing the bicycle. I imagined that I was riding the bicycle. I looked up and saw the moon.