Similar Posts
THE ROCKET
I met a young woman living in Nigeria online more than ten years ago.
We became friends and exchanged lots of chats.
She had just graduated with a degree in engineering.
She couldn’t get a job.
I watched her struggle for many years.
A really gorgeous woman transformed into a shell of herself.
Her mother fell ill.
She began to live with her married sister.
She fell ill.
Sháyó Philosophy
Yesterday we met again to see if they had hot pepper soup at the local African joint.
Logically, when these simple folks enter a pepper soup joint, it is like Ṣẹ̀lẹ́ enter spirit: matters get philosophically historical like magicadabra.
“We are in October again,” I said, just because the bottle of stout looked chilled.
CAN’T KANT COUNT?
CAN’T KANT COUNT?
My Egungun is dancing as we speak in an exhibition at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, as part of an installation titled “Whirling Return of the Ancestors.”
Iya Oyo
Iya Oyo took a slow and long drag on her pipe, and released the smoke in short puffing sounds.The moon was orange bright, a perfect golden disk floating on the clouds.Some insects, hiding behind the darkness, sang in harmony with the frogs serenading the stars from the pond next to the Orisa house.It was the perfect time for me to ask my question: nobody was saying anything.
Today, On My 64th Birthday Anniversary
On my 64th birthday anniversary, I celebrate my mother, the one person most responsible for who I am today.
She does not even know the date of her birth.
But she keeps mine so close to heart.
My father, Oladejo Okediji, is the known one. He is the famous author, who wrote novels, plays, poems, and essays. When he passed last year at 90, nobody even mentioned my mother once, as they poured deserved eulogies on him.