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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Fifteen)
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Fifteen) Where they sat was a tightly confined space. It…
Farewell to Nigeria.
Farewell to Nigeria.
It’s been 3.5 months since I’ve been here.
Every day was a wonderful experience.
I’m now at the airport, on my way out.
Does anyone see the map too ?
Does anyone see the map of Africa on this detailed picture of the moon?
Doesn’t it seem even more realistic of the true image of Africa than the one cartographers plot?
It shows Africa as it appeared before the West separated it from the rest of the world with the cutting of the Suez Canal in 1869.
José, my gardener.
I looked out through the window. The grass was not yet tall enough to mow. It had rained, and green life was returning to Austin after the long winter, and spring was almost fully here.
But the snowstorm of a month ago in Texas dealt Austin a cruel hand and plant life has not really recovered.
“José,” I said, “The lawn doesn’t need you yet. Maybe in a week, two?”
“I need the money, Mr. Moyo,” José pleaded.
PLEASE HELP US
PLEASE HELP US
Junction9: #sorosoke
In the first week of January 1968, at the tender age of 11, I was torn from my mother’s warm bosom and tossed into a boarding house.
That was the day my depression started.
And it continues even now, more than fifty years later.
I am not alone. It happened to my entire generation.
My depressive experience is typical of all of us between the ages of seventy-five and fifty.
This depression is typical of all of us who are the “elites” of Nigeria.
THIS FLAG IS SOILED
THIS FLAG IS SOILED who knew who knew that the white man sprinkled the bullet with…
