a picture showing moyo okedijis granddaughter

My granddaughter fine sha!

ByMoyo Okediji

My granddaughter fine sha!

Those of you who don’t have granddaughters, Olodumare will pese o.

But your granddaughter still won’t be as fine as mine o: just so you know. Kẹ́lẹ́gbẹ́ mẹgbẹ́.

She already eats amala and okra like a professional at seven months.

When we visit Nigeria after the Koro, she will take a tour of all the major Amala joints in Ibadan, starting from Inanstrate at Mokola.

She loves pepper, plenty of it. Perfect Yoruba baby in the diaspora.

If you don’t have enough pepper in the okra, she will manage the amala, but from her eyes, you would tell that she rates your cuisine skill only one star out of five.

But she doesn’t eat beef rara. She spits it out. Haram!

She eats fish only.

Which reminds me: guys please stop eating beef.

Have you not seen the videos of cows dying by mysterious means–and often not so mysteriously—all over Yorubaland and southeast Nigeria?

They say the butchers are selling these haramu cattle meat—they just go and collect the carcasses lying in the bushes and move them straight to the market, and sell them to unsuspecting beef addicts.

Best emulate my granddaughter and hate beef.

Fish is great for your health.

And fish is not haramu.

Fish does lots of anfani to your body.

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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Three)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Three)

ByMoyo Okediji

Josephine was embarrassed when I informed her that her white uniform was soaked with blood at the back.

She immediately opened the door and jumped into the bus. As she entered the bus, she realized that the seat from which she got up was already soaked in blood also. She became confused. She didn’t know whether to sit on the bloody seat, but as she hesitated, I gently led her down to the seat. Just as her uniform, the seat was already stained. No further damage could be done. What was most important at that point was her health.

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THE VOYAGE

ByMoyo Okediji

THE VOYAGE

About 30 years ago, I slept at the Murtala Muhammed Airport for four days.

No, I was not a homeless vagabond.

I had bought the Nigeria Airways ticket to fly to the United States for a one-year sabbatical leave.

But when I arrived at the airport, I realized that my ticket was not honored, though I had bought it legitimately.

Whenever a plane was about to leave Lagos for New York, the NA officials posted a manifest list, and my name was not there.

Rufus Orisayomi with my friend, in 1981,

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY (Part Twenty-two)

ByMoyo Okediji

I almost lost control of the steering wheel when Gina told me that the woman sitting patiently by the door of the buka was her mom. Her back was turned to us, and it was not until the bus jerked forward noisily that she turned towards our direction.

“She is gorgeous,” Josephine said.

Gina, with a scared look on her face, did not want to step down. She was sitting next to me in front of the bus, and her mother looked directly at us with some suspicion.

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

We are all mere dust and equally so.

ByMoyo Okediji

One day, I was having a discussion with a friend at the University of Ife in the early seventies.

I was seventeen years old.

Somehow the conversation drifted to “superiors.” I think he said something about “your superiors.”

I told him quite candidly that “I don’t have any superior.”

He was angry with me. Seriously, I don’t think he had heard that sort of response before.

But I was shocked that he was furious.

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