Hanging out with Adetola Wewe on the riverboat on Lake Travis, Austin, Texas.
He is visiting from Nigeria as the first fellow-in-residence, University of African Art at Austin.
When young women went to the river to fetch water, they would disappear.
The king’s royal beads even went missing.
People were worried. One of the wise men said, “Let’s approach Ọlọ́run to give us a police boss.”
But who could they trust? One of them must be the thief.
They decided unanimously that the only trustworthy person in the entire community was Ijapa.
Ijapa gave them only one condition: “Nobody should visit my house without letting me know in advance that they were coming.”
The death of
Abba Kyari is a major loss
for Nigeria.
Because he departed
so suddenly and unexpectedly,
eliminated by a killer so
vehemently and with matchless
dispatch, the victim most
Moyo Okediji
Title: What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Medium: Collage
Date: April 2018
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.
Arresting house. The house, because it is so arresting, led to my arrest as its owner and builder. They came to arrest the house—not just the architect.
The house is the culprit. They came to place it behind bars. They had no problems with setting the designers and builders free as long as they are able to lock away the arresting building.
THE RAFTER’S BURDEN—the English translation of Oladejo Okediji’s AJA LO LERU is out
Three days before his transition, my father, the Yoruba writer Oladejo Okediji, had only one worry: “Akanbi,” he told me, “make sure you work with Sola Owonibi to get Aja Lo Leru translated and published.”
I was suspicious. “We are already working on it,” I said. “You are worried we won’t do a good job?” It was another hint he gave me about his impending departure during that last call. And I did not miss it.
“I’m just saying,” Baba said with a dismissive laugh. “I would love to read a good translation of the novel.”