What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Moyo Okediji
Title: What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Medium: Collage
Date: April 2018
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I studied with the Ìyàmi.
I studied with the Ìyàmi,
the Power Mothers who
suspend the global ball
on a single frail string,
yet it cannot snap.
After they gave me the name Ọ̀rìságbèmí Arígbábuwó, I transcend the boundaries of gender, race, time, and geography.
Here is the story of that transcendental embodiment, in its most concise form.
Like a bird
Like a bird, I mostly live on seeds and fruits these days.
The seeds last long, and I can easily store them in my self-isolated den.
But the fruits, I prefer them “fresh.” I, therefore, buy only enough to last for about a week whenever I visit the grocery store near my house.
So, I put on my Koro hijab and went to the grocery store.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (PART TWO)
Rufus was in a murderous mood. Steve, the one who Obaseki pummeled, became worried when Rufus went into his room. “What’s he gone to do in his room?” I asked Steve, whose only interest at that moment was diving into the fried rice we just brought for him.
Steve said, “He’s gone to change into his shorts. Looks like he’s really upset. He is changing into loose clothes to take out that guy who attacked me.”
“Na shakara,” I told Steve.
“What?” Steve asked.
My anti-coronavirus Esu.
My anti-coronavirus Esu.I produced this Esu object and hung it in front of my door. My house is marked safe.When their Agent of Death is passing by, it sees the Esu object.Esu, the gatekeeper, informs the Agent of Death that “He doesn’t live here. He lives on the other street.”
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Nine)
Some fire seemed out of Papa Ru as he sat, something which would be clear to someone who knew him well, and might not be noticed by others.
I saw the difference in the grey dim to his eyes. It was less in the bow that formed around his shoulders as he leaned forward on the table, under which Obaseki was hiding. But Rufus was hardly aware of his own body yet. It was the first time he left his room since we carried him there the moment we arrived from burial. He seemed to have a hard time just keeping his face from falling off his head. As if to ensure that did not happen, he pressed his chin into his palm, his elbow resting firmly on the table for support, seemingly carrying the entire weight of his torso.
The Odo Ogbe market
I went to the Odo Ogbe market, Ile Ife.
The market women went, “Oyinbo, come give us a hug.”
This world is beautiful.
