The Man.
The Man.
I was going through a bunch of old drawings and happened upon this 2016 drawing I did during the summer.
It is The Man.
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The Man.
I was going through a bunch of old drawings and happened upon this 2016 drawing I did during the summer.
It is The Man.
I went to the Odo Ogbe market, Ile Ife.
The market women went, “Oyinbo, come give us a hug.”
This world is beautiful.
We are getting close to the end of the architectural sculpture.
Nightfall.
Ile Ife.
For many years after arriving in the US, whenever I slept, I would dream of Ile Ife, where I grew up.
“The Police Area Commander (AC) is interested in the case,” a police officer with a cellphone said. “He just called to say that he is now at his seat, and wants to see all of you in his office.” The AC’s office was about one hundred meters across the yard, from where we were seated. We all filed into the AC’s office. He was seated, and his large desk was decorated with pictures, flags and small objects with personal sentimental values. He was a handsome middle-aged man who seemed rather too pleasant looking to be a police officer. Not until he stood up did I realize that his gait was forward-leaning, with the robust physique of a football tackler. You wouldn’t want to be in his way despite his handsome mien.
LOOKING BACK
I
Exile, however sweet,
for home makes the heart yearn.
Àjò kìí dùn
kónílé gbàgbé ilé.
I colored the Yoruba proverb above for emphasis.
Why?
Because everybody living in Nigeria is a hero.
It is often akin to being a kamikaze pilot in WWII.
They just survived the #EndSars uprising.
One of the most fascinating spectacles of my childhood days was the annual Egúngún.
Egungun means something that is perfect, balanced, or straight, formed from the word gún.
In Yoruba, you repeat something to emphasize it: guńgún refers to the absolutely or superlatively gún element of life.