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USAIN BOLT

ByMoyo Okediji

USAIN BOLT

I can beat Usain Bolt, the sprint legend, in a one hundred meter dash.

How is that possible?

Simple: if he ties up one of his legs and sprints me by hopping down the track on just one leg.

I can even place him 50 yards ahead of me and still beat him easily if he ties up one leg and races me.

But that is precisely what we do in Nigeria when we allow only men to run the political offices, when we push women back and make it virtually impossible for them to be the president, governor, and chairpersons of local governments.

Everything will just continue in a jagajaga manner as it is now, as long as we continue with half of our human resources.

It is like Usain Bolt tying up one of his legs and hopping down the tracks on one leg. Even my little 2 year-old granddaughter would find that funny, laugh really loud and say “Stop it!” which means “you are cracking me up” in her language.

That is why development is so slow in Nigeria.

Please run on both legs, Nigeria, and see how fast you can actually sprint.

You are the Usain Bolt of Africa with one leg tied up with political strings and red tapes.

Picture shows me with Iya Onibooli in an Ajegunle section of Accra this afternoon. They have no issues of banditry, electricity and pickpockets, even in this struggling neighborhood. Don’t try it in Ajegunle.

Ghana is a place of beautiful souls. Ghana reminds me of Nigeria with the innocence of the early sixties, and the technology of the 21st century.

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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982 (Part 38)

ByMoyo Okediji

“Wole Soyinka wants to have a word with Rufus. Tell him to come as soon as possible. Kongi travels out of the country next week,” was the simple message that I got back from Kole Omotosho.

Omotosho was the head of the Dramatic Art Department, University of Ife. He sent a driver to me to collect a manuscript, “Marx and Mask,” written by the brilliant Ghanaian writer, Ayi Kwei Armah.

Soyinka regularly received manuscripts from several writers, and after making copies, he would distribute the manuscripts among his circle of intellectuals who met at least once a week to read and discuss the manuscripts.

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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Ten)

ByMoyo Okediji

Once Obaseki realized that Iya Ngu was busting him, and called him out that it was from him that the smell of marijuana was coming, for some inexplicable reason, his nervousness reduced. He smiled and said, “Madam, it is true. I just smoked a tiny joint.”

Obaseki’s sunken face took on a different appearance. I observed his face holistically the way Madam Ngu taught me to study the human face. On my first meeting with her, in the drawing class, she took a look at my drawing and she said, “Moyo, what am I going to do with you? You don’t know how to draw. Come, let’s go to my office. You are still young. I can mold you.”

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

ByMoyo Okediji

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.

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