Coffeehouse.
Coffeehouse in Austin.
It can get pretty wild out here in Austin if you know what I mean.
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Isn’t it so wonderful to be back home in Nigeria
Isn’t it so wonderful to be back home in Nigeria, to spend time on the very land in which you grew up, to measure what has remained the same, evaluate the changes, and survey the landscape with an eye irrevocably altered through gazing at other countries and interacting with foreign landscapes?
Hahahaha! Look at his Johnny Walker!
Yesterday I made this funny painting. Hahahaha! Look at his Johnny Walker!
I sampled the painting from a wood panel sculptured by Dada Arowoogun, a Yoruba artist whose work narrates Yoruba life during the 19th century.
The work is relevant because Yoruba people are still doing what we used to call “two-fighting.” In our primary school days, when the teacher forbade speaking in vernacular, and all the English we knew were three words: “Two fighting” were two crucial words of the three.
Things are happening rapidly in Nigeria.
Things are happening rapidly in Nigeria.
Terrorism has fully found a home in the southwest.
Who attacked Sunday Igboho’s house, destroyed the place and left human blood and tissues all over the property?
Igboho’s house has become a monument to the struggle for freedom, independence and peace in Africa.
My art class before the Coronavirus.
My art class before the Coronavirus.
I dreamed about it last night–I was teaching, and there was this really brilliant student who did everything perfectly.
As I went to take a closer look at her work, I woke up.
What really happened was that I had fallen asleep with my music playing. And what really woke me up was Peter Tosh, singing,
William Shakespeare, KING CHARLES III, Act 1, Scene 1 (#4)
William Shakespeare, KING CHARLES III, Act 1, Scene 1 (#4) EGUNGUN: How, oh king, would you…
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY 1982: (Part Thirty-four)
I could not believe my ears.
“You got pregnant from the rape?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen?” I was making no sense with the question, but the situation was hardly making any sense either.
My throat felt dry. The bottles of palm wine on the table were still unopened.
I had to drink something immediately, I was thinking, or I would suffocate. This Gina was going to kill me.