a picture of The greatest custodian of Ifa, the Araba of Ile Ife, Araba Adisa Mokorowale with Moyo Okediji July 26, 2017.

A great one has departed.

ByMoyo Okediji

A great one has departed.

A giant tree has fallen in the forest.

The greatest custodian of Ifa, the Araba of Ile Ife, Araba Adisa Mokorowale with Moyo Okediji July 26, 2017.

Adieu

He was never stingy with his knowledge without asking for a penny.

He was patient, kind and nurturing.

He taught me more than I could handle and gave me unfettered access to his entire resources.

Ó di gbéré

Ó dàrìnnàkò

Ó dojú àlà.

There will be none like you, ever again.

Travel well, travel light, to the temple of Ọrúnmìlà

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a post showing Moyo OKediji art piece

MY SUGGESTION

ByMoyo Okediji

A friend, who is also a devout, church-going Christian just talked with me a few minutes ago. He called from Nigeria.

“What is wrong with these kids?” he asked me. “Why can’t they protest peacefully? What has their quarrel against police brutality got to do with burning down buildings, and looting stores? They are criminals. They are worse than the politicians they are criticizing. If you place them in positions of power, they would do worse.”

I didn’t respond. After all, I didn’t call him. He called. He must have something really important to say to have spent his money calling me.

a picture showing moyo okediji standing next to his artwork

The philosopher of sensiotics.

ByMoyo Okediji

Henry Drewall, the philosopher of sensiotics, wrote a couple of days ago that, “Moyo mi owon — you have turned pain into paint…for us to see and feel….”

He should know. Sensiotics is the archeology of feelings within the human sensibility.

This painting shared here is about the pain and joy of departures and arrivals, as one of my Transatlantic Series: in 1992, I started it in Nigeria just as I was relocating to the to the United States, where I completed it.

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

My mumu is too much.

ByMoyo Okediji

My mumu is too much.

Hear my story o.

They just fixed the electricity at my place in Nigeria.

To get it fixed, I bought four poles, and hundreds of yards of cable.

I contributed hundreds of thousands of naira to get the transformer.

I bought the meter.

And paid to have the entire thing installed.

But I understand that none of these things that I bought belongs to me.

They all belong to the government.

a section of the akodi orisa

IV

ByMoyo Okediji

“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.

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