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Excavate.
Found anything?
It was very cold last Saturday when we celebrated our annual Egungun Festival. But the òtútù did not deter us from celebrating our ancestral heritage.
Next year we will still be here to celebrate again.
This cold weather is here again.
How many layers do I wear just to go and get a cup of coffee from Starbucks?
Six layers.
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.
It was in 1980, in Nigeria, when this police encounter occurred.
I will start by swearing
in the name of Ogun
that this event, strange
as it sounds, actually happened
in the middle of the night.
They say when you want an African to tell the truth, make the African swear to an indigenous divinity—not to the Bible or the Quran. Those two books are just books. The real book that they believe and consider real is not written. It is oral, and tied to the indigenous divinities.
If you went to the University of Ife in the late 70s or early 80s, can you identify anybody in this picture?
A museum is doing a research on the work of Munio Makuchi, and wants info from anyone in this picture, or anyone able to identify someone in the picture.
Can someone help me to translate this into as many Nigerian languages as possible, please?Many of the boys I played soccer with in Ile Ife on bare rough grounds in-between houses, using oranges and rags tied together to form balls, all the way from infancy to age ten, were Igbo kids.In 1965, they told me they were leaving, returning home.“When are you coming back?”“Papa says we are not coming back.”