The creative process
The creative process can be quite fun, walahi.
You give it what it takes.
Here I am making a new picture.
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The fellow hiding in this picture is easy to find, right
The fellow hiding in this picture is easy to find, right
Captive No More (Part II)
Captive No More (Part II)
3.
When they snatched my grandfather
from the breasts of his mother,
he lacked the language
to grasp or describe
what did happen
and was happening to him
.
In those days,
mothers breastfed their infants
for three solid seasons,
some four, some longer.
SeaBorne
Moyo Okediji
SeaBorne
acrylic on canvas
Captive No More (III)
Captive No More (III)
7.
Music is the language of tragedy,
and dance, the vocabulary of trauma.
Silence, the death of feelings,
marks the beginning of madness.
After my great grandmother in vain
yelled the name of her son, Akin,
several times, and got no response,
she stepped outside and scanned
where he was playing,
and yelled his name again,
when she did not see him there
her stomach sank
because down in the pit of her womb
she knew he was gone.
THE TRUTH
You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
The rubber is beginning to bite the tarmac.
‘Ògidi ọmọ Yorùbá ni mí, mò fẹ́ràn èdè àti àṣà Yorùbá púpọ̀’.
ÒÒYÀ
Like the comb (ÒÒYÀ)moves smoothly through the knotty hair
may you move without wahala through your days.
Ooya comes from yà, meaning to open up.