This cold weather is here 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.
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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982: (Part Thirty-Six)
***Reader’s Note:
I was informed that I should complete the ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY series before moving on to the next series, THE RETURN.
I will therefore return to the ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, and continue with Part Thirty-six. To refresh the memory of our readers, I have placed parts Thirty-five and Thirty-four at the end of Part Thirty-six.
The things we take for granted.
The things we take for granted.
I wanted to plant some flowers. Ordinarily I would simply jump up, grab the seeds, and plant the flowers.
But things are now different.
Without a serviceable leg, I had to think carefully of the strategy that would enable me to plant the flowers.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Eight)
His jaw was clenched as Rufus advanced toward Obaseki. I realized that he was shutting off the reasoning valve and pressing on the throttle of turmoil within the engine of his brain. His sense, judgment, calculation and intelligence was at this point on vacation. The agents of automation were now in control of his anatomy. He was more machine than person, and his entire being was on remote control as Rufus began to press forward.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MUMU
I took a break from social media but returned when someone sent me a video of Sunday Igboho.
I transcribed a clip of the video and wanted to share it here.
If you read the following statement by Sunday Igboho, you will shake your head in disbelief.
Sunday Igboho, the kind of person we refer to as a stark illiterate, is the one leading the entire Yoruba nation, and one of the very few people making any sense in the country called Nigeria.
Is it not clear to us by now that our educational system in Nigeria is just a scam?
We all attended the University of Mumu in Nigeria—under various names.
THE RETURN (Part Two)
He was unable to eat or sleep, as anxiety and depression began to unravel his characteristic calm disposition. Only a couple of months prior to the abduction, the wife of the Commissioner of Works was kidnapped and an undisclosed but generous ransom was paid for her release. Kidnapping had become the new strategy adopted by members of the underworld, who targeted the rich and famous in their bid to get rich quick. Business tycoons, expatriate oil executives, journalists, politicians, and even religious leaders and their families were constant targets. Abduction had become a multi million naira enterprise in Nigeria, and the police seemed unable to find any solution to the problem. No kidnapper had been arrested, and huge sums of ransom money had been paid. Many people complained that there was evidence of collusion between the security forces and the criminals.
19 years
I was 19 years old in 1975 and an undergraduate studying painting at the University of Ife when my friend, Augusta Akusu-Ossai, took this picture of me.
The attire I’m wearing in the picture is typical of what I always wore in those days: a long adire (batik) top that I designed and sewed myself, and the baggy pants of that era.