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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982 (Part Forty-Three)
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1982 (Part Forty-Three)
“Hey, Moyo,” Hilda yelled. “Are you alright? Are you with us?”
“Yes, I am,” I responded. I pulled myself back to the moment.
The traffic was light and the road excellent. The Lagos to Benin expressway was the best road I had ever driven on. The bus zoomed along on it effortlessly.
“You went so silent and looked so vacant, I could have sworn you were not here,” Steve said.
“I was here alright,” I answered.
“Thinking about Gina?” Hilda asked.
Baba Rowland Abiodun
Baba Rowland Abiodun, author of the groundbreaking treatise, YORUBA ART AND LANGUAGE: SEEKING THE AFRICAN IN AFRICAN ART, enlightening the audience at the University of Texas, Austin.
SILICON PAINTINGS
Eight of my paintings will be shown at an art exhibition opening tomorrow Saturday, November 9, in Nairobi, Kenya.
These paintings I am showing in the exhibition are open—meaning that the paintings have no figures that can be identified as a person, place, object, tree, water or anything else that one could recognize and name. The paintings do not attempt to tell any story, nor do they illustrate any scene. The paintings are open to absorb whatever story the viewers may bring them, and they also assist in opening up the viewers’ minds to excavate memories and ideas that are in the subconscious of the viewers.
Ọwọ́ as Hand and Eye
Ọwọ́ as Hand and Eye
I showed Iya Oyo the drawing of her portrait I made one day. She said, “Ọ̣wọ́ rẹ gún,” (Your hands are straight), as she admired the portrait.
Baba Oyo responded with, “Ojú rẹ̀ gún” (His eyes are straight).
I was baffled. “What is straight, my eye or my hand?” I asked them.
Baba Allah-Dey
Baba Allah-Dey in 1930 lost to Oba Adesoji Aderemi (wearing black, seated in the middle of the picture) in a strong tussle between the two of them for the throne of Ile Ife.
Allah-Dey’s real name was Baba Coker Olawoyin or Baba Coker Adewoyin.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (Part Three)
They took Obaseki to a native doctor in Benin, straight from the police cell.
I ran into him about six months later when he was released.
His condition had deteriorated remarkably. He looked gaunt and shrunk. He must have lost about fifty pounds, (and he weighed not less than 175lbs and stood at 6’ tall when he assaulted Steve). His face had dark blotches and rashes all over it, and he moved with a stoop that made him look much shorter, as he gingerly carried his tray of food from the counter to a table.
I knew that he saw me as I entered the Ekewan campus cafeteria. But he quickly averted his face, pretending that he didn’t notice me. I went to the food counter to place my order. I decided I would surprise him by joining him at his table once I got my food.