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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-five)
Oyinbo drove us home from the burial ceremony.
Rufus and Felicia sat in the middle row of the bus. I sat all by myself at the back row. Nobody said a word as Steve drove slowly and solemnly through the city, negotiating the traffic with the dexterity of a spider moving through its tightly woven web.
When he was new, Steve found it difficult to drive through the city, because in Britain, they drive on the left side of the road, but in Nigeria people drive on the right side. Also, Steve found the drivers on the roads of Benin City extremely rough for his temperament.
Potter
Potter:
What wants you from us,
One legged man?
Me: I’m here to study with you
the ancient art of terra-cotta.
Potter:
You, a university professor,
Coming to us to study,
We humble peasants and illiterates?
Farewell
Because I am now always home, I went into my garage and discovered a body of about ten large paintings dating to 1993.
This is one of them.
I just painted and rolled up the canvases, and forgot about them.
Today, On My 64th Birthday Anniversary
On my 64th birthday anniversary, I celebrate my mother, the one person most responsible for who I am today.
She does not even know the date of her birth.
But she keeps mine so close to heart.
My father, Oladejo Okediji, is the known one. He is the famous author, who wrote novels, plays, poems, and essays. When he passed last year at 90, nobody even mentioned my mother once, as they poured deserved eulogies on him.
