What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Moyo Okediji
Title: What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Medium: Collage
Date: April 2018
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Moyo Okediji
Title: What the MoMA Did To My Momma Series #1
Medium: Collage
Date: April 2018
Scammer: Hello, how are you doing?
Me: Very good. How about you?
Scammer: I’m fine, thanks for asking. how’s your day going so far?
Me: Excellent. Who are you?
Scammer: I’m Susan, from Idaho but currently living in Jacksonville Florida. I’m a registered nurse working with the UN nations overseas.
Facebook suggested you as someone I may know so I viewed your profile and decided to send you a request out of curiosity hoping we could get to know more about ourselves and maybe become friends.
Me: That’s great. Where are you currently working overseas?
Here I was, instructing my students at the University of Texas, Austin, on the principles of Ifa computational coding. How I wished I also enjoyed the opportunity to teach young people in universities in Africa this same skill. But I have no such opportunity. And it’s not for a lack of trying, even offering my services for free.
Queen Elizabeth did not wait for my arrival in 1956 before she returned to England.
She arrived Lagos by air January 28, 1956, and returned February 16, 1956.
I arrived Lagos by birth February 25, 1956.
I was disappointed when I arrived and was told she already returned a week before I landed.
My art class before the Coronavirus.
I dreamed about it last night–I was teaching, and there was this really brilliant student who did everything perfectly.
As I went to take a closer look at her work, I woke up.
What really happened was that I had fallen asleep with my music playing. And what really woke me up was Peter Tosh, singing,
Is it merely a coincidence that the news of the abduction and assassination by suspected Fulani invaders of Oba Israel Adeusi, the Olufon of Ifon, happened the very same day that the United States is celebrating the annual Thanksgiving event?
There is no coincidence in history.
Nature times things with organic orchestration.
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.