The Man.
The Man.
I was going through a bunch of old drawings and happened upon this 2016 drawing I did during the summer.
It is The Man.
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The Man.
I was going through a bunch of old drawings and happened upon this 2016 drawing I did during the summer.
It is The Man.
ÌMỌ́DÒYE
An Akodi Orisa Sculpture
Ile Ife, Nigeria
January 2019
Artist: Moyo Okediji
The first report (summer 2018)
Yesterday, July 5, 2018.
ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ
I was arrested by the Nigerian Police yesterday.
To be fair to them, they were angry with my new building, the ÀKÒDÌ ÒRÌṢÀ, in Ile Ife. The police landed in trucks, arms, uniforms, and plain clothes to storm the construction site. There were about ten workers at the site when the police came. The previous day when the police arrived the workers fled into the surrounding bushes, abandoning their tools, unused building materials and the entire construction area.
Best In Africa
I was arrested for the first time at age 62. For building an Orisa house, in Ile Ife.
I made the statement to a bunch of police officers most of them young enough to be my children.
It was an act of humiliation at the least.
“Oloriburuku! Were! Olosi! Alakori!” Road rage yelling coming from all angles.
I am covered in sweat as I sit patiently behind the wheel.
The AC of my truck has broken down. And the automatic window winder is not working. But my sweat glands are working.
LOOKING BACK
I
Exile, however sweet,
for home makes the heart yearn.
Àjò kìí dùn
kónílé gbàgbé ilé.
I colored the Yoruba proverb above for emphasis.
Why?
Because everybody living in Nigeria is a hero.
It is often akin to being a kamikaze pilot in WWII.
They just survived the #EndSars uprising.
Does anyone know where to get aásà? My grandma, her soul is resting in peace, She…