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.
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.
About 50 villages, mostly located in Ogun States, have been abandoned by Yoruba farmers and their families, but now occupied by Fulani invaders who drove out these villagers.
This morning I saw videos of the officers of the Nigerian Customs and Excises raiding the shops of poor market women, removing items that these women bought for sale to their customers.
This is a two-prong attack: the villagers driven out of their villages are unable to farm and provide food supplies for the people in towns and cities.
“The Police Area Commander (AC) is interested in the case,” a police officer with a cellphone said. “He just called to say that he is now at his seat, and wants to see all of you in his office.” The AC’s office was about one hundred meters across the yard, from where we were seated. We all filed into the AC’s office. He was seated, and his large desk was decorated with pictures, flags and small objects with personal sentimental values. He was a handsome middle-aged man who seemed rather too pleasant looking to be a police officer. Not until he stood up did I realize that his gait was forward-leaning, with the robust physique of a football tackler. You wouldn’t want to be in his way despite his handsome mien.
I have been home for a month now.
And I’m learning to live with the opportunities of living at home.
Here are some of these opportunities:
1. The fèrègèdè seller. Do you see her picture here?
The last time I ate fèrègèdè was when I was in the primary school, and a feregede seller came to our school during lunch time. Fèrègèdè is a special type of dark beans. You cook it for hours, and the fèrègèdè seller must start cooking in the evening and leave the beans on the wooden stove
Sisi Eko, Lagos Lady Waiting for Okada
Does anybody understand the meaning of the word “Okada?”
How did the use of Uber bikes start?
The first time I saw the Okada Uber was during my NYSC at Awka in 1977.
In the whole of the southwest of Nigeria, nobody used a bike for a taxi.
We used luxurious cars for taxis in the southwest.
My father told me the story of three thieves. He was a fiction writer, so I never knew if it was something he made up, or read up.
But let me tell you the tale if you got one minute:
Three thieves received info that a miner kept a large bundle of gold in his house. They decided they should go and relieve the guy of his treasure. “After all,” argued one thief, “he dug up this stone from the ground that God gave all of us.”