This is a throwback!
What do you see?
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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Nine)
Some fire seemed out of Papa Ru as he sat, something which would be clear to someone who knew him well, and might not be noticed by others.
I saw the difference in the grey dim to his eyes. It was less in the bow that formed around his shoulders as he leaned forward on the table, under which Obaseki was hiding. But Rufus was hardly aware of his own body yet. It was the first time he left his room since we carried him there the moment we arrived from burial. He seemed to have a hard time just keeping his face from falling off his head. As if to ensure that did not happen, he pressed his chin into his palm, his elbow resting firmly on the table for support, seemingly carrying the entire weight of his torso.
I studied with the Ìyàmi.
I studied with the Ìyàmi,
the Power Mothers who
suspend the global ball
on a single frail string,
yet it cannot snap.
After they gave me the name Ọ̀rìságbèmí Arígbábuwó, I transcend the boundaries of gender, race, time, and geography.
Here is the story of that transcendental embodiment, in its most concise form.
They came to see the Akodi Orisa.
These kids appeared from nowhere.
They came to see the Akodi Orisa, they said.
“We know absolutely nothing about the Orisa. Do you kill people and use their blood for money.”
They wanted to learn about the Orisa from Baba Olorisa.
Sold!
I’m pleased to inform my friends that this historic painting which I completed in 1992 is now going to a home that will care for it, love it and protect it from damage and misfortunes. As the single parent of this painting, I feel a sense of loss that she is leaving me.
This cold weather is here again.
This cold weather is here again.
How many layers do I wear just to go and get a cup of coffee from Starbucks?
Six layers.