REALITY SHAPED
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MEANINGLESS WORD
“Food is not ready,” Iya Oyo informed me. “This is just a snack. I know you are hungry” In Yoruba she said “Fi eléyìí panu. Mo mọ̀ pé ebi ti ń pa ẹ́.”
She left me a bowl full of boiled groundnuts. I loved boiled groundnuts. It was still in the shell. “You can throw the shells here after cracking them.” In Yoruba , she said, “Pa èèpo ẹ̀pà ná à sínú abọ́ yìí.
HASHTAG DAY: 20-10-2020 I remember, how could I forget, the tense couple of days before October…
There is an ancient Yoruba poem about Àró, the alien.
Listen, the translation is below the Yoruba original.
Mo gbinlá mi sóko
Mo gbinkàn mi sóko
Ewúrẹ́ Àró fi jẹ;
Àgùtàn Àró fi jẹ
Èmi ò mọ ohun Àró ní mo ṣe.
I planted okra on my farmland
Officially, I become a senior citizen today.
I turned 65.
From what my daughter said–and she was giving me professional information as a licensed social worker–I have become an ẹ̀rùjẹ̀jẹ̀ in the eye of the law in the US.
I’m like a baby now.
Can you imagine hurting a baby!
Wèrèpè má so mọ́.
Devil bean weed, stop producing seeds,
Èyí tó o so lésǐn,
The seeds you produced last season
Baba ẹnìkan ò ka.
I am installing huge paintings by Adetola Wewe inside my gallery in Austin Texas.
Adetola Wewe is the first resident fellow of the University of African Art, Austin, Texas Campus.