One Her Independence Day
I sent her
a flower vase
spun of orphic hair
with strands of gold,
each line gilded
with a ray of solar tint,
tightly woven into a dreamy jar
with slender pythonic fingers,
and detailed with combed titanic glints
boasting ornamental strings of rubies:
LIES, LIES, AND MORE LIES “Unity and Faith, Peace and Progress” is written at the bottom…
Another beautiful day to enjoy the sweetness of sunlight.
Gina sat on the floor by the doorstep waiting for us when we returned late to Benin City from Iludun. I didn’t she was sitting there until the headlamps lit up the spot where she was and Felicia said, “Hey, is that not Gina?”
It had been a long day spent mostly on the road and it took me a minute to adjust my mind to what was happening. I was exhausted from hours of driving on rough roads to and fro Iludun, Mama Rufus’s place.
“My he—he—he=aler at the psychi-psychi-atric hos—hos—hos–pital made me sw-sw-sw-ear never to have a con—con—con—con—con-fron-front-tation again with Miiiiiiiiisster Ru—ru-rufus,” Obaseki was whispering to me, from under the table. “Says he-he-he will bring me back back in.”
“It’s okay, Obaseki,” I said. “You come out and sit here at the table. I will go and see what’s happening.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t leave me, Mo-Mo-Moyo,” Obaseki pleaded. “Please- plea-se-stay-stay-stay-don’t—don’t go….”
“It’s alright, Obaseki,” I assured him. “Whatever the matter is, we will get to the very bottom of it today. This is really ridiculous!”
Life is simple yet complicated in the ReDoMi civilization.
How do you say ReDoMi?
The vowels and consonants of the RedoMi people are so simple that all you have to do is open or close your lips to pronounce their words.
The consonants are especially straightforward. They contain no strong or forces sounds, not even a threatening hiss of the ZZZZ is allowed. That is too much of a snake strike for a people of the infinite dimension. Only the gentle “s” and “sh” are allowed into this linguistic tone.
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.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Eight) “Moyo,” Steve said, “it’s Obaseki.” “Obaseki?” It took me…
Post-Naija Flip-Flop
We are now in a Post-Covid Era.
It doesn’t mean that the Covid is over. It simply means that our lives have witnessed the ravage of this virus, and we are still here to talk about it.
Can we say we are in a Post-Naija era?
It doesn’t mean that there is no Nigeria any longer. It simply means that we have witnessed the ravage of this virus and we are still here to talk about it.
THE RAFTER’S BURDEN—the English translation of Oladejo Okediji’s AJA LO LERU is out
Three days before his transition, my father, the Yoruba writer Oladejo Okediji, had only one worry: “Akanbi,” he told me, “make sure you work with Sola Owonibi to get Aja Lo Leru translated and published.”
I was suspicious. “We are already working on it,” I said. “You are worried we won’t do a good job?” It was another hint he gave me about his impending departure during that last call. And I did not miss it.
“I’m just saying,” Baba said with a dismissive laugh. “I would love to read a good translation of the novel.”
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty-Seven)
“So whose panties are those?” Adolo asked, pointing at something.
She had just finished wiping down my feverish body. She sat on the chair. Felicia sat on the table and Steve stood, holding on to the open door of the wardrobe.
I didn’t know what Adolo was referring to.
“What panties?” I asked.
“These ones,” She said.
Steve looked in her direction, and answered, “Gina’s”
I was weary and in a dreamlike state. The fan whirling above was noisy, and as it blew the air on my wet body, I felt bone-rattling shivering spells.
I really wanted to cover my body with the blanket.
“She must have left them there when she was here,” Steve said.
“Gina?” Adolo asked. “Who is Gina?”
“Guess you may say Moyo’s new girl,” Steve said.
“Moyo? He has a new girlfriend?” Adolo asked.
Artist: Emeka Okoro
Title: Portrait of Moyo Okediji in His House
WHO CAN MAKE LOVE WITH ZOOM?
The Covid 19 scourge has created opportunities and challenges.
It has confined me to my house for the last 200+ days.
I doubt I would even know how to interact with people any longer. The only time I go out is to buy groceries.