Ilé Ọ̀rìsà!!!
That’s what an admirer called the Òyẹ̀kú Méjì suite at the Àkòdì Òrìṣà.
She used the Ile Ife dialect, Ilé Ọ̀rìsà. It is different from the Oyo dialect of Ilé Òrìṣà.
But it is absolutely appropriate that it is called Ilé Ọ̀rìsà, because it is located in Ile Ife.
No honey is as delicious as those from the African killer bees.
The kinds of honey from the African killer bees are to die for.
They are, precisely, worthy of dying for.
If you are a honey connoisseur, once you taste the African killer bee honey, your palate will store the memory forever, and there is no going back.
I went to the Odo Ogbe market, Ile Ife.
The market women went, “Oyinbo, come give us a hug.”
This world is beautiful.
“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.
How easy it is to degenerate into a beast when you enter the jungle!
Yesterday I vowed to myself:
1. I will always calm down.
2. Though the okada bike riders are driving me crazy, and all the drivers are treating me like the road belongs to them only, I will refrain from calling anybody names like, “Were (lunatic), olori buruku ( crazy heads); eranko (beasts), etc.”
Could the Christians in southern Nigeria please help us in reducing the environmental noise pollution level in the region?
It is impossible to do any serious intellectual work as Christians yell and scream on their megaphones and public address systems from their churches every hour of the day.
In Gambia now.
This is what I saw.
What do you see?
He almost made it into 2019. I wonder what stopped him.
The last of the soft kleptomaniacs and kleptocrats?
In his days, politicians stole in hundreds of thousands of naira. Or a few couples of million naira.
They were soft kleptomaniacs and kleptocrats.
Now we have hardcore kleptomaniacs and kleptocrats.
Irú Pepper Soup (a Christmas delicacy?)
It warms me up in this bitter cold.
And the guy at the African store, in his singsong Nigerian accent just like mine, assured me that it is good for my eyes. “You may not need that ya glasses again.”
Excavate.
At the coffee shop.
Guys checking out my friend, like “What’s that?”
We are the people of the 22nd century.
Àkòdì Òrìṣà at sunset, Ile Ife, Nigeria.
This is the location of the Àkòdì Òrìṣà, the home of the ancestral orisa in Yoruba country.
The curator of the Àkòdì Òrìṣà sent me this picture to inform me of the treat that awaits me when I return to Ile Ife. I’ll be there soon. Soon.