Dry sticks A forest prepared for conflagration And how great the matter The little spark will kindle Petrol in our drinking water How will we put out the fire We will plunge But now we breathe deep With open mouths Hacking and harrowing Our respiration Breaks the silence of night Darkness still The crack of malnourished ribs Unseen … Continue reading And Fire Lies Waiting.
— August 2012 — In the street There is no pause To the questing souls Rainbow chasing riots Must locate The pots of gold Must find, must find The great golden hammer A man in white said Possess the spirit Speak the word Must find, must find Must find, must find … Continue reading Street Things.
(A story about Fuel Subsidy Removal, in three Acts) ACT ONE A conversation between Peace (P), a housemaid, and Akpos (Akp), a driver Akp: “Peace, Peace!” P: “Na me be dat o.” Akp: “Ehen, Peace, wetin your Oga talk say you do sef?” P: “Ah ah, Akpos why you go dey ask me … Continue reading The Articulation of Grievances
Unemployment flows In the beating heart of this city A vital tide Powerful stream Carrying hundreds Thousands Millions of us Tools for the workshop Unemployment is alive here Familiar Our monstrous relative Caressing the young Embracing the old Suffocating hope Unemployment is a Prince here All these prisoners Wincing Bitten By it … Continue reading The Ode to Unemployment.
This is how I remember it. This is the image of my grandmother that sticks; that Christmas of 2005, the Christmas before she died. She is sitting at the dining table, in her customary chair. She has a bowl of Bournvita in front of her. Yes. A bowl. Apparently, this is how she likes … Continue reading Mama Efon’s Last One.
I was a shy young leaf on a little tree. Our tree was little. Yes, we knew. We knew because the other trees never made us forget it. We heard it all the time. We were the smallest tree in the school. The wind blew. And always, always, it carried the chants of the leaves … Continue reading A Leaf Yearning.
Ok, so I saw this event link on Facebook saying Teju Cole and Tolu Ogunlesi were going to be having a literary conversation on Sunday November 27 from 4 to 6 pm at a place called Cinnamon Café on Adetokunbo Ademola in Victoria Island. And I thought, hey, that’d be a nice thing to go … Continue reading Teju Cole and Tolu Ogunlesi at Cinnamon Cafe.
FROM PART 4: “Kitan, stop shouting alright. Sound carries in this house, Lamide might hear you.” “Oluseeni, I don’t give a damn! Stop giving excuses! Answer my question!” “Kitan, please forget Lucy. Stop shouting ehn. I can hear something, I think Lamide might be coming back.” “Chinelo, I won’t keep quiet! Lucy is up to … Continue reading Saturday Brunch (5) – The Grand Finale.
FROM PART 3: “But just imagine if I had packed my things that time and taken the children and stormed out of the marriage. People would sympathize, of course, but then some silly girl would have moved in here and M would eventually marry her and she would make sure she removed me from the … Continue reading Saturday Brunch (4).
FROM PART 2: “I’m sorry, Lucy which Babs is this?” “Uh! Chinelo, are you asking me that? How many men do we call Babs?” “Ehn! It’s a lie! Kitan’s Babs? The… em… em… the Owotomo guy? Ah! Oh my God! That’s his wife?” “Yes Chinelo. Imagine! I can’t understand why Lucy would agree to invite … Continue reading Saturday Brunch (3).
FROM PART 1: “I suppose I should just let Ayoola kill me once and for all. Right?” “Kitan, this is your problem, ehn. You always get so dramatic and make things complex. This is a simple thing. You just have to learn to handle Yollie. No man is perfect. Men are like children. All a … Continue reading Saturday Brunch (2).
Character: ‘Say-Tokyo-Kid’ Book: ‘The Road’ Author: Wole Soyinka. ‘The Road’ is a complex drama. It could be said to be a series of interactions between various characters at a motor park/drivers’ community over the course of a single day. But it is also a discussion of Death. The road itself becomes a symbol of both … Continue reading Say Tokyo Kid.
-1- “I mean it’s just aww-ful! God have mercy on us. You know M’s cousin Wale right? The one who works with the DFID? Yes, him. He actually had an appointment to be at the UN building.” “Really? Ohmigod!” “Yes, Chinelo. Just imagine it! Please could you pass the syrup?” “Oh, no, no, Chinelo, don’t … Continue reading Saturday Brunch (1).
–August 28, 2011–Gboyega Otolorin–Lagos– As a person, I have always despised faking. Airs, affectations, pretending to what you’re not, trying to impress people. It irritates me. I’m a firm believer in being you. Be yourself. If people like it, fine. If they don’t, well, who cares? Why try to please capricious humans anyway? People don’t … Continue reading A Medium-Length Rant Against Fake Accents.
Flashes. Flashes are all I see now. The buses come. The buses go. But me, I am numb. I sit in a world of blindness, of darkness, of dust and ashes. So much noise, so much movement and yet there is no joy here. There is only pain. Pain, pain, more pain that never ends. … Continue reading Joyless At Life’s Bus Stop.