The white man would have to leave someday and we would need our own people to run this country they say is Nigeria. He, Raufu Ayinla Adeyemi, could be one of those people
Sidikatu Aduke lingered on the doorstep for a moment before crossing the threshold. May your stay in your new home be as wet earth – malleable and full of promise.
More than understanding the language, interaction with a Yoruba woman depends on the ability to recognize what was not said, to decipher her intonation, her body language, her eyes. Abeke had just received one ‘e n le’ too many!
My analytics tell me that most of the readers of this story are from South Africa, and my writer's mind cannot leave well alone. I appreciate you all.And I wonder...If you are from South Africa and reading this blog, please spare a moment to tell me - in the comments below - what you think.... Continue Reading →
‘How come I never see any of you at Jimo? Imam says not even your brother comes.’ It is early evening, when the sun has begun its daily graceful glide to its place of setting. After the torrents that heralded the rainy season, the downpours have subsided into regular pleasant showers every other day or... Continue Reading →
Abeke learned another lesson in mothering her siblings. You had to be willing to do what was needed, however hard that might be.
The children, often the first indicators of a people’s collective attitude in Abeke’s experience, shouted their glee at the presumably unusual presence of stranger in their midst and ran along exuberantly.
Any woman who was captured outside during the Oro disappeared. Literally. Abeke was not about to be a scapegoat in another woman’s land.