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Last night, I felt more anger than anything else. I don’t know if this variant of anger I feel qualifies for what some people call “Righteous” anger, but I am sure it fits “just” anger. I can’t say what pushed me to replay the audio versions of some of Vincent van Gogh’s letters which I have had for close to ten years now and have listened to more than ten times. But last night, more than the several other times in the past, the reek of the hypocrisy and inhumanity of the so-called “cognoscente” almost drowned me. Continue reading “Away With Posthumous Adulation!”
where’s that gentle voice
now I’m swirling in a vortex of noise
the echoes and the whispers
and the roars daze me
I hover by the labyrinth
lost as to the right path
where’s that hollow of your right hand
now I’m sinking into craggy hole
weighed down by this luggage of cares
From all indications, there is no other place in this world where the curse upon the snake pronounced in the bible Book of Genesis is enforced than in Nigeria. From the cradle, the Nigerian is taught that any limbless creature is to be feared more than even lions and dragons. This is evident in the way the average Nigerian child dreads the earthworm which it wrongly calls ‘snake’.
Continue reading “SNAKES IN NIGERIA: GUILTY EVEN WHEN PROVEN TO BE INNOCENT.”
Once upon a time, I had the misfortune of sharing a compound with a wonderful couple who were so obviously in love with each other they would openly kiss and make weak (read ‘sexy’) eyes at each other. Imagine that! In a public compound! In Nigeria! Imagine that degree of love!
Continue reading “HORNY”
Just the other day, I find myself, for the umpteenth time, flipping to Act 2 Scene 3 of Hamlet, to that part where a band of travelling artists arrives the palace immediately after which Hamlet asks one of them to perform the sacking of Troy and the killing of King Priam. I like how the erstwhile composed and eloquent artiste suddenly turns shaky-voiced and teary-eyed the moment he starts describing Queen Hecuba at the sight of her husband being cut to pieces. I like how, at the end of the performance, Hamlet thinks of the artiste and wonders aloud: “What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba/ that he should weep for her?” I have always been moved by the bewildered tone with which Hamlet asks that question. More importantly, I have always liked how that question leads me to another work of fiction where characters get to shed tears for those they hardly even know. Continue reading “THAT TEARY FEELING”