2009 Man Booker International Prize Winner

Canadian short story writer is third writer to win prize
27 May 2009

Alice Munro is today, 27 May 2009, announced as the winner of the third Man Booker International Prize.

The Man Booker International Prize, worth £60,000 to the winner, is awarded once every two years to a living author for a body of work that has contributed to an achievement in fiction on the world stage. It was first awarded to Ismail Kadaré in 2005 and then to Chinua Achebe in 2007.

Best known for her short stories, Munro is one of Canada's most celebrated writers. On receiving the news of her win, she said, ‘I am totally amazed and delighted.'

The judging panel for the Man Booker International Prize 2009 is: Jane Smiley, writer; Amit Chaudhuri, writer, academic and musician; and writer, film script writer and essayist, Andrey Kurkov. The panel made the following comment on the winner:

‘Alice Munro is mostly known as a short story writer and yet she brings as much depth, wisdom and precision to every story as most novelists bring to a lifetime of novels. To read Alice Munro is to learn something every time that you never thought of before.'

Her latest collection of short stories, Too Much Happiness, will be published in October 2009. Alice Munro will receive the prize of £60,000 and a trophy at the Award Ceremony on Thursday 25 June at Trinity College, Dublin.

Read more about the judging process of the Man Booker Internatonal Prize in an exclusive piece by Fiammetta Rocco, administrator of the prize, in our Perspective section.

Follow this link for more info.

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We’ll even remind you when it’s time to query. Explore and see what else we have on tap. How can I Duotrope? Pull up your web browser and head over to http://www.duotrope.com. Remember, it’s free!

Note the new date of EwabamiJo 2009

The international festival for interdisciplinary arts, ewaBAMIJO will take place between 27th - 31st of October 2009,

under the coordination of Qudus Onikeku. A new generation thinker, dancer, acrobat and choreographer.

The theme for this first international edition is HOME AND ABROAD.

EXPECT THE FULL PROGRAM SOON, AS WE PUT FINAL TOUCHES TO THE LIST OF PARTICIPANTS.

LETTER TO THE NEWEST WORLD CITIZEN

Dear Newest World Citizen,


What do I say to you young one? How do I greet you the Newest Sojourner from the other world into this wide wild world: the shore of humane humans and the opposite; the territory of wild animals in jungles and humanly scared species in the same wild jungles. With which language do I welcome the newest world citizen to the midst of the world citizens? Do you prefer Zulu to Swahili? Is Gikuyi better than Hausa or Yoruba your native dialect? Would you want me to convey my praises through millions of idyllic languages in the world? How do I…what should I… but I…hmmm, I know what first to say in a gathering of this magnitude and its quintessence in this part of the world:

Glory unto you God of Infinity
Minister of heaven and earth,-
Today, we praise you whole heartedly whilst
Our hearts beclouded with ecstasy

O yes, it's the Ancient Supreme Artiste praises are due to, as the synchronized starter and frantic finisher of existence circle, here on earth and elsewhere beyond the ordinary human's vision; even the scientists. He who creates with words, plows with words sows with words, harvest with words, builds and destroys with words. I pledge my homage with the whole of my heart to you the giver of live and its taker, solely for the successful journey of our world's newest citizen from another world to this world.

Where child is celebrated I visit
With my hands, child will I carry and rejoice
With the victorious mother today;
Only the child I cherish….


Newest member of the either over-populated or under-populated world, the above stanza is just one of the many lullabies I told you, were composed whilst you were in your mother's abdomen, exclusively for your listening pleasure. Yet I'm unhappy with the way I've been stuttering and mumbling words together over the effort of forcing myself to welcome you. O this task, well, I have to do it because the town-criers, palace jesters and royal bards have all gone to the market-square (Oja- Oba) to proclaim your arrival to both sellers and buyers, foreigners and neighbors, for you're not just a child given birth to neither by some pauper around the village but a royal child. Maybe these lines perhaps this stanza of my ballad will do the magic:

You are welcome aboard Jojolo
From the mysterious dungeon
To the midst of celebrities
Who value your birth.

Mukulumuke, joyously, will I dance for the newly arrived citizen of the world. Jojolo, don't be surprised, that's the registered name for every newcomer like you. It was the first name of each member in this virtually seven billion populated world. In some regions, Jojolo means Baby, whilst some call it Tunfulu. All meant the same. Just as Abdullah- the servant of Allah- is the universal name of all Muslims so also is Jojolo, Baby, Tunfulu and many more, depending on the language, to every newcomer. All of us present here today once answered to one of those names in the past.

Jojolo, remember series of terms you concurred to few minutes ago in your mother's womb? Now you're here. You'll be confronted with several more, series of clichés and revert rhetorical questions, which almost 6, 666, 666, 666 of us have not been able to proffer solutions to in the least.

Newcomer, your mouth shouldn’t be ajar because of my statement, nobody is an Island of knowledge and years spend on earth is a waste when wisdom deludes you. But that does not mean that we're neither wise nor that we've folded our arms against solving most of these questions of global tranquility and harmonious earthy existence all the while, no! Never! It won't work! Our plans! Our strategies! When some at the receiving ends resisted them vehemently! They're born to fight but never to die. They have bundled peace and progress to their neighboring continents and nations.

They plant discords, plot coups, perpetrate wars in those under –rated nations of the world, solitarily to loot there God given resources. And at eruption of war in these blessed regions worlds WOLFS would camouflaged in the pajamas of AID: USAID, UN, WHO and the likes when of course, they're the planters of those evil seeds that germinate terror and horror for the world's warriors to plunder. The apartheid in South Africa, Uhuru movement in Kenya Somalia, Uganda and Ruwanda wouldn't have ended if the looters, world AID organizations weren't exposed of their diamond, gold and other mineral resources exploitation. The unrest in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, even in the Niger Delta will neither stop nor end as long as crude oil still stream under there soil. These shameless inverters of the global progress will never retreat an inch even when their theft tact slithers to the open through the same transmitters: Radio and Television which they use as tools to fight their neighboring nations without war gadgets. Word missiles are powerful than the most sophisticated nuclear missiles in the world! Beyond reasonable doubt, I know they have hearts but definitely not conscience. O, greediness is the apex of diseases.

We're not dim-witted as you might thought Jojolo, and now, you know some of those questions we've failed to proffer solutions to, and as a newcomer; we hope you have divine solutions because of your celestial oral.

O my child,
Cry not,
My enchanting child
Shout not…

In your earthly kit will you find fabulous ideals, ideas and ideologies of the world but it's left to you, to accept what and dispatch what not. Effortlessly will you scale through several of the plotted huddles but few would broaden your thinking faculty, as well sap your energy. Religion and societal dictates are some of the very few. Your fellow world citizens shall say to you Buddhism, the religion mode towards self-realization, is superior to Hinduism, the religion of soul-liberation, which from the later emanated. They shall preach the gospel of Taoism, as a perfect religion whereas everything of man is imperfect; he only strives towards perfection from his birthday till his death moment. Also shall they tell you that Judaism, from which the world most doctored and politicized religion, Christianity, emanated, is an occult religion.

The eccentric and dogmatic Muslims shall preach to you that Islamism is the only religion approved by the supreme creator- God. Whilst it was recorded in their book, that God sent almost 25, 000 prophets with different messages to different people with different books. And they shall silence upon this fact, that verse imprinted in their book (AL-Qur’an), which was the compilation of books of the aforementioned religions; "Allah did not send any apostle but with the language of his people, so that he might explain to them clearly, then God leaves whom He pleases in error and He guides whom He pleases, and He is the mighty, the wise." (Q14:4) Upon this realization, yet they'll tell you that Arabic language is the language of their God and Lord. Hmmm, perhaps that's the most unholy questions to ask in twenty-first Century, my dear newest world citizen.

The custodian of Christianity, in the Vatican City and other places, shall congest your "Tabular-racer" with the erroneous fact that Jesus was the only son of the most supreme, the mighty and Omnipresence God of the universe. Mary the mother of the holy son supposedly Almighty God's only wife though but she divorced him and married Joseph because of his royal-blood line, wisdom and uprightness.

This fact was recorded in the Bible Mathew 1:18-19: "…After his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found with child of the Holy spirit" then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not wanting to make her a "public example" was minded to put her away secretly." Authentically, Joseph knew what to do and had sealed his thoughts on Mary's atrocity before the angel relayed the message to him in his dream. GOD is beyond man's imagination. They'll want you to believe that Jesus was or is a super human, no, well he might be but, his miracles were not new neither were they different from Mose's in Egypt and Jerusalem because they were both students of the same teachers. "Out of Egypt I called my son", sure, this has an antecedent in the bible. Do not deceive yourself young one, they're both crafty megatons.

Upon these facts at your disposal, my little colleague, if you decides to follow the path of your ancestors which is generously tagged: Traditional religion. Whose prophets include: Orumila, Elegbara, Yemoja, Osun, Sango, Oya, Ogun ecetera you shall be pegged: devil incarnate and lots of names that were not included on name list on your naming ceremony.

Whereas, the Jew and Hebrew people connect the spiritual realm with Kaballah, Izhab is the Islamism's Oracle and Astrology is the Greek's, English's and Christianity's. My dazzled newcomer, there's a Department of Astrology in the Vatican City. All these communicative means are equivalent to your ancestral communion means with the spiritual realm. IFA! Hmmm, my fellow newest citizen, welcome to the world of confusion and commotion. Welcome home from the abode of truth to the threshold of falsehood. Nothing is real here child, except your mind. Follow it sternly and let it be your indicator to either the truth or falsehood. “Imagine there's no heaven…. And the sky's the limit," wouldn't that be wonderful? Yes, fantastic!

The golden rule you must know about your polluted polity and adopt is that nothing is coincidence, everything is eternally interwoven, though physically it might not be visible but the spiritual connection is not debatable child, fate is the father of man and the foundation pillars of his existence.

Don't be deceived my newest world burden carrier, God's will never can’t be delayed by any group, cult or person, time is the determinant of His wills execution patience, you have to be tolerance because the fattest bone belongs to the patient dog.

O elders of the globe: aged world citizens, pardon my tongue for I have said so much out of the context to this new member of the world.

Child, I…am suppose to be singing you praises and ovation songs, pardon me because this is not my craft, pardon me for my imperfection. The professionals in this business of welcoming newcomer like you will soon be here, but in the meantime, relish yourself with this stanza...

Today, we have in our midst
Harmonica with hand of organist
We welcome you with our melodious flute
African's greatest fun instrument.


© Ayanda Abeke, 2007
Rumour Networks
Lagos , Nigeria .

THE WAIT IS OVER

The winner's name in each category is in CAP.

On-Air Personality of the Year (Radio)
TYENG GYANG (COOL FM ABUJA)
Gbemi Olateru-Olagbegi (Cool FM Lagos)
Chuks Roberts (Cosmo FM Enugu)

Best Use of Technology
BAMIDELE ODUFUYE
Icebox Studios
Yinka Adetoye

Best Use of Advocacy
Emmanuel James-Odiase
EMMANUEL ETIM
Tosyn Bucknor

Musician of the Year
Dbanj
9ice
Psquare
Asa

Actor of the Year
Jennifer Osamor
FUNKE AKINDELE
Mercy Johnson

Artist of the Year
Saheed Adejuwon
EMEKA OKEREKE
Adolphus Opara

Magazine of the Year
ACE
Soundcity Blast
The Applause

Style Entrepreneur of the Year
Funke Adegbola (Ella Brown Couture)
UCHE NNAJI (OUCH!)
Linda Ikeji (Blackdove Communications)

Comedian of the Year
Jedidiah
Teju Babyface
OMOBABA

Business Owner of the Year
MOSUNMOLA UMORU (HONEYSUCKLES PTL)
Toochukwu Onyemelukwe (Cotek)
Hassan Rilwan (Focal Point Publishing Ltd)

Professional of the Year
DR. ADEDAYO OSHOLOWU (SPECIAL OLYMPICS NIGERIA)
Fatima Mohammed (Chapel Hill and Denham)
Folasope Aiyesimoju (Stanbic Bank)

Model of the Year
Bryan Okwara
Warebi Martha
OLUBUNMI ADEMOKOYA

Team of the Year
Babs Educational Consult
KNIGHTHOUSE
Mo Hits Crew

Journalist of the Year
Rachel Ogbu (Newswatch)
Ruonah Agbroko (Thisday)
FUNKE ADETUTU (BUSINESSDAY)

On-Air Personality of the Year (TV)
Tana Egbo-Adelana (Channel O)
LAMIDE AKINTOBI (CHANNELS TV)
Adaure Achumba (STV)

Screen Producer of the Year
Gbenga Salu
ONYE UBANATU
Clarence Peters

Sportsperson of the Year
YAGAZIE CHUKWUMERIJE
Damola Osayomi
Mikel Obi

Music Producer of the Year
COBHAMS
Tee-Y Mix
Don Jazzy

Dancer of the Year
QUDUS ONIKEKU
Wale Akinbola Sodade
Buddy Agedah

Young Person of the Year
Asa (Bukola Elemide)
D'BANJ (DAPO OYEBANJO)
Yagazie Chukwumerije

THE WAIT IS OVER

Onyeka Nwelue's 'The Abyssinian Boy' is now available through www.booksng.com, at Terra Kulture, Tiamiyu Savage Str, VI and at 1st Flr, 95 Bode Thomas Street, Surulere, Lagos. The Abyssinian Boy will be launched on Saturday 24th January 2009 at the National Library opposite Casino Cinema, Alagomeji, Lagos from 12noon. Jumoke Verissimo will read from 'I am Memory' and Crown Troupe of Africa will perform at the event. Toyin Akinosho, Publisher Africa Oil & Gas Report and CNN awardee will be Guest Speaker / Reviewer. Don't come alone, bring a friend, and better still, bring your cheque book and claim a few copies to take away...

Onyeka Nwelue was born in Nigeria in 1988. After graduating from High School at 17, he travelled to South Asia, particularly to India, where he wrote the first draft of his novel in three months. He has been published in the Guardian, The Sun, Eclectica, Nigeria Village Square, Kafla InterContinental and Wild Goose Poetry Review. He has received a grant from the Institute for Research on African Women, Children and Culture (IRAWCC) and is currently working on his second novel.
Set in India and Nigeria (and scattered locations of the world), The Abyssinian Boy is about a family whose nine year-old child gets haunted by an albino dwarf ghost.

Blurbs for 'The Abyssinian Boy'

"Unique style... very interesting imagery"
-Clare Dudman, author of Edge of Danger and Wegener's Jigsaw

" A young writer with immense imagination and vision... an authentic narrative that will grip the reader. He has not only dared to dream, but also focused inexorably on the complexities of modern family and its history in an uncompromising, fast changing world"
- Uche Peter Umez, author of Sam and the Wallet

"Onyeka has written an ambitious novel which blurs not only geographical lines but other lines too. It reminds us (or ought to) that what unites us, our humanity, is much more than those that seek to divide us"
-Chika Unigwe, author of The Phoenix

"The Abyssinian Boy not only treats a universal theme; even the characterisation of the novel is universal. Excellent!"
-Lanre Ari'Ajia, author of Women at Crossroads

"Onyeka Nwelue is an interesting new voice. For one so young, he shows rare insights into the lives and sensibilities of people faced with racial intergration; a concern as relevant today as ever before"
- Jude Dibia, author of Walking with Shadows and Unbridled

The characters in Mr. Nwelue’s delightful world move between concepts and continents with a gentle humor, compassion and sensibility that will readily appeal to all citizens of the global village at large.
- Arun Krishnan, Author, The Loudest Firecracker

Interview: FUJI Music in focus

Sule Alao Malaika pour out his mind on the Fuji Scene in an unconventional interview with Ayanda Abeke. This interview was conducted sometime in December last year(2008).

THE INTERVIEW


AYANDA ABEKE: What is it about king or no king issue. I mean in the FUJI circle.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: There is nothing there my brother.

AYANDA ABEKE: Please let me know your opinion about this issue.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: Which issue?

AYANDA ABEKE: Working on the aesthetics of FUJI Music, I recently listened to one of your live-shows and I heard you talking about the Osupa as new King of Fuji. Really, it’s not that I am against your view as you disproved him, is just that I'm much concerned about the essence of FUJI Music and what it has turned to. If for anything, you are one of those few FUJI musicians I respect a lot. The New Oba of FUJI and the recent issue between you and OSUPA could you please throw more light on these two.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: There is nothing between Osupa and me. If you read my note on FaceBook, you’ll see that I was not involved in the issue at all. Concerning the issue of Oba, I was chosen by a group of people as the KING OF NEW GENERATION since 2004 and was coronated in front of people by government officials and not by any musician. Neither was there any controversy since then. So I cannot really say much about those who begged to be made kings.

AYANDA ABEKE: Begged? You know that it was Mr. FUJI himself who made OSUPA the king of FUJI and I don't think his reign has generational barrier.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: He made him KING OF MUSIC NOT KING OF FUJI and the same Barrister came back again to say he has withdrawn from his earlier pronouncement. It was not even up to six months.

AYANDA ABEKE: WOW! This is funny really. But I watched the video of that event.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: So you can see that it is really funny. Is Barrister saying that Osupa is king over Lagbaja, KSA, Oliver de Coque and even Barrister himself?

AYANDA ABEKE: That can't be. I think he meant KING OF FUJI and not KING OF MUSIC.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: So is it justified and does it make sense? Even Osupa himself said KING OF MUSIC.

AYANDA ABEKE: Well, I can't really judge that because, the fuji fans don't really know the cabalism going on in the industry. Well, That's rather a mistake on Mr. FUJI's part.

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: Nothing like cabalism.

AYANDA ABEKE: Are you sure?

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: I mean no cabal in the industry, just some people who wanted undue and unnecessary noise for themselves.

AYANDA ABEKE: Now, when you say you're the king of New Generation Fuji Musicians, you mean OSUPA, PASUMA, Muri Tunder and some others that I can't remember their names now, are members of that generation? I need to know your view about this...

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: I did not say, people choose me as king and they considered various things before making me King. Osupa says he can sing very well, Pasuma says he can entertain. I am not boasting but I can SING VERY WELL, ENTERTAIN, DANCE, PLAY THE DRUMS etc. In a class, is it possible for the overall best student to be the one that only knows ENGLISH or MATHS? But he would be good, if not the best in almost all subjects.

AYANDA ABEKE: That's a good respond

SULE ALAO MALAIKA: Thanks

AYANDA ABEKE: I must confess you're very intelligent But I will be asking you more questions when next we get locked on the net, particularly on FACEBOOK. Cheers.

Anticipating Onyeka Nwelue’s The Abyssinian Boy...

DADA Books, an imprint of Dream Arts and Design Agency, have signed a book deal with 20 year-old University of Nigeria sophomore, Onyeka Nwelue, to publish his novel, The Abyssinian Boy by December 2008.

Onyeka Nwelue was born in Nigeria in 1988. After graduating from High School at 17, he travelled to South Asia, particularly to India, where he wrote the first draft of his novel in three months. He has been published in the Guardian, The Sun, Eclectica, Nigeria Village Square, Kafla InterContinental and Wild Goose Poetry Review. He has received a grant from the Institute for Research on African Women, Children and Culture (IRAWCC) and is currently working on his second novel.

Set in India and Nigeria (and scattered locations of the world), The Abyssinian Boy is about a family whose nine year-old child gets haunted by an albino dwarf ghost.

Ayodele Arigbabu, publisher of DADA Books, refusing to comment on the terms of the deal, rather said: ‘The Abyssinian Boy lays bare the many paradoxes of culture clash with thought provoking and often amusing ironies’. Chika Unigwe, Nigerian-Belgian author of The Phoenix describes it as ‘an ambitious novel’.



DADA Books was established earlier this year and has already published performance poet- Jumoke Verissimo’s first poetry collection: I am Memory which is currently being promoted through a series of readings and performances around Nigeria.

If the progress made by I am Memory is any indicator of what to expect from the publishers of The Abyssinian Boy (which is fast becoming the most anticipated novel in India and Nigeria), then Onyeka Nwelue is off to a good start. Sources close to the author have suggested that he may have been paid a hefty advance by the publishers.

For enquiries, contact: DADA Books, 1st Floor, 95 Bode Thomas Street, Surulere, Lagos; Tel: +234-01-7451990. E.mail: dreamarts.designage ncy@gmail. com

LIVE in ABUJA: Toni Kan Reads at SALAMADER CAFE

Salamander Café, Abuja

Tuesday 9th December, 5pm for 5.30pm start

Nights of the Creaking Bed is a collection of tales that speak to the heart of our existence as human beings navigating the profoundly difficult terrain that we call life in Nigeria. This collection, which has been described by writer and literary critic, Molara Wood, as “a cohesive and stylish collection, with atmospheric scenes and noir elements,” explores themes as quotidian and disturbing as corruption, religious intolerance, gratuitous violence, ritual killing, gnawing poverty, unrequited love and even incest.

The characters that inhabit Nights of The Creaking Bed are colourful, real and conflicted, while the stories read like they have been torn off the pages of our lives as well as those of our friends, family and neighbours. Of Kan’s female characters, Molara Wood notes: ‘His women characters dare to be different. Without apologies, they rebel against the constricting box of conformity. They are familiar women, unclothed.’

This is a hauntingly beautiful collection and the images are so evocative that they will stick in the mind long after you have closed the book.

Meet the author, buy your signed copies, listen to fresh musical talent from Jos...


About the Author
Toni Kan is an award winning poet, essayist and prose stylist. Toni has previously published two critically acclaimed books: When a Dream Lingers Too Long, a collection of poems which received Honourable Mention at the ANA-Cadbury Poetry Prize in 2003 and a novella, Ballad of Rage, which was shortlisted for the maiden NLNG award in 2004 and also received honourable mention at the ANA/Spectrum Prose Prize of the same year. His works have appeared in Salthill, Drum Voices, Revue, Farafina, Sentinel Poetry Quarterly and ANA Review.

Salamander Café,
Nr Mama Cass
Wuse 2
Abuja

RSVP (only 50 seats available):
Folake: 0805 631 4593,0702 785 0936 or email: folake@cassavarepublic.biz

Farafina Magazine's Event

Farafina Magazine invites you to join us for our premiere Visual Arts & Literature event holding at Bambuddha Restaurant on the 13th of December, 2008 at 2 pm.

There will be a photography exhibition by Adolphus Opara, a film screening (selected clips from Molara Wood's interview with acclaimed writer, Ben Okri), spoken word performances, and readings by Nnedi Okorafor and Eghosa Imasuen.

Some new information... Timi Dakolo, winner of the inaugural Idols West Africa, will also be at the event.He will be performing.

Time and Place

Date: 13 December 2008
Time: 14:00 - 18:00
Location: Bambudhha Restaurant Street:
1310, Karimu Ikotun, Victoria Island

Contact Info

Phone: 017406741
Email: imfo@farafinamagazine.com

For more information, visit: http://thefarafinist.blogspot.com

WRITERS ANONYMOUS

The African Artist's Foundation will host its second rendezvous for writers from all backgrounds and all persuasions called: Writers Anonymous- a workshop (more of a salon for writers really) that offers mutual support to writers to help them come to terms with the pains and gains of their literary vocation.

Writers Anonymous is a forum designed to foster an anonymous ambiance where mutual sharing and learning constitute the main drivers of creative exchange, with (a) guest writer(s) (who remain anonymous -beyond a couple of hints- till the set date) in attendance to share experiences with others on the path travelled while building their craft and careers as writers.

Writers Anonymous will create an environment for the sharing of creative writing tips and of course, of great poetry and prose excerpts between writers of different levels of competence and lovers of literature in general.

The SECOND EDITION of WRITERS ANONYMOUS will hold on Saturday the 6th of December 2008 from 3pm-7pm at the African Artists' Foundation terrace, 54 Raymond Njoku Street S/W Ikoyi, Lagos. Drinks and small chops will be in decent supply so bring a friend along.


RSVP: ayo.a@africanartists.org, +234 803 300 0499

Memory Lane

When there is nobody to be called upon at difficult moments, succour refuses to be at your command, and a multitude of people in your environment who earlier pronounced you proficient in all things become the first to ululate at your pit-fall, in such times are we left devastated and numbed. This moment in a life time is as chilling as the death day. Steadfastness is the best drug to cure the disheartening disease, in a moment like these, when all things starkly turn against one.

The statistics of recent obituary bills have shown that death is really an omen to wealthy families and ominous to others.
“Age 75: Gone too soon,” a wealthy family’s obituary recently proclaims in the news journals and electronic media.
“Age 45: Gone to rest in his arms,” says pauper’s obituary on broken walls and wood walls across tattered streets of this state. O the grim angle of death, you are indeed cruel, selfish and self-centred! You always take away saints and leave sinners!

Sincerely, my dad’s death was more than disaster, for the agony and havoc it created afterwards could not be quantified. Without a doubt, streams cannot be covered with coco leaves. Typically, we have lived as one big happy family. My dad, in his life time, worked as a manager in one of the country’s biggest lottery companies and my mum as a food vendor in a well rated bank as well.

Before now, long ago in much earlier times, my dad had always pointed to me in our discussions that he was once an energetic trader in the Gold-Coast, the present day Ghana . And when I grew up, to be precise, in the college, in my Geography class, I got to know that Ghana is one of the numerous neighboring countries to Nigeria , the arguable “giant of Africa .” But I’m sure if had known this much about West Africa and Africa as a continent, I would have one day asked him: “On what basis is Nigeria the giant of Africa ?” And I’m as sure as the death day that he would have sprang up a thoughtful argument. Many stories did my dear dad tell me about life and his endeavours. No doubt, trading had made a stronger man of him amidst the dangers and terrors encountered on his trade-mission sojourns.

One day, Bowofola Binuyo recalled the must terrific day of his life whilst chatting with me, on a dull Sunday evening. We were both in our small room situated in a shabby slum recently slated for rehabilitation by the state government, in the suburb of the most popular and populous city in Nigeria , Lagos …the land of wisdom, quickness and perhaps fastness. Never stop, keep moving; don’t wait nor relax, time is important. Lagos as a city never waits for anybody, but what you make of it is with your solitary effort.

With excitement my dad said to me, “The day I could on no account forget in my life was that day I was trapped in the middle of a thick and dark forest along the outskirts of the then Gold-Coast (Ghana).” This day was a Friday. After purchasing goods, he had to sneak through the thickest wild forest that housed all sorts of wild animal you can imagine. This was because the goods he had bought with thousands of cedes were illegal, so he could not pass through the boarder without being checked thoroughly. Suddenly, in the far distance, a strange sound echoed; towards his path, he saw troop of plum and thin elephants treading in their weight and height order.
“Bode, stop!” he murmured to his younger brother who accompanied him on the journey.
“For what? You mean you want to delay me in this thick terrific forest,” Bode replied feverishly.
“Okay. Look straight into your front and tell me what you see”
“Elephants trooping down our path,” he hurriedly replied, panting as if life would ebb out of him through his mouth in the next seconds.
“Come, come with me!” Bowofola said as quickly as he can, dragging his half-dead brother closer to himself. He held him tightly, resting Bode’s head on his torso so as to calm his nervousness.

Beside the deserted forest path they hid their goods and stylishly walked into the heart of the forest where they remained mute, almost devoid of breathing, at the back of a huge tree. Slowly, the brothers watched the elephants shamble away.

In the memory of my late dear dad I was lost such that I heard my name in a high tone: Biola!
“O, this is where you are”
“Hold your breath mister monitor or whatever you name is!”
“You can now go on and insult me after I had instructed your colleagues to clean your portion in your absence; you can go on and call me names.”
“Ah, I am sorry Mr. Laolu, I am sorry”
“No, there is no need being sorry afterwards, since you’ve now grown feather like duck in water, go on and call me names…”
“And it’s not so sir. I was robbed this morning on my way to the office”
“Robbed? How? Hope it’s not one-chance sah?
“Exactly sir”
“Stop calling me sir that does not accord respect in the sense. And I hope they did not beat you or perhaps do…”
“Not all. My God was with me, and the spirit of my dad never allowed their evil been unleashed on me.”
“Ha ha ha…your dad’s spirit.”
“Yes my God and the spirit of my dad saved me from their evil hands or you doubt me?”
“Doubt you? Not at all Biola. You have said the truth but putting your dad’s spirit after God’s intervention precisely was the genesis of my laughter.”
“How do you”
“Just kneel down, go on my dear little cleaner, and give praises to your lord and savior who saved you from the hands of human-wolves. And let your dad’s gentle soul rest in perfect peace. Because if he were to be alive and board the bus with you, he would have done nothing to prevent you from the hands of those one-chance guys were they in their horrific mood.”
“Thank you very much but…”
“Seeeeh! May God be with you all the time. And be careful next time. Look very well and be sure before you board any bus next time.”
“Amen. Thank you.”

Ayanada Abeke
Rumour Networks,
Lagos, Nigeria.

ONE CHANCE

(This short-piece is dedicated to all literary victims of "One Chance Syndrom")

As it has been established that nothing accepts sacrifices like the mouth, then man must work daily to complete the ritual offered to the mouth. Fortunately I always got all the sustenance I ever wanted in life from my parents, who joyfully backed in my pre and post primary school days, even when toys were my first attraction. What a wonderful blessing to have parents who care, as mine did. They cared not only for my education, which is the best legacy, they believed, but also monitored my health strictly. I can still remember vividly the series of syrups I had to take every morning after my bath and the long minutes spent eating at the dining-table. My sweet and pretty looking mother washed my school uniform every holy evening and ironed it each early morning even before I was awake to assure my neatness for the school day. I was renowned for my chocolate padded portable bag. Creamy, brownie, yellowish of assorted colours and different tastes. And for my high level of chocolate consumption, Mr. Ajose, my dad’s childhood friend, nick-named me: Chocolate-teeth. I danced energetically to his rhythmic and seasoned voice. My parents’ devotion never depreciated at any point, but rather appreciated each time I added a year to my existence. It used to be all fun at my birthday ceremonies. Elaborate cakes with inscriptions of my name and my age…I remember those good days and their memories usually lingered for days in my pierced heart.

Ah, but death also needs to taste. If only he was still alive. For death, you came just before dawn to take my precious away without prior acknowledgement. You ejected sorrow and heartache into the marrow of a happy and joyous family. You couldn’t think of anything more rewarding than to cut short the life of a beautifully looking flower, endearing even at the depth of sunrise. Bowofola Binuyo. Hereafter, wherever you reside now, forget not your pretty precious and devoted wife and you lovely children. We will make sure your name is elevated and vindicated here on earth if you do not desert us. Su n re o.
After my dad’s death, everybody in the family became a tool of industry, a commercial vessel. We worked so as to keep the family going. I was not exempted from the early morning’s rigorous tasks before going to school, despite being the first born, nor any others that promptly awaited me after hectic hours of lecturing in school. Many times, the attendant record would close before I resumed school. At the end of the last term, I was failed because of my late comings, as it was boldly written on my report sheet. But I sang:
“I can’t be loved all the time”
“I can’t be hated all the time”
The great Bob Marley sang.
And re-sang:
“I can’t fail all the time”
“I can’t pass all the time”, rephrasing Bob Marley’s lyric and this ever since has been my golden principal.

As a matter of fact, after my 0’level exams, I undertook a job, office assistant in big Insurance Company, B&B on the Island. And as the assistant and a partial office cleaner, I had to wake up early in the morning, I mean by 5 a.m, jump up on my fragile feet, do what had to be done, before I finally bounced out at quarter to 6 a.m. Then I was off to the bus-stop close to my house and off to my glorified office. But the act that was performed during the road-stage, on the very last day of the very last month before I moved on to taste a new life in education was a sacrifice that my mouth can hardly speak of. At barely 6:15 a.m. on a breezy Thursday morning, I was at the bus-stop waiting. It wasn’t long before a bus arrived with the conductor calling Obalende at the very top of his Indian-hemp shaped voice, even smelling of the stuff, and since this was my destined fate, I boarded the bus with two other ladies and an old man.

The rough haggard looking conductor had collected his fair from virtually everybody with the exception of two cool, well-dressed young men. Just as we were about to climb the third mainland bridge, the young men simultaneously brought out cool-steel pistols and asked every one of us who boarded the bus from Ojuelegba to surrender our valuable possessions. Although, having heard series of cruel stories perpetrated by the so-call “one-chance” I still couldn’t believe my being a victim that morning.

Ayanda Abeke
Rumour Networks
Lagos.

9th Edition of Poetry Potter

Kowry Kreations Media

…shell of creativity

Presents

“Poetry Potter”

Venue: National Library Hall, Opposite Casino Cinema, Alagome, Yaba, Lagos , Nigeria.

Date: Every last Saturday of the month ( Nov 25th, 2006 )

Time: 3 p.m. prompt. No African time, please.

Admission: Free, Free; Free!

Guest Artiste: Tony Kan,
Banker / Poet / Novelist

Highlights: dance: Crown Troupe of Africa,
music: Are, Awoko and Cornerstone.

Dress Code: Endeavour to come in your native attire.R.S.V.P: Aderemi Adegbite 08035149337, Ropo Ewenla 08032311574, Lekan Balogun 08027727751

ALL LOVERS OF LITERARY EXISTENCE ARE INVITED

ANA - Lagos: October Reading!

Association of Nigerian Authors, Lagos Chapter
Presents
October Reading!
Whether you are a Poet, Playwright or Fictionist
And resides in Lagos, you are warmly welcome to the monthly
Reading of the Associations of Nigerian Authors
Lagos Chapter (ANA-Lagos).

Theme: ANA Lagos in retrospect.

Guest Speakers: Dr. Tolu Ajayi
Nike Adesuyi
Uzo Maxim (a.k.a god of poetry)
Compere: Chike Ofile
Venue: National Gallery of Art (Aina Onabolu Complex),
National Theatre, Iganmu.
Date: October 14th, 2006.
Time: 2.00 p.m. prompt.
Other highlights include Drama presentations:

by Renaissance Theatre led by Lekan Balogun.

As usual, the special reading, which will be spiced with exciting recitations, performances and readings from creative works of new and established writers, will present the right atmosphere for the exhibition of creative talents. All (published) authors are therefore implored to bring copies of their publications for presentation and sale at the event.

Hot Discussion: on the unknown generations

Editor: I have read this article.What do you think?

Ayanda Abeke: I would have loved to hear your view first but I have no choice than to answer your quest. Thanks for reading it. I think in my own opinion that African literature in entirety will go no where if we(writers) continue to write with a language we have no grip on. The first generation of African writers did so well using English as their writing tool because they got quantitative learning of the language directly from the owners. However, the uncategorized generation who write in their mother tongues did so well that none of the English written literature of today can compete with dear ideology, philosophy and the down to earth communicative skill. Wole Soyinka had not done better even with his boring vocabularies. This I read in the article that was part of the problems of the third generation writers. Although we don't know how to classify writers of my age. Well, we await our figure...but claptrap, cnn, bbc, yahoo, generation x and stuff I will never take for our generation which one of us had admitted. You can read his poem in submission and confirmation of these aghast names on my blog: www.ayandaabeke.blogspot.com

Another thing that contributed largely to the problem is thematic preoccupation in the present day African writers. The first and second generations had colonialism, imperialism, neo-colonialism, civil war(s) and others to discuss in their literature but all we are left with are Love, Relationships, HIV and AIDS. That is the reason why they find us to be difficult to understand and as well to trace. We talk about so many things: day after day because diversity became the order of our day. Take for instance Nngugi wa Thiong'o, many of his books that I've read only based of colonialism and imperialism. At least I have read close to five of his works: plays, prose and articles on this subject. Ocot p'Bitek is another person who has no other theme to threat than colonialism. Yet, 1,2 and 3 generations look down on us. They never take interest in our versatility.

Dear Editor, I never prepare for this and my time is running out. I will like to hear your view and we will continue from there.

Editor: Hello, Ayanda Abeke, I understand your thoughts perfectly.

This generational issue.

There does seem to be a link between massive political issues and the production of poetry.

For example, anti-colonialism in Nigeria created a whole generation of important writers.
For example, the first-world war in the UK created major breakthrought: Eliot's The Wasteland.

What happens when these monents of crisis pass?
They seem to haunt the imagination like shadows.

For example, in Nigeria, there is a desire to talk about colonialism still
For example, in the UK, there is still a wish to re-live the second-world war period. The media still produces drama about this period. Critics still write about poets of the first and second world war, Owen, Sasoon, Douglas etc, as if they have to be known about because they wrote about these great events.

I have a problem with this.
I think you have a problem with this attitude too.

Tolu Ogunlesi has this attitude...the present generation are the fingers that cannot reach the water. He is describing Decadence. At the close of the nineteenth-century, poets of The Decadence sighed the same sighs as Ogunlesi: everything has been done, all that we can do is look back, our generation is wasted. Then Pound , Eliot, Carlos-Williams ripped poetry into a new dimension with free-verse.

Ogunlesi says that "Google is the new Godot".
It sounds very clever, but he does not really understand the phrase.
In Waiting for Godot, Beckett, Lucky speaks of the degeneration of the human mind. Ogunlesi seems to think that Lucky is speaking about Godot and Godot=the superficial human mind=Googling the net.
Godot is God and Goodness.
Interesting that Ogunlesi attacks the superficial thinkers but thinks carelessly himself.
I have not read much of Ogunlesi's poetry, but what I have read seems to be a product of what he hates: the superficial Google, unknown, Generation X.

So...colonialism has gone...so poetry must look to new areas of conflict.
So...the great world wars have gone...so poetry must look to new areas of conflict.

HERE IS A BIG DIFFERENCE, one that has prevented me from understanding you at times and for this error I apologise.

Contemporary UK poetry, has turned from global events towards the self--the global world inside the human.
Contemporary African poetry has not gone this route...it sees love, the psyche, AIDs, human relatonships, as things not worth talking about. But they are. Colonialism was a physical and mental battle waged through death and words.

Ogunlesi sees the present generation as a world without mind. That is his mindless problem. It is HIS fingers that are too short to reach the water. That is HIS problem. It is the work for greater poets to find a new mind for Nigeria.

I suggest a basic problem. Ogunlesi was born in the UK. Ogunlesi can speak the white man's English. So, he writes fluently. Because he writes fluent English people say "Hey, here is a man writing well, he is a poet". But is he? I look at samples from his Gecko book and am bored. His English does not impress me. I can read his English all around me. I look at his thoughts and yawn: Google-man!

You are right to be suspicious.

Generational Imbalance

In reaction to Ama’s comment on a new member (Senator Ihenyen) in Kriazitiviti, a literary linkserve, Tolu Ogunlesi said:

No, Lord Ama, I doubt that we are empty barrels.
We are many other things, " [the] unfortunate children of fortunate
parents" (Biodun Jeyifo); the "Yahoo-generation" (Damola Awoyokun),
etc etc, but, empty barrels, nah, I doubt it.... And he further buttressed his point with a free verse poem title: A NAME FOR US.

Tolu’s view on generational superiority quite differ from Chike Ofili's. He condemned vehemently in his paper delivered at Aina Onobolu Hall during ANA-Lagos' August Reading the various names Tolu agreed were really his generation's names.

The argument proper:

Chike Ofili: Generational Superiority

A tree cannot make a forest and in trusted unions is the wisdom of the Yoruba. They established this fact by a practical experiment. Imagine a forest filled with several species of trees and monkeys as their specimens. In this forest, monkeys jump from one tree to another, dangling, hovering, on and over branches with ease, enclosed in excitement; to the amusement of the researchers. Then, at an instant, the trees are distanced from one another. The monkeys with the highest skill of synchronized movement in the forest are subjected to the stress of long distance travel to get to another tree and suppressed by turmoil. Hence, unions form and these foster cordiality. This is the reason why you see people with common ideas, missions and believes coming together to form groups, forums and communities in ancient Africa and in other parts of the world.

The 1st and 2nd generations of writers in Nigeria came together in the 70s after succeeding in their various miniature groups to form an alliance that would give their voices more recognition and make them heard. They registered the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) almost immediately after political tensions in the country relaxed and ever since then the association has been upright.; although some members of the association constantly toed the political terrain and projected the association to its purported height within a twinkle in their eyes. Among these notorious and radical writers are Prof. Wole Soyinka, Prof. Chinua Achebe, the late environmentalist, Ken Saro-wiwa, Odia Ofeimum and several others. Today, the association has its branches in virtually all the states in Nigeria.

As the second Saturday of the month is sacred to published and unpublished writers, publishers, journalists, book enthusiasts and lovers of literature in the congested city of Lagos, they all gathered at Aina-Onobolu’ s Art Gallery under the umbrella of the state branch of ANA. The Lagos chapter of the ANA held her September reading with the theme: “The Climate of Creative Writing in Present-day Nigeria”. Uduma Kalu and Chike Ofili were the guest speakers, whilst Maxwell moderated with high intellect. After some readings, with fair criticism, the chairman, Folu Agoi declared the interactive section opened. Even though Uduma Kalu, the renowned journalist could not grace the reading, he sent his contribution towards the theme through his colleague who read his paper with his own personal embellishments. Chike Ofili also came with a written paper, but he had a lot of books and materials to buttress his view points. Indeed both of them argued for the 4th generation of writers, stating clearly their limitations and successes in Nigerian literature. However, Chike Ofili argued that the reason why 1st and 2nd generations of writers looked down on both 3rd and 4th generations is that they equate generation X with the UK and America. He explained that X is used to connote an unknown figure in mathematics, thereby it means empty in the actual sense.

At the inception of the section, Chike Ofili affirmed that it was because of Colonial and independence issues (which needed constant highlighting via all forms of _expression) that 1st and 2nd generations had the opportunity to produce several pieces, and, of course, the foreign publishing houses in Nigeria were eager to publish new African voices. This was unlike what has befallen the 3rd and 4th generations that have become inclined to self-publishing, tagged: “vanity publishing” by the older generations. Indeed, the 3rd generation was partially favoured by the Biafra War and the tense political atmosphere in the later 70s.

Refusing to pay due compliment by the older generations to 4th generation, Chike Ofili submitted his view as a bone of contention. And this he said was founded on the fear of not being wiped out of circulation, which equates them with the characteristics of the bourgeois. Also he quoted Odia Ofeimum to have said that the 4th generation is a “Clap-trap generation” and Prof. Niyi Osundare’ view that this generation is a “CNN generation” in one of his interviews. These respected and renowned writers were classified as the pioneers of the 3rd generation. But when critically viewed, the 4th generation has nothing much to discuss other than the world epidemic immune deficiency syndrome: HIV/AIDS as its acronym. Both speakers argued that the common issues ravished the hearts of the generation. The great pan-Africanist, Prof Ngugi wa Thiong’o and the late Ocot p’Bitek, who are 1st and 2nd generations respectively, are known for their promotion of African ideologies, arts and culture; also campaigns against the African bourgeois, traitors, puppet politicians and colonial and imperial brutality, reasons being that these constituted the reality of their time.

Nevertheless, the generation in question has done equally well as far as Nigerian and African literatures are concerned. The rate at which they win international awards and prizes to the glory of Nigeria and the continent cannot be under estimated. Even though with their fictitious (as viewed by the older generation) fictions, poetry and drama, they have redeemed the Black image all over the world. And they never claimed their fellow writers’ creative works by having their names widely-bolded across cover pages at the expense of the original writers, in the name of translation, which the 1st and 2nd and perhaps, the 3rd generations are guilty of.

Ayanda Abeke
Rumour Networks
Lagos.


Tolu Ogunlesi: A NAME FOR US
"Google is the new Godot.." - The Generation-X manifesto

I have thought of a name
For my generation

We are the Wastebin /Condom /Yahoo / Claptrap generation,

Somehow, the dregs
Of time have found
Bed and breakfast
In us

We have soaked our garments
In the suds that washed
The sweat of the fathers

We have coveted the miracle
Of amnesia -
An unknowing - of how
To loosen the knots
Fate gened in us

We are the last page
Of an unwritten book
The night in which God
Put out the last star
The cycle will begin again
After us. From purity.

We are the age
In which water outgrew
The fingers of the well

What shall we rename Oedipus
Now that he has spurned blindness?

And what,
Shall we rename madness
In an age sans Mind?

Tolu Ogunlesi (c) 2006

Mufu Onifade is 40!

The founder of Araism Movement personally invite you all to his 40th Birthday and celebration of his 21 years in Art Practice. The twin event will showcase a Command Performance of his Tragicomedy entitled "LOVE IS BLIND" directed by Makinde Adeniran. Public presentation of the same play book also holds same day same venue.

Date: THURSDAY OCTOBER 5, 2006

Venue: CINEMA HALL 2, NATIONAL THEATRE IGANMU, LAGOS

Time: 5 P.M PROMPT

You are all warmly invited to come and laugh your hearts out as you celebrate with Mufu Onifade.

The show is packaged by THE COMMITTEE OF FRIENDS headed by
ROPO EWENLA
08032311574

Retold History

Prior to the grim contact between White and Black continents, merry-making, ecstasy and joy always filled the air. The old rejoiced amongst the young, reeling around them every night under fat-trees humorous riddles and hilarious folktales. In a compound, lived a husband with his wives and children who ate from the same wide moulded and calabash plates with happiness. During this period, in Africa, love was at its highest and esteemed by the proud Black race. There was communal singing. People rejoiced together and cried together, but the story changed and the rhythm of life cacophonously changed with it when our colonial masters named and tagged virtually everything African as barbaric, fetishistic and demonic.

Our colonial masters took power forcefully with their massive missiles and controlled the affairs of the Blacks. They dictated what African people must do and must not do. They punished them whenever they groaned or protested against their oppression. They dictated everything-- even when husband should hover over his wife. They condemned marriage of many wives and children. They damned our culture, our heritage and our ancestral beliefs, which they replaced with their total way of life. And wonderful things about the Black race ran into extinction and are still awaiting revival after about thirty years of their so-called freedom.

Stay united!
Fight united!
Bring senses to the white oppressors!

These poetically written clauses by the prisoners at Robben Island jail, a suburb of Soweto community in South-Africa, lyrically render the problem. “My heritage, My Curse,” a stage play written by Dr. Isibor, a senior lecturer at the University of Lagos (Unilag) comes to its climax when Kevin Mogetha, a member of the Mo family, is arrested by some black-policemen for not having his pass on him in his very home-country. The black bourgeoisie and traitors subject themselves to the white order to make end’s meat and command authority over their fellow Black folks. It was this situation that led to the Soweto Uprising in 1976 and the anti-apartheid struggle in South-Africa, which consequently led to the arrest of several active protesters and leaders. Some were killed whilst some were jailed till 1990 when they partially gained freedom from their Portuguese colonial masters.

The play that was packaged and performed by the Final Year, Creative Arts students of Unilag opened with a scene which synchronized the agility and vibrant dances of the Zulu people. Samatha, a Westernized Black lady and the protagonist of the play stood between two men who were prepared to sacrifice their lives to have her as wife. One of them was completely Black with Black parents whilst the other was biracial, having Black skin and tinted hair because of his white-rapist father (whom he had never met). Both of them were faced with the problem of identification documents in their home-country, South-Africa. Subsequently, the three main characters came to a realization, in one of their numerous meetings, that they were all one with Black skin and a single philosophy. Also, they questioned discrimination amongst themselves.

Along the line, Mogetha joined a protest group but was not ready at that point in time to sacrifice his life through fighting the oppression, degradation and mutilation of Black people. Samatha later challenged him when she asked the most severe question, “Have you ever cared to ask why you are a BLACKMAN“? This brutal question spurred him to action and got him involved further in his protest group. After he was apprehended and was unable to produce his pass on demand, he was tried in a court of law. Of course, he lost because he could not afford his lawyer’s fee and was sentenced to 15 years in prison…only to escape later from Robben Island jail with another anti-apartheid leader to Mozambique.

This tragic drama replayed the historical struggle of the South-Africans against the colonial master. The frequent dances through the drama projected the ecstatic mood and atmosphere of ancient African communities. It is indeed not an understatement to say that the drama was humorous and tragic: a true tragi-comedy. A number of questions overtook my entire mind outside the main auditorium of the school. These were: “Can racism ever be put to into past”? “Can Africans ever forget the maltreatment by the Western world towards their living and martyred freedom fighters”? Having read many books on African oppression, degradation and mutilation, my answer was a resounding “No!”

Ayanda Abeke
Rumour Networks
Lagos.

Review of Osun Oshogbo Festival

Rumour Networks
Death in Africa is translated to a mere transition from the physical existence to the spiritual realm, which does not build and erect barricades against effective communication. This is established by the belief that the dead indeed commune with the living—a belief commonly found in African communities. This might be what gave the budding writer, John Mbiti the guts to say that “No one dies until completely forgotten by the living,” in one of his numerous write-ups. The living Africans count their dead parents, clan-folks, warriors, heroes and heroines as members of their families and communities, even after their physical exit. They run to the grave of their ancestors and their immortal abode, the shrine as many people call it, to seek favour, help and request for success in their endeavours.

Today in Africa, most of these immortal abodes, shrines, are now international tourism sites, where tourists flock in hundreds and thousands, seasonally and annually. The recently acknowledged World Tourism Centre by United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), Osun Shogbo received a multitude of tourists ranging from Black and Whites across the world globe on the 5th August, this year, which was set aside for the rite and ritual segment of the festival.

In the morning, the ritual-maid, literarily called Aru’gba, came out of the Osun-alcove in the palace courtyard and on her head glued the sacred ritual-calabash. Leading her way to the palace and through the grove path was an Osun devotee with a sacred curved-cutlass, with which she blessed mother-earth. Aru’gba never stepped elsewhere, except the path blessed by the woman with her curved-cutlass. And immediately after her visitation to the palace where the Oba (king) blessed her, she faced the Osun grove where Osun’s immortality-alcove exists, along with a multitude of tourists, spiritual leaders and Osun devotees. On getting to the shrine in the grove, Aru’gba dropped the Igba (the sacred-calabash) in a small hut and was taken to a cool corner within the confines of the alcove where she slept; sited beside her were the past Aru’gbas. The king arrived, not too long after with some of his chiefs. And the proper programme of the event took its due course. Merry-making overtook the semi-cold atmosphere. Drums rolled relentlessly, unleashing the energetic beatings of the drummers to the accompaniment of sonorous singing voices.They chanted eulogies of Osun and cultural dancers carved a series of dance steps to the beats and songs. The state governor (Hon. Olagunsoye Oyinlola) and his entourage with the entire guests from all over the world at the grove could not keep their excitement on hold. Consequently, they swung left and right on their respective seats like golden-fishes in aquarium boxes.

After the festival’s formal programme and rite and ritual at the grove, Aru’gba woke up, she planted the sacred calabash on her head again and faced the palace. Although, Susan Wenger, the Austrian Osun devotee could not be part of the festival, as in former years because of her age, yet she was wholly part of the whole ritual process in the Osun’s alcove at the palace courtyard, where she lives.

“Fun all through,” “Nice,” “Fantastic,” “Wholesome” and “Ritualistic,” were some of the comments of the mixed tourists (Whites and Blacks). Indeed this was what the festival projected but it could always get better next year if the Cultural Heritage Committee and the National Museums Commission of the state are really ready to expand the scope of the Festival.

Ayanda Abeke
Rumour Networks
Lagos .