Ebedi International Writers' Residency

...is housed in the semi-rural, somewhat Muslim, Yoruba town of Iseyin, an hour outside Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria.  
The founder-patron is Dr. Wale Okediran, a soft-spoken medical doctor who is also a prolific and award-winning writer. With at least ten novels/memoirs to his credit, the man also runs a medical column in the Nigerian Tribune.  Note: By all means read his Tenants of The House, 2010 winner of the Lumina (Wole Soyinka) prize for African Literature, and definitely one of the ten coolest novels Nigeria has produced in the past ten years.

Interestingly, Dr. Okediran is also a politician. He was the Secretary, then the President of ANA, the Association of Nigerian Authors. From 2003-2007, he was a legislator, representing Iseyin / Kajola / Iwujola / Itesiwaju area of Oyo State in the Nigerian National Assembly.  He was the ACN candidate for Senate (Oyo North Senatorial District) in the 2011 election.

I would like to read his other (harder-to-find) works, which include (primary source) and a handful of others:
Call to Worship, 1990 - won American Poetry Association Book Prize 
The Boys At The Border, 1991 - Commonwealth Literature Prize Shortlist
Rainbows are for Lovers, 2nd edition published by Spectrum Books 1993
The Rescue of Uncle Babs, 1998 - won ANA Prize for Children’s Literature  
Dreams Die at Twilight, 2004 - NLNG Nigeria Prize for Literature Shortlist
Strange Encounters, 2004 - published by Heinemann, won ANA Best Fiction Prize 
The Weaving Loom, 2008 - shortlist Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa
Tenants of The House, 2010, cowinner with Coconuts (South Africa) is a captivating tale of politricks inspired by his tenure in the National Assembly.
Fearless, 2012, is a memoir of his House of Reps colleague, Femi Gbajabiamilla.

The Ebedi Residency is one of very few in Africa, and the only writers' residency I know of in Nigeria, so far.
It began humbly via blog/newsletter announcements in 2010.
Lola Okusami and Abiodun Adebiyi became the first residents in September 2010.  After reading about it in NEXT, I thought: wow, I really really want to do this, and after the boys had had their run, I was  in the fourth pair one year later.  Yess!

In its second year, our little residency became more international with writers from West and East Africa, and bigger - with an intake class size of three, up from two at a time.

What will year three and beyond bring?

Writers at Ebedi, Biodun and Lola

Why did Wale Okediran found the Ebedi Residency?  Read an interview here.

Who can apply?  How to apply?  I believe a website is in the works.  Otherwise, all I can say is that it is open to authors of fiction, poetry, or drama, and it is intended to develop the local community as well as enrich the larger world.  Your best bet is either follow a writerly newsletter or blog for upcoming announcements or email ebediwriters@yahoo.com with enquiries about latest application requirements (usually a writing sample and bio/CV).

Cast and News for Ebedi International Writers' Residency

September/October 2010: Announcement, Press, Lola Olusami, Abiodun Adebiyi
November/December 2010: Interviews, Charles Oluyori, Kenechukwu Obi
January/February 2011:  Press, NEXT, Trust, A. Igoni Barrett and Emmanuel Ugokwe (Igbo language)

August/September 2011: Story, Press, Guardian, Nation, Spencer Okoroafor, Anaele Ihuoma
October/November 2011: Press, Story, Reactions, Interview, , Ladi Opaluwa, Tosin Otitoju (me)

January/February 2012 : Forum, NSnews, Punch, Doreen Baingana (Uganda, Commonwealth Prize 2009), Dr. Dul Johnson, Nehru Odey
March/April 2012 class: Announcement, Tribune, Interviews, Temitayo Olofinlua,  Barbara Oketta (Kenya/Uganda)

June/July 2012 class: Biographies, Press, Malawi's Stanley Kenani?, Press, Interview, Richard Ali, Niyi Fasanmi, Awwal Sakiwa (an illustrator)
September/October 2012 class: Interviews, Onyebuchi Nwosu, Macdell Joshua Sackey (from Ghana), Samuel Kolawole

November/December 2012 - three girls?

Recurring roles: Press, Salvation Otubu and the lovely secondary school students of Iseyin, Alhazan Abiodun, Aunty and Uncle Okediran, The Board (Alkasim Abdulkadir, Akintayo Abodunrin, Maryam Ali Ali, Uche Peter Umez, ...)

Dr. Wale Okediran, initiator of Ebedi Writers Residency Programme

2013 updates:
Nov/Dec 2012: Interviews, Blessing Mba, Lillian Christopher, and Salamatu Sule
Jan/Feb 2013: Story, Punch, Elnathan John, Musa Idris Okpanachi, John Kofi Asiedu Sarpong
Mar/Apr 2013: Four Women: Ayodele Olofintuade , Agiresaasi Apophia, Yewande Omotosho, Rukayat Olaleye
NEW Official blog: EbediResidency.blogspot.com 

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Divine and divalicious

Found Two Against One on a Best (Under-rated) Songs of 2011 list.  Perfect music+video.

I've also derived great pleasure recently from my Carla Bruni, Rufus Wainwright, and Miloš Karadaglić.  Yep, just like I planned, been playing Quelqu'un m'a dit (Carla), Out of the Game, Songs for Lulu (Rufus's last two albums), and Mediterraneo (Miloš) over and over.
The best things in life are free. 

50 odd weeks ago, besides cheesy telenovellas, this was the other cheesy viewing that helped me recuperate: Kathryn and Jakob on Season Six of So You Think You Can Dance.  Divine.

Yep, happy one year anniversary of being very sick to me.
November 2011 (recuperation season) was horrid, with all the medicine and feeling strange and nauseous and feverish and all.  But that was also when I first heard Miloš.  Boy did I play this one over and over. 

Impressions, August 2001

What I thought grad school would be - Tosin Otitoju

The sketch shows my impressions six weeks before starting at Caltech in September '01, having visited in March/April: 
Lower left:
the professors in my department - Richard Murray, Jerry Marsden, and John Doyle.
Panning right: 
some quantum spin thingie.
The new kids - me, Shawn (the Texan) Shadden, Lun Li, and Lijun Chen.
The letters CDS.
A DNA double helix.
Me and some hottie.  A 20-year old girl could dream.
Above: 
I'd heard grad school was all about pizza (but I got to 'Caltech and changed that culture, so we started getting healthy and quality free food).
Money - I was going to get some.
A ducted fan I had seen in a basement lab.
A differential equation.
A computer.
The Saguaros and breathtaking landscape I had seen out West.
Twin single cells (amoeba?) eating. A book. 

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Events at Lagos Lawn Tennis Club this month

One, Venus and Serena are scheduled to tour Nigeria, giving tennis clinics, an exhibition match, and such, from October 30.
Two, Nigeria is hosting a few low-level international tennis tournaments. 

No Top Nigerian Tennis Pros
Currently, all Africa has in the top 100 ATP/WTA rankings are 1 South African man (Kevin Anderson) and 1 South African woman.
All the Africans in the top 1000 (13 men / 6 women) are from South Africa (and Zimbabwe) or North Africa (Tunisia, Algeria, Egypt, Morocco).   There are however many unranked Nigerian players on the pro-circuit.  I'll make an excuse for them: tennis is expensive.

Few Top Nigerian Juniors
The Africans have a bigger and more diverse presence on the JUNIOR rankings table of the International Tennis Federation(ITF).  First of all, there are 3 boys and 4 girls from Africa in their top 100, with 53 boys and 42 girls in the top 1000.

Nigerian boys Emmanuel Udoko and Umaru Balami, and a girl Sarah Adegoke are in the respective top 1000 rankings for juniors.

Umaru Balami of Nigeria

Emmanuel Idoko of Nigeria

I used to read about them in NEXT, and became colleagues and friends with Tolu Asaolu and the other sports reporters - Jide Alaka, Tunde Eludini, Ifeanyi Ibeh, Nnamdi Okosieme.  Few paid attention to the junior sports stories, being so carried away with millionaire football stars.

Sarah Adegoke, click for photo source

Sarah Adegoke, Governors Cup Lagos Tennis

  But surely with good exposure and match play, some Nigerian players may break into the top 1,000 and even the top ranks of tennis.

Cool tourneys in Lagos
I can't wait to finally watch some live, courtside tennis, my first time ever.

Tafawa Balewa Square and Lagos Lawn Tennis Club (photo:ITF)

Besides the Chevron Junior Masters tennis championships currently on at the Lagos Lawn Tennis Club, there is the Lagos Governor's Cup coming up in the second half of October.
Follow the tournaments
web: governorscuplagostennis.com  fb: GovernorsCupLagosTennis , twitter @governorscuplag

Lagos Nigeria aerial view (photo: ITF)

Winning

It's time to slow down once again, even if I live in Nigeria not the harried CalSci USA.

Sad fact of "producing" work is that one becomes so eager to get one's own stuff out there, up front, and winning, that there is little time to consume the work of others.
Imagine how filmmakers feel about watching films - ah well, I can borrow this and this from Scorsese; or don't have time to read/travel/dance I have films to make.
Reasonable to think this way sometimes, then sometimes of course you want to broaden your experience, so that what you create might actually be new and dee-lightful. 

Well, I am going to read.  The winners of this year's Commonwealth Short Story prize, starting with the overall winner, from New Zealand.  I really hope they're good.  Then I'm going to read some essays from Foundational Questions in Physics.

NUMB3RS - Math + Film

 I hear JK Rowling, who is loved for having made a fortune as the writer of Harry Potter, has a new novel out.  I am very interested in reading it, having read a scathingly negative review that compared it to Barbara Pym (who wrote one of the best novels EVER.)  I expect to find it very intelligent, with heartfelt insights about class.  I expect it to change the world, actually, especially since so many are going to read it.
But why does Rowling's book have to go over 500 pages?  One should rarely do that, but nowadays everybody seems to be going for the painfully long page count.  Short and sweet, people, short and sweet. 

Sometimes I can't believe how lovely it is to be in Nigeria. 
Hahaha, super-serious people make me laugh.  Why do "white people" like to make the most exciting things so serious? 

NEXT Articles

From February to July 2011, I worked for a media company called NEXT.  It was a fabulous job.  As Digital Editor, I ran the team that ran the site that did the Wikileaks exclusive and new-media-style election coverage.  (FUN!)  We were number one for a moment there, and then the company died.  The superstar staff scattered in a dozen award-winning directions.

I wasn't hired as a writer, but everyone at NEXT wrote occasionally at least.  Here are the two articles I wrote for NEXT in 2011 (before they disappear completely from the internet).  Thanks to the pirates that kept this data alive.

Arnold Schwarzenegger and Maria Shriver announce separation
 10th May 2011

Arnold Schwarzenegger and Maria Shriver have announced their separation after 25 years of marriage.
Arnold is former award-winning body builder, Austrian migrant to the US who became a hit movie star with hundreds of millions of dollars in the bank. When the drab Democratic governor of California was recalled (eight years ago?) like a hundred Californians threw their hat in the ring to take over, but it was Arnold that won, with his promises to terminate the problems of California.

Arnold ran as a Republican, but he was fully supported by the entire Kennedy family, which literally stood behind him on the podium, on the day of his crucial announcement.

Maybe it was partly his rippling body that endeared him to the American princess Maria in the seventies, when they first met. Maria is a first cousin of John F. Kennedy, a true case of an American blueblood marrying a commoner. Maria Shriver is also a broadcast journalist and very good long-term friends with Oprah Winfrey.

Maria and Arnold have known each other for most of their lives. The couple has done very well for themselves, with four kids, great careers, and we hope an enduring friendship.


Back with the queens  
14th May 2011

 The Queen's College (QC) Annual Speech and Prize-Giving Ceremony held on Thursday May 12 2011 at the College Hall on the premises of the school in Yaba, Lagos.

I arrived around 2pm during a spirited Atilogwu dance that meant I had just missed the National Anthem and Opening Prayer.
As for invited guests, the chairperson was not present but sent a representative, while the special guests of honour also had to cancel at the last-minute due to flight delays and work emergencies.
The former principals were in attendance; you can rely on them.
The guest speaker was Dayo Olumide Benjamin-Ajayi.
She was lively, in the tradition of the Black American Baptist preachers. Her performance began with her kneeling down, stilettoes and all, to greet ‘our mothers.'
She spoke of each person as ‘unstoppable' and taught about the Queen inside each one of us.
A Queen's College Old Girl herself, she had enthralling stories from her days stomping the same grounds, navigating some of the same challenges that the girls might face today, including the temptation to cheat, the fear of public speaking, and uncertainty about the future.
Before the guest speaker took the stage, the principal gave her report which showed, as usual, a very high pass rate at the West Africa Examination Council (WAEC) Senior Secondary Certificate Examination (SSCE).
93.5 percent of students had credit and above in English. 98 percent had five credits and above.
However, only 68 percent had five credits and above including Maths and English.
And the problem was with Mathematics - too many students still do poorly in Mathematics.
As a lifelong math-lover, I would like to offer my services to remedy this. The highest fail rates in SSCE in 2010 were in Mathematics, Accounting (each with five percent fail) and then Hausa and Yoruba (each with about 20 percent fail).
Other than these, most subjects had at or near 100 percent pass rate (by pass I mean ‘P' and above.)
As usual, the results in National Examination Council (NECO) were weaker than WAEC SSCE. It is thought that students just don't pay as much attention to the NECO exam as they do the other.
I attended Speech Day last year as the guest speaker. See July 2010 at www.lifelib.blogspot.com for the speech. There was an utterly attentive young student in the front row during my speech, and later in the afternoon. She turned out to be the highest-scoring student in her class.
This Prize-Giving day, Phinuella was back, and she carted off so many prizes that there were jokes in the audience about her getting a Ghana-must-go to hold them. Currently in SS3, she had the highest SS2 score in English Language, Igbo Language, Further Mathematics, Physics, Biology, Geography, Economics, and Music. At least she ‘allowed' another student to take the Mathematics prize, while another daring colleague snatched the Chemistry prize.
In QC tradition, we love watching the superstars at Speech Day, but not only in the core subjects. The choir was lovely, but would not match the angelic vocal performances of Lara Bajomo (now the famous Lara George) back in the nineties. The band was raucous fun, and the traditional dances were very good. I think the 21st century dancers beat us - the 90s girls - not only in costuming, but also in beauty and gait. I noticed that there was art and freer expression everywhere, likely reflecting the current principal's love of art.
Mrs Ogunnaike, the PQC (Principal, Queen's College) was my beloved art teacher. I still remember drawing and shading this metallic flask with the correct light and texture effects. As my art teacher, she was pretty and she was good. She taught my little sister, who is now, finally, an artist. She had been the art teacher (as a youth corps member) of the guest speaker too, thirty-something years ago. Now she was the principal, seven months running, of Queen's College and about to retire. I can't believe that she is anything near 60 years old, and it strikes me that many of our teachers are retirement-age but not tired. They still have a youthful spring in their step.
Also in Queen's College tradition, the highlight of Speech Day is the standing ovation. It usually goes to the "Best all-round student" who is usually the girl (now ‘Old Girl') with the best result in the last WAEC SSCE. Yetunde Noah won that in 1993 as I watched and plotted my turn. She was a "yellow" girl with frizzy hair and she turned up smartly for Speech Day in a sailor-inspired suit (smart white skirt, navy blue suit top, nice legs, frizzy hair.) Ah, yes, three years later I donned my own sailor suit. Well, this year, the standing ovation was shared. Ayodele Kadiri (Best all-round student in 2010 WAEC/SSCE) and Odigwe Osato (Best all-round student).
No sailor suits this year; Speech Day is a bit more casual these days.

The Mistress of Spices

Here is another good movie: The Mistress of Spices , starring Aishwarya Rai with two important supporting actors with Nigerian names too. 
Remember A Touch of Spice, that other aromatic movie I raved about six years ago? 
Like, how many of these films taught me to dance, opened my eyes - or that other eye - and made me notice beauty more consciously.  This has been especially true with the films I barely understood, so (for the right-brain, at least) it's the mystery that is so educational.

Aish is the queen

 I want to thank them all, lol, all these little spiritualists that make movies.  To think that "Mistress of Spices" got bad critical reviews and probably made only a million dollars.  What a world, in which there are so many good movies that we don't know how to love them all. 

Fenugreek, they say, is for Tuesdays.  For me, Fenugreek is for Yemen, and that frothy bowl of saltah I had when I thought I might be getting ill, and of course I didn't get very sick in the end.  The sun burned the sickness away.  And the saltah and honey did the rest. 

Celebrate

Picked up a miserable computer virus yesterday.  We got it rooted out, you know, without losing my data and programs and all.  So I am happy. 

(Oh and had a "chat" with a nice guy that lives on my street.  And a friend visited just to check on my computer.  A couple of other good chats.  Including one with the watch-repair guy.  So I now have nice straps and batteries on my old watches.  And almost went to watch Maami.  And ate TFC.  And other fun got crammed into this amazing day off. )

Well, to celebrate having my computer back, here are some drawings from the vault :) 
The first is dated April 2012.  What was I thinking? 

Jankara Market

The second, Rufus Wainwright, is from December 2011.  I will stop blabbing about Rufus for a bit.  I hear he's getting married, let me check...TOMORROW, omg.

Rufus Wainwright

Poems of/for Rufus

Just dumped this on the internet.  And how are you?

Poems of/for Rufus 1:
Wrote this mostly at Union Station in 2001. The summer I found Rufus Wainwright's 'Poses' and fell in love. Oh my God, by Greek song I was turned completely on.
Enjoy:
http://www.lifelib.blogspot.com/p/books.html

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT

To my new love with Elvis’ sideburns
And Sahala’s cheekbones
And the black leather jacket:

Your heart beats out a snore, a drone,
What’s the word – a sonorous?
Tune that melts me, joins me to you.

Like you,
I want to sing about places and
Scrappy girls’ asses.

@

I fell for you – you came over me
And made me bob my head in recognition,
Association, identification.

Maybe you’re no Techie
But you must KNOW Yale,
Or Howard, or Julliard – surely.

Because you are not another
Happy white boy with a guitar –
You’re a trickster!

You belt out on the key of B flat to
Taunt me. I go off key.
You draw your “ah” for, like, five bars
As I fumble and lose count.

@

You wear the stupid black leather jacket
And place yourself next to Pete Yorn
At Olsson’s.

But you’re not one of them.
You’re Sahala: part Indonesian, part Swedish.
You’re part preppie, part bum.
Bourgie boy, silver spoon and all.

@

And you trick me into paying for
This portfolio, as it were;
This…beautiful sampler
Of your art.
It’s just art – just a job –
To you.

You made me love you, Rufus Baby.
Together we’ll wreak havoc, you and me!

(in Comrade, 2010)

Poems of/for Rufus 2:
I was writing a ton of ten-line poems a couple of years ago. Of course I wouldn't know what to write without Rufus, and a few of the poems are inspired by him indirectly. He introduced me to Jeff Buckley, Viktor & Rolf, ... reintroduced Edith Piaf...
But then I wrote this one about his mother and he, because well of course I think I know the family.
But isn't "Martha" heart-rending? And in those days too, "Dinner at Eight". And by Martha BMFA but not quite the same Cancerian wallowing in pain of Mr. Wainwright.
I hope he likes this,

KATE'S SONG FOR BABY

In that: my weather-worn trunk
With its cracks and warts
Would grant me such a
Fresh salmon-rose bud – you.

You will grow surrounded by
Lies. Tales of good spirits,
Good things; like Adam in the garden
You will believe everything.

Your daddy is not perfect.
You will be perfecter.

(coming soon at http://www.lifelib.blogspot.com/p/books.html )

Writing sucks: Love/Hate

It's the unofficial novel-writing (or novella-extension) month in town, since the writers' groups noticed a manuscript contest offered by Kwani? Literary Trust, deadline next month.
I bet the contest has inspired many like me to quickly finish up their novels.

An actual reward for African writing? 

Pass me some of that loving.

It seems Kwani announced back in April with a minimum length of 60,000 words.

SIX-TY THOUZ...!

Then they lowered the minimum to 45,000 words, moved the deadline from August 20th to September 17th, and won my attention :) 

I had a new 25,000 word sort-of manuscript when I first saw the announcement.  Part of it is mentioned here, re: anthology. I was going to finish it last month to around 30,000, but then I thought, there may never be another major African reward for African writing, so BabyGirl why not try to almost reach 40,000 so you can maybe enter the contest.

Well, I'm doing that now and it's really bloody hard work.  I wish the doggone thing would write itself.  I look forward to not working on another novel for at least another year.  It will be short stories all the way: done in two thousand words, lol

Seriously though, this book is becoming better as I extend it.
Worried first about diluting the writing I had so carefully built up, but instead it's becoming more complete and potentially satisfying to the reader.
Think: 

Many people hate ambiguity within the novel, which I do for fun in poetry and which I had in the early drafts.   
Example: 
Did the terrorist meet the clerk or was it just another new dad?  
What do YOU think - it could be either way.  
It's your story - just tell me the answer.    

Also, most people hate it when you just "stop in the middle of the story" like short story writers love to do.  That is why so many stories end in weddings or proposals, death and finality.
Examples: 
Tell me the ogre was banished to eternal prison and will never be able to kidnap little children again.  
Or 
Her husband finally died of cancer so he asked and she said yes and then he kissed her.  Curtains! The End.  

Well, I'm fixing things up to suit a dumb brilliant but impatient reader, and exhausted excited that my first storybook will be finished in about three weeks. 

I love Rufus in the summer when it sizzles

Why oh why do I love Rufus?

My internet is fast - it's all relative, and 10 - 100 times faster than last month when I was a jangle of pissed-off-customer-nerves is pretty good.

Soooo I've got Rufus music.  I LOVE Out of The Game of course - it's Rufus! 
To be honest, it's only now I finally got the entire Lulu album too.  

Could this be the end of internet-poverty in my corner of the 3rd world?  Oh yeah.

I miss Yemen

Incidentally, here's the word-of-the-day on my igoogle dashboard:

It's very natural to be creative and innovative

ARCHITECTURE AND COMMONSENSE
I spent several hours on Saturday in a room with Demas Nwoko.

Architect Demas Nwoko signs a copy of "The Architecture of Demas Nwoko" for a pretty Nigerian architect

 Building on a family heritage as a (home-)builder, training in colonial Nigeria as an architect, formal training as a stage (theater) builder abroad, and also the vibrant post-Independence atmosphere in Nigeria up to FESTAC-77, he did what seemed natural and commonsense to him often.
Following these simple rules, he has become known worldwide as THE innovative architect from Nigeria.
His life makes a lot of sense to me.

COOL SOYINKA PLAY
The next day, I watched Death and The King's Horseman.

PAWS (Performing Arts Workshop Studios) has matured in such a short time to stage such a breath-taking performance.

They really should extend the show, but it seems they can't and the last two performances will be Sunday July 29 at 3pm and at 6pm at Terrakulture in Victoria Island, Lagos.  I look forward to watching the show again on Sunday and to eating a giant grilled fish on Bar Beach.

PAWS has gained so much esteem in my eyes, I will catch their every show from now on.
The director is an enthralling actor named Kenneth Uphopho who used to perform with Renegade Theater at the same location, but directed by Wole Oguntokun aka @laspapi, nigerian-theatre.com
Kenneth's wife is the PAWS manager, it appears.  Smart gal.
And Renegade theater now shows at the MUSON center...good to know.

COMING UP: DESIGN WORKSHOP SERIES
I just read a notice for this creative workshop, taking place on the campus of University of Lagos.
It is special to have such informal learning housed in a Nigerian university on a regular basis.
This is exactly the kind of development that Nigerian education needs, and that my friend Ferdinand Adimefe (curator of The Interface Foundation and Conversations) did quite a bit to advance.
I hope such meetings spread. 

COMING UP: HARMATTAN WORKSHOP
I am offering a single scholarship to attend the Harmattan Workshop with renowned Nigerian artist Bruce Onobrakpeya.  Email me as applications close on Sunday July 29.
If no takers, maybe I'll attend instead?  Work on my book covers? 
Here is the announcement:

http://ovuomaroro.blogspot.com/2012/06/summer-2012-harmattan-workshop-art.html 
 
If you want to attend the Harmattan Workshop led by Bruce Onobrakpeya, and you are age 25 or younger and unable to afford the full cost of attending the workshop, kindly send me a message at ootitoju@hotmail.com
 
Include in the message:
1. I am not over 25 years old.
2. I am currently not able to afford the full cost of attending the Harmattan workshop.
3. Attach a photograph of one of the best artworks or art-related works you have ever done. 
4. Two things I will gain from the Harmattan workshop are: __ and __
5. Name, Address, Phone number, and email. 
 
I will select one applicant for whom I will pay the workshop fees only.  Besides this payment, I do NOT assume or imply further responsibility for the winner.  I will email to notify the winner by Tuesday July 31st. 
 
Please only apply if truly eager, willing, and able to study art at the studio of one of the finest talents. 

Getting read...yeah!

MY NEWS CHANNEL 
Itching again: find my Boniface poem in the latest issue of itch.
Klorofyl again: look out for more poetry in the next issue of Klorofyl.

Previously featured in both itch and Klorofyl, and can't wait for more...

In addition, Assassin, a thrilling short story, was published in Jungle Jim issue 7.  All issues of Jungle Jim are now available on amazon HERE.

What I'm writing next, there's a preview of that in this quick anthology at Black Letter Media.  This story makes me happy, makes me cry, makes me feel like a proud mama/papa.

 The circle of life, birth...death..., is such that Story Time, at five years old is to be retired.  But the sponsors will continue to publish African Roar, their annual collection of new stories by Africans.  I've never published with the group, but great work in five years.  Respect. 

SOME REALLY GOOD STUFF TO READ
If you don't care for any of my writing, but want to try other good current African writing, where better to start than the shortlisted stories for the 2012 Caine Prize for African writing.  I have my favourites, but lips sealed until you tell me yours ;)  Well, a hint, my fave story makes me sing this.

Grade Inflation

Can half of a class of 50 end up with a grade of A in a course in university?  Under what conditions?  What is your opinion?

What have I been up to this past month?
Well, I didn't have decent internet so no new blog posts.
Read some good stuff,
watched a lot of DVDs (including three seasons of Basketball Wives, one season of Amores Perros - yucky genius),
fell in love with Math (Analysis) again,
read a lot of Nigerian blogs and was a tad mean in the comments (not anonymously),
gained some weight and got some pimples (but been drinking water recently to clear out whatever - water works!),
did not finish up the novella I've been writing - one week I'll just do it,
sister got engaged,
many friends (not close friends but still-) died,
brother graduated, ...

As usual, my parents are really interested in my life and 'milestones' - give us a baby, bring a guy home, get a real job - ah yes I interviewed for a 'very real' job and was relieved when the people finally said no for whatever reason.  I don't know what I'm doing but it's probably right. 

My next goal in life is to get very good internet (but where?  how?) and download music: Classical Guitar by Milos Karadaglic, and all the Rufus Wainwright stuff I've missed in the past three years, then maybe try some new music (Carla Bruni?)  NaijaPop has some great songs but I need to bathe in new sounds. 

So what do you think about grading systems?  What fraction of a class should get an A?  Who should decide?

Armed Forces

I saw a newly minted Nigerian soldier on the bus yesterday.  My heart swelled with pride, a la "support our troops" USA. 

I don't like needless violence, even state-sanctioned violence; and for sure Boko Haram can be understood not just in martial terms, but in terms of poverty, religion, and psychosis. 
At my blog BokoHalal.blogspot.com , I propound that Boko Haram is itself Haram, unlawful and in fact illogical. 

All of the above approaches are important for tackling Boko Haram, dealing with the root cause of the problem: economic answers (food, education, health...), religious guidance, psychological understanding too. 

Nevertheless, some Rambo-style action is necessary as well.  Go get 'em, soldier.  Never fear. 

Independence-era novels from Nigeria, Kenya, and Ghana

I just finished reading A Man of the People, a male book by Chinua Achebe.  Although written in the early 1960s, it's rather complete, in that practically the same words of satire are popular today.  

Before that I read Weep Not, Child (by Ngugi, who completely deserves his one-name status);
 and (browsed) The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, by their Ghanian contemporary, Ayi Kwei Armah. 

I highly recommend all three.  
Fuck this fucking slow internet @ 10kbps. 

I am very happy about this

The famous Bibliotheca/library in Alexandria Egypt noticed my poem! 
From their Painting With Words poetry contest blog, see الرسم بالكلمات: Winners' Names:

1. First Prize: Alexander Spathis for his poem "Your Fugitive Hair"
2. Second Prize: Tosin Otitoju for her poem "Alexandria"
3. Third Prize: Yasser Kashef for his poem "Living Memories I Relish"
4. Fourth Prize: Rania Yehia El-Badry for her poem "A Glimpse of Heaven"
5. Fifth Prize: Sarah Abdelhakim Amer Elsayed for her poem "Loneliness"

Wish I could have been there to read it.
Alexandria is a lovely city by the way.  You have to see it for yourself.

Thanks to:
The publishers of writersafrika.blogspot.com for announcing this contest.  Your blog is of enormous benefit to me (and many writers.)
My dear Adam, aka hezni, on whose story the poem Alexandria is based.  I'll try and call him (out of the blue after 4 years.)  Maybe nothing will happen.   

Not at all?

I look at webpages for various PhD programs and I look and I say "I really can't."  I can't do three years or "4+n" years of voluntary prison time.  I can't spend two years on ONE problem while life passes by.  Not just won't, physically can not.

I can imagine circumstances under which I might - e.g. a part time thing from work, I'm old and powerful with nothing better to do, the whole thing takes two years or less, or maybe the environment has good distractions... 

Most recently (today), I considered PhD programs in Statistics, which it occurred to me is the "easy" option: learn some very easy math, then find some majorly large data-sets and say some insightful things about that system - at least this is reasonably well-defined.  But to look at the program websites, they've gone and made it about discovering theories about statistics itself.  That's alright until you remember that you'll have supervisors looking over your shoulder - they'll be the judges, not you. 

I wonder how my students survive...the endless butt-in-seat hours for instance.  Or their know-it-all lecturer yapping on about math structures that may or may not lead to progress.  I don't know how the many with poor grades survive the hit on their self-esteem.  I wish I could rearrange the world so that they'd be doing what they love to do.  I include a few things in class to improve the situation: open-ended play with software, connections with culture and development, discussion always about why we are going to learn this, etc





I "survived", actually loved studying engineering in school, because I was very curious about Engineering Systems and Applied Math.  I study a lot even now - for no reason at all other than the desire to know.  But many engineering students want to be engineers (designing, repairing, team-working, fabricating, inventing) or are undecided.  Few want to be analysts when they grow up, and that's what all this theoretical training is most suited to.  This misalignment is a waste of time for many people.

Ekiti no dey carry last

One time before, Nigeria gofment wan do Seven-Point Agenda.  E tay small, e come be like say the agenda too much for dem, na im some people come yarn say make oga Presido try finish even one point.  No be there we tanda till today?  Sha, make we leave that matter.

For Ekiti State, na Eight-Point agenda the government carry come since October 2010 wen dem enter.   The governor Kayode Fayemi try; sotay Leadership Newspaper give am title say im be Best Governor wey dey for Nigeria.

The governor im wife

Na on top all dis happy-happy one progress club wey dem dey call Ekitiparapo talk say make all dem people come chop rice for Lagos City Hall.  Na dis Saturday wey just pass; me sef carry fine dress go checkirrout.  Hmm.  You don see where Senior Advocate SAN full ground like sand-sand?  I say even the gofnor sef get PhD wey im don carry write book about one kind social studies matter.  Ekiti people too sabi book abeg.

The part wey sweet pass inside the whole Ekiti Day: after item-seven pounded yam, dem call some ogbonge people make dem come collect award.  As dem call Papa Victor Olaiya, na im him carry trumpet come dey sing dey entertain everybody.  Abi you no know im song?  Na im sing Omo Pupa o.  Im sing for 1960 independence time sef.  Na betta man im be. 

Small time dem call Oga Jimoh Aliu make im come collect im own.  As im dey jollificate for on top stage, wallahi we just see Fadeyi Oloro - that number one badoski guy for Yoruba film - the guy just carry im blackface and plenty jazz come bad belle am.  But im come relax remember say na the theater guru be im creator sef, so im must bow.  Anyway, na so all of us sha see free show watch sha.

If you see the MC of the day sef, nothing do am.  Im just carry one kin cap put for head wey get wing like bird wey wan fly, im dey blow thick Ekiti grammatical go.  And you know say na many bigz girls and bigz boyses wey no hear common "wa/go" talk less of dialect.  No be some people see state motto wey be "Ilẹ Iyi, Ilẹ Eyẹ" (Correct Land of Honour) come carry ajebutter eye read say "Ile Yii, Ile Ẹyẹ" (dis one na bird house.)  Chai!  Na pesin wey no sabi road go village be dat.

Meeting the Governor

I met my state governor yesterday.  Not the governor of Lagos State (where I mostly live), but of Ekiti State (where I am from - defined in Nigeria as where my father, his father, etc are from.) 

The occasion was the Emerging Leaders Symposium organized by the awesome team at The Future Awards.  I caught up with some old friends, met some bloggers I admire, listened to a lot of funny UK/American-Nigerian accents, watched a bit of theater (the protester and the dyed-in-the-wool politician), even drank and danced for a sec.  I took notes only once: Competence.  Character.  Empathy.  Empowering people (to improve their own lives)  - aspiring political officeholders should have these qualities.  That's what the guv, Dr. Kayode Fayemi said.  And for a moment I thought, if the current leadership is so competent (?), then I can relax and not seek further involvement in government.  He has that effect on people. 

Creativity for teens

If you want to enjoy the short short short version of my Creativity lectures, look at the talk I just gave to a teen group of about 100 very well-behaved senior secondary school girls.  The event was hosted by a Lagos group of Soroptimist sisters to mark International Women's Day. 

How to be creative, exactly

Shocked

Playing chess against the computer just now
discovered that I could lower the difficulty from level 2 to 1
then I actually won
I still can't believe it.
I took that queen down
I attacked a king
the dawn of an era
i'm still shocked

I sometimes write about games and logic on my math blog at xinvogue.blogspot.com

Make something beautiful

The Artist of the Beautiful, a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne was a supremely edifying experience.  I will surely read it again. 

There is no 'i' in research

Why keep writing papers?  Who is reading?

There are reasons to write good papers I know - advancing research by exposing facts and thoughts, and even if no one is reading now, someday it may light another's way.
There are reasons to write bad papers too - practice in one's academic field, and adding to the 'productivity' count for career advancement.   
I can think of other good reasons to write papers - training others, engaging in collaboration, combating boredom, ...

If we were to focus on advancing society however, there would be much fewer papers.  If you got nothin' to say, don't say nothin'.  I mean say it in your notepad, say it to your facebook friends if you want.  In this scenario, there would be bad papers, there would be important papers, there would be meta-papers (that review others, that explain connections with past and future work), there would be popular papers (that court power/policymakers, money/capital, that seek popular understanding and support) , there would be the orphan papers still (no problem)

There would be a great division of labour, with some specialist writers, even multimedia specialists, you know, to make cool videos and sculptures and installations.  There would be more communities (there are some strong communities e.g. in some critical physics research where it's clearly more about the mission than the men.)  There would be growing wikis to organize the information produced.  

The current system sort of works but more community would make it stronger and faster.  It would also make a more literate public that can then contribute to research - in fact and in kind.

I think 'everybody' should know math well - in the same way masses know good literature, masses participate in religion, masses debate politics.  Instead, the masses are shut out of math and science by the unsexy image and horrible PR.
Instead, there is an ivory tower breached only very slightly by cool publications - Caltech E&S (bet you never heard of it), MIT Technology Review, Science, IEEE Spectrum, Valleywag (just kidding - that's Silicon Valley news, but actually that's the idea: imagine if 'research' had a valleywag?  I mean, what's everybody so damn uptight about?)  Popular books and blogs are also the right way to go.  All this generates interest which generates wealth. 

My guess is that once you figure out how to fund it - you know it's easy to fund current 'tech' news because there are gadgets to be sold - you're basically able to massively produce science media.  It can be done; people figured out how to sell the tradition of Jesus, so it's not that science is too boring or anything.  

Academia ought to be recruiting thinkers at a higher rate (everybody ought to be free to be a thinker.)  Then also it ought to be more connected to the lowly world outside.  I once met a great professor that claimed expertise in Mesopotamian archaeology and such.  Not a word of Arabic he spoke.  Not a trip to Iraq.  Dude, how can I take you or your interminable papers seriously? 

Let's talk about what scientific information you use and how you get it. 
Also, there's a great opportunity to make science/research/rationalism/math sexy in these African parts.  Let's talk about this too.  I mean, some steps are simple: put the existing journals online.  Have themes/topics for some editions.  Let someone write an introduction/editorial.  Open up for comments. 

Disclaimer: I have not written many research papers, and indeed may never do so.  I sometimes try to write about math (xinvogue.blogspot.com)  I admire people who share their enjoyment of math.

Portraits and Concrete

In the weeks right after I ditched grad school, I walked across the street from Caltech, my home of five years, to PCC (Pasadena City College.)  What I saw in the huge PCC library made me nearly cry - there was art on the walls, a series of paintings (acrylic sketches?  photographs?) of people, different ages, different races, all sorts of people.  It was like a hug saying you are welcome to this community, or at least we will like to try to welcome you.  If there had been pictures like that on the walls at Caltech, life might have been much easier.

Source

Soon after, I was a volunteer judge at a local elementary/middle school's science projects.  It was not a white school.  I noticed that whereas American kids were drilled (drilled, truly) in the scientific method from an early age, I was not.  Aha!  This explained why I found research difficult - compared to the Americans - in spite of having obvious academic talent and preparation.  In my own primary and secondary schooling, the research process was not emphasized, but teaching and learning and 'rithmetic and 'riting were.

While I admired the kids' ingenious projects that day - comparing sounds and colours and whatnot - I couldn't imagine having to drag through doing them myself.  The stories interested me; the process did not.  I actually do not like "the process." Experimenting following a recipe reminds me of what my mother called cooking and gives me a nasty headache.  Recording and reporting results, I always found dumb and obvious.  This is partly because you already know what's going to happen: "it's a straight line, Newton's law holds woo-hoo!"

One of the co-judges was an arrogant and rude scientist.  I was glad to be rid of his type.  Then the school, I thought it was quite harshly built - very large, very sturdy, very unlike a hug.  Children need colours, they need fantasy, instead they had the set of Prison Break, and unfriendly photographs of very dead white people.  Poor babies.

Environmental matters

I'm excited about my new gig because it comes with a library (the university library, that is.) If I can work out a deal, it'll come with a pool too (mhotel pool).
What can I say? Life's good. 

But seriously, why do I love books so much?

Definition

Upper-middle class = Upper-class taste + Middle-class money

 

And it's off to work I go.

Not an easy read, but I love it all the same

Sometimes our morality is just misguided...

GODLY PEOPLE
by Tosin Otitoju

Ten thousand years and
we have not changed.
Our idioms -
Climbing a mountain,
Reaching for the sky,
Family in the firmaments, ...
Recycled matter, we
kneel, we bow, we quake.

Ten thousand years and
we still yearn for a splash
of warm blood against our face;
we want to be told
who is chosen for slaughter;
we yearn for pain laughter event;
we to whom nothing ever happens
want something to happen as

we have not changed
in our lust for excitement.
Festivals get boring without
drunken excess.
We prefer our parties brimming
with gossip and fashion.
We yearn for convulsion,
and uncommon theater.
Man dies without passion.
Rules bind the pash...
rules free the pash too,
at the appointed times.

Our idioms
have not changed:
A priest fertilizes a virgin...
the land is dark, humus-rich...
pregnant with tubers,
and aglow with fruits.
A question:
if one priest bows, and another
embraces him,
what fertility is there?

Climbing a mountain
to ponder the impending suffering
when a hired priest
wastes the seeds,
leaving the waiting female earth
scorned and certainly furious...
The word from above,
at the mountaintop,
is this:
Give the people what they want.

Reaching for the sky
on a ladder of vocation:
we have bellies to feed,
and priests to direct the directors above.
The priest must put his seed
in a fertile hole,
to teach the animators
to stave off famine.

Family in the firmaments,
where bellies are ever full,
understands our prayer
for daily bread.
The word to us is politically strategic:
Spill the blood of the lazy priests;
give the people a party.

Recycled matter, we
make excellent humus soil,
bringing forth fruit,
fragrant when the sun smiles,
numerous when the rain showers fall
flirtatiously and tease
out food for citizen
families. Numerous, we

kneel, we bow, we quake.
When they above frown,
we sacrifice.
Sometimes even before they frown,
we present a small kola.
Two corpses lay on the lakeshore
in view of hooting accusers.
The party was one-in-town,
yet the famine was severe.

I AM Tiger Woods

Back in the day at Howard, some HU upperclassman who looked like Tiger Woods liked to wear a T-shirt that had Tiger's face on it and the words: I am Tiger Woods.  I had a crush on both brothas.  (Except that in those days, Tiger wasn't a brotha yet, he was Cablinasian.  The Howard guy, I think his name was Michael, had a stupendously hawt girlfriend.)  Nowadays you look at the same face and say, dude, Tiger, you're a sleazeball.  Then again, it's healthier to be out as a sleazeball than to be the constipated, poster-boy for hole-in-one "accenture" performance. 

 Anyway, Tiger Woods finally won a title, after two years of huddling with the golf mortals. 

Today I decided to play the golf game on my "vintage" Nokia cellphone.  I had a good feeling, and guess what happened?  I played only one bogey (hole 14, usually really easy, my concentration just slipped), and ended up at 7 under par (62 total.)  Before this, my best ever was 68 (-1).  My other top-five best scores - in three years of playing this game - 69, 70, 70. 
It's a beautiful day. 
Next up, I have to reach the end of the Word Mole game. 

My Flooy Lily Wura and his Louisa Lily "Gyp" Denys Western

It would seem that the following passage inspired my characters in "Honeymoon."  The only problem is that while I wrote the story in September 2009, the first time I read Sons and Lovers was one year later (September 2010.)   I was just reading the book again, and was jarred (and pleased) to find this passage with such a familiar female lead character.  The air-heads even share a name: Lily.

Image: MADAM (I used the crayon brush in Microsoft Paint)

The lesson is that a meme may truly develop independently in more than one place; it's not necessarily copied.  Well, here's a little D.H. Lawrence for your reading pleasure:

Sons and Lovers 
Chapter 6: A Death in the Family

William came home again with his sweetheart at the Whitsuntide.
He had one week of his holidays then. It was beautiful weather.
As a rule, William and Lily and Paul went out in the morning together
for a walk. William did not talk to his beloved much, except to tell
her things from his boyhood. Paul talked endlessly to both of them.
...
He looked at her. Her beauty seemed to hurt him. He glanced
at her flower-decked head and frowned.
"You look nice enough, if that's what you want to know,"
he said.
And she walked without her hat. In a little while William
recovered, and was rather tender to her. Coming to a bridge,
he carved her initials and his in a heart.
L. L. W.
W. M.
She watched his strong, nervous hand, with its glistening
hairs and freckles, as he carved, and she seemed fascinated by it.
All the time there was a feeling of sadness and warmth,
and a certain tenderness in the house, whilst William and Lily
were at home. But often he got irritable. She had brought,
for an eight-days' stay, five dresses and six blouses.
"Oh, would you mind," she said to Annie, "washing me these
two blouses, and these things?"
And Annie stood washing when William and Lily went out the
next morning. Mrs. Morel was furious. And sometimes the young man,
catching a glimpse of his sweetheart's attitude towards his sister,
hated her.
On Sunday morning she looked very beautiful in a dress
of foulard, silky and sweeping, and blue as a jay-bird's feather,
and in a large cream hat covered with many roses, mostly crimson.
Nobody could admire her enough. But in the evening, when she was
going out, she asked again:
"Chubby, have you got my gloves?"
"Which?" asked William.
"My new black SUEDE."
"No."
There was a hunt. She had lost them.
"Look here, mother," said William, "that's the fourth pair
she's lost since Christmas--at five shillings a pair!"
"You only gave me TWO of them," she remonstrated.
And in the evening, after supper, he stood on the hearthrug
whilst she sat on the sofa, and he seemed to hate her. In the
afternoon he had left her whilst he went to see some old friend.
She had sat looking at a book. After supper William wanted to write
a letter.
"Here is your book, Lily," said Mrs. Morel. "Would you care
to go on with it for a few minutes?"
"No, thank you," said the girl. "I will sit still."
"But it is so dull."
William scribbled irritably at a great rate. As he sealed
the envelope he said:
"Read a book! Why, she's never read a book in her life."
"Oh, go along!" said Mrs. Morel, cross with the exaggeration,
"It's true, mother--she hasn't," he cried, jumping up and taking
his old position on the hearthrug. "She's never read a book in her life."
"'Er's like me," chimed in Morel. "'Er canna see what there
is i' books, ter sit borin' your nose in 'em for, nor more can I."
"But you shouldn't say these things," said Mrs. Morel to her son.
"But it's true, mother--she CAN'T read. What did you give her?"
"Well, I gave her a little thing of Annie Swan's. Nobody wants
to read dry stuff on Sunday afternoon."
"Well, I'll bet she didn't read ten lines of it."
"You are mistaken," said his mother.
All the time Lily sat miserably on the sofa. He turned
to her swiftly.
"DID you ready any?" he asked.
"Yes, I did," she replied.
"How much?"
"l don't know how many pages."
"Tell me ONE THING you read."
She could not.
...

And so often William manifested the same hatred towards
his betrothed. On the last evening at home he was railing against her.
"Well," he said, "if you don't believe me, what she's like,
would you believe she has been confirmed three times?"
"Nonsense!" laughed Mrs. Morel.
"Nonsense or not, she HAS! That's what confirmation means
for her--a bit of a theatrical show where she can cut a figure."
"I haven't, Mrs. Morel!" cried the girl--"I haven't! it
is not true!"
"What!" he cried, flashing round on her. "Once in Bromley,
once in Beckenham, and once somewhere else."
"Nowhere else!" she said, in tears--"nowhere else!"
"It WAS! And if it wasn't why were you confirmed TWICE?"
"Once I was only fourteen, Mrs. Morel," she pleaded,
tears in her eyes.
"Yes," said Mrs. Morel; "I can quite understand it, child. Take no
notice of him. You ought to be ashamed, William, saying such things."
"But it's true. She's religious--she had blue velvet
Prayer-Books--and she's not as much religion, or anything else,
in her than that table-leg. Gets confirmed three times for show,
to show herself off, and that's how she is in EVERYTHING--
EVERYTHING!"
The girl sat on the sofa, crying. She was not strong.
"As for LOVE!" he cried, "you might as well ask a fly to love you!
It'll love settling on you---"
"Now, say no more," commanded Mrs. Morel. "If you want
to say these things, you must find another place than this.
I am ashamed of you, William! Why don't you be more manly.
To do nothing but find fault with a girl, and then pretend you're
engaged to her! "
Mrs. Morel subsided in wrath and indignation.
William was silent, and later he repented, kissed and comforted
the girl. Yet it was true, what he had said. He hated her.
When they were going away, Mrs. Morel accompanied them as far
as Nottingham. It was a long way to Keston station.
"You know, mother," he said to her, "Gyp's shallow.
Nothing goes deep with her."
"William, I WISH you wouldn't say these things," said Mrs. Morel,
very uncomfortable for the girl who walked beside her.
"But it doesn't, mother. She's very much in love with me now,
but if I died she'd have forgotten me in three months."

I think this is perfect

Darey's Not The Girl is wonderful music + impeccable video. I just love to sing/watch this. "You're not the girl I used to know, you're a shadow of yourself // I think I lost you long ago..."

Suggestions for Indigestion

Feeling rather unwell this evening, with a mild fever accompanying indigestion.  Been sipping water as doctor said (it helps you burp/fart aka pass gas) but this may not be working quickly enough to keep my health within jolly bounds.
So, here's what I just learned online about fixing it: 

Number 1 advice: BURP.
2. Don't lie down after eating.  Sleep sitting up or supported with a pillow.
3. No-nos in diet: high-fructose corn syrup, carbonated drinks, cheese and dairy, coffee (take tea instead), fries/chips and fast foods, gluten (as in wheat bread). 
4. Add to diet: Garlic, natural fiber foods, and coconut oil.
5. Instead of 1-3 large meals, eat smaller meals throughout the day. 

6. You may need additional herbal and natural treatments, and of course pharmaceutical drugs as well.  Talk to a doctor. 

Note: The antibiotics in my treatment regime probably killed off the good bacteria in my gut as well as the bad ones.  Although the treatment is over, it appears that I need more time to regain the ability to digest complex foods.I ate several new things today: cheese, malt (the worst), moin-moin (made with beans) and had no fruits/veggies to speak of.

Other note: My current suffering also gives me a great appreciation of what infants go through with their little tiny stomachs processing all that milk.  It appears that the need to burp can make you very unhappy and even give you a fever.

Isn't this weird: Vitamin C and iron tablets can irritate the esophagus (read more) and excessive iron causes constipation.   Can't wait to be done with the medicines.

Helpful links:
What is indigestion/dyspepsia? 
Are there natural remedies for chronically unhappy stomachs?
Please comment if you have any suggestions.  Right now my tummy is at ease (sitting up to type must have helped) but the temperature is up.

Poem from Big Girl

MADAM IN CHAINS
by Tosin Otitoju

Please don’t call me “Madam”
In that way you have
Of lowering your head
Then darting forth
in my service.
You are making fun of me!
Is it money you want?
Take
And go.

I got your message.
The one you share with
The rest of your people
When I’m not here.
The one in your eyes,
Which I can’t see
When your head is down.
The message that
hit me today
when I read that story
about the corrupt people
destroying their country.

I read about rising anger,
The streets unsafe,
With the accounting
For past deeds.

In the story,
Many were pulled
Out of their
Jeeps and mansions.
Some climbed into the trees
But were forced back down,
Pelted with coconuts.
The guilty were beaten.
Their clothes were torn
To reveal their
Pink baboon yansh –
Funny enough,
Just like everybody else’s.

Don’t call me “Madam”
When your blood is boiling
And you just want to
Drive a bamboo pole
through my chest
when the day comes.

I went to the animal fair.
I found crazy money there.
I arranged my pink yansh,
Adorned it with a sash,
I combed my ebony hair.

Just as baba with his friends
Terrorized the pups with his strength,
My sorority –
Called The Nipples Of Bling –
Brought the ladies to represent.

I’m guilty as sin.
They said we built a clinic –
Ha, we built a stage set.
With the lights and camera
At a special angle,
It looked like bricks and cement.
We spliced in sick people
Connected to drips.
They said we built a clinic –
We built CSR,
Corporate Social Responsibility,
There’s crazy money there.

So don’t call me “Madam”
With your head lowered
Suggesting I give you something,
When you are the royal
And I am the thief.

Don’t you call me “Madam.”
You won’t be calling me that
Tomorrow
When your eyes are mad,
Your rage is exposed,
And the pole is through my heart.

Don’t you call me “Madam,”
Bloody hypocrite.
I am not in the mood.

What I'm doing with my life

Watching Cuidado Con El Ángel (Be Careful with The Angel).

I've been very ill (was very ill), recuperating, and asked my friends to bring me telenovellas to watch. Now I have a pile of them. The cheesiness is killing me. It's great therapy. THANK YOU. 

Other telenovellas I watched in the past:
Pasión de Gavilanes, in which the Reyes brothers pair off with the fine rich ladies of the manor...
and the one that started it all, El cuerpo del Deseo (The Body of Desire) also known as Second Chance.

            

I'm reading a bit too: Open City (nice; Teju Cole), and Sons and Lovers (again; D.H. Lawrence).  Reading slowly. Pretty weak.

Dubliners, with adoration

About 100 years ago, James Joyce wrote this set of stories collected as Dubliners.  You should read this one, titled Araby.  It's so sweet.  Now or later, you'll want more.