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Triptych
In Search of. The hot wax dripped down the candle, it was hot and Tesla welcomed the scalding for the counterpoint it gave to the rest of his surroundings. It was cold, vast, and empty. He shouldered a heavy door open and peered inside, the voices that had seemed so dim and promising were clear…
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Tribal Marks: The horrors of being a living culture confluence
Bin gar keine Russin Stamm’ aus Litauen, Echt deutsch. This line is in an English poem and one blogger commenting on it refers to the Tower of Babel curse, a sort of rootlessness that plagued the multilingual elite of Europe. It’s an aptly fitting metaphor for the headspace I find myself growing into recently. As…
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The Palm nut Game
A campfire is Nature’s musical, the flames dance out scenes, one flame gave a deep bow to another as it jumped, changed colour, and grew taller. The other flamed circled around them, waving back and forth, their harsh language providing unrhythmic acoustic accompaniment. The boy and the night watched but the fire did not fear,…
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The mythical “They” of the Yoruba
“Won” This simple Yoruba word, a shortened form of “Awon” is a staple in the Yoruba language and culture. Linguistically, it represents the plural pronoun, They. Culturally, it refers to the most dreaded force in Yorubaland; Awon Aye. Awon Aye, the people of the world or better still The World are to lay-yoruba what the…
Calabash-Rose 