Showing posts from April, 2008


Back in the days, I used to consider myself a poet. I even went to the extent of performing the poem below, before an audience of talented artistes at Jazzville, during the Open Mic of the Word n Sound programme organised by one Majek (can't remember his other name)and Beautiful Nubia. One notable talent that has continued her work in what she believes in from that place, is the rave of the moment ASA. Back then, just with her guitar, she blew our minds.

I had memorized the poem and learnt some gesticulations to follow. I even bought a new top and jeans for the night. I remember the top was red. My friend Pat accompained me there, and when I got on stage, I pretended not to see anyone, did my thing and left quickly, but the audience applauded sha.

Let us perform
Some simple ablutions.
In the act,
Let us pause,
And lock eyes.
Let us see
Our inner thoughts.
Let us realise
What we want.
We have grown
Beyond the age of derision.
We have seen
Beyond the eyes of a precognist.
Only we ca…

African Insurance And Festivals

For some time now, I have been thinking about festivals and what I have come to understand by the term, African Insurance.
The first time I heard about African Insurance, it was from a neighbour, when she was describing what happened when robbers attacked another neighbour’s family and shot at some of them. Of course the bullets bounced of the kids and wife, because they all had African Insurance.

Thinking of it, I then realized that at some point in my life, I also had an African Insurance, to ensure that I wouldn’t be harmed by a cutlass.

For those who know the Isoko people, they will understand why we are called Isoko Tolopia (The Isokos picks cutlass).

I really don’t know why the term is used for us, except that the Isoko’s use cutlass for a lot of things, including war. It is the reason why people will joke about an Isoko man chasing men sneaking around to see his daughter, with the cutlass he has under his bed. My papa no get oh!

A friend of my brother accompanied us to the village i…

My Sister And I

My fourteen year old sister is almost driving me bunkers. I have no idea if what is happening is normal among sisters, because I never had an elder sister.

At fourteen, she is almost as tall as I am, 5’7``, and my clothes; tops and jeans, would fit her, although not so perfectly.

It began when I left home. Whenever I went back for a visit, I noticed that my sister who is going to be taller than me no doubt, and soon would look down on my head while I’m talking to her, has taken over some of my clothes. And I am still alive, and my stuffs are being taken over. First, it used to be my precious books that she and my almost sixteen year old brother, would give out as gifts to whomever they discover reads books, because their big sister has lots of books. You can imagine me outdoors, noticing someone, walking around or sitting down with an ‘Uzezi’ (When ever I buy a new book, I design it with my name at a corner, and most times, seeing all those books bear my name, make me so happy like the …