ktravula - a travelogue!

Tuesday!

Kola Tubosun — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 17:34:14 +0000

In bed, reading Chika Unigwe’s On Black Sister’s Street. First impression: A brilliant story. Great writing.

It started this way:

“The world was exactly as it should be. No more and, definitely, no less. She had the love of a good man. A house. And her own money – still new and fresh and the healthiest shade of green – the thought of it buoyed her and gave her a rush that made her hum.”

In Yoruba, that should be:
“Ilé ayé rí gẹgẹ bó se ye kó rí. Kò sí àseju bẹẹni kò sí àìtó. Ifẹ rẹ n jẹun lokan ọdọmọkùnrin ọmọlúàbí kan. Ilé kan. Àti owó tirẹ – tó tuntun yanranyanran pẹlú àwò ewé té rẹwa tó sì jọlọ – rírònú nípa rẹ lásán mú inú re dùn dé ibi wípé ó bẹrẹ sí n kọrin laìlanu.

Monday!

Kola Tubosun — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 14:23:48 +0000

‘The Ides of March are come.’ ‘Aye, Caesar, but not gone’ - Julius Caesar

Work resumes today after one week of Spring Break. I look forward to the last quarter of my teaching experience which should be easier than I thought before. From the result of the mid-term test from two weeks ago, I think we’re doing well so far. It’s time to take it easy and just have fun. Yes, fun.

I got a few more books to read, just as soon as I finish Chika Unigwe’s On Black Sister’s Street which I’ve just begun. They include Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things (my second copy), Sefi Atta’s Everything Good Will Come, Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Kite Runner, the Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa’s In Praise of the Stepmother, JM Coetzee’s The Life and Times of Michael K, and Paula Varsavsky’s No One Said A Word.

Is it strange or not that my colleagues in other parts of the country are just beginning their own Spring Break today?

Have a nice week everyone.

Happy Birthday Mum

Kola Tubosun — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 05:30:26 +0000

“You aren’t really 60. Just 21 with 39 years experience!”

Since there are really no words to say how much I wish I was there to rejoice with you, I will only wish you the best of your 6oth birthday. Happy Birthday mum. You are a treasure, and I wish you many happy returns of the day, with joy and blessing from all of us who love you: Agama, Lara, Bukky, Yemi, me, Laitan, Deola, Jolaade, Henry, Oyin, Subomi, and that cute last one whose name I don’t yet know. And all cousins from far and wide.

You’re awesome.

My Mum and I

Kola Tubosun — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 17:55:34 +0000

This is a guest-post by Temitayo Olofinlua, who recently won the WLP essay competition in NY. She is also a co-administrator of the Bookaholic Blog, and she sends this from Lagos, Nigeria. Today is Mother’s Day in every other part of the world except the United States, I think, so this piece is just as apt. I can relate to much of what she says. How many of us have mothers like that? Also for one more thing: tomorrow is my mum’s 60th birthday. Enjoy the piece. Previous guest-posts can be found here.

___________________________

My mum and I are not best of friends. Yes, are you surprised? We are not. And we are not enemies. I am always amazed when other young women talk about and with their mothers—you can see that they are companions, almost like sisters. But not so with my mine, the equation is simple—she’s my mother and I am her daughter. Every time we are together, people say we look alike, she smiles but I don’t think so. Sometimes, I go and take a look in the mirror and I wonder to myself “where is the similarity now?”

When I was growing up, I felt my mother was too wicked, in fact sometimes I had some secret thoughts that maybe she was not my mother, that maybe I was adopted. Listen to this: how else can you explain your mother not allowing you to go out to play even after doing your home work? How can you explain the look she gives you every time she has a visitor and you just want to sit there to pick the adults brains—you know that look, don’t you? Or how do you explain it when she just emerges from nowhere when you are about to start watching your favourite soap opera? Or the trouble that she starts when she notices the boy that escorts you home from school? There is dinner but it just does not go down well because all is not well between the two of you.

Time to go to university came with much excitement but it was also advice time. “Remember the child of whom you are…be a good girl and don’t do what I wouldn’t do.” I looked at her when she said this (not that I intend to do anything other than enjoy my freedom once gained) as I remembered her pictures from way back: the high-heeled apolas, the thick dark afro shining with oil from sheen, the short mini-skirts and gowns that rocked many parties. “Men, they are dangerous, be careful and don’t trust anyone completely; put your trust in God alone.” “Yeah right, you had your time, let me have mine” I thought to myself. Today, I know better and understand that she was talking from experience and that’s one thing I didn’t have.

My Mum is no longer fashionable: she does not use lipstick, she uses lip balm (Robb during harmattan); she does not use mascara, she uses only a black eye-pencil thinned over her brows; she does not wear off-shoulders, the traditional iro and buba would do; she does not shave her eyebrows, why should you tweak God’s work? She does not believe in trends, she wears what she wants, however it fits; she does not believe you should starve yourself to get that ‘star’ look; she eats what she wants, however and whenever. I fear that I am like my Mum in this regard—I am not fashionable. Unlike most young ladies my age, I am what you call conservative when it comes to fashion. It took a while before I started wearing trousers, spaghetti straps (sleeveless clothes of whatever form) and short skirts (that means in any way above the knee); mini-skirts are a no-go-area. I am not an ‘SU’ or some extremely holy sister who yells ‘bless you’ at the unpardonable sinners. For me, wearing a cloth comes with a lot of internal conditioning: if I am not comfortable seeing myself in it; there’s no how I’d wear it as a part of me would feel it is ugly no matter what compliments I get. So you see I may be as old school as my Mum.

Recently, I have been looking within and discovering that we are not as different as I thought. We are similar in other ways: our long beautiful dark hair; our self-will to achieve anything we set our hearts to; our laughter, loud without concern that we will wake the house. Now as she grows in years, the bond seems to get stronger; she is keener on seeing her once little girl grow into a courageous young woman “there’s nothing you can’t do, YES YOU CAN my dear.” She says in the Obama spirit beaming with a smile after I told her about my plans for the year. I have come to love my mother despite our differences. She is the best Mom in the world… (I no get choice abi?). But despite all odds, I will be her daughter again in a second life! I am more than sure that she loves me, and wants the best for me too.

______________________

You can find Tayo here on twitter.

Happy Mother’s Day too my mum, and all mothers and aspiring mothers out there. You make life worth living.

African Film Festival

Kola Tubosun — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 05:35:09 +0000

from March 26 – March 28, 2010

Venue: Washington University, St. Louis.

Friday, March 26 at 7 p.m.
Friday’s films are co-presented by the Saint Louis Metropolitan Alumnae Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc.

BRONX PRINCESS
Yoni Brook and Musa Syeed, Ghana/USA, 2008, 29 minutes
Follow headstrong 17-year-old Rocky as she leaves behind her mother in New York City to reunite with her father, a chief in Ghana. By confronting her parents’ ideas during her tumultuous summer between high school and college, Rocky must reconcile her African heritage with her dream of independence.

Sunday, March 28 at 7 p.m.
Sunday’s feature is co-presented by Saint Louis, Missouri-Senegal Sister Cities Program

AREA BOYS
Omelihu Nwanguma, Nigeria, 2008, 25 minutes

Area Boys is the name given to groups of youth who make their life on the Lagos streets. Two lifelong friends decide to repent from their corrupt ways by cutting ties with their megalomaniac boss. Life as “good” citizens proves difficult, so they plan one last job to fund their transition… and are faced with a life or death situation, testing their friendship.

Sponsored by African and African American Studies and Film and Media Studies in Arts & Sciences, Faculty of Arts & Sciences, African Students Association of Washington University and the St. Louis Art Museum. It is funded in part by a grant from the Women’s Society of Washington University.

More information on this website.

At the City Museum

Kola Tubosun — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 18:55:56 +0000

Here are pictures taken at the St. Louis City Museum last night where five of us from different countries had gone to spend the evening. There was Reham the Egyptian, Abdiel the Haitian, Chris the American, Stephanie the Taiwanese, and Kola the Traveller.

It wasn’t such a museum as it was a sorta playground. But it is a museum in the sense of the artifacts that it houses. Most of the attraction in the building is from the caves, tunnels and mazes that the it contains. And this could explain why there are more kids and young folks there than adults.

One more observation: A non-Egyptian would look at the clay mould in this picture and conclude that it is indeed a Pharaoh head, but Reham disagrees totally. “What is this?” she asked, genuinely amazed, and we were immediately amazed too. “I thought it was a pharaoh,” I said. “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The pharaohs don’t have ear rings, neck bracelets and this kind of head.” Interesting. “I guess it is an American pharaoh!” I replied.

Lemp Mansion, Yesterday.

Kola Tubosun — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 08:11:42 +0000

Place: The Lemp Mansion, St. Louis.

Time: A little past 12 midnight.

Number of accomplices: 5, all human.

No ghosts,

Yet.

A Son of the Rocks

Kola Tubosun — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 16:31:50 +0000

or Narratives Around My Childhood, a guest-post by Ibukun Babarinde, a Nigerian published poet, and friend. His first collection of poems is titled Running Splash of Rust, a sort of journeying around Ibadan and its human landscape. He sends this from Wolverhampton, United Kingdom, and he can be found on Facebook. Enjoy.

________________________________

One of the questions that troubled my young days was the mystery behind the enthralling view of the top of the rocks that peeped into the sky lines over my home town, Saki. There are many mountains towering into the sky in the town, and all of them stood in different positions. Their view like an alluring drama set, offer different scenes and sights at different time of the day, and also different views throughout the seasons of the year. The most fascinating to me is the morning view of the mountain tops, especially in foggy and hazy weather conditions. The cloud formation on the mountain would literarily make the mountain top look as though it had poked into the heavens.

On sunny afternoons, a clear view of the mountain appears in the brightness of the tropical sun, and the scanty vegetation along the mountain steep would flaunt its greenness and all together a very lovely scene to view.
The most prominent of the mountains is the Asabari, Asabari is believed to be to Saki as what Olumo Rock is to Abeokuta. History had it that the people of Saki had sought refuge in the Asabari in times of war, another rock of equal relevance is the Oloogun rock, but with a singular distinguished attribute, it is only natives of Saki that are allowed to climb the Asabari, while Oloogun accommodates every one.

Other mountains and rocks also exist; Isia, Otun, Aganran, Efun, Sangote, Ayekale, Ofeefe. These rocks sit in places as though they are survey pillars mapping the whole Saki town into quarters.

At different times of the year and season some of the mountains are worshiped, the tradition of the town ascribed some element of deity to the mountains. But to me, every day I worshiped them.

Some Christian sect also do their picnics and some other spiritual gathering on one of the mountains, they had some kind of legacy in a particular mountain called ‘Oke Adagba’ the Baptist missionaries had settled on the mountain side, and left some old college buildings and beautiful premises behind. Every Easter, all Christians in the town would gather on the mountain from morning to evening, in simulation of the Galilee where Jesus met His disciples before he ascended into heavens.

As I moved from one junior class to the other in my early school days, I had a profound preference for chairs by the window side, so that I could view of the mountains any time I wanted to. I had very close view of the Isia rock, and at quite a distance, the view of Adagba rock which has the pinnacle of the first Baptist church towering out of dark of its evening shadow.

By evident reasons, I chose to go to Ayekale Community High School, as though to retrace my ancestry. The school was built in a valley, with the Oloogun rocks on the hind side, Ayekale rocks merging into ofeefe rock, at left and front. The secondary school had a small entry road, steeply and winding, as though folding into a valley. I spent the first two years of my secondary education in this school environment before I was snatched away by the city life.

One of the most fascinating and point of my attachments to this environment is the echo that naturally occurs as a result of reverberations caused by the guardian rocks. Even now, I still remember how the period bells in the school would resound, echoing twice or more, and how the voice of the then school principal, Mr. Afonja would be snatched by the waves hovering over the valley.
_______________________

You can find previous guest-posts here. Thank you Ibukun!

Call for Submissions

Kola Tubosun — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 07:16:37 +0000

I got this yesterday. A few of my works were published in the first issue, and I am on the editorial board as a guest contributor.

_______________________

This is to announce the call for submissions for the second edition of the Sentinel Nigeria literary magazine due out on May 15th 2010. We are accepting submissions in the categories of Prose, Poetry, Drama, Essay and Literary Criticism. If your work is original and distinct, if you feel you should be in the avant-garde of writing – then the Sentinel Nigeria Magazine is your natural proving ground.

Full information about the call at the link below

http://www.sentinelnigeria.org/submission-guidelines.php

or contact the Administrator/Editor-in-chief

Richard Ugbede Ali at Richard.ali@sentinelnigeria.org
Phone number: (+234)8062392145

A Beautiful Day, Still

Kola Tubosun — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 22:56:43 +0000

Spring has (un)officially begun where I am, and you can tell. You can tell from the energy of the geese, the rustle of leaves, the glare of the sun and the coolness of the wind. The trees haven’t got their leaves back, but from this change of weather, we know for sure that Spring is on its way. It is here. I went out yesterday and felt the glare of the sun. For the first time in months, I saw so many people outside. At the lake behind my residence, there were at least two people fishing because the lake is not frozen anymore. It now runs like a fresh spring. It is beautiful. But, it is still fifteen degrees celcius. In Nigeria that is the temperature at Christmas. I told someone that and he laughed uncontrollably. Yes, it is hot for you Americans.

It is a fine day, and I like it very much. I won’t wear thermal pants or closed shoes anymore, and I can stay outdoors lying on the grass with my back to the floor and my face turned up to heaven for as long as I want, as long as this feeling remains, almost like another Christmas in the month of March.

Welcome Spring. We’ve been waiting for you.

At least something to take the mind off the horrible images of carnage reeking across from the distance of the Atlantic!

ktravula - a travelogue!

Tuesday!

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Monday!

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Happy Birthday Mum

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My Mum and I

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African Film Festival

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At the City Museum

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Lemp Mansion, Yesterday.

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A Son of the Rocks

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Call for Submissions

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A Beautiful Day, Still

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