ktravula – a travelogue!

Books On My Desk

On Black Sisters’ Street by Chika Unigwe. This is a powerful book about the lives of prostitutes from Nigeria in the brothels of Belgium. To write this very moving account of an oft neglected but very crucial social phenomenon, the author had to travel to the red light districts of Belgium and conduct one-on-one interviews with the prostitutes, and record their stories. In a recent interview, she confessed that she was able to earn their trust only because they didn’t believe that she was a writer, but a novice hoping to learn the secrets of the trade by asking around. The author Chika, a Nigerian writer, lives in Beligium with her family. Her first book De Feniks was the first work of fiction to be written by a Flemish author of African origin. Get the books, and read them. As soon as I finish reading it, I hope to come back with a mini-review.

In Dependence by Sarah Ladipo Manyika. In judging this book first by its cover, I give deserved kudos to the artist who placed the map of my home town and the town of Oxford, UK on the two unknown faces that grace the pink cover. The novel itself tells the story of love that spans generations, continents, amidst several obstacles , passion, idealism, courage and betrayal. Of the book, this has been said: “…has the subtle power of a well woven work, nothing is out of place… it is full of surprises” among other nice things by journalists and reviewers.

The first chapter begins thus in a sentence of quite enticing prose: “One could begin with the dust, the heat and the purple bougainvillea. One might eve begin with the smell of rotting mangoes tossed by the side of the road where flies hummed and green-bellied lizards bobbed their orange heads while loitering in the sun.” So far, it is a very good read.

I can’t explain why I read so many books at once, as I can’t explain why I keep acquiring them. All I know is that some times my mood requires a different kind of literary satisfaction. At some other times, another. I recommend these two good books for their entertainment as well as their literary value.

For my copies of the book, let me thank Tayo who got me an autographed copy from Sarah Manyika, and sent the book to me all the way from Nigeria, and Ikhide who gave me his copy of “On Black Sister’s Street” along with his review notes within its margins. Then Chika Unigwe, the author herself who graciously sent me a copy from Belgium.

With Love From Lambert

Dear Blog,

What does one do while sitting idly in an airport cafeteria on a Wednesday morning while waiting for a flight that may or may not be cancelled due to weather conditions? Look around and observe everything that moves and those that don’t.

The cafeteria has a banner just above the bar that says “Carpe Cuervo. Seize the day and the night.” It also has four television sets, each showing different programmes. CNN goes back and forth between The War President Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize, Afghanistan and the terrible snow storms that has got so many flights delayed and many cancelled all through the country this morning. ESPN is on the NBA games, and occasionally the channel flickers to the Tiger Woods story.

The food is horrible, and I’ve returned 3/4 of it uneaten. It’s nothing that I recognize, and I should have obeyed my inner voice never to make an order on the advice of the waitress… The lemonade is good though, and I get a free refill while Fela Kuti sings Follow Follow into my ears. Oh yea, there is also this book that I just bought: The Men Who Stare At Goats by Jon Ronson. It has been made into a movie featuring George Clooney and Kevin Spacey among others. Well, I haven’t seen the movie, but nothing says that I can’t read the book first. The woman at the cashier when I bought the book said I could return it anytime within 90 days and get half the money back. I’ve told her that I have no such intention, yet she gave me the coupon nevertheless. It was so cold out today. You should see how many layers of clothing I’m wearing, yet suffering from occasional invasion from the random wind that blows in my direction even here where I sit in the corner of an indoor cafe.

But wait a minute. If a president who has just sent more soldiers into the war front in a foreign country goes to collect the Nobel Prize for Peace in Oslo tomorrow, what does that make him? A Nobel Peace Prize War President? Would his Nobel Speech be written by the same person who wrote his West Point address that signified the intention to send 30,000 more soldiers into Afghanistan? If so, would he make apologies? If not, would the Nobel Speech distant the man from the policies of his government?

Well, I should probably shut up at this point. It’s ten o’ clock and I’ve got some reading to do, and some people watching.

See ya.

The Presidential Pardon

Here’s one of the most interesting displays of democratic ideals in the United States of America: a set of turkeys – yes the animals and not the humans from the country of Turkey – are set free by official pardon of the President. 🙂 By this I mean that an official decree is made that these animals are now set free from the penalty of death, and are free to go (“and sin no more” perhaps) and live their free lives. Isn’t it amazing? Oh the Americans! Nobody ever told us what eventually happened to the turkeys once they left the vicinity of the presidential presence, and perhaps wandered into a poor neighbourhood of a nearby state.

In any case, there was no such presidential decree, ceremonial or otherwise, in Edwardsville today as I stepped out of the house to my host’s Thanksgiving get-together. And God bless them too. Even if I was a vegetarian, today was one of those days when it was better to renounce the faith for the good of all humanity, and peace on earth. Well, maybe I exaggerate. In short, I had a very nice day. The food included turkey, of course, turnips, smoked bacon, bread, crab and sausage stuffing, green beans, potato pie (the real sweet potato), chocolates, whipped cream, ice cream of different flavours, sweet corn, cranberry sauce, salad and other fruits and drinks (sparkling wine, white wine, red wine, mojito and margaritas) – a very traditional American meal.

The get-together also included a diverse mix of people: My hosts, their beautiful daughter and her partner both from the state of Utah, their friends, neighbours white and black, acquaintances, a few elderly women looking gorgeous and us – the Africans. We had gone there with a Thanksgiving card, one of the ones that I bought since a few weeks ago, as well as a copy of Chimamanda Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun as a kind of present, which they both greatly appreciated. The repercussion of that thoughtless decision is now that I had to leave the house when the gathering eventually dispersed with a huge paper sack of very many great used books of fiction, history, non-fiction and poetry which, according to my host were already slated for giving away before we showed up. He loves us, that man, and he has asked us to come back for as many more books as we want, for his giving away. One of the things that North America is full of, if I may assume, is plenty great books to which I would never say no.

It’s thanksgiving day, and because of that someone in Nigeria will receive a present of a sack of books, just as soon as I figure how to ship them out without depleting scarce resources…

For the rest, it was just a wonderful day of feasting and merrying. The turkeys that made it out this year with their necks intact had better thank God too with a large feast, and then go out and sin no more. That is, of course, until Christmas comes. Sigh, the precarious lives that livestocks live. Thus the riddle in one of my earlier cards: “What do you think the turkeys would say about the Thanksgiving holiday? Answer: Probably something fowl!”

So how did yours go? The Thanksgiving in America and the Sallah festivities in Nigeria?

On Mail, Books and Names

Here are my preliminary observations on George Carlin’s famous book, Brain Droppings which I received today: It’s written in a way that makes each of the eccentric, penetrating and irreverent observations of the author very accessible on demand. I’ve just opened randomly to page 122, and here’s what I see under the title, NAME IT AS IT IS:

“The words Fire Department make it sound that they’re the ones starting the fires, doesn’t it? It should be called the “Extinguishing Department.” We don’t call the police the “Crime Department.” Also, the “Bomb Squad” sounds like a terrorist gang. The same is true for wrinkle cream. Doesn’t it sound like it causes wrinkles? And why would a doctor prescribe pain pills? I already have pain! I need relief pills!”

Classic Carlin! There are very many other topics and short sub-headings of this kind in the book where George Carlin takes on the many issues on religion, language, and almost everything under the sun. The comedian always had a fascinating take on the English language particularly, and its many inherent contradictions as a critical part of his act, which made me believe that if only he had talent for playwriting instead, he might have become another George Bernard Shaw who – being also Irish – also pushed the boundaries of acceptability, questioned dogmas and poked fun at the use of language.

These new books from Amazon are going to be my new companions for the next couple of days, rather than the very many stations on American television. On that, I should say that I’ve never had so many stations to choose from whenever I sit down idly in the living room to watch television. A few other books littering my room at the moment are Larry King’s My Remarkable Journey, Nancy Friday’s Woman on Top, Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, Igoni Barett’s From the Cave of Rotten Teeth, Kurt Vonnegut’s Bluebeard, VS Naipaul’s Miguel Street and The Mystic Masseur, and Chimamanda Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus which I never seemed to be able to read beyond the first page, quite unexplainably (little wonder that her Half of A Yellow Sun is my favourite of her works.)

I’ve always loved receiving packages in the mail, especially ones with my name on them – even if it’s not correctly spelt. When I got one today from UPS, the dispatcher looked at my last name again, she remarked, “How on earth do you pronounce your last name?” Then she went online immediately afterwards, and recorded my name as OLATABUSUN! Well, I should have paid more attention to her uncomfortable whimper while I tried to pronounce it to her! No, I won’t be changing the spelling of my last name anytime soon. Not before the Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger changes his; and his name is longer than mine.

Yesterday

These are a few random pictures from the Le Claire Festival at Edwardsville Park, yesterday, just by the beautiful fountain lake.

If my computer quits misbehaving, I’d put up some more pictures from the event which included a book fair/cheap book sales, live music, outdoor eating and barbecue, popcorn and exhibition of historical materials, photos and artworks.

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