To anyone who is homeless, I say, find a home.
Category Archive: Nigerian
The worst time was 1983. Love and life and everything went wrong. I reached absolute rock bottom. I saw the Minotaur at the bottom of the abyss. I learnt of the harshness of the world and its impartiality to human failure.
I am one year older than Nigeria at 51. In a human life, 51 might be old. But it is very young for a nation. By that, I mean a Nigeria conscious of itself as a nation.
I lived rough, by my wits, was homeless, lived on the streets, lived on friends’ floors, was happy, was miserable.
The greatest religions convert the world through stories.
The strange thing about Africa is how past, present and future come together in a kind of rough jazz, if you like.
We never think that our mothers will die. It was like suddenly an abyss opened at my feet – I was standing on nothing. It was the strangest thing. Her passing away ripped the solidity out of the world.
Magic becomes art when it has nothing to hide.
Stories can conquer fear, you know. They can make the heart bigger.
The acknowledged legislators of the world take the world as given. They dislike mysteries, for mysteries cannot be coded, or legislated, and wonder cannot be made into law. And so these legislators police the accepted frontiers of things.