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AbĂ­ke

-Alfred Olaiya EkĂşndayo forced me to tell a story that evening. The others, intoxicated with palm wine, chanted along with him:“Tell us a story!Tell us a story!” So I told them the story of that beautiful lady, AbikĂ©, the black beauty of Lalonpe; one of the king’s dancers. Blessed with a curvy body that glitters with the dangling of her full beads, swerving to the … Continue reading AbĂ­ke

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Memories from Night Tales

-Alfred Olaiya Mother, mother, send down the rope,           alujanjan kirijan. Mother, mother, send down the rope,           alujanjan kirijan. Night’s glints slit tendrils into hollow footprints on desolate playground. Sẹ̀kẹ̀rẹ̀, termites-loam draped, will not indulge in this silenced chorus. Grandmother, passage of your tongue; sinuous labyrinth, buoyed me to crested currents—plunged in flipping leaves; of the … Continue reading Memories from Night Tales

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Ire

-Alfred Olaiya I once had a trance of joyous deities, clad in the white robes of Obatala, treading at the gate of heavens. With thier Ă¬rĂąkẹ̀rẹ̀ swaying to the solemn rhythm, they sang the chorus of good fortunes: “May the treasure of our benevolent father seek after the upright humans and may his divine blessings shower on every righteous soul. Ire e.”  And they danced with grace, like the áş¸Ě€yọ̀s, on the sacred passage of firmaments. Continue reading Ire