Home again

Going back home was definitely an experience. The flight was long and uncomfortable, punctuated by the anticipation of just getting there. When I finally arrived it was like something literally changed in the air, like something came alive. Anyone who has ever had the naija airport experience knows that it is one of kind. Its something like a race to finish, everyone scrambling to get through the "immigration" and somehow fight through the crowd to get their luggage. Some people have this down to an art, slip a few naira notes into a hand here or there and you could cut your waiting time in half. The entire time I am thinking, where's the fire?

I knew immediately that I was truly home. I haven't felt so completely connected to everything around me in a long time. I absolutely loved it! Its amazing how much things can change in 10 years yet remain surprisingly the same. Even though I returned for my grandfather's funeral, the biggest thing on my mind was seeing my last living grandparent. My grandmother on my father's side is all I have left in terms of grandparents and I knew I just absolutely HAD to see her. There's a greater kind of appreciation you have for your grandparents when you're able to look at them with new, more mature eyes. All her wisdom just seeps from her skin. I've never known anyone more God fearing and spiritual than my grandmother. On the drive to her house from mine, a 30 minute drive in reality, but in naija traffic 1-2 hours, I could barely contain myself. I had this fear even on the flight to Nigeria that somehow along the way, she would pass away before I got a chance to see her.

We finally arrived and I all but flew up the stairs and knocked excitedly on the door. No answer. Knocked again. Then from somewhere inside the house a small voice. She was even smaller than I remembered. Barely 5 feet tall, 100 pounds soaking wet. It's hard to imagine that someone so small and fragile has seen so much life. We sat and visited with her for a while, she wanted to know everything that's been going on our lives. Work, school, boyfriends, in order that she might pray for my sisters and I everyday like she already does. I hated having to leave her. I pray that I get to see her again soon.

My grandfather's funeral was indeed a celebration of life. One thing I love about Nigerian culture. Funerals, when it comes to those who have lived a long and fruitful life, are looked upon with joy and happiness. There was some crying, but I remember mostly dancing, laughing and fond memories. My mom asked me 2 days before my trip, to write a tribute to my grandfather to put in the program for the funeral. I struggled to do so in between packing and final exams and eventually wrote something that I'm still unsatisfied with till this day. I recently wrote a poem to express the frustration I felt about not being able to find the words.

Grandpa Igbobi

I wanted to write you a poem
Etch you bold and timeless
Wanted to sing your praise
Find words to describe you flawless
Dug deep in the recess of memory
To piece together
Smell, touch, sound

I wanted to write you a poem
Something to look back on
In remembrance
Speak of your success
Give you one last dance
Show your legacy in your
Children, grandchildren, great grandchildren

I wanted to write you a poem
Fluid and beautiful
Tell of your kindness
Show your strength
Explain your quiet nature
Describe you
Smile, suit, mahogany cane

I just couldn’t find the words
Didn’t know the things to say
To describe you
Truly and completely
I just couldn’t find the words
To paint you vibrant and wonderful

But your poetry
Is in
Yewande, Eniola, Funke,
Adeola, Abiola, Abimbola,
Funlola, Adebiyi, Somide,
Morenike, Ibilola, Afolake,
Ayodele, Olukemi, Ibilola Coker,
Taiwo, Kehinde, Dupe,
Tunde, Oluwaseun, Ayoola,
Morgan, Korede, Blake.

In me

Asa

I was just recently introduce to an artist named Asa, and my goodness! She is just a breath of fresh air, a fellow Nigerian so you know I couldn't be more proud. Her music speaks to something deep inside of me and I just can't help but love her. There is just so much talent coming out of Nigeria its amazing.
more later

Stories left unfinished...

Its been too too long, and truth be told I have no excuse. When I started this blog, I just knew I had to. But I have a habit of starting things and being very passionate about it, and then not having enough strength to finish. My blog sits on my bookmark a screaming reminder of another thing left unfinished. So much has happened since I last posted. I had been working on a poem for my grandmother who's funeral I never got to attend in Nigeria, eventually I got up the courage to share it with my friends. The day after I did that, my grandfather passed away. I didn't think I could stomach missing yet another farewell, so I headed home after almost 10 years away. It was a journey I needed to take and I savored every minute of it, this time I wanted to remember every smell, every feeling. My memory has failed me many times before, stolen from me a name, a face, some song I once loved. I really hate not remembering things. I'll have more to say about my trip back a little later.


For Mama

It must have been
White table cloth
Stiff, starched clean
Candles on home made cake
ready to be blown
Smiling faces celebrating you
Friend, sister, mother, grandmother
65 years strong

And then the heave
of quickening numbing pain
Shhh...she whispers be still
Rubbing 9 month heavy belly
Tired, hot, swollen
And even then I was too stubborn to listen
And too greedy to miss a party
So I arrived August 15, 1985
Blue faced, cord around my neck
Nothing was going to stop me
Your 65 year old face
Looking into my 5 minute old face
Thinking, child you’ve got some nerve

But you were my hero
Truly superhuman
We all called you mama
Young and old
You truly mothered us all
I only want to remember you this way
Not 85 years too tired legs
Slipping and falling on ceramic tile
Not the crunch crack of heavy hip bone
I don’t know those eyes quiet and ready
Too old to fight

I have no memory of that
Cold, lifelessness
None of trumpets
and tearful dancing
None of the thick thud
Of silt sand
On that wooden box
I only know you
Bright eyed, bubbling laughter
I only know you
Soft hands
Gentle smile
I only know you
Loving
Healing
Teaching
Mama