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

Life is a terminal illness

I was watching the Oprah show today. She did a segment on two people living with cancer. One of them was a man named Randy Pausch a professor at Carnegie Mellon who is dying of pancreatic cancer. He has basically been told that he has 3 - 6 months to live. Could you imagine being told that you will probably die in 3 months? What is so amazing is what he decided to do with that knowledge. Instead of the self defeat, the depression, he decided that in the short time he has left he is going to teach people how to LIVE! Truely live. In his last lecture the "Childhood Dreams Lecture" he talks about keeping that "anything is possible" attitude alive. What did you really want as a child, before the noise of everyday life.

This really got me thinking about how I live my life. Am I really living? Do the people around me know how I feel about them? Lately i've been feeling like i'm just going through the motions. Eat. Sleep. School. Eat. Sleep. Will it take the revelation of a terminal illness to get me to live, here, now. Why is that what lights the fire, when you know that it's all going to end. Watching this show made me feel a little ashamed. I'm alive, and well and not really LIVING. I have all these dreams, these things i want to do...just as soon as school is done, but why am I not just doing it. Do I really let my loved ones know that they are loved? What am i grateful for? I'm ready to take my life back in an effort to realign my attitude and really be the person I want to be. One of the guests on the show said "life is a terminal illness" and it is so true! We are all guaranteed one thing in life, death. Maybe if we looked at life as some sort of sickness we're inevitably going to die from, it'll inspire us to start living our lives now.

To love, life and everything in between.

As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death - Leonardo Da Vinci

School/theRoar

It's been much much too long... I'm back to the grind again, school started on the 5th and it's been non stop ever since. I'm in the fifth and final year of my civil engineering degree. People always ask what a person who is so inclined to the arts is doing in engineering. Truth is, I don't even know. The closer I get to this degree the more I'm begining to think that maybe I chose the wrong path. But I figure I've come this far, so I might as well finish. Then there's the issue of disappointment. Disappointment. It's like there's nothing worse in the world than someone you care about being "disappointed". I mean they could be angry, upset, sad whatever! but disappointment just has this mysterious quality, like you don't know exactly what they're thinking. Scary really. Other than that, I actually love being back at school, I love the community of it.

What about in poetry world? well i've really been making strides. My last post was about my appearance in the poetree, soon after that I sent an email to one of the organizers of a spoken word festival called "The Roar". I basically asked to be in it, and to my surprise he said I was in. The Roar is basically like a poetry pub crawl. They have poets in different time blocks performing at different locations in the downtown area. My set was called the "Java Sevens" seven poets at a Java Express. So I walk in and there are these poets who have been published in 50 different books, who've read at the roar 500 times lol. And then there's me...
Spoken word performances to date: 1.5
Publications: 0
Yeah I was scared. I brought a lot of friends and family with me though, I definitely needed the moral support. They wanted me to do a 10 minute set, 10 minutes!! I'm thinking to myself, who wants to hear me ramble for 10 minutes!! oh the horror! So I took 3 poems with me @ about 2mins each, and I figured I would ramble through the remaining 4mins and maybe I'd be so wildy entertaining that they wouldn't notice that I was stalling. Well they called me up, and as one of the other poets later said I went "into my poems" I did the "Pandemic" poem followed by "Darfur" and then finished with "African-ness".

People actually liked it! The other poets came up to me after the show to tell me how beautiful it was, and that I should keep performing. It was more than I could've EVER expected. I'm so happy!! I feel like this was such an important thing for me to do. If i could do this then i'm capable of anything. I'm in one of those I can conquer the world moods today. So yeah, that's all for now. I like to pretend that people actually read my blog haha! It's therapeutic in a way. More later!

I did it!

I went to an open mic spoken word event sunday. Yes me..at an open mic. Here's how it happened. I took this art class last fall called "Soul Art". It was taught my this sweet lady Elsa Robinson and It was one of the most liberating things i've done in a long time. It's basically art with no boundaries. Two hours of quiet reflection, and basically putting on paper what is in your heart. Fantastic stuff, I loved it! I bumped into Elsa last week at a festival and we got to talking. She told me that her daughter puts on a once a month open mic event for poets in the community and there was an upcoming event on August 19th. So yeah i signed up before my brain could kick in. There's nothing scarier to me than reading my work to a room full of strangers. But I showed up, sat quietly in the corner taking in all the other performers. My heart was pounding the entire time. I have to admit it was difficult to listen to the other poets cause there was this raging battle between my brain and my heart. So I got up the courage and just walked up there and did it. I have to say, I was eerily calm. I just stood there and let the words tumble out, I did a piece called Pandemic, and it was very well recieved. Absolutely loved it! can't wait for the next one!

Happy Birthday to me!

It was my birthday on the 15th. I just can't believe another year has gone by. The older I get, the more low key my birthdays become, i've just come to really appreciate the quiet moments in life. I like to look at my "one year older" self and think about what I know now that I didn't know then. I know now that I can never be perfect, I know that the only standard I need to live up to is one I set for myself. I've come to appreciate that having a handful of close loyal friends is far more important to me than surrounding myself with people who don't genuinely care about me. I know that it is always possible to start over. To fall and stand up, to fall and stand up again and again and again. I'm so so grateful for another year of being ALIVE and healthy. Cheers to that!

Was it not you that said I would amount to nothing?
That my nose was a little too wide
My lips a little too thick
So I should just stop talking
Yeah…
It was you who said that my
Loud talking
Sole stomping
Would get me nowhere
Now I see you standing there
Nose turned up, jaws locked tight
Trying to deny me of my light.
With that “oh no you didn’t” look in your eyes
Trying to hide your surprise
Didn’t I tell you I would rise?
You must’ve forgotten that my
“African-ness” mothered empires long before you took first breath
What you thought I would fall to my death
When you turned on me with stone cold eyes and said
NO!
No you cannot sit here, eat here
No your too black ass cannot live here.
What you didn’t know that on my
Too wide hips
I carry the strength of mothers
Who tended the earth, baked bread, kept house, herd cattle, went to battle
Screaming child on one hip, commanding respect with the other
Don’t you remember when?
With your too tight lips you proclaimed
My people unfit to live
We’ve got nothing more to give
Sapped out, sucked dry
No more tears to cry
How could you believe
That you could erase a land 7 million years rich in history?
It seems to me
That you must’ve thought her children
From Ras ben sakka to Cape agulhas
From Cape verde to Ras hafun
Would turn and run
No it’s our turn
We are a people of motherless children
Stolen resources
Starvation and suffering
But we are a people counting on relief
A people of hope beyond grief
And strength beyond belief