Welcome to Ajibogun Mayowa's blog.: 2017

Thursday, 21 December 2017

Festival Poetry Calabar 2017

Festival Poetry Calabar starts
tomorrow with a special "Calabar
Welcomes", the usual opener
showcasing

THE RICH CULTURE OF OGIDI FESTIVAL

According to history, Ogidi Community in Ijumu Local Government Area of Kogi West senatorial district of Kogi State is a Yoruba town and is known for its formations of igneous rock mountains and a traditional art industry.

It was believed that they migrated from Ile-Ife to settle down in present Ogidi.

It shares boundaries with Kabba in Kabba/Bunnu Local Government Area, and three towns in Ijumu Local Government Council namely, Ayere, Iyara the headquarters of Ijumu Local Government Council and Ogale.

The language spoken in Ogidi is the Okun dialect of Yoruba. The men are traditionally farmers and hunters, and the women are renowned for arts, craft and trading.

The traditional ruler of Ogidi community is His Royal Majesty Oba Rafiu Oladimeji Sule, the Ologidi of Ogidi Kogi State.

Parading the beauty of Nigeria’s diverse cultures

It is wide, colourful, multi, diverse, regal, and rustic. For the commentator who ran the closing ceremony commentaries, “the dances are vigorous and rigorous”. Those are the sum descriptions of the cultures of the people of Nigeria as showcased, exhibited, and paraded at the 2017 NAFEST hosted by Kaduna State Government

The opening ceremony which took place on Tuesday October 31 commenced with a state-by-state cultural parade and march past after the National Anthem had been sang: Borno State Cultural Troupe, Delta State, Jigawa, Kano State (with their breathtaking acrobatic displays and flexible dances), Lagos, Sokoto, Bayelsa, Rivers, Taraba, and then Kaduna, the host state. In all, 21 states and the FCT participated. The dominant feature of drums, music and dance make one to realise how huge music and dance are in the body of Nigerian cultures.

After the parades and displays, Otunba Runsewe performed the Calabash Opening ceremony, which he had innovated and unveiled at last AFAC Expo to replace tape cutting ceremonies. The calabash remained open, as long as the 5-day event lasted, climaxing on Saturday November 4, which witnessed another colourful parades, music, and dances as part of the closing ceremony.

Amaechi Okobi : Art is a huge part of who we are at Access Bank

Amaechi Okobi, Group Head, Corporate Communications, Access Bank Plc, is a man of many parts. His knowledge of art runs deep. In this interview with OSA AMADI, he lets us in on the aesthetically rich art gallery of Access Bank, shares his passion for art generally, and expresses his confidence in the prosperous future of Nigerian art. Enjoy the tour:

Kenyan literary icon, the prolific writer and activist, James Ngugi Wa Thongo, decries the burden of tribalism in his play, The Black Hermit. The play was first produced in November, 1962 at the Ugandan National Theatre and published in 1968 by Heinemann Educational Books Ltd. The setting is a typical newly independent East African society, which grapples with a new form of oppression after the dethronement of colonialism through a fierce struggle for independence

The Queen Moremi Ajasoro Festival was celebrated on Wednesday November 1 at the Ooni of Ife’s Palace with streams of activities making it excitingly memorable. Moremi festival is an annual event in commemoration of the great Amazon in the history of Yoruba race, Queen Moremi Ajasoro, a princess from Offa married to Oduduwa, the cradle of Ile Ife dynasty and custodian of Yoruba heritage.

This year’s ceremony was precisely Ooni Alayeluwa Adeyeye Enitan Babatunde Ogunwusi, Ojaja II’s second Moremi festival celebration since he became the new Kabieyesi. However, the culturally stylish Kabieyesi prior to this has introduced several innovative cultural

Summary: The Palm-wine Drinkard by Amos Tutuola

Title: The Palm-wine Drinkard

Author:           Amos Tutuola
Language:    English
Publisher:         Faber and Faber (UK)
                             Grove Press       (US)
Genre:                  Fiction, Fantasy Fiction
Publication Date: 1952 (UK)
                             1953 (US)
Pages:    125
ISBN:                  0-571-04996-6

The narrator lives contentedly as the son of a rich man who retains a palm-wine tapster for his son’s exclusive use. Each day, the tapster draws enormous amounts of palm-wine for the narrator, who drinks it with his friends. One day, after the narrator’s father has died, the tapster falls from a palm tree and is killed. The narrator misses his supply of palm-wine, and his friends no longer visit him, so he decides to go to Deads’ Town to find his tapster.

The narrator’s journey leads him from his town to various parts of the bush—that place outside civilization that is the habitation of all s

10th Convocation Play, Leadcity University

Happening live at Leadcity University, featuring Dance performance, the play Palmwine Drinkard by the Students of Performing arts and Culture Department. Leadcity University

Monday, 23 October 2017

Welcome to Ajibogun Mayowa's blog.: Look out for - Diary of a Decent Girl

Look out for - Diary of a Decent Girl

SPAN hosts 2017 festival

Society for performing Arts in Nigeria (SPAN) is set to host the 2017 edition of SPANFEST with the aim of offering exceptional opportunities in dance, music, theatre and visual arts to talented Nigerian youth and to celebrate 50 years of vibrant existence of Lagos State and its citizens.

The SPANFEST which was tagged My Beat, My City (iluu mi, Ilu mi) scheduled for 18th -23rd November is meant to create world class performing arts festival with the vision to train performing artistes in 5 days of intensive music dance and drama workshop, and 5 days of mind blowing performance-packed event.

Speaking with journalist at the press briefing, Founder of SPAN, Sarah Boulos said “African people are known to have a very rich cultural and artistic expression that has shaped the artistic world for centuries, especially in the area of dance, drama and visual arts.

“Since the existence of SPAN in 2005 we have dedicated ourselves to impacting and enriching lives through empowering youth in skillset development opportunities that can help them build careers as well as facilitate the continuity of African art, opportunities through expression, training, inspiring, and empowerment in other to be able to unleash their creativity.

According to her, “The festival will be modern day experience of the great “FESTAC 77” which will showcase performances and presentation in various forms such as Spoken Words, Dance, Music, Theatre and Dance competitions.

Also, a 6-day workshop will be held at SPAN Agidigba Community Centre.

In line with the program, Award Night features critically acclaimed cabaret masterpiece swing and jazz, a fashion show, and orchestra performance, among others, at Muri Okunola Park and EKO Hotels and Suites.

“As part of our plan to take the festival audience on a ‘journey of wonders’, SPAN will bring together artistes to make ground breaking presentation, mixed up in an alchemy that will inspire audience, invigorate artists, stimulate the industry and forge productive relationships around the globe..”

“Our 12 years journey has been recommended and recognized by several international bodies for transformation brought to the performing Arts Industry especially in the area of education and presentation.

Source: https://www.vanguardngr.com

Hangmen also die: Art as a Revelation to Nigeria Political system

Title: Hangmen also die

Author: Esiaba Irobi

Genre: Play/Tragedy

Original Publication: 1989

Country: Nigeria

The hanging yard of a prison in Port Harcourt in Izon State ushers in the play. Yekini, the prison hangman, defies all threats and persuasion maintaining his ground not to hang seven young men condemned to death. His refusal to hang them was prompted by the fact that he has been battling with his conscience over his job as a hangman, and most importantly, the feeling
within him that those young men do not deserve to die. His attempt to make the Superintendent give details of the crime and all the circumstances surrounding the crime of those young men, leads to a flash back.

The flash back takes five phases of the play. Within these phases, action shows the condemned youths as graduates with good grades who are forced to take to violence by

ATLANTA — A new exhibition opening in Atlanta encourages visitors to abandon their preconceived notions about Africa and explore the creative efforts of people using design to bring about change on the vast continent. “Making Africa: A Continent of Contemporary Design” opens at Atlanta’s High Museum of Art. It defines design broadly and delves into the continent’s diversity and vibrancy through more than 200 works by more than 120 artists from 22 countries.

Immediately upon entering is a display of Kenyan artist, Cyrus Kabiru’s “C-Stunners,” a collection of wearable eyeglass sculptures crafted from everyday objects — wires, screws, shoe polish tins. The pieces are not corrective eyeglasses in the literal sense but are meant to help “correct” the perception of Africa, High Museum curator of African art, Carol Thompson said

Source: https://www.vanguardngr.com/

Creative work of Nigerian artist Nnenna Okore to exhibit in London

October Gallery, London, announces a new exhibition by Nnenna Okore. The exhibition holding from 26 October to 2 December 2017 will be her third solo at the gallery

The proverbial Igbo axiom Ụkwa Ruo Oge Ya Ọ Daa, references the theatrical falling of breadfruit from the mother tree. The plummet of this tropical fruit, known in Igbo as Ukwa, not only indicates the height of its ripening phase, it also sparks the genesis of a new trajectory – the decaying stage.

Symbolically the fallen Ukwa represents metamorphic

The Politician's were uncovered in Niyi Osundare's Socio-political Poetry

Niyi Osundare, a prolific Nigerian writer, poet, essayist, playwright and social critic wrote The Politician’s Two Mouths against the backdrop of the prevailing political climate in Nigeria during the Shehu Shagari-led Second Republic overthrown by the Buhari-Idiagbon junta on December 31, 1983.

The poem was first published in 1984 along with other socio-political protest poems in an anthology titled Village Voices by Evans Brothers (Nigeria Publishers) Limited. Village Voices also contains

When Simon Davis of the great Conde Nast Traveller magazine stepped down as Word of Mouth editor in the international magazine, it was to enable him do a bit of ‘prancing about’ and follow the footsteps of Alexander the Great in visiting the Oasis of Siwa in Egypt. He is a roving tourism journalist visiting great destinations allover the world.

Last night,my mother whispered to my ears..
Alabi,you have grown to become a man-
The moment one find his purpose on earth,
He becomes a man.
Your father has bequeathed his seeds unto you,
Your *oguro* will rather come from a poe-tree than palm-tree.

If t'is be my last breath on earth,
I'd leave imprints of a female on your footsteps,
See ! A man is triggered by what he sees,

A woman tri-guard,by what she hears...
Chasm...charm...words.
That was all your father needed,
to get even *Okara* on his mat.

But what happens when a woman sees petrichor-
in none but a poet ?
Her afterlife becomes painted on a stage,
When others see scars-
She see stars.

When a woman loves a poet,
She's forever young-like *ewe abamoda*....
Her ears reverberates with the echoes of a mic,
Her dreams recurring in bonfire cracks...

Alabi,tell her-
Tell that woman that makes you dance on river beds,
A woman who loves a poet is a deity,
Her magnamity is equal to that of-
*Oya Okara*,the acclaimed woman of *Olukoso*..
*Olomu-roro*,the icon of *Saki Okere*..
*Efunsetan*,the fierce woman who has gold in her grove...
*Orompoto*,the monarch whose name rings a bell in *Oyo*...
A poet is a warrior,
Haven't you heard that *ireke oni-ibudo* ?

A poet has no basement,
Today in Calabar,tomorrow in Kalabari..
But once the abyss of a poet's heart lurch,
Not even fireflies can invade it...
Or haven't you seen how Nkechi beam radiantly than the morning sun,
Nkechi- the mystery behind Komolafe's undying poe-tree ?

Behind every successful man,
is a woman whose *gele* reaches the sky..
Behind every acclaimed poet,
is a woman whose colours ignite the pact of Osumare..

Tell her,
whisper to Desola in the streams of darkness,
She is a magic-
she who loves a poet.

*©BALOGUN YUSUF GEMINI.*

Wednesday, 18 October 2017

Lagos Theatre Festival: An Avenue for Creativity

City of Lagos will be agog come February 27 to March 4 2018, as lovers of performance art and craft will witness and be treated to another annual 5 days of feasting on theatrical performances tagged: “Lagos Theatre Festival”, an open space performance act to drive home and nurture creative art in our teaming talents.The Lagos Theatre Festival, introduced by British Council in Nigeria is to build capacity in the Nigerian theatre sphere and solve the issue of a lack of performance spaces through identifying available nonconventional spaces.

These nonconventional spaces include open spaces, cars parks and restaurants among others, where performances were adapted to fit these spaces. In essence, the festival adapts performances to harmonise with the space, rather than the more common remodelling of spaces to look like conventional theatres. The Lagos Theatre Festival was part of the UK/Nigeria 2015-16 season by British Council Nigeria, which was a major season of arts in Nigeria aimed at building new audiences, creating new collaborations and strengthening relationships between the UK and Nigeria. British Council partnered with First Bank Nigeria, which is promoting the creative arts in Nigeria through its First Arts initiative, for this festival.

As theatre practitioners mentioned that lack of performance spaces, as the main issue working against the growth of the sector, the Lagos Theatre Festival after running for 5 years with 4 successful festivals is regarded as one of the most

Writer, poet and journalist, Ikeogu Oke has been declared winner of this year’s NLNG- sponsored The Nigeria Prize for Literature for his book, ‘The Heresiad’.

Out of 184 entries received for this year’s prize which was pruned down to final three, Oke won the prestigious prize by beating two other contenders, Ogaga Ifowodo (A Good Mourning) and Tanure Ojaide (Songs of myself: Quartet).

Oke’s The Heresiad, published by Kraft Books Ltd, employs the epic form in questioning power and freedom. It probes metaphorically the inner workings of societies and those who shape them. Oke is a writer, poet and journalist. He studied at the Universities of Ibadan and Nigeria. His creative works include ‘Salutes Without Guns’, ‘The Tortoise and the Princess’

The Largest contemporary African art museum

The dream of having a large museum of contemporary African art has finally been realised. This dream, nurtured by former Puma CEO, art collector and now museum creator and patron, Jochen Zeitz, in collaboration with the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront, has resulted in the Zeitz MOCAA – the Museum of Contemporary Art Africa. The dream is now also reality for contemporary African and Diaspora artists. The largest of such venture on the continent, the museum is in a set of converted grain silos, overlooking the Atlantic and boasting a colourful past that goes back to part-funding by capital from slave compensation after abolition (where the owners were compensated).

The almost $37 million museum has met all expectations so far: to be spectacular, to employ Africans, to give African artists a voice and space in which to be visible and to be a sizeable draw on the city’s social and tourism calendar. The museum is a breath-taking example of converted industrial architecture, designed by British architect, Thomas Heatherwick. The museum’s executive director is Mark Coetzee, a white South African. It says a lot that it’s three white men at the top of the food chain when it comes to the largest such undertaking on African soil.

Source: https://www.vanguardngr.com

Argungu, The biggest fishing Festival

The Argungu fishing festival in its very first edition began in the year 1934, as a mark of the end of the centuries-old hostility between the Sokoto Caliphate and the Kebbi Kingdom. Alhaji Samaila Mera, the Emir of Argungu on Sunday said the popular Argungu Fishing and Cultural Festival would hold in March 2018 and feature polo as one of its events.
Mera made the remarks during a courtesy call by Francis Ogboro, the President of the Nigerian Polo Federation (NPF) and his officials to the Emir’s palace.

The four-day yearly festival held in Kebbi State is one of Nigeria’s internationally recognized tourism attractions. But unfortunately,

In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!

So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."

At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'hte of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.

That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."

Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.

One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, gray eyebrow.

"She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?"

"She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue.

"Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?"

"A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind."

"Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."

After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.

Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.

She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.

As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.

Johnsy's eyes were
open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward.

"Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together.

Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.

"What is it, dear?" asked Sue.

"Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now."

"Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie."

"Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?"

"Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self."

"You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too."

"Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down."

"Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly.

"I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves."

"Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as a fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves."

"Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."

Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.

Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.

Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings.

"Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy."

"She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet."

"You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."

Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.

When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade.

"Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.

Wearily Sue obeyed.

But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground.

"It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time."

"Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"

But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.

The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.

When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.

The ivy leaf was still there.

Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove.

"I've been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."

And hour later she said:

"Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."

The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left.

"Even chances," said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. "With good nursing you'll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is - some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable."

The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now - that's all."

And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all.

"I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wIn a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!

One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, gray eyebrow.

"She has one chance in

Girl child challenges as regressive cultural practice in ‘Beyond The Sunset’

Modern science has proven beyond doubt that a child’s sex (male or female) is determined by the Y-chromosomes the male partner, at the time of copulation, donates to the woman. But this scientific fact, which is yet sink into the consciousness of most African males and their die-hard traditional beliefs, that attributes the sex of the unborn child to a particular god or goddess or blamed on a woman’s ill-fate or inability to have a male, surfaced as part of the sub-theme of the play, Beyond The Sunset. It was performed recently by G2 Coy to celebrate World Theatre Day.

Written by Lekan Balogun, the play, which is based on the culture of the Igbo, has Olisa Emeka (Godwin Ikeduru) maltreating his wife, Titi (Dupe Thomas), and his two daughters because his only son, Chidi (Segun Dada), who is to inherit his wealth, turns out a moron and is physically challenged.

Saddened that he has an imbecile for a heir, Emeka becomes a terror to his family. He beats up his wife and daughters at the slightest provocation. The matter becomes worse, when the wife, on health grounds, could not give birth to another child after Chidi.

It was so quick, so swift for a mere man's comprehension. Not even Obatala would have predicted such calamity that was bound to befall us this evening. If only Moremi Ajasoro would descend to rescue us from this perfidy..!
The sun has gone into its nest; the leaves have had enough of it to photosynthesize. This was the rarest of sun that could peel off the skin of an albino in broad day-light. Even the fishes scampered into their hiding at the perilous scorching it brings. But now, the deities seem to have intervened and it has gone down.
"In seasons to come, this horrendous sun might not rise again. It prophesies impending evil, hence appeasement be placed at the crossroad of Olukoso by the next dawn",the town crier has gonged round the nook and cranny of the land.
"Morounmubo ! Awele !",my mother screamed from the corridor. The two maidens rushed out.
"Maami, hope no cause for alarm ?",Awele asked, with her knees embracing the earth.
"Not at all,my daughter. You and Mubo, go in and change to new wears. We have to visit the farm and harvest yams,the new yam festival is drawing nearer."
Morounmubo rolled her eyes in idleness. She wasn't thinking of visiting the farm this evening,when all she had in mind was to get to see Alani,her fiance.

Oshode Samuel Ayodele popularly known as Ayor blac is an Up & Coming Afro-Pop artiste for ijebu ode , Ogun state, based in Shomolu Bariga area of Lagos state.

He holds an OND in Business Administration and Management from D.S Adegbenro ICT Polythecnic Itori Ewekoro, Abeokuta.

There's something very important to us, and that is your name. Names are like identity marks, you wear them like ALWAYS.
GlorydPoet said in her Spoken Word Poem. That good names are better than gold. Prestige also said it, in his poem with Paul Word "good name better pass money and fame. When everything don go, E go still remain"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of our aim in ThePoetryCourt is to give African Poets a name, so we are building an Encyclopedia of African Poets.
Note: it's not a ranking list It's to celebrate African Poets.
If you see your name on the list now as search through this Encyclopedia; Smile and show another Poet to search for his/her name. You will like and enjoy the fun of searching for your name on an Encyclopedia of African Poets.

This list is for both WRITTEN POETS, SPOKEN WORD POETS, PERFORMANCE POETS and POETRY PROMOTERS.

April is National Poetry Month. This year 2017, is our third year on the list, and it has really been encouraging. Poets have been showing love and support on it.
Poetry Promoters Includes: writers of other genre who include poetry in their events/ Musicians who see poetry as a tool for a better society...

From poverty to pulpit: Pastor Adeboye’s narrative in print

In a new book, General Overseer Worldwide of the Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG), Pastor E. A. Adeboye, tells the story of his amazing transformation from debilitating poverty into a powerful man of God revered by millions of people across the world.

Entitled Stories of Pastor E. A. Adeboye, the man fondly called Daddy G.O. tells the story in his own words in testimonies compiled to read like an autobiography by seasoned author and journalist, Bisi Daniels.

The 350-page book, which shows for the first time the house in which Pastor Adeboye was born and the primary school he attended in Ifewara, Osun State, was released recently to mark his 75th birthday.

Article : 90th day of 2017 by Oke Oluwapelumi

Yesterday was the first day of the month of April the 90th of 365 days in 2017. Have asked yourself what you have being thinking for 90 days.

We all think everyday if not everytime as some people do. I sat and asked myself this funny question.
What are the types of thinkers we have???

This is a new month what am i thinking or what should i think of???
After so many months of thinking I finally found out that we have two kinds of thinkers namely :

*IMPOSSIBILITY THINKERS

*POSSIBILITY THINKERS

IMPOSSIBILITY THINKERS

Returning to the UNESCO Category II Centre for Black Culture and International Understanding (CBCIU) in Osogbo, Osun State, after many years, one felt some sadness at the state of the place. An intricately carved monolithic wood, once celebrated as the tallest talking drum in the world, was now cracked and bent. Even its base seemed to have given way. “Did it sink?” someone asked, expecting no reply. There were signs of emergency bush clearing all over the facility. The buildings told their own stories of neglect and disrepair.

It was hard to believe that this was the same centre that was launched with much fanfare in 2009. A plaque in front of the Administrative Block showed that the building was commissioned in January of that year by the then Director General of UNESCO, Koichiro Matsuura. The centre had in 2010 played host to two major international conferences: The Colloquium on Slavery, Slave Trade and its Consequences; and the First Global Conference of Black Nationalities. It also organized conferences in countries including: Cuba, Brazil and the United States.

World Theatre Day message 2017

So, here we are once more. Gathered again in Spring, 55 years since our inaugural meeting, to celebrate World Theatre Day (WTD). Just one day, 24 hours, is dedicated to celebrating theatre around the world. And here we are in Paris, the premier city in the world for attracting international theatre groups, to venerate the art of theatre.

Paris is a world city, fit to contain the globes theatre traditions in a day of celebration; from here in France’s capital we can transport ourselves to Japan by experiencing Noh and Bunraku theatre, trace a line from here to thoughts and expressions as diverse as Peking Opera and Kathakali; the stage allows us to linger between Greece and Scandinavia, as we envelope ourselves in Aeschylus and Ibsen, Sophocles and Strindberg; it allows us to flit between Britain and Italy, as we reverberate between Sarah Kane and Prinadello.

Within these 24 hours we may be taken from France to Russia, from Racine and Moliere to Chekhov; we can even cross the Atlantic as a bolt of inspiration to serve on a Campus in California, enticing a young student there to reinvent and make their name in theatre.

Of artists’ conspiracy, ghost-plagiarists

Irrespective of the context in which unauthorised ‘copying’ of art concept is defined, the mystery that shields identity of the forgers suggest that the plagiarists are some kind of spirits or ghost artists.

Clearly, these forgers are artists too – who dwell among their colleagues – but hardly get identified. Between artists who are victims of plagiarism and the gallery outlets, where such copied art pieces are exposed, there seems to be behind-the-scene ‘understanding’, after the storm that is made known to the public.

As much as the role of digital medium is no doubt culpable in aiding plagiarists’ skill, the internet, in recent years, has also been assisting in amplifying unathorised copy of artists’ works. In contemporary art appreciation and appropriation, digital medium has double edge roles in expanding an artist’s followership base and exposing the same artist to the hostile world of plagiarists.

As the 11th edition of Art Dubai, in UAE came to a close, art from Africa made impressive business outing, adding to the unprecedented patronage at the fair.

Held at its usual venue, Madinat Jumeirah, the 2017 edition, recorded 28,000 visitors throughout the week. Among the 94 galleries from 43 countries were four diaspora representatives from London, U.K; Lisbon, Portugal; and Paris, France. The galleries showed artists from Nigeria, Cape Verde, Ethiopia and Mozambique Tafeta Gallery, London, which showed two Nigerian modernists, Ben Osawe and Muraina Oyelami made its debut at this year’s Art Dubai, leaving with sale of one of the works on display. Two days into the fair, director at Tafeta, Ayo Adeyinka disclosed that a painting by Oyelami, One Apartment was “shy of $10,000 to an Emirati collector.”

But what appeared like the most impressive outing for African art business at Art Dubai 2017 was achieved with the works of Ethiopian artist, Dawit Abebe.
Abebe’s paintings were “a great success” said the representing gallery, London-based Kristin Hjellengjerde. “The large ones by Dawit Abebe are priced at $30.000
and I pre sold 3 paintings by Dawit prior to his opening, they were priced at $15.000 each.” In fact, the founder and Head Curator Kristin Hjellengjerde, via email disclosed that “we sold out the booth.”

Lisbon, Portugal-based Perve Galeria showed Cape Verde modernist, Manuel Figuira, b.1938 and Mozambican, Ernesto Shikhani. “Figueira sold between 3.600 USD and 7.500 USD while Shikhani’s were between 3.800 USD and 8.500 USD,” stated Nuno Espinho da Silva | Production Director at Perve Galeria. “There are also interested clients in the Manuel Figueira tapestry (45.000 USD) and Ernesto Shikhani canvas 28.500 USD.”
For ArtTalks, based in Egypt, the 11th Art Dubai was the gallery’s best outing at the Modern space. “Art Dubai 2017 is our first ever art fair, and we’re delighted with how it’s gone – we’ve sold 5 works, ranging from 1500 to 80,000 dollars,” said Cherine Chafik of ArtTalks.

Nigerian author, Chimamanda Adichie has been named amongst the 50 greatest world leaders in the 2017 Fortune magazine ranking.

The ‘Half of a yellow sun’ writer was ranked at number 42 on the list with Chicago Cubs baseball team president Theo Epstein at number one.

Business mogul Jack Ma of AliBaba group of companies appears at number two and Catholic leader Pope Francis is in third place for his social integration projects as a clergy.

Terracotta Warriors’ museum in battle over copyright with Chinese amusement park

Response is an unusual effort by a state institution to assert copyright protection in cultural properties

Terracotta Warriors’ museum in battle over copyright with Chinese amusement park
The Terracotta Warriors’ museum has accused a Chinese amusement park of violating its copyright by displaying unauthorised replicas.

(Photo: Tuul and Bruno Morandi/Alamy)

The museum in China that oversees the Qin Tomb sites near Xi’an and its famous Terracotta Warriors is asserting its copyright in the army of funerary sculptures and their names at home and abroad. In February, the Emperor Qin Shihuang Mausoleum Site Museum in north-central China accused an amusement park that features replica warriors of violating its registered copyright. The response is an unusual effort by a state institution to assert copyright protection in cultural properties.

Four virgins in search of suitors

Several centuries ago, in a remote village somewhere in Africa, a strict but handsome widower, a
hunter by occupation, was said to have four daughters who were adjudged to be the most beautiful virgins in the entire land. Jealous and worried that other men would take his beautiful daughters, the brave hunter took the girls to live in the middle of a remote forest, where he spent all his life hunting to feed them and driving away male trespassers. But men were not deterred.

The equally brave ones from far and near teamed up and came on expeditions for the beautiful virgins hidden in the middle of the forest by the brave hunter. However, the more they came, the more they died. They were either caught by the poisonous arrowheads of the vicious hunter or by the numerous traps he concealed at different strategic spots on the footpaths. Occasionally, those who sucessfully evaded the hunter’s arrows and traps had to contend with his fierce and great swordsmanship which the virgins watched with alarm. Suffice it to say that no man who had ever embarked on an expedition to the forest in desire of the brave hunter’s beautiful virgins had ever returned home alive. One day, the brave hunter died.

Olajumoke Orisaguna, former bread seller on the streets of Lagos who received public attention when she appeared on the cover of a magazine is celebrating one year of stardom.

She came to limelight when she `photo-bomb’ a picture that was taken by a professional Nigerian photographer TY Bello, while on her way to sell her bread.

She currently works as a model. She took to her Instagram handle @olajumoke_o , to mark the anniversary, thanking God and those who have been part of her success.

Olajumoke took to her Instagram handle @olajumoke_o , to mark the anniversary, thanking God and those who have been part of her success.

Jumoke Sunday as she is popularly called is a brand ambassador to some major outlets in the country including Payporte, an on line shopping outlet.

She also enjoyed massive media exposure both locally and internationally including, CNN and HuffPostUKStyle.

Niyi Osundare at three score and 10

“Farmer born peasant bred,” Isaac Oluwaniyi Osundare clocked three score and ten on March 12, 2017. He attained global limelight through the rigour of intellectual labour and an exceptionally profound creative gift, which is manifested in his poetry. His profile as a human being, teacher, scholar, poet and public intellectual is ennobling. His has been an infectious life, inspiring the young and the old alike.

Born on 12 March 1947 at Ikerre-Ekiti, Osundare grew up in an agrarian setting where life was poetry. The hills of Ikerre, the rivers, the lush green flora, the fauna, and even his family engagements as represented by his parents resonated with a kind of poetry that permeated the family DNA. It was in that ambience of earthy and folkloric existence where everything including the air exuded poetry that Osundare grew up.

As Osundare turns 70, he definitely would look back, smile and let his heart glow and then shed tears for Nigeria, the country he loves. Yes, he would smile remembering his parents, growing up and the many paths and possibilities that opened before him. He would smile and grin remembering his alma mater, the University of Ibadan which not only gave him a degree and a profession, but also gave him his soul mate and wife, the then Miss Adekemi, a woman with an infinitely beautiful heart. Yes, he would smile and grin thinking of Moyo (Biggest Mo), Tola and Bayonle, their children.

Founder Afropolitan Vibes, Ade Bantu (left); Founder, The Sole Adventurer, Bukola Oyebode; Media Manager, Ake Books and Arts Festival, Byenyan Jessica Bitrus; Rele Arts Gallery boss, Aderele Sonariwo and Director, Lagos International Poetry Festival, Efe Paul Azino at the panel on Marketing Arts and Culture at Social Media Week… in Lagos

To mark this year’s Social Media Week, a panel of discussants held court at Landmark Centre, Oniru, Lagos, to address issues around digitalization and marketing of arts and culture in Nigeria and how much success or otherwise that sector has been so far. On the panel were some leaders in Lagos’ arts and culture community: Ade Bantu of Afropolitan Vibes, Efe Paul Azino of Lagos International Poetry Festival, Aderele Sonariwo of Rele Arts Gallery and Byenyan Jessica Bitrus of Ake Books and Arts Festival. They spoke on how technology has fostered the growth of their brand offerings in the arts and also how it has helped them gain public support and followership.

Moderating the session was blogger and founder of The Sole Adventurer, Bukola Oyebode.

Media Manager of Ake Books and Arts Festival, Bitrus, explained the measures her organisation has put in place to promote its brand, saying, “For us, engaging and bringing new people into the field of arts is something that is very important. What we try to do is relate with our consumers, because we recognise that with audiences, all we have is impassive relationships. We utilise our different platforms in order to keep the traction that we need. For instance, at Ake Festival, we do interviews with all our guests, which we put on YouTube because we know that at the end of the festival, people want to go back and they want something to remind them about the festival.

Theatre producers meet for better arts criticisms, reviews

Theatre criticisms in Nigeria have been described as a midway review between journalism and academic criticisms. This was the stand of Mr. Ben Tomolujo who moderated a panel at the International Theatre Critics’ Conference of the just concluded British Council Lagos Theatre Festival organised by the International Association of Theatre Critics (IATC) in Lagos

Speaking on the topic, Theatre Criticism In Print Media And The Polity Of Newspaper Documentation Policy In Nigeria, Tomolujo said it’s important to understand the pioneer attempt of theatre criticism in the country, which according to him had no prestige in the late 60s and 70s.

“The power of the review by the middle class Nigerians in those days were reduced to mere reviews. At a certain stage, people were interested in the human angle to the lives of artists; the kind of girlfriends they were going out with, the type of trousers they wore and so on.

“The arts had a revolution when some theatre graduates took over newspaper reviews. They created columns for arts and theatre and started what could be called an advanced art of review, particularly the theatre, based on the criteria that they studied theatre in the university. We, then, had a form of fortification of art and a proliferation of the Arts Desk around the newspapers,” he said.

Professor Niyi Osundare, poet and teacher clocks 70 today. In this online interview with ANOTE AJELUOROU from his base in the University of New Orleans, U.S., Osundare reflects on life at 70, with commentary on the Nigerian situation

How significant is today to you?

Yes, the Biblical three score and ten: a milestone indeed and in truth! It is by no means a mean achievement in a country, where the male life expectancy is something between a dreadful 45 and 50 years. I have been exceedingly lucky, with regards to the kind of good health I have had, and the fact that I survived two traumatic events: the attack by the yet unknown, yet un-apprehended hoodlums, who axed my head in January 1987 and very narrowly missed my brain. Then there was Hurricane Katrina in August 2005, which came so close to sweeping away my wife and I in New Orleans. But I also know that this ‘luck’ is both a gift and a challenge: a profound reason to rededicate my life to the struggle for a just and humane world.

How fulfilled are you as a writer and teacher?

Fulfilment? Ah, that luxury is for the smug and complacent. I am humbled by what this farmer’s son from Ikere Ekiti has been able to achieve, and grateful to those who have helped me along the way, especially my parents, my own family, my teachers (yes, my teachers!), my colleagues, my publishers, my students, and many other benefactors in the different parts of the world my professional career has taken me to. To be soberly frank, life hasn’t been a bed of roses, but neither has it been a Golgotha of thorns.

Could you give a little background to your journey so far, starting from your beloved Ikere-Ekiti and how it shaped and sharpened your creative consciousness?

Well, I think most of my response to this question is now in the public domain – in a manner of speaking – from virtually all my previous interviews. In a nutshell, let me say again, that the kind of parents I was lucky to have; the kind of Ikere-Ekiti, and the kind of Nigeria I grew up in shaped the course of my life. A tirelessly hardworking father, a farmer who also had some time for songs and the drum, and rippling humour and repartee; a pensive, morally tenacious mother, both of whom told me there was no honest alternative to hard work; the pioneers of Western education in our extended family, my egbon Tayo Ayodele, Pius Olowoyo, Layo Idowu, Oluremi Jegede, Peter Ayodele and Sany Toso Gbangba, who made education and enlightenment so attractive, so achievable.