It was first the sticker that got my attention. Like a bad word said at family supper, the stick figure decal stuck out with its subversive picture, of two adults having at it in public. And then I saw the car.
There’s a naked woman on the cover of Fela’s Yellow Fever. The young sylphlike creature, staring defiantly at you, shows off her pointy gifts, which are, as nearly the rest of her body, actually burnt yellow. I wonder what the artist behind the painting was thinking.
Picture a police line-up. Yes, I know—we don’t do those here, but you’ve seen a ton of Hollywood movies. So, yes. Now, picture a police line-up. Ten 50-something-year-olds. All dark. Medium height. Verdant eyebrows. Controlled salt and pepper goatees. Polished domes. Your task: pick out Tajudeen Adepetu. Can you? Most people can’t. But if you ask Mr Adepetu, he’s just fine with that. For a person who’s been in broadcasting for more than 30 years, the legend of Tajudeen Adepetu — creator of hit TV shows Everyday People and Family Circle, as well as the Soundcity Radio Network, SoundCity TV, …
Please, by a show of hands, let’s know how many of us fell under the spellbinding sway of The Social Network, that speedy-dialogued film that Aaron Sorkin made in 2010. Remember it? It was about the founding of Facebook.
She said, five days after the event, that her left ear still bled.
Chasing money, many have regrettably discovered, is like playing hide and seek with the ghost of Houdini. In Nigeria in particular, money continues to play hard to get with tens of millions of us that the country’s dismaying status as the global capital of involuntary austerity seems quite inescapable, or maybe even destined. Yet, right here in Lagos, there’s a young lady — intrepid, resolute — who has assigned herself the task of coaching a new generation of Nigerians on how to play this game of show me the money and win. This lady, her name is Oluwatosin Olaseinde, Tosin …
Today is November 5 2020. It has been 37 years since my father was killed. He was 37 years old when he died in 1983. He was murdered by the police in an enigma of a tragedy that we still have not succeeded in totally unravelling.
There are thousands of cool entrepreneurs in Nigeria today. And it is because of characters such as the one in this scene below: We are in a Stanford University dorm room. Stanford, California, USA. The room belongs to a young lady, first name Amy. It is morning.
By WOLE SOYINKA To the affected governors all over the nation, there is one immediate step to take: demand the withdrawal of those soldiers. Convoke Town Hall meetings as a matter of urgency. 24-hr Curfews are not the solution. Take over the security of your people with whatever resources you can rummage. Substitute community self-policing based on Local Councils, to curb hooligan infiltration and extortionist and destructive opportunism. WOLE SOYINKA
Last Wednesday, Falz the Bahd Guy, aka Folarin Falana, roared at the government. He was live on Instagram. Hair dyed pink. Beard. Black T-shirt. Brisk.
Before he died in 2009, the King of Pop Michael Jackson owned at least 10,000 books. No kidding. Ten thousand books. Why? How can one man possibly read 10,000 books in one lifetime? This was apart from newspapers and magazines, emails, SMS, song lyrics. Plus, Michael Jackson was no ordinary man.
She calls and says, “I just want to hear your voice.” But my reaction was a massive sigh. And then I say, “Thank God.” to which she responds: “Why, you missed me too?” “Well, yes. But that’t not why I said thank God.”
When somebody famous dies, Twitter and Facebook go crazy with philosophy. “This Life.” “What a life.” “Life is short.”
One time, when I was younger, Sola, a neighbour, told me about two of our other neighbours who might be sleeping together. Sola and I were teenagers — 13 or 14 at the time. “No way!” I said, my eyes like bulbs.
Ordinarily, the masses root for the underdog. Scientists have said this is because, deep inside, we all take pleasure in the misfortune of others. They call this phenomenon Schadenfreude. This is why you prefer to see David destroy Goliath. But what happens when the masses root for the big guy instead? When you lick your lips and rub your palms at the prospect of freakishly huge Goliath obliterating that poor little shepherd boy David? That doesn’t sound or feel just, does it? Yet it’s what seems to be happening right now with the singer Blackface.