Tag Archive | father




Those sofas in the parlour have become family heirlooms which have been passed on from my great-grandfather, grandfather and now to my father. The only thing that has changed about those sofas is the clothing or should I say their ‘jacket.’
I wonder why father so much cherish them and has refused to change them to better and more modern ones. He has always said that, those chairs are part of his life and they remind him of his own grandfather (that is my own Great-grandfather) and his deft designs while he was a carpenter.

Mother once cautioned me, “Ololade, you better be careful with that chair you are jerking on and do not break its handle. Don’t you know it’s older than you?” Older than me? Like seriously? Did mother actually expect me to rise up every morning and venerate those chairs by prostrating before them? Wouldn’t it be an insane thing to do? But truly, I doubt if those chair handles could easily break. At least they are not like the modern and fancy ones sold around this days.


But I hope soon and very soon, father breaks this his principle of treasuring all those heirlooms and get modern ones to replace them. Because, I’m tired of seeing those old chairs and his old wardrobe staring at me everyday and saying “Ori e o pe, don’t you have respect?”

Father shouldn’t even think of passing them down to me. Never! Never!! But I wouldn’t mind if he gives me his cars and company when he dies in years to come.

Bamigbola Silas.




Baami who is that woman

Whose wailings fill our ears

Whose anguish silence the birds?

That is Itan

Mourning for her lost children 

Her sons and daughters

Her hope and life 

Isn’t she the mother of Oduduwa the great warrior?

Yes she is . Oduduwa the great warrior

The brave and fearless man 

I remember the wars he fought for us 

Fought for our freedom 

Stood up to the white gods in our land

Alas! He is now a terror to chickens

Dreams are his battlefield 

Vituperates before his television and newspaper

His victory ends on the cushion 

A cripple that can’t stand to defend his name, identity future, and honour 

Surely Akanbi the great farmer is alive to feed his mother.

Arike your memory amaze me

Akanbi the great farmer son of the land

His bare hands soothes the land 

As he brings her to delivery 

To deliver her of her fruits and tidings 

Out of his abundance 

He feeds the lizards in his house 

His kinsmen  in ivory coast 

He fed for years 

Akanbi  is now a scavenger 

Who waits in line to eat 

Bits and bits from long nosed men 

Akanbi begs in the street 

Depending on biscuits and indomie 

He grovels for food from strangers 

I pity him when I pass by him 

His face distorted by hunger 

Akanbi waits/looks abroad and not below 

For his satisfaction 

What a tragedy the death of living sons Baami Segilola nko? I know a daughter will never forsake her mother 

Segilola eleyinjuege

The great jewel

Pride of her mother 

Fear of all wives

The groaning in men’s groin 

Lusted after by white men 

Segilola sold her pride for fashion 

Her royal beads for dollars 

Her beauty for sophistication

Her culture for civilization 

Indeed Itan has lost so much . A great mother abiyamo ni 

Where did you see Itan was it on your way to the stream ?



Baami it was not on my way to the stream nor on my way to the farm. 

I saw her in the wrinkles on Iya agba’s face 

I saw her beneath the dark soil Upon which she was once celebrated 

In the ancient tattoo on maami’s hand 

In your tribal marks 

Such is the life of history Itan 

Who cries and weeps

For her past conquests and victories. 
Such is  the plight of Nigeria a great mother with glorious children. 
Her Oduduwa Akanbi Segilola are no more .
Listen again as she wails 
How old is Nigeria, dimeji?

by Adediran Adetutu. 
P .S 

A  Thought provoking poem of our past. A past that can fuel our present and lighten our dim future.

Don’t give up on Nigeria, it can still be a better place for us if you are ready to work and trust (in God).  
Comment : this is a wonderful poem written by my friend Adediran Adetutu, it’s a poem that takes us to the past and still keep us abreast with the present matters on ground. I hope we are encouraged by this?  

Enough of inaction, our little positive actions have a way of bringing Nigeria to the place it should be. 
May God bless Nigeria and take us to the right place he has prepared for us. 

Happy Independence Day friends. 
God bless you real good.