PROMETHEUS UNBOUND

  These were the words that race through my consciousness as I left his presence utterly mortified by what I had just seen. Ecce Homo: he lay there horribly incomplete and totally oblivious of my presence. Motivated perhaps by the quite ordinary impulse to say “something” or driven by anguished profundity – “at every turn…

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Sitting On The Fence

  I wager that this critique about my muse might still have some validity today. I am often accused of not writing for the common man because I write about ‘lofty’ ideas that fly above the heads of ordinary readers. Three decades ago, I was particularly stung by this critique, even as I persisted in…

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Losing Touch With The People

This piece has some resonance with the just concluded Ekiti elections. It is a cautionary tale that underscores the need for a tactile kind of empathy with the people. Recently, I paid an unscheduled visit to a state owned general hospital. Mercifully the visit was not for treatment but to make some inquiries; either way,…

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Casting Stones

  In these two articles written in two parts, I examine my ongoing dilemma in confronting the moral relativism of the Nigerian society in which any and everything bad as opposed to good can be rationalized and justified. We have not so much as immoral as much as it is that we are AMORAL. Having…

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Casting Stones 3

So it turns out that there is a third part to this story after all. To properly put this into some historical context; there was indeed a time when Nigeria was clearly under hegemonic rule and I dare I was a little bit more poetic in my writing. So I took some poetic license to…

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The Moon In the Man.

This was one of my literary flights of fancy. I was mercifully now preoccupied with Nigeria, just gazing at the moon and contemplating my navel. Annoyingly, man is no longer universally thought of as being the centre of the Universe. An intrepid Polish astronomer by name Copernicus, debunked that idea, way back in the medieval…

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Through The Glass Darkly

  Lately I have been having this recurring vision that it is at once intriguing as it is disturbing. In the vision I am on the second floor a house, peering through a square and clear glass window framed into a quadrant of four neat squares. It is invariably dawn with the Sun rising and…

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THOU SHALT NOT STEAL

I remember this piece with some fondness. It was the first of many ‘Preface to Cover’ essays I was to write for Newswatch magazine in its halcyon days of ground breaking print journalism. I remember the late Dele Giwa coming up to the library, snooping over my shoulders as I wrote (long hand) the opening…

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