Memories, precious and pure
Like hope on a beautiful promise
Memories, precious and pure
Like hope on a beautiful promise
Let your light shine; the whole of providence is cheering. It’s your day to excel, to exceed, and outshine your past achievements.
Arise and Shine! 🌄🌻
Poem: The Happy Wind
Greet the happy wind,
Tell him when I waved
My fingers got him bursted
When morning dew is upon the tree line
The sky is sometimes blue and grass is green
Far up the blue horizon the sun shine
Birds sing from the trees all morning
Yet the happy wind: timid and soft will bring
Her entourage to fly on their backs and wings
I open my curtains and window to feel and behold
The beautiful sight of trees, grass and happy wind
A perfect picture never to be imagined
Explaining the painting
This is the first in my paint-writing attempt. I like to paint and then write about the inspiration behind it. I’ve several imperfect drawings and paintings scattered here and there. Some are on the internet, some in the drawer, some under piles of books and others lost.
This is a painting of three palm trees under the hot sun, cloudy skies and strong wind. It may look like grasses on vases but on closer observation will reveal that it’s a view of the horizon. Initially I thought of featuring the Iroko as its greatness will play a better role on the little poem above. But the Iroko is perceived as a great tree and the king of trees in West Africa and it’s not common to see one. Three Iroko trees standing together will even be a bit of stretched imagination.
The bulk of work fell on determining the best layout for the skies. I’m sure no one can define perfectly any natural colour and infact those of the cloud. It will take more than human ingenuity or imagination to achieve that. So no painting can illustrate natural things exactly. Painters just assume. It might be sunny and the clouds blue, it might be rainy and it won’t. I made the passing clouds look like the skies by mixing two blue-based hues. But this is my own version of what the clouds look like.
What do you think? I’ll be doing more painting this weekend. It’s a beautiful morning here. Have a great weekend. ❤️💚
Let’s dance in the rain
Throw our worries to the wind
Raise your hands
And dodge my water blow,
Gather the rain water
Return my punch
Let this flow turn to dance
When clouds gather
That’s a great sign-
It must be the rain!
Or the comely evening
But let’s wait,
If it’s the rain’s herald
Will you dance with me?
Now the wind has come
First drop and another,
A little storm and showers
Yet, I’m King of the rain fight
And I’ll make you my Queen
If you would dance with me
There’s that feeling of nostalgia when the sun drift away from the hamlets, sinking, sailing through the clouds like a golden phantom, spherical like a child’s play ball. Sometimes when it’s hot we wish away the sun and when it’s cold we wish the sun’s heat could warm our land. It’s man’s nature to want balance but what balance are we bargaining for as our planet become warmer than usual?
Now beauty is Nature’s art, seen especially from the day’s end. This beautiful view of African sunset is typical and may excite you. However, reflecting on th natural artful piece, you will agree that there are unspoken words which the sunset may be passing (to us). Reflect calmly, but remember to consider means to keep this planet safe. Feel, enjoy and protect the beauty that you’re surrounded with.
Good night from West Africa.
#VisitAfrica #Saveourplanet #Globalwarming
‘Jindu paints another image. This he identified as a pirate ship sailing on blue waters. There are birds enjoying the sea breeze. ‘Jindu likes The Pirates of the Caribbean and other sea faring movies, maybe this influenced this painting.
Sometimes I wonder how it feels to go on a sea voyage. Thanks to ‘Jindu’s painting, I will resume work on my sea adventure story.
Good night from West Africa.
A saying goes that for every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness. Also, there’s nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.
I learned that contentment grows happiness and joy bears no grudge, considers not mistakes or failures. Consider the little happy boy. It’s fulfilling to find joy in simple things. Do you agree?
The next Eke day, I was sent to buy provisions for the family. Dada gave me £2 for food and medicine. The money was enough to buy things that will last for a week. The Eke market sold once in two weeks, and many people, traders, artisans, and technicians came from far and near to buy and sell their wares. At the gate, I met Nene holding Ndien in a leash. Nene and Ndien, her mischievous dog, had always refused to accept my plea to stay in the compound. Nene always wanted to be an escort each time I had an errand.
“I told you severally, Nene; it’s not safe through the forest path. Besides, I must walk fast; you two will slow me down. Please stay back. I will get you some chewing gum when I return.” I tried to persuade her.
“What will you get for Nidan?” She asked, hands akimbo. I knew it was a no, so I tried to grab her. She was slim as a cassava stalk; she wriggled away from my grasp and ran towards the bamboo gate. Ndien followed his mistress, wagging his tail triumphantly. I returned to the hut to report to Dada, and when I came out, they were nowhere to be found.
Perhaps, they must have gone to the other compound to play or sit with Mama and other village women at the palm oil mill. I shrugged; good riddance.
The walk back from the market square was long. I recall seeing different birds bother my lonely thoughts. Sometimes a lizard raced across the bushy path, and rabbits peered from the cover of bushes. I laughed when I saw two beetles fight over caked cow dung. At a point, I noticed that insects, grasshoppers, spiders, crickets, lizards, rats, and other rodents were trying to escape from something. I looked up; there was no sign of fire nearby. So I decided to investigate. I was close to the bush path when suddenly, a black mamba shot out of the grass, and I jumped to let it pass. Ah, If I had jumped like this in the Village boys’ Jumping competition, I would have won gold.
Ijele, the soldier ants were marching, which explained the commotion. They consumed any living thing that stood on their path. Humans even dread Ijele ants. For men, they crawl up your genitals and then send one howling for air or water, or both. I also heard that during the war, prisoners from other villages were tied and fed to them. I strode back a few feet and traced the Ijele line as it led through the forest towards my village. Well, I hoped Dada and other men were around to see that these little rascals cause no harm to our livestock or community.
At the forest junction leading to my hamlet, I saw three men standing by the roadside. They spoke in low voices. They wore strange waist clothing and their bare chests smeared with white and red chalk. On their waist hung tiny queer painted beads and calabashes. I thought of the headhunters Dada told me about. Those who their job is to kill other people for rituals or revenge during wartime. I stopped on the tracks and tore a leaf from a nearby palm tree. I slowly mumbled, “the na image again, amam.” (What I don’t know, won’t know me). Then I proceeded, marching boldly towards them. One of them turned to stare at me and, seeing the palm leaf on my mouth, said something to his fellows, and they quietly left the pathway. I marched, and when I was a few feet away from them, I heard a sound…
…To be continued
Here’s another painting from ‘Jindu, my little brother. He’s amateur but I see talent.
This one is named “Granny’s Compound.” He explains why: “Whenever we were at Granny’s place, we had fun and played under the trees. Granny’s place is small but her heart is big, she accepted everyone.” Granny’s Compound was a melting pot, people came to her for advice and provisions and she shared the little she had. God bless her soul.
It takes imagination and creativity to come up with this and I love the simplicity.
I came home to see my little brother’s drawing. He tries his hands on drawing and painting, and the least I can do is to encourage him. His work is littered all around the house, mostly in the living room. As you can see he had included his name in this drawing. 😀
This is a traditional African home, made of bamboo and roofed with grass. There’s a stair and a suspension made of strong bamboo stalk. This house is typical of the Niger Delta peoples of Southern Nigeria. ‘Jindu explains that this house portrays humility and contentment. And I call it “The Humble Home”, with his permission of course.
Image by Favour ‘Jindu Iroegbu
Autumn plays a game of colors
Warm is her painted trees and land
Sweet are the songs from her birds
With the two, she gave benevolently
Image by Yaran Qadr
You shone in the sun
That is love enough for me
You hold the Winds
In Your great hands!
For from away we see her toil
As she sail above grass and soil
With swift sweet airs she bless
Earth that is brown and the green grass
Heavenly airs bless each new day
When we kneel to pray
Colors are exotic, beautiful when they are seen and ‘felt’
Shadows- shades, the blue skies and the sun when she set
Wandering bees, yellow and black buzzing about
The black wasp making holes by the wood post
Camels stand like mad men who either forgot themselves or their ways
On the sands, come views of mixed soft silt and reddish clay
The dungs of stray animals, the boar which found solace in waters lay
All constituting strange hues, so also are the beautiful or hateful words we say
The light, solemn sweet aura of the oceans blue
As the white waves rise and fall into the bluish hue
See the wheat fields, the sun flowers happy gold
When cut and in dark evenings of the market be sold
Trains horn and cockcroach thru hidden grey tunnels and hills
The farmers gather the browned seeds into the huge farm mill
And all these while the memories of colors pass on a sweet feel
Never to be forgotten, but for moments which stand not to be seen
The clouds sing of Your Glory mighty One
The wind surf the mild waters of the ocean
Nature is just one of Your Great masterpiece
The Earth is Your masterpiece
She spins up the space like a speck of dust
Which fall with the others when it is time
The snow melts down into the soil with time
She feeds the moisture starved grasses
With time we are left with lush greens!
See the sun set over the hills and greens,
Watch the little mistletoe grow on the garden
Let the wonders of our Gods creation unfold
For no one can ever be like Jehovah
The traveler is like the sun
Which traverse the length of the Earth
And seen her peoples and foods and cultures
The traveler is like a blast of the wind
Which blow cold at times and hot
The flying dust is a glad companion
The traveler is like the compass
Looking for the North pole
Gladly seeking the new lands
The traveler is like a big book
Though he might have read so little
He pass for an encyclopaedia yet
Image taken from http://www.wiautism.com
My land is green
Africa, my Africa
Together we win,
My humble desire
Your arms are long like the bamboo weed
The smoothness of the riverside air sooth it
The hornet, the weavers all spread your seed
And with joy, we come to you to inherit
Your moments are fun, beautiful, we are joyful
You are full of splendor, full of colorful butterflies
We wait to see the yam sprout, we are hopeful
With the coming rains, we plant our rice
But wait, soon the sun will shine here
Soon the sleepy forests will come alive
Soon I shall be traveling, here and there
And soon I shall see your pretty smiles
The greenness of this land know no bounds
(Remind me) that these colors I must never get used to
Let the quietness of my soul, of this great land
Paint many colors and let it all be sweet hues
I am surrounded by thousands of trees
Which danced for me in the dewy morning
In the evenings crickets hide in the shrub leaves
Finally, in these I happily put my hopeful singing
Now real love feels like
Standing on a rocky land
Surrounded by bamboo trees
On a very hot sunny day
By the side of a flowing stream
Filled with children playing
In the coldness of the waters
And watching the hovering hawks
Circle the area like a scout
As each burst of Heavenly air
Shakes the leaves of the forest
Making the pines whistle
And the bamboo leaves shiver
The tiny silver fishes swerve about
Like a dancing carnival, up and down
And the brown and black crabs
Hide behind flowing tree leaves
The trees on the streams pathway
Shed their leaves joyfully
Watching as they fall quietly
Into the ever quiet stream
The squirrels on tree tops
Watch patiently for any intruder
Holding nuts picked from trees
Now the rocks, so bold and ancient
With indelible marks of Nature
And the strange folk tales told
The waters fall on the stones
And in a queer haste wash down
The rocky body of waterfall
Throwing a splattering noise
Not so far away
Like Nature washing her garments
On the waterfalls as she sing
The distorted but unified painting
Of Natures sweet wholesomeness
Wonder, green and beauty
Love for you, motherland
Kpe’re is the name of my hamlets stream located in Ovim in Isuikwuato in Nigeria. It is a very fine sight, full of ancient rocks and exotic forest of bamboo and many pretty flowers and plants. I can recall vividly stories told me about the stream and her forest. Wild animals; wild dogs, hyena, antelopes, boars, pythons etc have been sighted and once I witnessed a rare specie of snake being killed during a visit in one of the past Decembers. I can also recall swimming when suddenly a snake came with the streams tide, everyone had to run for safety, hahaha. I was a kid then. There is this particular rock by the bamboo forest which has the mark of a very Fish. My mom told me during one heavy down pour, that fishes came down from the clouds and one landed on the rock leaving that mark, hmmm! Well, the exotic appearance of the streamside is one of wonder, nature and beauty. Perhaps I will take pictures of here some day.
Standing alone in the mist
Where no man sees
The endless stream of wit
But when love comes
When the sun rises or sets
Down. Down the foot of hills
And the hawks hang on masts
Scouting the land for a final kill
The wind wearily sifts about
Men, their creaky windows seal
The darkness come upon the tents
The lightning and his angry nephew
The horn of the African Elephant
Wandering the grasslands
A stroll through the forests
On a pathway leading to the pond
Those strange nights
Of love and desire
The quiet huts
A wailing infant
Somewhere in the town
Wanting her mothers breast
The growing darkness
The village square in the hamlet
Filled with men in lust for ale
And the masquerades that run about
To beat people who stand on their way
The joys that the evening breeze brought
With the concoctions that brews a beer
The acrid smell of cigarettes
From the old man under the baobab
The world in words becomes an art
Painting plainly the very soul existence
And it came thus:
“The song may have stopped
But beats continues to play”