There’s something striking about Nigerian culture; the way a person is named and the pride that comes with a legendary heritage. It’s drop. Dead. Awesome! A man is announced as Olokun, son of Agayu, grandson of D’banj (sorry, I run out names), from the house of Orin. It’s so grand. Identity has never felt more glamorous.
You just imagine coming from a house of legendary warriors, where your grandfather at 92 has a blind eye to show off from his battle with the giant from Abuja. His childhood stories are what Action films are made of and he still has 18 well-serviced wives and a waist fit enough to dance the Alkayida (dance oo, not movement!).
Your own father is decorated warrior with 7 ghastly scars across his back and chest; each for a warrior-king from the Northern Kingdoms. His speech is laced with more wisdom than whiskey is with alcohol. He has the stature of a glorious statue and the history of an African Hercules. In his palatial hut, a dried lion’s skull hangs on a wall; it was the present he brought his father when he was 17. Common mortals issue threats in his name and their pursuers shudder.
When he speaks, he booms and you look around for where the surround system must be hidden. When he rests his massive hands on your shoulder and calls you “Son!” the pride that swells in you could flood a dam; if only his hands didn’t weigh a ton! He calls upon his youngest wife and you go like Read the rest of this entry »