I wondered, after reading this story, why I’m just hearing the name Paul Ugbeche for the first time.
My maths teacher hates me. He asked me to find y. I mean, how can I find y, something missing a long time ago? My brother and sister had tried to find it. Uwodi had searched for it when she was in class six. Then Atadoga also searched for it during his time in class six. My siblings, very brilliant, top of their classes, those children. But they are children no longer. Uwodi works in the bank at Kaduna and Atadoga is in the Army, a colonel now. They have both found happiness, but they couldn’t find y.
My maths teacher, he came to class yesterday very angry.
‘x2+3y =1. Find y’
I was not surprised. This had been the question for many years, the question that defeated my siblings in their respective class six. I had memorised it. I had waited for it. And it came…
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The vigor of a recounted experience can never make up for the memory of the actual experience.
Hey, you know about Niyi Osundare? He is one of Nigeria’s finest poets and someone whom we have sipped many creative thoughts from. Well, the news is he is going to be reading at ARTMOSPHERE in Ibadan by 3pm on Saturday, June 20, 2015. The venue is at the NuStreams Conference Centre, KM 110, Iyagunku Road, off Alalubosa GRA, Ibadan, Nigeria.
But let me tell you a bit more about Professor Osundare…
Poet, dramatist, critic, essayist, and media columnist, Niyi Osundare is a Professor of English at the University of New Orleans, USA. He has authored over ten volumes of poetry, two books of selected poems, four plays, a book of essays, and numerous articles on literature, language, culture, and society. His works of published poetry includeSongs of the Marketplace (1983), Village Voices (1984), A Nib in the Pond (1986), The Eye of the Earth (1986),which won…
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Fantastic piece. It courses through the creative path of writing, of achieving mastery at it, of drowning in the vastness of the world to live, appreciate beauty, and create one’s own beauty.
And most importantly, that we must write. And write. And keep writing.
When forehead bears weight
Time fails to unburden,
It is the heart that needs sedating.
Eyes, witnesses of history, know more
The struggle to forget. Why look?
Days are luckier. They die.
Resurrect amnesiac; live on in serenity or wonder
Where wreckage spilled from.
It is easier to sew yourself up if you forget
How you tore. But you must know, or die
Chasing after fading suns at Atlantic’s core
Grieve lasts too long it replaces
Reality once lived
Life is never good enough,
There is no good time to host death
Life bears, if one for everyone, fruit, edible