Ousmane Sembène, by consensus the father of African cinema, was nearly 40 when he started making films. (He was 84 when he died on June 9th 2007 at his home in Dakar). By 1960, the year that Senegal, his native country, won its independence from France, he was already ...
Some years back Professor Joseph Opio-Odongo told me this story. It was a story I could not discard. Opio-Odongo is Lango is Northern Ugandan is a former Makerere University professor of Agric. Econ. He once lived and worked in Northern Nigeria. A strange thing happened to him and his wife. He was teaching at the Ahmadu Bello University in Northern Nigeria. That morning he and his wife were going shopping at the local market. Nigeria is well known for its huge and lively markets. (A program called Story, Story: Voices from the Market, wholly Nigerian produced, is currently running on BBC World Service).
Professor Ali Mani was a bigger than life personality. The campus was yet to fully recover from all the ramifications of his momentous visit and controversial lecture. When, bump, it went. It came so suddenly it left most people struggling for breath.
The deputy Vice Chancellor attempted a violent takeover of the university. This was beyond imagination. It was outrageous. The problem was most people had no idea what had hit them.
The dalliance with the Strongman was bound to backfire. Soon Ali Mani found himself on the run. For a while he taught at the University of Illinois. He worked hard. Churned out publications like crazy. Became a popular and a much sought-after speaker on the lecture circuit. Soon he moved on to an Ivy League college as head of the Institute of Globality. Ali Mani had arrived. But now he was on his way back to Africa.
It was there in the mating songs of the birds. It was there in the air you breathed. You felt lucky to be alive in the world. It was just the kind of night in which true love whispers. Call me! Just call my name.
Amanda Gorman, the national USA youth poet laureate
On January 20, 2021, the world was treated to a powerful inauguration poem by a 22-year-old African American national youth poet laureate, Amanda Gorman. The poem was in stark contrast to ex-President Trump’s inspired insurrection on January 6, which, if successful, would have prevented the inauguration of President Joe Biden.
The military man that he was, his targets were carefully chosen. With him everything had a purpose. Once in what seemed like a random and stupid act, he had his men along with a bunch of journalists, proclaim and crown him King of Scotland. A carefully chosen tune played in the background, softly, very softly, but it was audible. As they placed the gold and crimson crown upon his head the police brass band struck up and played the tune out loud.
There was about the evening something truly noblesse, as if the universe was about to blow up and break out in a colossal firework. The canopy ablaze. From the Mountains to the east came whispers of winds laden with fragrance, everything made for a fairyland. It was amazing just to be there and he was right in the middle of it