Inviting the World into the House of Words: The Writer, His Place, People, and Audience

Abstract

It is a very long way from Ibada Village (which no longer exists) to Charlotte, North Carolina. I was not even born there, but at Igberhe Village, so-named after the plantain plants that sustained the people. This hole, as my grandmother would describe it, was evacuated for Ibada Village, named after Ibadan, Nigeria’s Western Region’s capital then. And to my child’s eyes our new village was “Ibadan.” The houses all had corrugated iron sheets, which bedazzled with their silvery shine when new, especially in sunlight. There was a pliable earth road through it connecting Okpara Inland (Otorho Okpara) and Okpara Waterside (Erho Okpara). My two hands are both of Okpara, the subclan of Agbon. It is said that Okpara is slippery in the dry season, if you take the town for granted! I was born and raised in my maternal side; hence I begin from my mother’s village. I am an Okurunoh man (really from Enemarho Village) but I am Ibadaborn.