By Toyin Omoyeni Falola
"A most appropriate coming-of-age tale so jam-packed with shiny colour and emotion, the phrases appear to dance off the web page. yet this isn't in basic terms Falola's memoir; it truly is an account of a brand new kingdom getting into being and the tensions and negotiations that consistently happen among urban and state, culture and modernity, women and men, wealthy and negative. a really attractive book."-Robin D. G. Kelley "More than a private memoir, this e-book is a wealthy minihistory of up to date Nigeria recorded in scrumptious aspect via a perceptive eyewitness who grew up on the crossroads of many cultures."-Bernth LindforsA Mouth Sweeter Than Salt gathers the tales and reflections of the early years of Toyin Falola, the grand historian of Africa and one of many maximum sons of Ibadan, the remarkable Yoruba city-state in Nigeria.Redefining the autobiographical style altogether, Falola miraculously weaves jointly own, historic, and communal tales, in addition to political and cultural advancements within the interval instantly previous and following Nigeria's independence, to provide us a distinct and enduring photograph of the Yoruba within the mid-twentieth century. this can be actually a literary memoir, instructed in language wealthy with proverbs, poetry, track, and humor.Falola's memoir is way greater than the tale of 1 man's youth studies; particularly, he offers us with the riches of a complete tradition and community-its heritage, traditions, pleasures, mysteries, loved ones preparations, varieties of energy, struggles, and adjustments.
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Depression is strange: pimples attack the faces only of the gentle, stress the minds of the restful and lazy. Once I know the conclusion of an argument, I want to rush there to contest it, and we can use the process to complicate the conclusion, rather than the conclusion to eulogize the process. Intrigue does not bother me, as I once told my colleagues at Ile-Ife in the 1980s. Intrigue actually inspires me, moving me not to seek alliances and words but to check the knives in my pouch, the bullets in my gun, and the charms in my pocket.
The rock had hit it so badly that the chances of recovery were gone by the time the damage was reported. Yusuf had done me a favor. When they asked him who did it, he mentioned Philip. They only came to our house because they did not know where Philip lived. Ashamed by the encounter, my clan held a short meeting and decided that Yusuf’s parents should take me with them to determine any appropriate punishment and the revenge most satisfactory to them. They did not give me up for adoption; they gave me up for execution.
One of these boys was taking a casual walk one afternoon and came across a freshly killed antelope. He saw the bullet; as a soldier he knew that the antelope did not die by accident. Soldiers did not shoot antelopes; only hunters wasted their bullets in this way. He carried the antelope away, stealing it. To steal was bad enough; for a soldier to steal was to tarnish his honor significantly. He arrived home with the stolen antelope. People knew he had stolen it. As they were spreading the news about a brave soldier now a thief, he was butchering the antelope.