Journalism in the service of society

Ebedi, here I come

 

I’m staying in a room named after Mabel Segun, one of Nigeria’s literary icons. The residency also features two other rooms named after literary titans — Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe. The library bears the name of yet another dignitary. Truth be told, I’d have preferred the Wole Soyinka room, hoping to tap into the Nobel laureate’s genius. But perhaps the Mabel Segun room holds its own blessings. After all, my middle name is Segun — it feels poetic

THE first time I planned to visit Isẹyin was back in 1995. I was meant to collaborate with the late Yemi Meshioye on a film project for the legendary Professor Peller. Having previously worked on another movie for the magician in Ibadan, this was supposed to be an exciting continuation of that journey. But just as I prepared to leave for the shoot, I felt a divine call to focus on evangelical filmmaking—and I heeded it.

Fast forward to 2022, when I first heard about the Ebedi International Writer’s Residency. I planned to attend in June of that year, but unforeseen circumstances kept me away. The same thing happened last year. This time, however, I made up my mind: nothing was going to stop me.

And now, here I am.

I’m staying in a room named after Mabel Segun, one of Nigeria’s literary icons. The residency also features two other rooms named after literary titans—Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe. The library bears the name of yet another dignitary. Truth be told, I’d have preferred the Wole Soyinka room, hoping to tap into the Nobel laureate’s genius. But perhaps the Mabel Segun room holds its own blessings. After all, my middle name is Segun—it feels poetic.

My journey to Isẹyin began at the Wole Soyinka Railway Station in Abeokuta this morning. From there, I traveled to Moniya, Ibadan, and boarded a mid-sized Nissan Urvan bus to Isẹyin. Seated on the third row, I couldn’t see much of the scenery, but the glimpse I caught of sprawling estates and vast farmlands was heartening. It was a comforting reminder that there’s still life and promise in Nigeria’s landscapes.

I arrived in Isẹyin at exactly 1:02 pm. Following earlier instructions, I called David, the residency official, who directed me to stop at the AMAO College junction near Isẹyin District Grammar School. From there, a bike whisked me away to the White House, the residency’s location.

At the White House, Mercy, a welcoming young lady, greeted me and showed me to my room. After settling in, hunger drove me to seek out a local Amala joint. Guided by Mercy’s directions, I found one on the main street. I was eager to savor the authentic abula I’d been missing in Abeokuta. The meal was satisfying—though unexpectedly pricey. A single wrap of Amala cost ₦500, compared to ₦200 back home. Still, the taste made up for the expense.

On my way back, I took in the beauty of Isẹyin. Even in the early harmattan season, the town is enveloped in lush greenery. Nestled between mountains, its layout reminded me of many Southwestern towns I’ve visited—linear, with much of the population concentrated along the main road.

Isẹyin’s fame as the home of aṣọ òfì (handwoven fabric) is well-deserved. As I strolled along the street, I glimpsed weavers at work—a timeless tradition that felt like stepping back into history.

I also noticed a sizable Fulani presence in the town, and I hope there’s peaceful coexistence among the diverse inhabitants.

I have a whole month ahead of me here, and I’m eager to dive deeper into the town’s charm. I plan to capture its essence through videos and explore its hidden stories. My only hope is that my curiosity won’t be met with hostility. At AMAO College junction earlier, a curious motorcyclist eyed me warily as I took a selfie. Fingers crossed that it’s nothing more than harmless interest.

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