I love a good book. I can appreciate almost any literature, which is what happened with Amos Tutuola’s The Palm Wine Drinkard. It’s one of those books that can make you cringe in utter disbelief. Some think it brilliant, its simplicity so novel that only genius could create it, others are simply mortified.
I love it for a simple reason; the imagery which is richly elaborate, imaginative, fantastical and vividly coloured by landscape. It’s on the strange side.
Imagine following the “perfect” person, a complete person, refusing to be chased away by their bad attitudes and all those other little indicators that maybe you should run for the hills. Imagine that, then imagine watching as they remove each perfect, complete part and return it to whoever they borrowed it from. An arm here, a lovely leg there; maybe a personality as well. I know I’ve been there.
I ponder over my insecurities and the impossibilities that make me utterly paranoid. Perhaps these ladies are those. Perhaps they’re the insecurities I see in people all around me. Whatever they may seem to you, I hope you heed Tutuola’s advice “DO NOT FOLLOW UNKNOWN MAN’S BEAUTY”.









