Yoruba Books Novels & Stories

Once upon a time, in the age of war, magic and cruelty. "Adesuna" became the King of "Odudu," a kingdom located in west Africa. The foundation of "Odudu" was laid at the expense of the blood of Warriors, "Odudu" Was one of the most powerful kingdoms in the region of West Africa, "Adesuna" king of "Odudu" was the only son of Adeshina, a Yoro by tribe, he was a valiant fighter from his youth, who latter became a mighty King, he became a sorcerer when human strength couldn't face the tide of time. It was an age when men fought to own anything, warriors fought for lands as well as kings, every king was a warrior-king. The language of this time was the language of combat, a language that is not t

The Yoruba phrase is a kind of insult for people trying to behave differently, mostly in a sophisticated manner. * Oya: is a Nigerian slang that has no definite meaning, however, it is used in a given context which could mean come, let's go, start or basically just an endearment to begin something or respond. * Nwanne gị nwanyị na-ewe iwe maka ihe ọ bụla: this your sister easily gets annoyed for nothing * Ka m nu ihe: let me hear word/something

"Or this vast library might have a few other books on the same topic." "These are the only books on this particular topic, my Queen." He shook his head in disappointment, clearly not catching the double meaning of our conversation. "They were original books with no copies, all more than three thousand years old. They were handwritten and invaluable." What kind of books did Leikos want? I walked over and tilted a few of them up. History of Fayes. The Faye Kingdom. The Power of Fayes. What the fuck? "Tell Lord Leikos the library did not have the books that he wanted," I told him. "I do not want him to fire you from your job. Or worse, punish you for your clumsy slave's mistake."

*OYINBO is what Yorubas and many other Nigerians call whites*) {pidgin} I smile and nod. Impressed, and he walks off. With this, I am left walking to my car with my own thoughts in my head.

Not in pleas, but in the war cry of a stew pot boiling over with poisoned silver. Marisol’s voice tears through the storm, a throat-raw chant that makes my back teeth buzz. I know those Yoruba syllables—Uncle D drilled them into me after the closet incident. *“Ọgun alágẹdẹ, olúborí ogun—!”* Ogun the blacksmith, lord of war’s victory. But Marisol twists them into something darker, Creole grit grinding against the prayer’s bones. The medalla at her throat glows like a struck match, the Virgin’s face bubbling into a shape I recognize.

“I am so sorry about that, it is indeed sad.” “it is okay, thank you very much for your concern.” Karl replied again, reclined back into the seat and brought out the journal fingering the back cover lightly. He could hardly read the words written in them but he had this strong urge to protect the book which was weird even for him. “Are you a Yoruba person?” Karl asked the man after few minutes of silence. “No I am not, is there a problem?” “No there isn’t, I just need a Yoruba translator. I need to understand something.”

"Don't waste your time James. I am not here to die. I only followed you here because you are unfamiliar with Igboland. I didn't come here to put my life at risk. As you can see, I have a beautiful wife and and three young children who are still growing up. I already lost a wife, it will be bad if my children find out that their father died trying to destroy the gods that their ancestors worshipped. It will be too bad James. Count me out of your plans. Stick with Umuise. They don't have a chief priest who would challenge you. They are simple faithful worshippers of their gods. Every man and his own shrine." James grabbed the book he was reading and flipped the pages quickly. Then he turned to

Why's Barnes now looking as though he was cooking for the whole of Africa? "Yep obviously, since I just saw the super talented photographer's work." she gave a sobered up Toby, a glance. "...and now, these books!" "What books?" Toby asked with an etched eyebrow, watching Yara pull out a big sized novel from the shelf and Barnes smile proudly.

TIFE OKUWOBI. ONE THOUSAND YEARS ONE THOUSAND YEARS. Copyright©2020 by Tife Okuwobi. All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. Address at ayooluwapelumiolorunlolope@g***l.com. TIFE OKUWOBI. ONE THOUSAND YEARS ONE THOUSAND YEARS. Copyright©2020 by Tife Okuwobi. All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. Address at ayooluwapelumiolorunlolope@g***l.com.

Agbai said. "His lifestyle or morals has nothing to do with his economics," I said. "Okay, I agree with you on that one. Um... You said you read Nigerian books, which one have you guys read." "Chimamanda's Purple Hibiscus, Americana, a whole lot," I said. "But I like Wole Soyinka's A Dance In The Forest and..." I paused to think of the other book. "Things Fall Apart," Raymond added. "Yes, that's it. Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart." I said.