BN Book Review: Face Me I Face You by Oyindamola Shoola | Review by Roseline Mgbodichimma

Photo by Roseline Mgbodichinma

In his essay “A Laughing Giant,” Wale Lawal writes, “What the grasp of a people’s humour measures is the ability to express oneself technically and, more importantly, socially.” This grasp is precisely what Oyindamola Shoola masters in her latest poetry collection, “Face Me I Face You.” The collection brings to life characters whose hilarious flaws reveal the chaotic beauty of everyday human interactions. Oyindamola, a true architect of words, crafts poems that are accessible, refreshing, and rich in meaning. She is culturally attuned and deeply aware of the norms, values, and dynamics that shape everyday Nigerian life. 

Reading Oyindamola’s collection is like listening to a full comedy set by your favourite comedian or a no-skip Afrobeats album you love. The cover of the collection of 32 poems is beautifully designed and characterised by strategic illustrations that display a typical Nigerian “face me, I face you” blueprint. The intentionality evident in the overall put-together of this book shows that we are reading a writer who truly understands her culture and craft — a poet who knows the form and all the unconventional ways it can be used to tell a story. The book even includes a scanned playlist of songs that share the characters’ names in the poems. It is incredibly fun and mentally connecting to listen to the music as you read.

“Face Me I Face You” offers readers a sensory experience. It depicts the sights, sounds and smells of life in a face-me-I-face-you apartment. Oyindamola portrays people’s vibrant, interconnected lives across generations, highlighting the hilarity of human relationships in communal spaces, specifically in the Nigerian/African context. Whether it’s Maami’s marital ambitions, Aunty Sola’s busybody antics, Baba Ade’s extramarital affairs, Sade’s plot to trap John with Efo Riro, Delilah’s sexcapades, Broda Samson’s hypocrisy, Bimpe’s delulu materialism, Iya Basira’s comforting meals, or Folake’s endless gossip, readers will find echoes of their own experiences.

This poetry collection is a satirical trilogy divided into three parts: Palava, Face Me I Face You, and Water and Garri. In Palava, the poems deliver unfiltered drama through an omniscient narrator, whose eccentricity is revealed in “How I Got This Ring,” where we learn that they are both “single to stupor” and a blouse thief. In “Iya Ijo,” the narrator humorously exposes the endurance required to withstand noise pollution masked as midnight prayers. Many women will relate to the experience of dodging a married man’s advances, like Baba Sade in “Baba Sade’s Jalopy,” or empathise with Mama Sade as she tirelessly tries to stop her husband’s philandering. Sade, the central character in this section, bends over backwards to keep a man, only to be left heartbroken. On a personal note, very few things have made me laugh as much as Sade’s desperate prayers in “Father” or the hilarious illustration of her lifting holy hands. “A Naija Christmas” evokes nostalgia, reminding us that Christmas isn’t the same everywhere—that home often defines the holiday. As the poem perfectly puts it: “What is Christmas / but death-sentenced chickens / and the aroma of long-throat party Jollof rice?”

In the second part, Face Me I Face You, Delilah, a sex worker, is introduced in her full glory. In the poem ‘‘Madam Koi Koi,” we see  “Delilah, / whose skirt will never be long enough / to cover her black nyash.” Delilah dresses to kill and from the poem ‘‘Delilah Took My Breath Away,” it is clear that between her Gucci perfume and bad breath, she means business. We also witness BroDa saMson desire Delilah at the expense of his salvation. In the poem ‘‘Good Husband Material,” we meet single Pringle Bimpe who says ‘‘I don’t speak to / ugly, short, and broke-ass men,” while eyeing  Broda saMson. Bimpe, amongst other things, prefers 666 – 6 packs, 6 figures income and 6 feet tall. More husband material points for him if he has “a Canadian passport, British accent, and an American bank account.” Bimpe is all of us in the poem ‘New Year, New Me’ we will all go again next year to start our fitness journey. 

The last part ‘‘Water & Garri’’ explores romance authentically, tells you how love is not mechanic and how there are no manuals or rules for it. The poem ‘‘Love Doesn’t Cost a Dime’’ sparks an interesting cultural conversation on love and potentially bride price culture. Is a man ready for love if he “can’t climb / the Hyperion to draw / palm wine from heaven,” or “hunt for a leopard / with five elephant tusks / and cut Aso Oke / directly from Jesus’ cloak.” We see  in ‘‘Hold Me Close’’ how ‘I love you’ is not the only way to show the extent of a person’s love. Like Folake, subtle actions—stealing glances at your lover as they walk away or shedding tears when they go on dates—can be even more effective. Many African children will connect with the poem ‘Breakfast,’ where, like Maami, an African mother shows her love through gestures like asking, “Have you eaten?” or saying, “Try this dress, tell me if it fits,” this too is love. ‘Omo Ibadan Kini So?’ is a poem so deeply rooted in place and culture. It shows that love for a person may be the fondest way to honour and remember a place. For some, the treasures of Ibadan might be memories of Abula, meat, stainless steel bowls, and brown roofs. But for Folake’s lover, it’s Folake herself, with all the unmistakable expressions of her Ibadan heritage. As the lover confesses, “Folake, I was asked to describe Ibadan’s beauty / and all I could think of was you.” If you have ever fallen in love with your mumu button fully activated, then the poem “You’ll Know it is Love” is completely you in speech and posture and you cannot deny it. 

The poems ‘‘I asked Maami where time went’’ and ‘‘Breaking Up with the Moon’’ are to me, one of the most moving poems in this body of work and it makes sense that they come at the end because they bring the book to such a heartwarming close. ‘I asked Maami where time went’ is coming of age. Time does indeed fly. In this poem there is growth, a kind of metamorphosis from childhood to adulthood, the trauma grows in “the loneliness of an absent father” and the possibility of starting a new cycle with a lover makes the uncertainty in the last lines all the more visceral. ‘‘Breaking Up with the Moon’’ will make you look deeply at some of the characters encountered throughout the book. There is so much to laugh about and we can find joy in their chaotic lives, but before Sade started advertising bum bum bum lotion and Bimpe started fussing about doing fit fam and looking for man, they were once children, children who ran through the night wondering if the moon ran with them. 

“Face Me I Face You” by Oyindamola Shoola engages with serious themes like identity, class and culture, yet it does so with remarkable lightness and wit. Shoola’s collection is a masterclass in characterisation; a refreshing and vibrant book that pulses with life, one read is simply not enough. In a Nigerian and African literary scene where there are several hot takes on what poetry is and is not, “Face Me I Face You” shows that nobody can be prescriptive about this genre, that poetry defies prescription and is room for the appreciation of diverse styles and interpretations. If you’re looking to convert someone who claims to dislike or not understand poetry, this is the book to hand them.