A Speech I Would Have Given, If I Had Attended the Launching of Sam Omatseye ’ s Mandela ’ s Bones and other Poems . Some disclosure is necessary. Sam has been a friend for a long while. In Colorado, we would, over ogbonno and some home styled meals, engage in feisty chats about our homeland at Nigerian events. At other times, these exchanges will be either at my place, or Chidi Nwaubani's, or at Sam ’ s condo. I fell in love with him the first time I met him at Philip Etiwe's house. You could discuss literature and the arts with him. He would debate a fine point from Leibnitz with you. He is at home with Pascal, familiar with something called Derrida, and knows that Foucault is not a Parisian brand name clothier. His deep Christian faith — Sam could recite the Holy Bible back and forth without misplacing a letter — does not preclude him from arguing the underlying idea of traditional poetry with you. Of course, he will tell you why your Soyinka idolatry is wrongheaded. Wh