Memories of Washington

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King Jnr Holiday in all the states of the US. It is a public holiday so school is closed. I don’t know if I like holidays a lot, but I can’t complain that I have got a chance to rest in preparation for work on Wednesday.

Today in memory of that youngest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and civil rights activist whose words, deeds and activism has challenged so many people across races, beliefs, age range and countries towards harmony, peace, quest for justice and non-violence, I am putting up these few photos that we took on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in December while we were in Washington.

It was on those steps in August 28, 1963 where Dr.King delivered his famous “I Have a Dream” speech. (See last image, obtained from Wikipedia images.)

Eeny Meeny Miny Moe

I’m trying to pick out some of my old photos to print as a large poster for the wall of our apartment. The wall photo idea was not mine, but Chinomso’s. She lives in the building and had dropped by last week to say hi. She looked at the wall of our living room and said that something was missing. We should get a painting and hang it there, she said. Taking the idea from her, I suggested that I would print one of the photos I’ve taken in the past, get it printed as a large poster at Wal-mart, frame it, and hang it on the walls. Now, to choose from a whole lot of photos becomes a problem. Here are ten of my favourites. Please tell me which you think would look best on a cream yellow-coloured wall. How about you give me a list of your best three favourites, in order?

My California

Here’s to folks in (according to number of hits) San Bernadino, Monterey, Los Angeles, Antioch, Mountain View, Davies, San Francisco, San Jose, Goleta, Hesperia, Brentwood, San Marcos, Alameda, Milpitas, Thousand Oaks, Palo Alto, San Mateo, Marina Del Rey, Downey, Beaumont, Emeryville, and Lynwood in the state of California. Hi to you ๐Ÿ™‚

I don’t have to say that if I leave the United States without showing up in that state, I would feel incomplete indeed. I heard it’s hot there in the southern part of the state. How true is that? Do you have winters? What about snow? What are the beaches like? Is it true that you have nude beaches? Are everyone allowed in there? Are those allowed in there allowed to wear dark shades (to protect their eyes from the sun, of course)? How often do you run into Hollywood stars when you walk down the street? How often do you see movie cameras around? Can you go out one day without seeing a movie being shot? Is the state all it’s touted to be, the most liberal place in the country?

Well, my regards to Governor Schwartzenegger, the actor with a long name and a big chest, and to you as well for being there. It’s not like you can help that anyway ๐Ÿ˜‰

Pete-Pete

It was inevitable that I would eventually blog about (my love for) this song. As at the last count on my iTunes, I have listened to it for a total 293 number of times in less than three days, after songs by Chris de burgh, Fela Kuti and Michael Jackson. That is no mean feat. I usually begin playing it in the morning, and keep it on reply throughout my work on the laptop till evening when I sleep, and then leave it on to lull me to sleep as well. This is only surprising if you take into account that I did not like the song at all the first time I heard it. I thought it was too slow. In hindsight, I now think thatย I it was who was too slow.

The song by two unique Nigerian singers 9ice and Asa is a classic. It is a solemn lamentation of the state of things. But where the song derives its greatness is not even in its political preoccupation but in its artistic triumph. Poetry of words and the rhythm of proverbs in the Yoruba culture is already a given. But merging it with the art of rhyming, which I believe is a fairly Western art concept, and coming out with a tune which is both melodious and deep is a great endeavour indeed. I will not even try to play this in class to my students because the poetry it contains is above them. (Heck, it’s above many of the people I know.) The real beauty of the track however is in the words, the message, the proverbs, and not in the perhaps equally moving rhythm of the instruments. For non-Yoruba speakers, I give you only the music. ๐Ÿ™‚ Enjoy.

NOTE: The title pete-pete is taken from a Yoruba proverb that says that “As soon asย pete-pete (a muddy water/liquid dirt) is beaten deliberately with a rod, you can never control whose clothes it soils.”

Adventures in (Dis)honesty

There’s no reason why I should be impressed, really. This is how things should be in a normal society. But I guess that the event has sufficiently moved me to write about it only because a few months ago, an even far less careless slip had cost me so much more. What happened then was that I had gone to Six Flags for the first time, with friends, and at some point decided that I would join some of them in swimming. Now my small point-and-shoot Canon camera has always had a spot in its pouch around my waist. My belt always held it firm, and it was easier to bring out at the slightest notice of any memorable sight. Then I had to remove my jeans in public since none of us wanted to go into the locker rooms. We were all outside, beside a tall tree full of leaves. The process must have been: remove shoes, remove socks, unbuckle belt, unbuckle jeans, remove jeans, take everything off the ground and proceed to the pool. Approximately thirty seconds later, when I must havhollye taken not more than twenty steps from that spot, it struck me that my camera was missing, and there was only one place where it could have been: that spot outside the locker room. I went back there and it was missing, for good. I made a report, asked around, hoped and prayed, even searched Craigslist for lost items, but I didn’t get it back. It wasn’t so much for the camera but for the photos in it. In any case, there was no reason for me to have hoped that such a crowded public place like Six Flags would have been a safe place to leave a camera for that long, even for less than a minute. It kind of reminded me of some places in Lagos.

That could be why I may have been impressed when I arrived in class on Wednesday and found that my iPod earphones were still on the front table, exactly where I had forgotten to take it off from after the class on Monday. I have tried to rationalize it this way: the table is used mostly by Professors when they stand in front of the class, and it is not likely that any Professor would fancy a used $30 Apple earphone that doesn’t belong to them. I made a similar rationalization for the many students who had used the class between 3pm on Monday and 1.30pm on Wednesday, yet I did not doubt that a few of them must have noticed it lying there idly seemingly belonging to no one, and just ignored it. I should really not have been impressed. Nothing extraordinary has happened, right? Wrong. Right. I have no idea, but I am not taking up the challenge of my now mischievous self to make an experiment with my iPod classic. Place it carelessly in a public spot and come back after two days to see if it’s still there. That stuff cost me $250!

One of the very first things Papa Rudy told me the first day he gave me his bike to take home was this: “Never ever forget to lock the bicycle up whenever you’re outside, cos they’re gonna steal it. That’s why I’ve given you a lock with it.” He spoke in earnest and I did not doubt his conviction for a second that the bike would be stolen if I ever left it outside the house without fastening it properly with a solid lock. The second time I heard this kind of talk was from Holly Ruff, my friend the artist. It was Halloween night. According to her, all the times her bicycles had been stolen, it has always been on Halloween nights, and not always because she didn’t lock them properly. People always seemed bolder on that prank night that they get away, it seems, with anything. For that, she had warned me sternly to not think about coming out of the house with my bicycle – lock or no luck – for that one night. Last week when Mafoya and I went to the swimming pool with Ben, I went with a lock in my bag. But when we were putting our stuff in the available lockers in the gymnasium locker room, Ben looked at me calmly and said, “You don’t have to worry about that. Nobody’ll mess with your shit,” and I sighed, then smiled. My “shit” included a passport, an iPod, my wallet and cards, my camera and some cash, so I shrugged and locked it firmly away anyway. It felt better to be safe than sorry, but we both came back to find our things still intact. I remember having lost my bike helmet on campus more than two times since August. I always found it at the same spot where I left it, untouched. It might be safe to say that this campus environment is generally a safe one for personal items.

The last time it snowed here, I had gone out for a walk behind my apartment when I noticed a mobile phone in the snow around a series of small footsteps that went out towards the parking lot. Nobody else in sight, and the phone wasting away in the snow, I picked it up and took it into my apartment. Later in the evening, I told Mafoya about it, and we both waited for the owner to show up. He did about seven days later while I was out, and was very grateful that someone had kept his mobile phone for him even though he had no idea where he had lost it. He was a teenager or so. Now, I wonder whether, like me at the sight of my earphones lying there on the table, he was impressed that nobody had taken the item and made it theirs. Perhaps he was relieved, and grateful, that it didn’t take him too long to locate his property after countless calls to the number and no one answering. (I’d left it in the living room and I always missed the calls, not deliberately.) Or perhaps he took it for granted as a contented citizen, believer in the power of good: “Nobody needs another person’s phone anyway. This is America. Everyone has their own mobile phones…

I would never know, because I never met him.