ktravula – a travelogue!

Snow, Swooning & Swimming

Here are some more random pictures taken in/of the snow that has now made it a habit to come down everyday, covering everything that moves or doesn’t. It has even made it difficult for me to attempt to walk on my ktravulake now. The white is quite suspicious. Nobody knows what is underneath, or how frozen hard it is. I don’t want to walk to the centre only to fall in. It is so white that if I fall inside, nobody will know what had just happened. Anyway, here are pictures.

The other set of pictures were the ones I took when I went swimming with Ben yesterday at the University pool. The University pool is three feet deep on one end, and thirteen feet deep on the other. The last time I swam was many years ago, in the pool at my University in Ibadan, and I am finding out happily that I have not lost much of my skills after all. It took a little while more than necessary to warm up, of course, but when I finally did, I was able to swim the whole length of the pool back and forth for a few times. Ben, on the other hand – who had been going to the pool at least twice every week since school started – didn’t have any problems going back and forth many more times without stopping. He also had more speed. Well, what can I say, I need more practice. Hmm, I am exercising editorial discretion by not showing you the full frontal shot I took while I was in only shorts. I’m afraid of lawsuits that might result from swooning and fainting ladies in many parts of the world where they read my blog and see my pictures. 😀 Sorry!

Those pictures were taken by Mafoya who went with us but was too lazy, or afraid, to get into the water and learn some skills. The water was warm (81 degrees F or 27 degrees C). The hardest part of the trip was the walking to and from the gym in the freezing harsh snowy stormy weather. But we were three, and we made it through warm clothings, jokes and banter, and songs.

Needless to say, if I ever find myself on a capsizing boat, I am fit enough now to save myself, and at least one beautiful damsel.

Random Confessions

The successful outing of my My [State/Country] posts on this blog (after Texas and Saudi Arabia) is giving me many more great ideas. How many states will I be able to “visit” virtually and publicly thank before my time here is over? Who wants me in their area? I definitely would like to show here to you my readers all the relevant ktravula hot spots all around the world, just in case it ever occurs to anyone someday to organize a get-together/reunion party of all my blog readers, fans and commenters. 🙂 But I can’t. Or so I think. Physically, I’ve now been to Providence RI, Washington DC, Boston MA, St. Louis MI, Edwardsville IL, Cahokia IL, Principia IL, Chicago IL and Olney MD, among a few other small places. But virtually, I’ve been in many more places I probably would never see. Here’s the plan, as time permits, I will go around the world from here. The traveller is coming to a location near you. 😀

School resumes on Monday. I have not yet confirmed whether classes resume too. If so, then I will use this weekend to plan my class schedule for the year. It’s the hardest (I think) part of the work. When the plans are set, it not so hard to follow through in class, even though there usually occurs along the way some things never before planned, like public holidays, snow storms, and other engagements. But I like to have a plan. It helps to keep me focused. The last time I checked, I will now have sixteen students. That’s a higher number than the last nine who, like they told me on the last day of class, must have told their friends to sign up for that foreign language class where you could get an A (if you work really hard for it) and have fun all at the same time. Talking about As, all my last students but one got As. The person that didn’t get an A got a B, deservedly. She wasn’t as punctual as she should have been. And she did really poorly in the mid-term test. As for my own Linguistics class, I have not yet seen my results. Next week, maybe.

How did I spend my Christmas? I went to the house of my Professor A., originally from Nigeria, who was spending Christmas in town for the last time. He had resigned from this university and was moving into government work in the capital (Springfield). The most memorable part of the very beautiful evening was the “lucky dip” where everyone was asked to pick choice presents from a whole lot gathered in the living room. I got a wall clock. Now I can see what time it is while sitting on my bed without first having to pick up my phone or computer. However, there was not much Nigerian food at the table, surprisingly. There was mostly American foods, which I enjoyed. And there was moi-moi. It was a very memorable and enjoyable evening in company of people of different nationalities, behaviour and beliefs. I met his young children and their friends. One of his children’s young cousins in attendance had attended St. Patrick’s school, Bashorun Ibadan before relocating to the States. Our discussions brought back memories of truancy in secondary school days when we snuck out of our school premises to attend Christmas parades in the compound of the Broadcasting House just across the road…

New year’s eve. This one was a story with a k-leg, because Chris from class who had checked with me many times about our earlier plan to spend the eve together at his house partying, playing, reminiscing and flirting around with American girls suddenly had a work schedule! Oopsie. (Sorry Chris. I know you might not believe it, but not all of us from that side of the world play around with firecrackers around festive periods. 😉 ) In any case, I believe(d) him and stayed indoors since Ben also had suddenly disappeared earlier in the day to go to his folks at St. Louis. I fell asleep at nine, and woke up barely at a quarter to twelve, so I slept again, hoping my some miracle to wake up before twelve. The next time I opened those eyes, it was 1pm and I had two messages on my cell phone, from Nigeria. Happy New Year, they said. There were no fireworks like it would have been at New York’s Times Square, or back home in Nigeria (yes, we use fireworks too. Note to Chris: They are festive fireworks, not explosive firecrackers). I went back to sleep a few hours later, consoling myself that in some other parts of the world – in California, for example – they were still in 2009 by a few minutes.

I broke my first and major new year resolution on the third day of the year. I ordered a $24 pizza from Papa John’s! And as guilty as I felt after placing the order, I enjoyed it. It was coming after a few gruesome days of needed abstinence. Thankfully I didn’t have to eat it alone. But on the (not altogether so) bright side of this matter, a freak error/mixup of communication between me and woman at the housing office on Monday when I went to make payments for my housing rent has cleared my bank account/card of ALL available funds. The situation, as she apologetically promised afterwards, is now being rectified. Five days later, it has not, and I’m mad! One week, and perhaps more, is a very long time to wait. This means of course that there would be no more Papa Johns, even if I crave it. And as soon as my supplies of food run out, which they will, very soon, I will be very screwed :D, not literally. So, sigh, wish me luck people, or send relief, or remember me in your prayers. But whatever you decide to do, when you eat your nice meal of turkey, moi-moi, amala, potato salad, stuffing, egusi, pounded yam, broccoli, jollof/fried rice, ogufe, or whatever else you have on your plate on your side of the world tonight, please remember this American child that is now surviving on less than a dollar a day. Don’t look for any paradoxical punch-lines to this. There are none! 🙂 😀 🙁

My Saudi

Saudi Arabia from my Google Analytics (Click on picture to enlarge)

Since the president of Nigeria left for Saudi Arabia over six weeks ago to treat his ailing self, I’ve developed a new interest in that country called Saudi Arabia. Well, not really. My interest in the country actually predates my country’s recent and now (in)famous healthcare dealings with them. My fascination is very old indeed. The country holds a kind of fascination for me as an exotic tourist destination that so many people adore as a kind of spiritual homeland. Not me though. I’m just mostly intrigued by the large stone cube in the centre of the city of Mecca called the Ka’abah which was said to have been erected by Abraham in the olden times. In many Islamic tracts, on youtube and on some illustrated maps of the world, I have also read that the site of the Ka’abah is also the literal centre of the world.It is said to be equidistant to all corners of the world. This should go on to explain why that is the direction that every moslem faces when they pray. How true is that?

I don’t know if I can ever make it into the country in my lifetime, seeing that I’m not a moslem, nor an intending pilgrim, but it would have been a fascinating trip to get close to that prehistoric monument, touch it, and imagine what it would have been like in those days when faith did not always include killing a fellow human being. It would definitely have been a place to visit on a sight seeing tour. Well, thinking about it now, I wonder if there was ever really a time in history when faith was totally without blood and gore. Even father Abraham was said to have once been asked to slaughter his own son to prove his faith.

In any case, here was what my Google Analytics turned up as statistics of readers from that famous country. Only five hits between August 2009 and today. Interesting. And contrary to my earlier thoughts and wishes, the readers are not from Jeddah where the president of my country now resides (perhaps in a hospital bed), but in Riyadh. It is very sad to realize that the president has not been reading my thoughts and opinions after all, but well, I’ll survive it. However, this knowledge now begs the questions: Who were they who read my blog? What did they read? Did they enjoy it? Was it censored? And would they be coming back soon? Of course, I will not be getting answers to those questions. Or will I?

Cartoon from www.ofilisketches.com. Used by permission.

Salaam Alaikum: Peace be unto you, folks in Saudi Arabia. Please take good care of my president if you know where he is. And if you really do know where he is, please drop me a line. If you come across him anytime soon, tell him to send me an e-mail of acknowledgement. Or at least place a phone call to the BBC, or at least a popular morning radio show in Nigeria so we know that he is still alive, agile and in charge. Tell him that, contrary to what anyone around him, countrymen are really pissed, agitated, and running out of patience right now. They believe that if he were in office during Christmas time, the United States might not have placed our country’s name on a security list of countries with suspicious citizens. I mean, when you think about it, it’s not the fault of the United States that whenever President Obama could have tried to call the Nigerian president to discuss the matter, the phone would have rung for a while, and then either gone into voicemail, or been picked by a woman who spoke English with a really muffled foreign accent. I know you understand, and that you care enough to help. That is why you have read my blog for those five long times. Thank you very much for listening, and for your support. I look forward to your response soonest.

Ma salaam.

Love from Edwardsville.

(NOTE: That drawing from Ofilisketches is used by permission. Please feel free to print as many copies as you want, and paste on the streets of Riyadh and Jeddah, just in case someone comes across him and has useful information for us. This is urgent, please. Thanks.)

Politically Correct?

And so today after a lot of soul searching and repentance of past sins of unpatriotism, I am back with a new list of bumper stickers. This time, they will be nice and politically correct, for those who like to see the good and the positive. Now you have no more excuses for not making them up as banners or stickers and putting them on your cars, mugs, shirts, doors and fridges.

The current news, as dumb as it is is that Nigerians, along with other nationals “of interest” will now be subject to more more enhanced searches at airports. It’s dumb not only because it attacks the symptoms of a disease and not the diseases itself while casting the “doctor” in a very bad light in the sight of his patients and colleagues, but because it also seeks to create more enemies – or at least, less friends, inadvertently. The fact of the matter is that “enhanced” airport searches have never solved any problems. Never ever. It only humiliates the guests, and breeds mutual suspicion. Before this December incident, every passenger on American planes have had to remove their shoes, belts and jackets before boarding. The terrorist got wise up and took to using the underwear. If we’re asked to remove our underwears at airports now, the person determined to cause havok will simply think of new means to do so. What’s more, Nigeria has never been a state sponsor of terrorism, so what’s the point? If I were an Al-Qaeda strategist, I would be thinking like this today: this would be a very good time to shift attention off of Nigeria, Yemen and Pakistan to other poor countries of the world where we can recruit impressionable kids like Umar Muttalab for our next attack. Thankfully the new TSA requirements in the US does not include full body searches for those other countries at the moment. With any chance, we’ll get this one through, and take a few thousand lives. Duh! Why am I the only one thinking out of the box? Is it just because I’m from Nigeria, or because it’s true?

Now here are the bumper stickers you should see:

I am a Nigerian. I have words for “kill”, “maim” and “slaughter” in my local languages, but none for “terrorism” and “terrorist”, and none for “snow”. What does that tell you?
I’m a Nigerian, one of the happiest people in the world. Going to heaven now is the least of my aspirations.
I’m a Nigerian. I do not need to make a point with my life when Jesus has already done so.
I am a Nigerian. America needs not be afraid of me. I’m still trying to get her visa. (Thanks Yemi)
I’m a Nigerian and not a terrorist. I have other things to worry about.
I’m a Nigerian. If I can’t lay down my life for my country, why would I give it up for your militant God?

… among many others that, again, we can make up as we go along.

But the bumper stickers probably won’t make sense right now that in another dumb development, the country’s elected representatives have resolved to sever ties with the United States unless it takes the country’s name off the list of the United States’ top security watch list. What? They even gave an ultimatum. Talk of misplaced priorities. Talk of silliness in top government circles. Talk of pouring scarce fuel on an already open but unwanted fire. Whatever happened to silent, common-sense, underground diplomacy? Now, more than the Mutallab incident on Christmas day, this is one news item that makes me ashamed, not of my country, but of its leaders/rulers. And this comes just when I thought I could be optimistic for once. Shame!

On Foreign Language Teaching

I received this article this morning about how to thrive or survive as a department of foreign languages. It’s long, but for those interested in the topic of teaching foreign languages, especially in a depression economy, it is worth reading.

http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2009/12/29/languages

NOTE: It was just a few days ago that I was talking with friends who expressed surprise that a language like Yoruba is taught in an American institution. “French or German, yes, but Yoruba?” they wondered. “How is it ever useful to anybody anywhere?Who would use it? Everyone (including the Yoruba people in Nigeria) speaks English anyway.” they said.

Apparently, it is still hard to sell the idea of learning a foreign language that doesn’t come with a “sophisticated” appeal like Spanish or Russian to most common people anywhere in the world. My interlocutors were one American and one African. A day earlier, another friend – this time a Nigerian on the chat messenger – had expressed similar sentiments. He even added a twist of the absurd by insisting that I was working for the CIA. That was the only way he could rationalize a scholarship that affords me the opportunity to teach my language in the United States. He also could not understand why foreigners could be interested in the language.

I think this attitude is a result of a fundamental ignorance of the purpose of learning anything at all, which is simply to gain knowledge. And there is no knowledge that is not power, as that writer Ralph Waldo Emerson puts it. Learning a foreign language gives one access to new ways of looking at the world, no matter how small the number of people who speak the language is. But the Yoruba language is spoken by over 30 million people, and has a culture that has survived hundreds of years and has influenced countless other cultures all over the world from the Carribbeans to the United States’ African American population, and produced one Nobel Laureatte. What is there not to learn about its culture, and language, and people? The lesson for me – if any at all – is in learning more about the importance of linguistic, language documentation and cultural studies. It helps to have something to say while being challenged about the use, or uselessness, of what one does.

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