ktravula – a travelogue!

reflections on the world

Browsing ktravula – a travelogue! blog archives for September, 2009.

Buzzing News

Here are a few new things buzzing in ktravula’s universe at the moment.

A Travula Interview

Last week, I sat down for an e-interview with a Nigerian-based literary blog Bookaholic for questions ranging from my influences to opinions on matters of literacy in Nigeria as well as my impressions about the Fulbright FLTA programme. If you ask me those same questions tomorrow, there is no doubt that I might answer them a little differently. When I was asked about my most treasured possession, my first choice of response was “My brain, then my laptop, iPod, camera, and bicycle – in that order.” Check out the interview here, and please leave comments if you can..

PosterFrank Warren at SIUE

What would a man once referred to as “The Most Trusted Stranger in America”, Frank Warren of PostSecret.com and Postsecret.blogspot.com be coming to do at SIUE as a guest speaker on the 29th September? That’s the big secret (no pun intended). “PostSecret is a sight that originated from a community art project based on a simple concept: asking people to anonymously send a secret on a decorated postcard. Since November 2004, Warren has received more than 400,000 postcards, with secrets spanning from sexual taboos and criminal activity to confessions of secret beliefs, hidden acts of kindness, shocking habits and fears.” I have been the website, and seen some really weird, quirky, funny and revealing secrets of people pasted anonymously there. What drives a man that handles such a project that encourages people to tell it all? How does he sleep at night?  He’s surely gonna be an intriguing person to hear, and I look forward to the programme. Is there something particularly you want to know about him and about PostSecret? Send them to me.

A Birthday Wish

It’s my birthday on Tuesday the 22nd, and I’m trying my hands on selflessness. I’ve made a little birthday wish: to help raise money for cancer research. There are too many causalities for a disease that should by now have got a cure. Check out the donations page on Facebook Causes here, where you can donate whatever you can afford to the Arkansas Children’s Hospital.

For my birthday, I intend to spend the evening at Rudy’s place in company of a few international students as well as some American friends. I don’t have recollection of many personal birthday party celebrations while I was growing up, but I do have a few pictures though that show evidence of such a time when I was allowed to have child moments with my young friends and playmates, eating cakes and candy and being generally jolly, but I don’t remember any of those times. I was too young to remember. Birthday was synonymous with partying, and cakes, and it was always called “the Birthday” (or “Baiday/byeday,” depending on how many tooth gaps are in the mouth of the little kids doing the pronunciation). Rudy has promised cakes, food and drinks. Oh well, I can’t complain. One day in the future, I’d look back at the very few birthday pictures I have, and say: “Oh yes indeed, I was young and fun once.”

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Clearing a Blocked Head

Dear Blog readers, today I want to get a little serious, taking a short break from my random pedestrian irreverent rants. Oh well, I confess, I have misplaced my funny bone. Maybe Holly’s cats took it. Okay, let me take that back. I don’t intend to get serious, but I’m trying so hard to enter a pensive mode of recollection and it’s not working. All memories of the nice funny things I wanted to tell you has suddenly disappeared, and all that stares me in the face is an empty bottle of Foris Pinot Noir. Again, I’m kidding.

My thoughts have ranged from the wonder of the world when observed from above, as well as the diversity of accents. But just last week I got a collection of songs from the movie My Fair Lady, and I was surprised at how amused I still was with the lead song “Why Can’t the English (Learn to Speak)” There was a nice line in the song which the actor Rex Harrison delivers with such a priceless speech and a straight face. It goes,

Why can’t the English learn to set a good example to people whose English is painful to your ears… There even are places where English completely disappears: In America, they haven’t used it for years…

That part always made me laugh, especially when read against the diversity of American English accents. Everywhere I went in America, everyone seems to speak so differently, and even the students do not share a common accent. The linguistics class that I attend weekly is one nice theatre of such differing sounds of speech. My Fair Lady is a treasure, and the play (Pygmalion) by George Bernard Shaw that spawned the movie and Broadway production is an even bigger delight. Take it from a thoroughbred Shavian like me who has sworn among other things to see at least one Broadway or Off-Broadway play before returning home. Come, come winter.

However, I do not go about campus like the Professor Henry Higgins now jotting down the varying sounds of the American working class, even though the prospects of such endeavour sound rewarding, but I can at least boast of a general delight in ear sampling of accents. The knowledge of such diversity of speech has built for me a stronger confidence to resume my own Nigerian accented English rather than trying hard to sound American. It is not always an easy effort to pronounce just about every “r” in every word whenever you speak. When a Nigerian pronounces the word “pork”, you are not likely to hear the “r” pronounced, and that always left my American confused, and they always replied with “What?” “I beg your pardon,” “Come again please.” On the plane from London, a co-passenger warned me that if I want to say “hot”, I should pronounce it as “hat” or else no one would understand me. It has turned out to be a good advice so far. “Flu shot” had been “flu shat”, and every word that I’d otherwise pronounce with a closed mouth has undergone such dramatic transformation. I even admit that I have to take conscious effort to speak slowly just so I can get my thoughts across.

I admit, I’m being gradually Americanized. My “butter”, “bitter” and “letter” are now easily pronounced if the “tt” segments are called like the American “r”, but thinking forward to my mandatory re-absorption into the Nigerian speech pattern a year from now, I’ve been selective in my assimilation. But I can never get away from the occasional strange glances that respond to my sometimes deliberate attempt to speak the British English, Nigerian style.

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It’s Been Twenty

On a cold September night in 1989, an extra ordinary event happened in a brick house in Akobo, Ibadan, a memory of which that I’ve never lost.

It was father’s fourty-sixth birthday, and we had all gathered at night as usual on the large sofa in the sitting room, surrounding him and listening to stories and the many songs father sang to us. It was a cheerful moment, one of the many that I remembered that took place every night after he returned from work. It always took place on the big leather sofa, and as there was not often electric power, but a glow of a kerosene lamp or sometimes none at all. The beauty of the room was often from the glow of our spirits as we learned from the stories and songs. It was always a priceless moment.

This day however became memorable not because it was his birthday, but because a little shortly into the evening of singing and happy birthday revelry, my grandmother passed away. She had been bed-ridden for a while before then, but it was of an eerily moving significance that she had chosen the night of her son’s birthday to depart from the world, and the coming days would witness a deluge of guests and well wishers who knew her both as a storyteller and as a deeply reflective woman. I do remember a few of my times with Mama as she was fondly called by all, but a few of those instances included some rascality on my part as well. I do vividly remember the day that I took off with a pack of Chocomilo chocolate cubes from her wooden selling counter, in order  to retaliate for something she had done to tick me off. My defence was that she deserved to be so punished because I didn’t deserve the flogging she had given me earlier, and that I deserved the sweets for myself anyway since I was a little boy without money to buy it.

Mama always had a long cane to deal with errant children. She also always had a story to tell, or a song to sing. From my earliest memories, I knew her as a fascinating human being who also made the most delicious efo riro whenever we came back from school hungry. I loved her, but back then as a rascally young boy almost on his way out of primary school, I couldn’t have put it this way, not exactly knowing what love meant besides writing fictive love stories about my primary school crush and other romantic interests. I only knew that she was there when we wanted her to, especially when we were about to get a deserved beating from either mum or dad, to intervene, and pacify them. I surely wasn’t prepared for her departure, having known her for such a little time.

Today, I remember my grandmother. It has been twenty years, and the vivid, and often distant memory of her remains with us, especially – I’m sure – her son, whose birthday today will always be a day to remember, and the celebrate the extraordinary gift of life, and love. Here’s to two extraordinary people in my life whose blood runs in me and whose stories I carry, and who by being themselves gave me a tremendous opportunity and mandate to always, always know, and discover myself. Because of who they are, here I am. It is a circle of life.

Happy birthday father.

I remember you Mama.

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Postcard

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A Postcard for Black Studies in the Department of English, SIUE.

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Q & A from Nigeria

ktravula attempts here to answer some questions he’s been asked more than once from Nigeria.

#10.

Q: “Is the Fulbright FLTA programme a degree-awarding  programme?”

A: No, it isn’t, but each participant gets a Fulbright-branded certificate at the end of the programme. The certificate is given in the participant’s home country, hereby providing one more reason for the grantee to return home.

#9.

Q: “Why then does KT attend Master’s classes in Linguistics, GIS and Creative writing?”

A: Because, in addition to teaching, one of the prerequisites of Fulbright FLTA programme is that the grantee takes at least two courses every semester. The two courses could be for audit or for credit, and they are paid for by the Fulbright programme.

#8.

Q: “Why Creative writing, GIS and Linguistics?”

A: Because he likes them, that’s why.

#7.

Q: “How many times does the traveller teach his class every week, and when?”

A: Twice a week, Monday and Wednesdays.

#6.

Q: “What does he do on the other days?”

A: He goes to his other classes. Or stays at home to either sleep, blog, go out to buy groceries, ride on his bike, go out to watch a movie, or queue up on a long line waiting for a hamburger.

#5.

Q: “Does he still feel cold?”

A: Not anymore. By a miraculous transformation that he cannot yet fathom, he now feels warm while many people around him feel cold. He has been able to go out many times in a t-shirt and jeans without a jacket.

#4.

Q: “Why does he blog?”

A: 1. Because he’s sometimes bored, and he cannot understand why after a day of nice, memorable experiences, he returns to his room and feels bored, so he writes out his experiences, hoping that by putting them down in his words, he might make someone smile somewhere. And most times, people smile. Some laugh even, and he can’t understand the whole paradox of it.

#3.

Q: “Why does he have a roommate? Isn’t he supposed to be a scholar, professor etc allwhatnot?”

A: He has a room mate because he wanted one. He lives in an apartment that has both a single user bedroom and a shared bedroom. When he moved in there, he had a choice. And he chose one with a roomie. Deal with it. (Meanwhile, this doesn’t mean that he will make the same choice next semester.)

#2.

Q: “Why would any American students want to learn Yoruba, and not Spanish, French or German?”

A: There are already those who learn those other languages. The Foreign Language department in the University offers so many languages, and students have a choice to take any they want either for credit or for audit. If you ask me, I’d say I don’t know why Yoruba particularly, but now that they’ve chosen it, I am going to try to make it worth their while.

#1.

Q: “Now that he’s settled into the programme, passing the mandatory honeymoon phase, what else does KT look forward to in the course of the year?”

A: Snow and winter. More blogging. Meeting Maya Angelou, speaking with her and taking her picture and autograph. Meeting Eugene Redmond, again. Going to watch an American Football game. Getting a new camera. Going to Washington in December, and the opportunity that will provide, to see more of the East Coast of America. Spring. Doing more line-dancing. Halloween. Swimming. Going to Chicago. Writing short stories. Beginning a major work in literary translation.

questions@ktravula.com

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The Fourth Class

When I was in Kenya in 2005, I remember that one of the most recurrent observations I received from Kenyans was that Nigeria is a place filled with people who believe in witchcraft and practice it in their daily lives. We all believed in juju, they said, and none of the women I spoke to would dare to marry a Yoruba person for fear of one day having to deal with a mother-in-law that could turn them into a piece of metal at the slightest provocation. I have since discovered that this is a very prevalent perception of Nigeria, mostly obtained through our home videos that have been ranked third in the world in terms of output. Is there practice of witchcraft and a prevalent belief in it in Yoruba land today. The answer is yes. Does everyone believe in it. Erm, I would say yes to this as well, but with very few exceptions of the skeptics.

Cut to my fourth class, where I had asked my students to read a short story titled “Why Atide Is Taking To A Coin”, written by a German friend, student of Yoruba and a current PhD student at SOAS. I first read the short story in 2004 while it was still being written, and I got to contribute a few ideas to its storyline. So last week, when I asked my students to list ten things they found strange, new or memorable about the Yoruba culture from the story, and five things that they found similar to their own culture, I was trying to get them more interested in reading and discovering new things. It was also a way for me to get into their minds and see what they see when they look at me through the prism of Yoruba culture. The result amazed me. Of all the answers given to the first question, one was common to all the ten students in the class: They were surprised that a belief in witchcraft still exists/persists in some cultures of the world, particularly mine. They couldn’t understand why people ascribed occurences they couldn’t explain to the evil forces in their family, and they couldn’t understand why somebody who is Christian/Moslem would go to a Babalawo to get help with something that was bothering them.A Class homework

Now, I could have easily said that it was the fault of the writer of the story for painting the Yoruba people in such a light, but when I look around Yorubaland today, I find not one but many leaders and public figures who would take their supporters or followers to shrines so as to get them to swear and take oaths of allegiance. Recently there was a case of a prominent state governor, and a lawmaker whose naked picture was taken at a shrine where he had gone to perform rituals. The fact is, belief in rituals are still as strong today in Yorubaland as it was before the British came. Whether this is a good or a bad thing is beyond my scope to say, but it took me some time of readjustment to deal with the truth, being a little lost to the effect such disclosures might have on the impressionable minds of my brilliant students, and their ability to see this somehow as a positive attribute of such a people with a complex culture and outlook on life.

Are we a modern society in Yorubaland, or are we still attached to the deep vestiges of the past? If the texts of our literature, the lines of our poems and the plots of our dramas are anything to go by, the answer might be far from what we always like to believe.

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News

IMG_0136Brown University to Examine Debt to Slave Trade

March 13, 2004

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/03/13/education/13BROW.html

PROVIDENCE, R.I., – When Ruth J. Simmons became the president of Brown University nearly three years ago, one striking fact could not be overlooked.

A great-granddaughter of slaves, Dr. Simmons was the first African-American president of an Ivy League university. But the 240-year-old university she was chosen to lead had early links to slavery, with major benefactors and officers of it having owned and traded slaves.

“It certainly didn’t escape me, my own past in relationship to that,” Dr. Simmons said. “I sit here in my office beneath the portrait of people who lived at a different time and who saw the ownership of people in a different way. You can’t sit in an office and face that every day unless you really want to know, unless you really want to understand this dichotomy.”

Now, Dr. Simmons, whose office is in a building constructed by laborers who included slaves, has directed Brown to start what its officials say is an unprecedented undertaking for a university: an exploration of reparations for slavery and specifically whether Brown should pay reparations or otherwise make amends for its past.

Dr. Simmons has appointed a Committee on Slavery and Justice, which will spend two years investigating Brown’s historic ties to slavery; arrange seminars, courses and research projects examining the moral, legal and economic complexities of reparations and other means of redressing wrongs; and recommend whether and how the university should take responsibility for its connection to slavery.

Dr. Simmons, one of 12 children of an East Texas tenant farmer and a house cleaner, said she was motivated by a sense that the multifaceted subject of reparations had too often been reduced to simplistic and superficial squabbles.

Brown University’s Debt to Slavery

October 23, 2006

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/23/opinion/23mon3.html?ex=1319256000&en=0246e986680a3947&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland&emc=rss

A long-awaited report on Brown University’s 18th-century links to slavery should dispel any lingering smugness among Northerners that slavery was essentially a Southern problem.

The report establishes that Brown did indeed benefit in its early years from money generated by the slave trade and by industries dependent on slavery. It did so in an era when slavery permeated the social and economic life of Rhode Island. Slaves accounted for 10 percent of the state’s population in the mid-18th century, when Brown was founded, and Rhode Island served as a northern hub of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, mounting at least 1,000 voyages that carried more than 100,000 Africans into slavery over the course of a century.

The Brown report is the latest revelation that Northern businesses and institutions benefited from slavery. Countless other institutions might be surprised, and ashamed, if they dug deeply into their pasts as Brown has over the past three years.

The Committee on Slavery and Justice, composed of faculty, students and administrators, found that some 30 members of Brown’s governing board owned or captained slave ships, and donors sometimes contributed slave labor to help in construction. The Brown family owned slaves and engaged in the slave trade, although one family member became a leading abolitionist and had his own brother prosecuted for illegal slave trading. The college did not own or trade slaves.

The hard question is what to do about it. The committee makes sensible recommendations — creating a center for the study of slavery and injustice, rewriting Brown’s history to acknowledge the role of slavery, creating a memorial to the slave trade in Rhode Island, and recruiting more minority students. Other proposals are more problematic. But the value of this exercise was to illuminate a history that had been “largely erased from the collective memory of our university and state.”

Steering Committee on Slavery and Justice

Today.

http://www.brown.edu/Research/Slavery_Justice/

In 2003, Brown University President Ruth Simmons appointed a Steering Committee on Slavery and Justice.  The committee, which included faculty members, undergraduate and graduate students, and administrators, was charged to investigate and to prepare a report about the University’s historical relationship to slavery and the transatlantic slave trade.  It was also asked to organize public programs that might help the campus and the nation reflect on the meaning of this history in the present, on the complex historical, political, legal, and moral questions posed by any present-day confrontation with past injustice. The Committee presented its final report to President Simmons in October 2006. On February 24, 2007, the Brown Corporation endorsed a set of initiatives in response to the Committee’s report.

ktravula’s comments: Brown has become the first Ivy League institution to come to terms with its slaving past. It is not only commendable, but admirable. I won’t be surprised if it influenced the movement of Professor Chinua Achebe to the old institution to join other members of staff like Ama Ata Aidoo of Ghana.

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The Third Class

By now we can greet. By now we have mastered the basic expressions that express intent.

By now we can ask the questions:
“Kíni orúkọ rẹ?” “Orukọ mi ni…” “Orúkọ ọrẹ mi ni…” “Orúkọ babá mi ni…”
“Kini èyí?” “Èyí ni bàtà.” “Èyí ni asọ.” “Èyí ni gègé.”

By now, we can count from one to ten in Yoruba. By now, we can also express number.
“Ọmọ melòó lo ní?” “Mo ní ọmọ mẹta.”
“Asọ melòó lo ní? “Mo ni asọ méjì.”
“Àburò mélòó lo ní? Mi ò ní àbúrò kankan.”

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Or express satisfaction with the teacher’s explanations:
“Sé ó yée yín?”
“Kò yé wa.”
“Ó yé wa.”

On Wednesday, week 4 will be over, and we would have had seven classes so far, each with its own challenges. We have somehow managed to get over the pronunciation challenges, one step at a time. It is not yet uhuru as far as recognizing and being able to correctly pronounce tone marks are concerned. And you can’t blame us. It was a relief for the class to know that there are some authentic speakers of Yoruba in Nigeria today who can’t stand the tone marks nor correctly identify it. The challenge before us is to become better than them. And better than them we shall be. We’re taking it one day at a time.

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