ktravula – a travelogue!

reflections on the world

Browsing ktravula – a travelogue! blog archives for August, 2010.

Two-Thirds Gone

By midnight today, the second third of this year will be gone for good and again we’ll wonder where all the time went. Just four months more and we’ll be in another year, making new resolutions and running after new goals. In some parts of the world, the harmattan season is beginning to gather and will gain force in a few weeks. In some other place like around my yard, trees will be crying their leaves into the river – to rephrase the line in Chris de Burg’s song.

In my case, I will be buried in books, research, (maybe) movies, and a series of other activities that may or may not take me away from this page. (I’ve always wanted to be able to take one month off this blog in order to do a few other things. I tried it in July but it didn’t quite work. Wonder if this might be a good time, especially at this beginning of serious classwork and other personal endeavours around the city. Hmm.

The Nokia competition is still on. The second question is already up where I promised it’d be. There will be another one tomorrow, and the last two on Thursday. The email address will be provided before noon on Thursday and you may send in your answers. You could be a lucky winner. The winner will be contacted via email on Thursday and announced on the blog either on the same day, or on Friday.

See ya around.

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Summer People (III)

In response to a memory of faces and places, here is the (I hope) last installment of my summer people posts. Or not.

There’s Ayo, Prof. Banjo, Benson, Aunt Grace, Nikola, Niyi, Dr. Oha, Rahman, Sola, Yemi, and Yomi .

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Of Beliefs and Denials

Living in the America of today, it is unlikely that anyone is oblivious of the raging debate about a religious centre close to the former World Trade Centre buildings. Even those who didn’t believe in anything seem to have something to say about the project. It is like the issue of belief, tyranny and spirituality always manages to bring us together if only to disagree. Last week, I heard a news story of a New York cabbie getting stabbed by a passenger who said or thought he was Moslem, and nearly got him killed.

A few days ago, I heard that a friend of mine had told other people that I was moslem, maybe in jest, or maybe because she was confused after seeing me praise the architecture of the Abuja National Mosque on my blog. Eitherway, it was my response to this discovery that has made my question even my own liberal mindedness. I really won’t mind if anyone thought I was Hindu or Buddhist as long as I am sure that I am not. That’s what I thought, but I found myself vehemently denying the charge on the spot, and later asking a few others if they have harboured the same thought for a while or heard the same rumours. A few days later, after an amount of thinking, I’m wondering why there shouldn’t be a reason for me to have said “Oh, screw it. So what?” It should even have been possible to make stickers saying “I’m not moslem, but I could be if you wanted me to.” and put it all around my living space. The only problem with that would be the ignorant folks, like the New York stabber, who might consider me a good target practise for his bigoted rage.

So I’m thinking, if intolerance and fanaticism are vices, what about a kind of bigotry that might manifest as immediate and loud denials of claims as simple as a mismatching of religious belief? For – as I’ve found out – there is usually more to explain whenever someone in a conversation looks at the other in denial and screams, “Oh me? No never. I’m not a _________”.

Just thinking. It should make for interesting discussion.

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Summer People (II)

More.

Here we have, in alphabetical order,  Adunni, Ayo,  Bimbo, Bukkie, Damilola, Nikita, Olga, Olo, Peter, Rayo, Shaban, and Zainab.

Best of luck matching the names to the photos :) .

And what is it with the hands under the chin? There must be something on my face that elicits this kind of “wondering” reaction. Hmm.

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More Photos from the Festival

The Festival of Nations St. Louis is organized yearly by the International Institute.

Other attractions at this event includes henna booths, Chinese and Greek calligraphy stands and stands for African Hair braiding.

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The Festival of Nations

The annual International Festival of Nations took place yesterday and today at the Tower Grove Park, St. Louis.

It featured pavilions from all over the world with food, drinks, artworks, fashion items and souvenirs from those places being available for purchase. There were also live performances by artists and dancers from all over the world.

The food booths were from Afghanistan, Argentina, India, Bosnia, Brazil, Bulgaria, Burma, Canada, China, Eritrea, Ethiopia, the Philippines, Germany, Haiti, Isreal, Jamaica, Mexico, Nigeria, Peru, Poland, Puerto Rico, Romania, Scotland, Selegal, Thailand, Turkey, Vietnam, among many others.

Here are a few pictures from the event. I had just discovered that most of the pictures I’d taken were those of the African stands. I don’t know how that happened.

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Summer People (I)

Random images of people I met and interacted with during the summer.

Includes Anja, Rotji, Yun Hsin, Nneoma, Laitan, Ron, Jolaade, Papa Rudy, Chiedu, and Elizabeth in no particular order. One of those light-skinned beautiful women is my sister. Go figure.

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Ah, Ah, I’m home.

This is nothing but freaky. I’ve living “under the bridge” for the past one and a half weeks for very good reason. The student accommodation on campus was already overwhelmed with requests when I decided to return here that there was no single spot for me or for anyone else for that matter. Don’t get me wrong. This “under the bridge” accommodation came with free breakfast, lunch and dinner, free laundry, free movie night and a ton of free goodies and pampering that I can’t quantify. It’s been a kind of overwhelming love that is not only rare, but genuine and delightful, and I can not thank the Schaefers enough for that. But trying to get back into the campus, rather than the spoilt student, mode of existence required a space among real students and it became quite an ordeal. By the time I put down my name to the list of waiting applicants, I was on number twenty or something.

What’s freaky then is the call I got from University Housing a few days ago that went like this:

“Hey, is that…”
“Yes,” I replied. “It’s me.”
“I got good news for you. I’ve found you a space on campus.”
“Really? That’s super. Where is it?”
“It’s at Cougar Village.”
“What?”
“At 431.”
“You’re kidding.”
“And at your old room. The same place you were earlier when you came here. You can move in from tomorrow.”

How it happened, I have no idea except that some mischievous spirit has put a hand in returning me to a spot of very many interesting memories. Sitting down here now on my old bed with a view of the surrounding trees, I write a post that has been dying to be written. Ah, ah, I’m home, and it feels good to be back. Now, you mischievous spirit, please show yourself now or forever remain silent. :o .

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