ktravula – a travelogue!

the Nigerian Ghoul in an American Forest

Browsing the archives for the Fun category.

Re: Her First Story

When Jolaade read the post she asked “What of my second story? What do you wish for your brother mummy?”.

When I told her what I wish for you, she asked again “You don’t wish to buy any toy for him?”

And much later, “Mummy, if you are just 31 why did you marry somebody?”

She had told me a few weeks back that I am too young to be married!

What manner of 4 and a half year old is this?

This morning, she looked at the wedding picture “Yemi, you didn’t look like this when you had your wedding?”

Me: “How did I look on the wedding day?”

“You look like a princess in the picture, and Leke looks like a prince!”


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Re: Her First Story was published on March 9th, 2010, with the tags , under the Fun, Observations category. There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

International Hospitality Lunch

I spent the last weekend in some bliss which started on Friday with a lunch organized for visiting scholars by my University’s International Programme Office and the International Hospitality Programme. The International Programme Office handles everything that has to do with overseas scholarship and programmes while the International Hospitality Programme is comprised of a group of dedicated Senior Citizens of Edwardsville, some with and some without any academic link to the University, but all with a strong dedication over the years in making international students comfortable. Most of them have been doing it for decades without compensation, and without fail. They provide comfort and succor for students living miles away from home, and give them home away from home. They give counselling, they provide gifts as well as all needed support.

Present at the lunch were new visiting scholars from Albania and Azerbaijan, and a new visitor from the Kenneth Dike Library in Nigeria’s premier University, Francisca Okoroma.

The lunch, and the work of the International Hospitality Programme brings to fore the advantages and need for interdependence and social responsibility. The women and men who parent young students and scholars they’ve never known from parts of the world that they’ve never themselves visited take love, commitment, public service to such a new height. They claim to enjoy the experience, but to the many young ones who have studied in this part of the country over the years and benefited from this group, the dedication of the host parents is nothing short of a blessing. It is one more pleasant advantage of studying in this part of the country.

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International Hospitality Lunch was published on March 9th, 2010, with the tags , , , , , under the Fun, Observations, Opinion category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

Her First Story

A guest-post by Jolaade Adesanya

as narrated by Yemi Adesanya

She was extremely excited at the first mention of the request from uncle Kola, to write something for his blog. Then the big question came when it was time to settle down to it “why does he want me to write, mummy?”. “I think he wants to know what you think about different things.” “OK!”. She then began to tell me the different things she’d like him to know about – she loves babies (a neighbor has just delivered a baby girl, she is now a regular visitor to their home), she doesn’t like the school bus (mum/dad should take her to school instead), she doesn’t like yellow buses (they are always driving roughly), she loves her daddy and mummy!, and yes she loves herself, because she loves babies!

What goes on in a 4 yr old girl’s mind is beyond me, mine is always asking difficult questions, questions that leave you wondering if she is not some old woman re-incarnate. The latest question that got me wondering; “if someone is getting married, will they have the wedding in the girls mummy’s church?”.

Her story is as follows:

My name is Jojo, my uncle calls me that.

I love myself, I love my mummy, I love my daddy

I don’t like people driving rough

I like eating fried egg and yam

Mrs Oladimeji is always dozing in the class.

STOP

It was impossible convincing her to write her name, instead of Joojoo, she definitely wants uncle Kola to know the pet name given her by uncle Kunle!

She promised to continue writing this story, but for now, a road marker STOP marks the end.

_______________________

Jolaade Adesanya is my lovely four and a half year-old niece, and she writes from Lagos, Nigeria. The first mention of her on this blog was way back in August when I first went to Six Flags. You can read the entry here.

Yemi Adesanya is my accountant sister who works in Lagos and who has been a very  lovely, very dependable, and equally a very delightfully mischievous sibling. If you want to find her, head over here. Of course you may have to buy shoes or bags in the process. She sells them in her spare time instead of writing which, as you can see, could as well have been her vocation as well.

Jolaade’s picture courtesy of Chris Ogunlowo.

Let no one ask me why she chose to paint her face when the photo was about to be taken, or whether it is standard procedure for children of this age to paint their faces like that. You will have to figure it out for yourself :D

Have a nice weekend.

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Her First Story was published on March 5th, 2010, with the tags , , , , under the Fun, Opinion category. There are currently 5 comments on this article so far.

Household

I got home from school yesterday to find these post-it notes on my door. Ben had left them there.

I wrote my reply in red, and left the sheets on the door so that he can see it whenever he comes back. When I see him, I intend to inform him of how impressed I am at his resourcefulness since, as I know for a fact, I wasn’t the one who taught him pele (the Yoruba word for “I’m sorry/forgive me” ) and there is no other Yoruba person living in this building, or within a mile of our residence.

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Household was published on March 4th, 2010, with the tags , , under the Fun, adventures category. There are currently 9 comments on this article so far.

Marching On, Counting Down

This month officially begins the last three months or so of my Fulbright year, but not the end of this blog. Yes indeed, by sometimes in May this year I’d be done with teaching my delightful students how to pronounce Gbadamosi and kpangolo; or how to greet an adult they might meet on a dusty road in Surulere, Lagos; how to perform naming ceremonies after eight days of the child’s birth; or how to sing in Yoruba, or dance the bata dance; or how to beat a talking drum. In short, by sometimes in May 2010, I will be taking off these photos from my wall, packing my bags, auctioning my winter jacket and boots, returning my bicycle to my beloved host parent, and getting onto a home-bound plane. I’m excited. Well, not really but that’s not the point. :) My work here will be done by then, and I will be heading home.

In this month of March and beyond therefore, here are a few things I am looking forward to:

  • Re-issuing my first collection of poems Headfirst into the Meddle (first published in 2005) on Amazon. It will be available in both electronic and print editions.
  • Releasing a new book of photography, comprising of some of the best and/or memorable photos I’ve taken in the course of my stay here in the United States. The book – not being a full memoir – will only have some sparse notes beside each picture telling of the experiences that gave birth to the shots, but it will surely contain so many more things that I have never talked about on the blog. It will also be on Amazon and other online booksellers.
  • Getting published in one of the New York Times or The Washington Post. I don’t know why this is even important. Oh, screw it! :D
  • Wishing my mum a very special happy birthday.
  • Going on Spring break to a very cozy destination in the United States, if possible.
  • Featuring more interesting guest-posts on ktravula.com. I want to spend much of the remaining three months reading from others as much as I write. I think I deserve it too, :)  so if you are a writer, or a blogger, or just a passer-by with an opinion, an anecdote or something to share, let’s talk and you could be my next guest-blogger of the week.

Beside that, everything else is fine and as they should be. And oh, there is a new poll on the right side of this blog, to commemorate the coudntdown that has just begun. What do you think I should do with this blog as from May 2010?Close it? End the travelogue but keep it open for reading indefinitely? Keep writing on it even from Nigeria? Or turn it into a book? You can choose more than one options. I appreciate your taking the time to tell me what you think. And don’t despair, May is still so far away. :D And, your votes count.

And, one final thing. This post about meeting Paula Varsavsky has been updated to show a few things I learnt from the talk. I was too much in a hurry the last time to post pictures that I left out the essence of the talk. And yes, this blog KTravula.com is now avalable on the Kindle! If you do have a Kindle, you can now subscribe to this blog so that you can read wherever you go. Head over here to check it out, and do leave a few nice words of review about this blog there if you have the time. I will appreciate it. Thank you.

Enjoy, and have a pleasant month.

______________________

Picture taken in class last week at a drum-beating session. Used by permission.

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Marching On, Counting Down was published on March 1st, 2010, with the tags , , , , , , , under the Art, Fun, Observations, Soliloquy category. There are currently 6 comments on this article so far.

Nostalgia – A Not So Old Poem

Do men really feel or just believe? In wandering afterthoughts from your sonic alter-ego,
Love, my belly tickles to a distant bell in childhood paces around our childish lusts.
See me there on the streets of dustland, with heels on the playground of luckless rants.
.
Am I supposed to feel this way again, muse? Your voice spins me to a thousand memories.
I do not stir, nor does the droplets in my eye move beyond their range of steam. No. Muse,
I do not control this softness that drives me across a beaten path towards your taken arms.
.
It is the voice of the night, or else a green-eyed beacon that pushes these fingers to work, and
To stalk: “Traveller, your love has not always been without the crawl of blunt senseless drive.”
It is the delirious dope of distance then, or caprice, or a flighty strong wind of love’s nostalgia.
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Nostalgia – A Not So Old Poem was published on February 26th, 2010, with the tags , , , under the Art, Fun, Soliloquy category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

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