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

Update on KTravulAID for Jos/Haiti

Apologies to all concerned readers of this blog who had wanted to make donations to the Red Cross in Nigeria for the Jos Relief efforts but couldn’t do so because of the problems of wire transfer. I take part of the blame for not making the best suggestions. Here now is my best idea since I found out today that wire transfer costs up to $50 in charges from the US to Nigeria. It hardly makes sense. If you want to donate to the Jos relief efforts by the Red Cross in Nigeria, please make said donations through Western Union to a reliable friend/acquaintance in Nigeria and have them pay the money into the Access bank account on your behalf. Then let them scan and send to you a proof of said payment, and we can take it from there. For those already in Nigeria, all you have to do is just to walk up to Access Bank Plc, and make your donations. The account information again is as follows:

ACCESS BANK PLC

ACCOUNT NAME: NIG. REDCROSS SOCIETY – JOS CRISIS RELIEF FUND

ACCOUNT NAME: 0430010005230

SORT CODE: 044080439

BRANCH: ADETOKUNBO ADEMOLA BRANCH, ABUJA

However, if you are an American and you do not have any Nigerian to send the money to, please leave me a comment here publicly, and send me a mail to let me know, and I will send you an my account number to send it to. Then I can send it home via Western Union and have someone pay it on your behalf.

So far, here is the breakdown of how much we have raised:

$145 from an anonymous in Illinois, who actually planned to donate $100, but due to bank wire charges, she ended up parting with $145 at the Bank of America. The money should be in Jos by now.

$80 from Clarissa my wonderful colleague at Edwardsville.

$50 from Tayo in Lagos for whom I may have to bring her artwork by hand when my time eventually runs out in this charming little town.

And finally, LaurensOnline.com, a shoe and bag-selling outfit in Lagos Nigeria has volunteered to sell all items from now till the end of stock at 20% off if you show proof of donation of any amount to the relief effort in Jos Nigeria. All you need to do is show such proof, and you get 20% off of your purchases. Without such proof, you still get a 10% off. So what are you waiting for? If you live in Lagos, find them for your Valentine purchases of shoes, bags and beads. My now famous boots are courtesy of them, so I know they sell quality.

This brings us to a gross total of $275 and a net of $230 so far raised. To all contributors, we say a big THANK YOU.

However, this offer to give free KTravularts will end with the month of February. If you are interested in the offer still, please hurry and make your donations now. Read details here.

“Exploring Yoruba through American Eyes”

  • I don’t usually write the word “Programme” as “Program.”

The long process that became today’s presentation began a little over a week ago when Prof Tom Lavalle, a professor of Chinese language and literature sent me a mail asking if I would be willing to kick off the “Discover Languages Month”  with a public presentation. I said yes. He asked me to suggest a title, and I did. He liked it. I didn’t have too much time to plan for it however, which would explain why I had spent a few nights sleepless putting everything in form. For this, I also owe credits to the pictures on my room wall who listened to my mock pre-presentation, and to Deola, Zainab, Tayo and Chris who offered valuable suggestions after previewing the presentation. I also thank Clarissa who sat gently and almost anonymously at the back, smiling at almost everything I said, and blogging 🙂 but whose presence along with that of other colleagues and friends gave me the needed encouragement; and Belinda Carstens, my head of department who barraged me with questions when necessary, thus inevitably pointing me to a few things I seemed to have been taking for granted talking to a people from a different background.

  • My undergraduate project in the University was called “The Multimedia Dictionary of Yoruba Names.”

One of the most intriguing discussion from the talk came during the realization by a few members of the audience that we still had kings in Nigeria, within Yoruba kingdoms. “Are they all monarchies?” Someone asked. “No,” I said, and went into a long explanation about the peculiar (and prehistoric) republican nature of the kingship system in Ibadan in sharp contrast with the rest of Yoruba kingdoms in Oyo, Ife and elsewhere. Even to me, that was a moment of personal reflection and pride in the accomplishment of Ibadan ancestors who broke with tradition long before the British came, and did away with a succession system of government that is based on heredity like is practised in Oyo or Ife for a more meritocratic system based on long-standing and verifiable contribution to the society. Even at the end of the talk, a few more scholars came over to talk to me and ask questions about the kingship system. The kings, we discussed, do not have political powers as such in the country, but do occupy a status of responsibility that makes them indispensable in the proper governance of the country. There was also a question about spirituality. This elicited a response in reaffirmation of the Yoruba worldview: that which has never sought to impose its belief system on any other group of people for any reason. We had fought wars for women, for land, but never ever to spread a system of belief or to proselytize to our own way of life.

  • Do you have Six Flags in “Yorubaland”?

So there was food, plantain chips. There were over forty people in the audience, many of them standing. I saw a few old students in the audience, and a few current ones as well. How the old students knew about the event, I have no idea. Professor (Papa) Rudy showed up as well. It was my first time of seeing him this year. Also present was Prof Schaefer, professor of Linguistics, and SIUE Director of International Programmes who is no stranger to Nigeria himself, having taught at UNIBEN for many years and worked on the Edo language of Emai for a long time. I spoke about the mark on my face. I also spoke about the noted similarities between the Opa Oranmiyan and the Washington Monument; and about why I wear the cap in the United States even though I never did while I was in Nigeria; and about the meaning of names; and about masquerades, Lagbaja and the KKK (a little uncomfortable for me to broach); about Wole Soyinka and the many things he wrote about; among other topics. And then read a translated poem about The Owner of Yam and his Neighbour, which everyone seemed to have loved.

  • Is “Yorubaland” like Disneyland?

It was nice. I had fun. I’m guessing that from the response there will be more students next year registering for the Yoruba if the Fulbright commission decides to send more Yoruba teachers to this institution. I have also been told by professors whose students came to listen that they would be discussing what they learnt from the talk in their subsequent classes, and on Facebook groups created for the discussion of language ideas. I look forward to getting feedbacks from there. I enjoyed the talk. It was a nice but busy day. And oh, I also got the side pocket of my dress badly torn by a loose metal during the first jittery moments of sitting alone in front of the so large audience. Now I’ll need to find a good tailor to mend it, or leave it as a marker of this interesting speech-giving experience.

Well, there’s the report. I am glad to be here at this department of foreign languages at this point in time. You too should have been there.

  • Q: Why learn a new language? Why learn about a new culture?  A: The same reason why we learn anything new… to acquire new ways of interacting with the world around us.

Famine – An Excerpt

Stolen from the text of today’s presentation titled “Exploring Yoruba Culture Through American Eyes”, about to begin.


The realities of life are not to be evaded. Rather, they are celebrated, even the negative or unpleasant. Appeasement? Magic, perhaps? No matter. Challenges are thus acknowledged and countered, often with humour, (and) certainly with resolve.

Famine

The owner of yam peels his yam in the house. A neighbor knocks on the door. The owner of yam throws his yam in the bedroom. The neighbor says “I just heard the sound kr kr that’s why I came.”

The owner of yam says, “Oh, that was nothing. I was sharpening two knives.”

The neighbor says again, “I still heard something like gbi sound behind your door.”

The owner of yam says, “I merely tried my door with a mallet.”

The neighbor says again, “What about this huge fire burning in your hut?”

The fellow replies, “I’m merely warming water for my bath!”

The neighbor persists, “Why is your skin all white when it is not the harmattan season.”

The fellow is ready with his reply, “I was rolling on the floor when I heard of the death of Agadagbidi.

Then the neighbor says, “peace be with you”

Then the owner of yam starts to shout: “THERE CAN’T BE PEACE UNTIL THE OWNER OF FOOD IS ALLOWED TO EAT HIS OWN FOOD!”

As translated by Ulli Beier and performed by Wole Soyinka

On Growing Up

I’ve not always been this tall. No, not at all. It has often amazed me too when people look at me more than once and, without being able to help themselves, blurt out their thoughts in the words of “Oh, you’re so tall,” or as I’ve heard from so many familiar people who have indeed seen me a countless number of times, “Oh K, you were not this tall the last time I saw you!” Now, that is sometimes either annoying or intriguing, depending on my mood when I hear it, but my response to them has always been the same within rumbles of laughter: “Oh, nevermind,” I say, “It’s because of these new shoes I’m wearing.” But it has always been a little more than intriguing, not about the fact that I’m growing taller – I am not. I’ve stopped growing since over seven years ago, I believe – but because I was not always this tall. In actual fact, I was quite a smallish person in my secondary school. Those who went to the school with me will gladly corroborate this fact, and this common argument within us friends that I would never be able to drive a car because I won’t be able to see the road ahead of me. Needless to say, most of them are now almost just half as tall as I am. History is on my side. Hurrah for gravity! 🙂

What a Wonderful World

This video of the song by Louis Armstrong is one of my best of all times, for obvious reasons: it shows Sachmo himself singing his most famous tune live on stage. I’ve heard the song remade by so many people from Rod Stewart to Michael Bublé, but nothing beats the deep baritone of the father of Jazz.

The song’s lyrics however is another matter, as much as they speak of hope, of beauty and the wonderful world we have. Against the background of wars, natural disasters, diseases, and people killing each other for no just reason, it is very hard to sing this today without a sense of irony. I saw a video yesterday of a bunch of apparently drunk Nigerian soldiers shooting captured but unarmed civilians to death in one of the latest ethnic crises in the country. Why, I wonder now, is hope and optimism so very hard to conjur. It is a wonderful world, yes? But since when? And for whom?

Enjoy the song and ignore my attempt to drag you into my own contemplations.