Browsing the archives for the adventures category.

Memories of Washington

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King Jnr Holiday in all the states of the US. It is a public holiday so school is closed. I don’t know if I like holidays a lot, but I can’t complain that I have got a chance to rest in preparation for work on Wednesday.

Today in memory of that youngest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and civil rights activist whose words, deeds and activism has challenged so many people across races, beliefs, age range and countries towards harmony, peace, quest for justice and non-violence, I am putting up these few photos that we took on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in December while we were in Washington.

It was on those steps in August 28, 1963 where Dr.King delivered his famous “I Have a Dream” speech. (See last image, obtained from Wikipedia images.)

My California

Here’s to folks in (according to number of hits) San Bernadino, Monterey, Los Angeles, Antioch, Mountain View, Davies, San Francisco, San Jose, Goleta, Hesperia, Brentwood, San Marcos, Alameda, Milpitas, Thousand Oaks, Palo Alto, San Mateo, Marina Del Rey, Downey, Beaumont, Emeryville, and Lynwood in the state of California. Hi to you 🙂

I don’t have to say that if I leave the United States without showing up in that state, I would feel incomplete indeed. I heard it’s hot there in the southern part of the state. How true is that? Do you have winters? What about snow? What are the beaches like? Is it true that you have nude beaches? Are everyone allowed in there? Are those allowed in there allowed to wear dark shades (to protect their eyes from the sun, of course)? How often do you run into Hollywood stars when you walk down the street? How often do you see movie cameras around? Can you go out one day without seeing a movie being shot? Is the state all it’s touted to be, the most liberal place in the country?

Well, my regards to Governor Schwartzenegger, the actor with a long name and a big chest, and to you as well for being there. It’s not like you can help that anyway 😉

Adventures in (Dis)honesty

There’s no reason why I should be impressed, really. This is how things should be in a normal society. But I guess that the event has sufficiently moved me to write about it only because a few months ago, an even far less careless slip had cost me so much more. What happened then was that I had gone to Six Flags for the first time, with friends, and at some point decided that I would join some of them in swimming. Now my small point-and-shoot Canon camera has always had a spot in its pouch around my waist. My belt always held it firm, and it was easier to bring out at the slightest notice of any memorable sight. Then I had to remove my jeans in public since none of us wanted to go into the locker rooms. We were all outside, beside a tall tree full of leaves. The process must have been: remove shoes, remove socks, unbuckle belt, unbuckle jeans, remove jeans, take everything off the ground and proceed to the pool. Approximately thirty seconds later, when I must havhollye taken not more than twenty steps from that spot, it struck me that my camera was missing, and there was only one place where it could have been: that spot outside the locker room. I went back there and it was missing, for good. I made a report, asked around, hoped and prayed, even searched Craigslist for lost items, but I didn’t get it back. It wasn’t so much for the camera but for the photos in it. In any case, there was no reason for me to have hoped that such a crowded public place like Six Flags would have been a safe place to leave a camera for that long, even for less than a minute. It kind of reminded me of some places in Lagos.

That could be why I may have been impressed when I arrived in class on Wednesday and found that my iPod earphones were still on the front table, exactly where I had forgotten to take it off from after the class on Monday. I have tried to rationalize it this way: the table is used mostly by Professors when they stand in front of the class, and it is not likely that any Professor would fancy a used $30 Apple earphone that doesn’t belong to them. I made a similar rationalization for the many students who had used the class between 3pm on Monday and 1.30pm on Wednesday, yet I did not doubt that a few of them must have noticed it lying there idly seemingly belonging to no one, and just ignored it. I should really not have been impressed. Nothing extraordinary has happened, right? Wrong. Right. I have no idea, but I am not taking up the challenge of my now mischievous self to make an experiment with my iPod classic. Place it carelessly in a public spot and come back after two days to see if it’s still there. That stuff cost me $250!

One of the very first things Papa Rudy told me the first day he gave me his bike to take home was this: “Never ever forget to lock the bicycle up whenever you’re outside, cos they’re gonna steal it. That’s why I’ve given you a lock with it.” He spoke in earnest and I did not doubt his conviction for a second that the bike would be stolen if I ever left it outside the house without fastening it properly with a solid lock. The second time I heard this kind of talk was from Holly Ruff, my friend the artist. It was Halloween night. According to her, all the times her bicycles had been stolen, it has always been on Halloween nights, and not always because she didn’t lock them properly. People always seemed bolder on that prank night that they get away, it seems, with anything. For that, she had warned me sternly to not think about coming out of the house with my bicycle – lock or no luck – for that one night. Last week when Mafoya and I went to the swimming pool with Ben, I went with a lock in my bag. But when we were putting our stuff in the available lockers in the gymnasium locker room, Ben looked at me calmly and said, “You don’t have to worry about that. Nobody’ll mess with your shit,” and I sighed, then smiled. My “shit” included a passport, an iPod, my wallet and cards, my camera and some cash, so I shrugged and locked it firmly away anyway. It felt better to be safe than sorry, but we both came back to find our things still intact. I remember having lost my bike helmet on campus more than two times since August. I always found it at the same spot where I left it, untouched. It might be safe to say that this campus environment is generally a safe one for personal items.

The last time it snowed here, I had gone out for a walk behind my apartment when I noticed a mobile phone in the snow around a series of small footsteps that went out towards the parking lot. Nobody else in sight, and the phone wasting away in the snow, I picked it up and took it into my apartment. Later in the evening, I told Mafoya about it, and we both waited for the owner to show up. He did about seven days later while I was out, and was very grateful that someone had kept his mobile phone for him even though he had no idea where he had lost it. He was a teenager or so. Now, I wonder whether, like me at the sight of my earphones lying there on the table, he was impressed that nobody had taken the item and made it theirs. Perhaps he was relieved, and grateful, that it didn’t take him too long to locate his property after countless calls to the number and no one answering. (I’d left it in the living room and I always missed the calls, not deliberately.) Or perhaps he took it for granted as a contented citizen, believer in the power of good: “Nobody needs another person’s phone anyway. This is America. Everyone has their own mobile phones…

I would never know, because I never met him.

Do You Speak English?

If I were to rank all the awkward questions that I’ve been asked since I came here, I’d rate this one the highest: “Do you speak English in Nigeria?”, along with its many variants of “How do you learn to speak this well/this fluently?” and “I like your accent.” I have got inured to its silliness over time, and learnt to enjoy it as a compliment whenever I hear it. So I respond instead with “Oh, thank you.” Sometimes for effect, I also add “Oh, I like your accent too” just to relish the priceless expression of shock or incredulity that immediately shows on the face of the person to which it’s directed. “Who? Me? What do you mean that I have an accent? I’m American…” as if accents were either a disease, or only one person’s idiosyncrasy. I have realized that many people, even in the university (well, not students of language), do not know that there are many accents of American English, depending on where one resides. St. Louis English accent is definitely different sounding from Boston accent, Chicago accent or Mississippi accent that all have their own peculiarities of more than just pronunciation but also grammar. In any case, whenever I’m bored, I occasionally like to relish the pleasure of trying to distinguish accents and speech peculiarities. It’s not easy for me, needless to say, since I’ve not lived in the United States for more than just four months.

Away from accents for a little while. Less than two weeks ago, I was sitting in a bus stop at 5th and Missouri Metrolink train station waiting for the scheduled bus to take me from there back to Collinsville, and later to Edwardsville. Those familiar with the area would know how dangerous it could be at certain times of the day. It is in a part of Illinois called East St. Louis, just on the border of the state. It was evening, and it was cold. There were people around, but it didn’t give me any illusion of safety even as I put my iPod on and listened to some calming music. I was alert. There was a young African-American woman sitting beside me on the bench in the bus stop. A few seconds later, a young African-American man in sagged jeans and with a really loud phone, of perhaps around 24-25, who I’d seen prancing around talking to everyone passing by even when they didn’t stop to give him audience came towards me and said something. He was addressing me. I was listening to some of Fela’s best ballads. He was talking. I heard him clearly, but I didn’t pick out what he said, so I removed the earplugs and looked at him. I didn’t smile. He repeated what he was saying, and I still didn’t understand it, yet it sounded vaguely like English, so I gave up. I asked him to say it again and he did, for the last time. As she saw that I honestly didn’t understand him, the lady beside me looked at the young man and said “No, he don’t smoke/have weed.” What? That was what he’d been asking me (and the many other people) all the while, whether I had marijuana to share? Good Lord have mercy. Why didn’t he just say so in English? Well, he eventually left because I immediately turned my attention back to my music, and ignored his presence. Yet in me I wondered what would have happened if I’d said more than a sentence, and he’d discovered that I was not American, but an African with a heavy/strange English accent. Would that have made me a bigger target for mugging? There was a laptop in my bag, and there were my debit cards, along with my iPod and mobile phone. And my distinguished Nigerian passport. As I got on the bus a few long minutes later, I understood why George Bernard Shaw said that Britain and America are two countries divided by a common language.

And so today – thanks to patience, persistence, and prayers – I checked my account balance to find that my money has been refunded. Thanks providence. However, the part of it that inspired this post was in the email response I got from the bank representatives. I had sent them a complaint in an email, stating that I had made a transaction on Monday to the tune of a thousand dollars. From the response I got back, I have found out that it may be possible that American English doesn’t have any such expression as “to the tune of” in their language. Is this the case? I don’t think so too, but even if it is not, it doesn’t remove from the fact that Bernard Shaw could have been right after all.

Please read. It’s unedited, except for my account balance ;).

Dear KT, Thank you for contacting customer service. With reference to your e-mail, we regret to inform you that we do not see a transaction of over thousand dollars for “the tune” but there was a transaction on hold from SIUE Bursar’s Office, EDWARDSVILLE, IL, for $1,057.87 on 04th January 2010. This amount is already credited back to your account on 08th January 2010 and your current balance is $xxxx.xx. Whenever a transaction is on hold and if the merchant does not approve the transaction then the amount is released back to your account in 3-5 working days. Regards JP Morgan.

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.