ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing the archives for the Observations category.

The Gold Coin

dollar Yesterday, I discovered the American gold coin called the dollar. No, not the paper dollar bill, but a coin. I’ve been here for over three months and can’t believe that I never encountered the dollar coin in all this while. It is fascinating, especially for someone like me who has liked to pride himself as a relentless numismatist – a collector of coins.

25kobo I remember the first coin that ever fascinated me. It was the old 25kobo coin of Nigeria’s late 80s. Along with other coin denominations of 10k, 5k and 50k, the 25k coin had a very interesting significance for me perhaps because of the engraved symbols on it that looked like blisters on a black man’s hand. The coin was brown, made from brass, I think, and different from all the other coins that were made of silver. On it was the embossed image of the Kano groundnut pyramids of the 60s as well as groundnut seeds. On the coins, the pyramids looked just like little cones, but in larger pictures, they showed a concrete symbol of industry and hardwork with strong men moving huge sack produces of their all-year round labour. And although the images never really inspired me to pursue agriculture, there was always something very moving about staring at the image of the mammoth structure built from stacked sacks of annually harvested groundnut (peanut) from the land awaiting exportation to the corners of the globe. Those were the times of our great prosperity, when Nigeria was totally self-sufficient, just before oil was discovered in large quantity and everyone went around to sitting on their asses in government offices, waiting for their piece of the “national cake”. I never did ask exactly how the groundnut pyramids were eventually transported, or how many sacks/bags of groundnut made a pyramid, but looking at more than scores of man-made mammoth mounds of harvested food sitting around the northern deserts stamped in my mind an image that has refused to shake for over twenty years. And the 25kobo coin has always remained my favourite of all the coins made in Nigeria. Of course, today at home, no one spends the coins anymore even though there has never been any official pronunciation declaring them no longer fit for transaction. My University in Ibadan has remained the only place in the country where taxi drivers (and them alone) still collect coins in exchange for services. The twenty-five kobo bronze coins have by now been relegated to the dustbins of our profligate history.

dollar2 The dollar coin that I saw has the image of James Monroe, the 5th president, on one side, and the statue of Liberty on the other. A quick search through Google has now shown me that there actually have been several issues of the currency bearing several different president’s images. I don’t know why the coin is not is much circulation, but I know for a fact that, unlike in my wasteful country, this coin is actually a legal tender acceptable by everyone and at every vending machine. I know this because when Tola put it in the machine yesterday, it gave me my Mountain Dew and returned the right amount of change. So what exactly is wrong with Nigeria? I mean, besides profligacy!

I Miss Her Too

One of the hardest punches of exile for those who choose it above the shackles of hopelessness and the frustration of home must be loneliness, and perhaps a certain pull towards old sources of their romantic filling. I believe it now. The mind wanders, wondering what must it be like for them, the travellers running away from fiery dictators, while risking the lives of their families still left in the jaws of the fiery dragon. Even for those with breaking or troubled families, the pain of distance could be a sure enough catalyst for at least a kind of shared grief and shared catharsis sufficient to sustain their bond across space and time.

So besides regular phone calls, text messages and long nights in the reverie of the good old times, how else does a traveller stay in touch with the feelings of what once rocked his heart with a certain kind of joy from his distant beloved? And for those on the other side of the ocean, just what sustains that drive beyond memories, hope and pride. When does temptation overtake common sense and the flood of personal desires drive the once resolute into the throes of restless passion, reckless or relaxed experimentation?

I’m not in exile thankfully, yet my case is hardly different from those far from home on causes sometimes beyond their conscious control. I am a man, thankfully also human, which could explain why food is not the only reason why I could be missing my home tonight.

10 Reasons To Not Speak Your Native Language in America

This post is a flipside part of my monthly “10 Reasons” blog argument. The first part of the argument is HERE, and you should probably read it first.

10. People feel uncomfortable when you speak a “strange” language around them.

9. If you don’t already know how to speak it, or speak it correctly, how would you speak it?

8. English already has enough speakers? Perhaps not enough. And in any case, how many people understand your “African” language?

7. You could be mistaken for a terrorist.

6. If you’re gonna be in America for a long time, you may as well put the language in a safe cooler.

5. It brings you close to those who share your background and cultural similarity? Yes, but do they want to be close to you on the basis of language? Not really.

4. According to a new research finding, the new generation will rebel against your language use anyway, so what’s the point.

3. The American diversity includes only basically one other language. And it’s Spanish.

2. It’s not always easy to speak, if one thinks in English most of the time.

1. Nobody cares.

Bye bye November

10 Reasons To Speak Your Native Language in America

10. You can exclude other people whenever you want.

9. You can learn it without having to pay money, so why not?

8. English already has enough speakers.

7. There’s no better way to be unique in a strange land.

6. It gives you practise, because if you don’t use it, you lose it.

5. It brings you close to those who share your background and cultural similarity.

4. You are sustaining a cultural legacy onto a new generation.

3. It encourages/promotes diversity.

2. It’s easier to speak.

1. It shows that you’re still in touch with “home”.

This Week

Class is winding down in three weeks’ time, but in my case, work will officially close on Monday the 7th of December when all assignments and essays are due for submission. For the final paper, the students have been given two distinct essays to write. The first one – which is unrelated to an anonymous teacher assessment form that they will all have to complete about me anyway at the end of the term – is a standard sized essay which must detail their most memorable experiences in the Yoruba language class. Their essay must say what they learnt, what they wished they had learnt, what their expectations were at the beginning of the course and whether or not it had been met by the end, what they liked and what they hated about the course and about learning the language and culture. They have been given the liberty to be free with whatever they express, but they must write something, and it counts for their assessment, I said.

The second essay, which is mostly academic is a short story that has been decided on as the main final examination. In the beginning of the course, I had made them read a short story titled “Why Atide is Talking To A Coin” by Anja Choon, and write an essay on what they learnt from it. The story is one written by a German friend of mine for her Yoruba language and culture course under Karin Barber in Birmingham, and it gave me a tour of the students’ mind about how they perceived the culture. Since then of course, we have also completed summaries of Toyin Falola’s A Mouth Sweeter Than Salt, an autobiographical novel this time written by a Yoruba man about experiences growing up in Nigeria of the 60s and 7os. The short stories previously submitted by my students but which I have now returned to them with my notes of correction all detail their own imaginative truths about Yoruba people, expressed in nine individual interesting short stories. They are as diverse as they are original. Though written in English, the instructions were followed that the characters must bear Yoruba names, must use a few Yoruba expressions that must be explained in the glossary, and must express Yoruba cultural sensibilities either in dressing or in demeanour. All I wait to receive now on the last day of class is their final draft and corrections of the stories, which I have also promised them to keep close to me as valuable materials from an unforgettable experience. What would be better – as I told them as well – is to discuss with the head of department about the possibility of making the nine stories into a book, a sort of “Collection of Yoruba Stories from an American Yoruba Language Class”. I like the idea, and they liked it too.

Meanwhile the standard anonymous teacher assessment questionnaire is a regular part of the academic review exercise at the end of the American school term which includes students having to say what they felt about the course, the teacher and the whole learning experience. It would be anonymous so that students are free to say what they feel without fear of future victimization. It always plays a part in deciding whether a member of staff is retained or dropped next year, the teacher in question will also have access to the questionnaire at least to see how his students perceive him. I like the idea, and I think that if the Nigerian educational system would adopt it, there would be less victimization, negligence and random lassitude in our educational system as we have now. No Professor will take his/her student for granted if s/he knows that they are the part of the overall deciders of his future position in that place of work.

But until Monday the 7th, I have two more classes to teach where I may or may not tell them about this blog. Now that they will no more be my students, they might need something to keep in touch with my ideas and progress, especially now that I’ve put on hold till 2010 every of their Facebook friendship request intentions.

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