ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing the archives for the Observations category.

On Mail, Books and Names

Here are my preliminary observations on George Carlin’s famous book, Brain Droppings which I received today: It’s written in a way that makes each of the eccentric, penetrating and irreverent observations of the author very accessible on demand. I’ve just opened randomly to page 122, and here’s what I see under the title, NAME IT AS IT IS:

“The words Fire Department make it sound that they’re the ones starting the fires, doesn’t it? It should be called the “Extinguishing Department.” We don’t call the police the “Crime Department.” Also, the “Bomb Squad” sounds like a terrorist gang. The same is true for wrinkle cream. Doesn’t it sound like it causes wrinkles? And why would a doctor prescribe pain pills? I already have pain! I need relief pills!”

Classic Carlin! There are very many other topics and short sub-headings of this kind in the book where George Carlin takes on the many issues on religion, language, and almost everything under the sun. The comedian always had a fascinating take on the English language particularly, and its many inherent contradictions as a critical part of his act, which made me believe that if only he had talent for playwriting instead, he might have become another George Bernard Shaw who – being also Irish – also pushed the boundaries of acceptability, questioned dogmas and poked fun at the use of language.

These new books from Amazon are going to be my new companions for the next couple of days, rather than the very many stations on American television. On that, I should say that I’ve never had so many stations to choose from whenever I sit down idly in the living room to watch television. A few other books littering my room at the moment are Larry King’s My Remarkable Journey, Nancy Friday’s Woman on Top, Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, Igoni Barett’s From the Cave of Rotten Teeth, Kurt Vonnegut’s Bluebeard, VS Naipaul’s Miguel Street and The Mystic Masseur, and Chimamanda Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus which I never seemed to be able to read beyond the first page, quite unexplainably (little wonder that her Half of A Yellow Sun is my favourite of her works.)

I’ve always loved receiving packages in the mail, especially ones with my name on them – even if it’s not correctly spelt. When I got one today from UPS, the dispatcher looked at my last name again, she remarked, “How on earth do you pronounce your last name?” Then she went online immediately afterwards, and recorded my name as OLATABUSUN! Well, I should have paid more attention to her uncomfortable whimper while I tried to pronounce it to her! No, I won’t be changing the spelling of my last name anytime soon. Not before the Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger changes his; and his name is longer than mine.

New Lessons

A few minutes ago, I concluded a chat with a French student in this University (on a different but similar international programme) who told me that I had done the abominable by putting my red wine in the refrigerator. “If you were in France,” she said, “you’d be thrown out of the country by now!” Oh, the French!

Checking my post mailbox this morning, I found an envelope postmarked from Pennsylvania. Since I wasn’t expecting anything so soon, I was surprised to discover in it Wole Soyinka’s Collected Plays 2. I had indeed ordered it a few days earlier from Amazon alongside books by George Carlin and William Shatner. That was fast delivery! The book wasn’t new, but it was in very good condition. Back in Nigeria, Amazon was never my friend since I didn’t have a credit card, and they won’t ship goods to Nigeria anyway. The book contained The Lion and the Jewel, Kongi’s Harvest, The Trials of Brother Jero, Jero’s Metamorphosis and Madmen and Specialists, that last one being an all-time favourite.

Today we saw the Chimamanda Adichie TED video talk in class for the first time. As I remarked to a Nigerian friend afterwards, the video was lovely, but in the end it wasn’t spectacular. I think I must have expected too much a response from the students, although in the end, I’m sure they were able to understand and appreciate Ms Adichie’s valid points in a way that they found interesting, and in a way to which they could relate. My own initial response to the talk, which was pride and exhilaration the first time I saw it, was – as I realize it now – because I’m Nigerian and, seeing her speak to such an international audience filled me with such pride. Why it did so, I can’t explain now. She hasn’t said anything new, but she has used many new ways to illustrate it. And that’s always a good thing.

Later in class, as I was about to receive a usb flash disk from a student who wanted to submit her Yoruba audio recording assignment, I felt an electric spark when I collected the disk. I was alarmed, until the other students told me it’s normal, calling it a “static” current. (Wikipedia calls it “the buildup of electric charge on the surface of objects” which is either bled “off to ground or are quickly neutralized by a discharge”). A few minutes later when I gave the flash disk back to her, it happened again just as our hands made contact, and I “freaked out”, to use American colloquial expression of shock and disbelief. That was one thing I have never experienced before, but I have no doubt that it exists, perhaps even in Nigeria, and all over the world, but I’ve never heard any personal stories. According to a few more people that I’ve asked, this is a rather common phenomenon in America which comes into play when one of the contact persons has spent much time making bodily friction with the floor with their feet or body, they are indeed capable of conducting electricity. I find that strange. I’m surely not touching anyone again soon. Time to go back to receiving assignments through email.

I miss home!

Yesterday

These are a few random pictures from the Le Claire Festival at Edwardsville Park, yesterday, just by the beautiful fountain lake.

If my computer quits misbehaving, I’d put up some more pictures from the event which included a book fair/cheap book sales, live music, outdoor eating and barbecue, popcorn and exhibition of historical materials, photos and artworks.

On the Mid-Term Test

The test of students’ progress is not always as tricky if one is lucky to have listened to the students beforehand and to have understood what they are used to and what they are not. In most cases, as long as the teacher knows that his purpose in the test is not just to surprise and attack but to monitor his own progress, there would be less tears and heartbreaks when the day is over.

A few days before our mid-term test, I had given the students a list of areas to focus on, as well as how exactly to answer specific type of questions. There should be no one-word answers to questions requiring full sentence responses. There would be extra credit points for those who put the correct tone marks where necessary. There would be questions on personal introduction, identifying objects, numbers and greetings. And lastly, they should go over virtually everything we had learnt in class. After all, it was supposed to be a test of ability as well as hard work.

Beside the thirty questions that covered all we had learnt in class, there were also five extra-credit questions meant to help whomever needed it to get their grades up, and the questions there included “Kíni orúkọ olùkọ rẹ?”, “What is your adopted Yoruba name, and its meaning”, “Who is the author of the class novel ‘A Mouth Sweeter Than Salt’”, “Where was Suzanne Wenger originally from?” and “What’s the word for ‘zero’ in Yoruba?.

I have now finished marking (or scoring/grading in American English) the tests, and beside an overwhelming joy at how good they performed, I have made a few prominent observations:

That none of them remembered my surname. It must have either been too long to remember.
That many of them spelt “Good Afternoon” as “kassan” instead of “kaasan”. I’ve now told them that Yoruba does not have consonant clusters. That’s why when the word “brother” enters the language, it is pronounced as bùrọdá.
That only a few of them knew the name of the author of the class novel. A few more remembered only the first name and not the surname, while a few knew the surname but couldn’t spell it.
That everyone remembered the Yoruba word for “zero”.
That some of the students studied beyond what they were taught in class. A case in point: even though I didn’t ask for plurals, a student responded to a question on identifying pens as “èyí ni awọn gègé.” (trans: here are some pens). I found that very impressive, and she was rewarded extra for it.
That almost a quarter of the class didn’t remember their adopted Yoruba names, and half of those who did had forgotten the meaning. It was sure that they were not expecting to be asked about this in the exam.
That some students would just NOT read the instructions on the exam question paper no matter how many times they’re told to do so, and notwithstanding the same instruction having been previously stressed again in the exam review materials.
That there is always one student in class who would not perform well no matter how much help the teacher gives. S/he is either just lazy, or dull. The problem is, they are the ones who do not speak up when they don’t understand, for fear of being too prominent, when they should ordinarily be the most vocal.

I have my work cut out for me for the next half of the term.

Random Pic

Seen on an office door at Principia College, Elsah Illinois.

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