Browsing the archives for the Observations category.
Pictures of some of the most heartbreaking of the sites. These are the mild ones. The worst ones featured wrecked, torpedoed cars and total levellings of several huge buildings, and homes.
The pictures were taken around Range Line Road where most of the damage took place over a large expanse of land area.
A picture may be worth a thousand words, but none of these appropriately captures just how bad it is.
Sleepy-eyed after a long day, here are a few shots of the day’s work. The site is a private house/ranch, one of the ones that were ravaged by the storm down to the ground. The owner – present to meet with us – is a man of about seventy-five years old.
The task was to demolish what could be demolished, separate planks of wood from roofing sheets that have been crumbled into a pile, and make the compound at least more navigable until the fire department comes around to burn what could be burnt.
Through the hot morning until the eventually cool evening, we moved sheets, broke wood, threw debris, heaved crowbars at dead joints and leveled the initially formidable pile of debris onto the ground. Two torn shirts, one dead pair of gloves, a dirty pair of pants and ten hurting toes later, here I am. We’ve done what we came here for although there is plenty, plenty more to do elsewhere around the town. The work would not end in one day, or even in a year. But for today, one house is set for re-building, almost.
We arrived in Joplin, a town at the southernmost part of Missouri a few miles from the state line, a few hours ago. Here it was where over 200 people were declared dead or lost from the EF-5 tornado of a few weeks ago. I’m in company of two friends, and we have come to join the volunteer efforts of a non-profit organization ServiceInternational.org along with several other volunteers from around the country.
The ride from school to this place took four hours and thirty-five minutes, and it took us virtually through the state itself, covering about 300 miles. We will be here till Sunday helping move debris, giving a hand to US Marine Corps helping with reconstruction, and generally being of help to the numerous folks on the ground helping to get this community back on its feet. It promises to be a satisfying, and learning experience.
I’ll try to post pictures as often as I can, but won’t promise. I will however tweet short observations through my phone as much as I can, so follow me on twitter.Tomorrow will be a long day in the field.
I want to be able to talk about the field of Second Language Acquisition, my encounter with it last semester, and how much the questions it raises are more than the answers it provides. I am back into reading extensive materials in the field many of which didn’t make as much of a dent as they should have during that first encounter. I won’t now, not just because my knowledge is not yet as comprehensive as it should, and that a carry-over from a daunting first encounter is unhelpful in allowing me open up more to its possibilities, but also because I’m afraid of misrepresenting the extent and influence of what I already know. My MA thesis will have very much to do with SLA and I need all the concentration I can get.
But talking about what I’m doing always helps, as I have found out. Having less time to travel around the country discovering places now like I did before, all I have now is my research and the hard work of creating relevance in a field that gives me the freedom to think, and the tools to make a difference. This time, I’m looking at tonal acquisition. The fact that not much has been done in the area so far is also as positive as it is challenging. So while the research process begins to take shape, let’s see what Krashen and Chomsky have to say again.
Driving in a dry warm weather through a whiff of air that smells like harmattan and its burnt grass flavour, he heads to school. This is the standard. There are other freedoms along the way: a chance to walk a quiet neighbourhood at night with a coon cat on a leash with a few random stares by those who had never seen anyone of that height and/or complexion in that side of town in a long time, and greeting nods from those who had, or who know him as the new stranger in the big house. An always wonderful evening meal with an amazing family, and after-conversations ranging from events, to issues, to life, and to time.
On the last day of December, 1983 – you were too small to remember – we were stuck at the border point between Benin and Nigeria trying to get back into the country after having traversed the West African coastline visiting very nice places. The Benin border patrols had cleared us but the Nigerian folks won’t let us in. They said there had been a change of government… And the Beninoise then refused to let us back in their country as soon as we got back there… Has anything changed now?
Sitting on the wooden deck out in the warm evening breeze, he looks down into the woods where trees of varying heights and shades go on and on onto a house farther down where no one had ever been. Some people used to live there. On the closer trees are bird feeders filled with sunflower seeds. Father showed him how to add more to it whenever it finished. The squirrels spend much of their times there. Chipmunks also come whenever the sound of hawks are not close by. With little pouches under their necks, they look almost as their exaggerated depictions in those animated movies. A robin came in once along with a little one. Hummingbirds offer a most surprising sight, wheezing in and out of sight like extra large honeybees. The cardinals are the most beautiful, with red crested heads and feathers and a certain grace, all giving the evening a flavour of more than just their sounds.
Whenever the amazing tune of life gets stuck in the mucky throat of over-excitement or even oversimplification, the deck offers comfort, along with the other perks of homeliness. Then everything is all right again.
