ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing the archives for the Opinion category.

On the Demise of Decorum

2015-12-07 08.37.49 I realised, on my way back from the coronation of the Ọọ̀ni of Ifẹ, last Sunday, that I’ve never attended a properly-planned public event in this country as an adult. Be it a wedding, a naming, or an engagement ceremony, or even an official governmental or artistic event, the evidence from my trip down memory lane has left plenty to be desired, particularly as regards planning and implementation. True a few have come very close to proper organisation, but they have been too far in-between to be the norm. Either we Nigerians are terrible event planners in general or we are just terrible audiences of otherwise well-planned events, both leading to undesirable consequences.

First, the invitation card to the coronation of the spiritual head of the Yorùbá people had shamefully incorrect diacritics on the names of the new king – an unforgivable faux pas tolerable only because of our erstwhile collective tolerance of that kind of cultural laxity and mediocrity. Heck, we are numb already to books and newspapers printing Yorùbá (or Igbo) names without appropriate tone-marks, even when the editor of such publication claims to be an educated Nigerian individual. In an alternate universe, whoever was in charge of this royal invitation would be fired, pilloried, and barred from any future participation in any cultural events relating to the king. But our “educated” newspaper and book editors still collect salaries while putting their stamp of authority on the idea that this kind of (cultural and linguistic) certitude counts for nothing. Shame on us.

2015-12-07 09.41.46 2015-12-07 09.50.09 And secondly, an event slated to host royal dignitaries from around the world started almost as a free-for-all as royalty and “common” men jostled together in a crowd to make their way through a narrow gate into the hall. At one point, I spotted the king’s own father himself being pushed and shoved with the crowd, and having to prove himself to be who he is. It was the same situation for the mother of the princess and other numerous otherwise dignified guests who had to fight through what seemed like the eye of a needle, even while holding a VVIP invitation card. At one point in the crowd, one spots the staff of office of the Olúbàdàn of Ibàdàn – an otherwise important instrument of office that should pave way for its bearer without questions. For almost an hour, the staff and its carrier remained nestled within the throng (pictured).

2015-12-07 12.49.53-3 2015-12-07 12.49.38 2015-12-07 12.49.53-1 2015-12-07 12.49.40 By the time the Ọọ̀ni made his way into the hall, not only was his path blocked by indecorous photographers, well-wishers and other media practitioners wishing to take his photos, the whole hall seemed, at once, to have turned into a barbarous throng, with everyone standing on their seats with phones and devices at the ready to take photographs. Our modern interpretation of this phenomenon might excuse it as a sign of the king’s importance in our imagination, or our celebration of his ascendance -Fair point? – rather than a more unflattering suggestion: that it is a display of our lack of decorum at such events. One wrong footing and one of these amateur photographers would fall, deservedly, and land either on the king’s head or by his feet. And even without that, the walk from the entrance which should have taken less than a minute took over fifteen minutes: a newly crowned king pacing himself through an artificially-constructed hedge of human nuisance.

A while ago, on a flight back from the United States, I found myself in Paris, at the Charles De Gaulle airport, on the last leg of the trip. And for one moment, something that hadn’t occurred to me on any other part of the trip suddenly came to embarrassing prominence. The airline announcer had taken the microphone to announce that boarding would now commence to Lagos. But before the first few words had landed out of her mouth, a loud and cacophonous shuffle began, seemingly out of nowhere, involving only the Nigerians who a few seconds earlier were sitting quietly and minding their businesses. As if a shortage of airline seats had just been declared and an order placed that only the first at the gate would be flown to Lagos, my countrymen hustled and shoved themselves into what eventually became the queue. It has happened in other instances too, like two seconds after touching down, even before the seatbelt signs are turned off. My countrymen jump out of their seats and immediately proceed towards their luggage, as if they were going to disappear after just a few seconds of waiting.

Those who have cared about the matter have blamed much of this on our cultural conditioning. But I’ve been to Kenya and the situation is way different, from private comportment to general orderliness in public spaces, proving that it certainly isn’t an “African” conditioning. It’s a Nigerian issue, celebrated in other instances as our unbound boisterousness. In instances like this however, and in many others where acculturation should otherwise show itself as decorum, we have terribly failed, and we need to find our way back.

Guest Post: My Clicker

by Adaeze Ezenwa

I’d like to get a camera, not one of those high-tech contraptions with dials and buttons intended to confuse and confound. I’d want one that is just a simple shutter and lens operation but will make me some stunning pictures. I would not take pictures of people, they do not interest me. I might take pictures of babies though, just because they haven’t learned to be self-conscious before the camera. Their essence would shine through because they aren’t concerned with making a fine picture or in my capturing their most flattering side.

Animals are more appealing to me, goats especially. I’d take pictures of goats, cows and monkeys, no cats or dogs because I do not like either. Then I’d take pictures of houses, interesting houses. I’d find the most fascinating houses, no house built within the last twenty-five years would qualify. In Sapele I found the most beautiful colonial houses, I’m glad that they haven’t been torn down for space to make the monstrosities that are the stamp of the nouvelle rich. I’d travel from town to town and find houses worthy of my clicker, I’d print them in the widest photo paper and hang them everywhere.

Nigeria is an art treasure trove and my camera would bring a huge portion to life. From the wood carvers of Epe who make the most exquisite carvings of canoes and Ẹ̀yọ̀ masquerades to the Bronze castings of Benin and Ifẹ̀ and the beautiful, beautiful patterns that our weavers produce on clothes that are almost too beautiful to wear. I’d show you the street painters of Lagos who put the Picassos and Monets of this world to shame and the extravagant poetry and glass works of Bida craftsmen. Have you seen the wall art that decorates most Northern palaces? Fret not, my camera will show you all that and more.

I’d go round the country looking for rocks and hills and jaw dropping landscapes. Finding the most beautiful plants and flowers would be my delight, my pleasure and perhaps my salvation. From the tiny sunflowers that line the road to my grandfather’s house but strangely do not grow around the house, to the pale pink hibiscus that makes me wonder if it’s a mutation or a deficiency that bleached the flowers from the variety that produced the bright red blooms that I used to wear in my hair and that has drawn my eyes in every part of Nigeria that I have visited. Not forgetting the Ixora from which my brothers and I sucked the nectar even though we didn’t really like it. We did it because we didn’t want to seem like we were snobbish Lagos children in our hometown, we didn’t know that we would never belong even if we sucked all the Ixora in the world. Ixora might have nectar but they do not hold a candle to the fresh flowers of the Hibiscus that deliver a burst of tangy and sweet when you chew them. The dried flowers make the drink you know as zobo, that red liquid that will stain your tongue and clothes, the same one that southerners are prone to make with ginger. Please stop that nasty habit.

And the rocks? I’d travel from Ọ̀rẹ̀ to Okpella to Jos and Kaduna in search of hills clothed with the most diverse vegetation you could think of. I’d bring images of majestic rock sides polished by thousands of years of rainfall and of depressions in the earth that makes the houses look like match boxes and the people like ants. Wouldn’t you like to see the green that decorates the rain forest? All the shades of green and a dusting of light brown will give you a peace that words cannot describe and the plenty snails and other bush creatures that make Bendel the home of bushmeat.

Then I’d take pictures of the soil, the light brown sand of the Savannah that drinks up any liquid with a speed that will startle, the rich loamy soil of my hometown that pulses with life and brings only one word to mind- fertile. Then I’d go to Enugu and show the world the baby rocks and monstrous pebbles that the people there call soil. From Benin we’ll see images of that rich red clay that coats everything with a reddish patina before coming to Lagos the city I was born where I’d show the aptly named potopoto. That clingy blackish mass that SUVs like to spray on hapless pedestrians, it’s not surprising that the first thing a Lagosian wants is wheels and metal roof with four windows and a windscreen.

I’d love to take pictures of the sky, of the blue sky dotted with pretty white clouds that remind of Mary’s little lamb. Or the days when the clouds are a duller shade of white and seem heavy without promise of fruit. People of the earth would describe such weather as cloudy, I wouldn’t use such a mundane term. If I could, I’d capture the play of colour that makes the evening sky its canvas. Most of all, I’d like to take a picture of the sky just before a storm- the kind of storm that you’d instinctively know that your umbrella is hopeless against. I’d show you the papers and nylon bags whipped by the frenzy of the wind, show you the sky black with surging rage and the bands of lightning that provide the most amazing contrast you’ve ever seen. Then when the first drops of rain come down, I’d take pictures of the thick fat drops as they hit the earth. Thick and fat like the ones dotting the windscreen of the bus I’m currently sitting in. I am in Benin-city and it always rains here, if I had a camera I’d show you the patterns formed by the raindrops.

I want a camera, will you buy me one?

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Adaeze is a writer who recently started referring to herself as one. In another life, she studied pharmacy at the University of Benin and had high hopes of becoming the next Dora. Now she sits in front of her laptop and writes about the everyday trials and joys of a single sistah in Lagos. She still lives with her parents and brothers and she’s married to Jesus.

The Conversation: Diss(cuss)ing Sexism

Last Sunday, Joy Isi Bewaji, author of Eko Dialogue, hosted the fourth edition of The Conversation, a public town-hall-style interaction on various issues, at Colonades Hotel in Lagos. The first edition held in Lagos, the second in Abuja, the third was held in Ibadan this last July. This edition was to discuss sexism in Nigeria and its implications for both men and women. I was one of the panelists, along with lawyer Ayo Sogunro, actor Femi Jacobs, and Bimbola Amao. In attendance were men and women from all walks of Nigerian life: journalists, artisans, housewives, young single women, married men and women, writers, and all. This was my first time in one of these events.

What is sexism? How sexist is the Nigerian media? How sympathetic or sensitive is society to the issues of Sexism as it affects the woman? What are the dangers of sexism in marriage? etc. These are some of the questions posed by the convener, and discussed by the panel and the audience. And, in just a few minutes into the event, a series of personal experiences started pouring in from around the room detailing the crap that Nigerian women put up with on a daily basis: a deadbeat but egotistic husband who prevents his wife from excelling, a caring but misinformed mother who hands over her daughter, at 19, to a man whom she had never met, or loved, to marry just so she could boast of having a daughter in a marriage, a young lady who is kept from going to school to pursue her degrees because of her husband’s patriarchal (and religious) conditioning, another who is struggling in a marriage where the balance of power (and finances) is tilted against her even after she had supported the man with her own income when she had the means. In the workplace, someone who didn’t get a job because she was pregnant at the time of the interview, and many more who were (and would be) denied jobs just because they were female and thus “emotional” beings.

12020022_10207030163607892_2268462496907388402_n There were many more, not just from the panelists who in a few instances disagreed on the cause of and the solutions to many of the issues. (Is religion a force for good or for ill in these matters? Yes? No? Ayo Sogunro argued, correctly I believe, that our imposition of a foreign belief system on what was a fairly equitable traditional family system complicated our gender relationships and gave excuse to men to relegate women into subservient roles because “the bible said so” or “it’s written in the Qur’an”. Femi Jacobs disagreed, crediting religion with all the good in the world and absolving it of the resulting ill. The followers of the faith, in his opinion, are the ones most responsible for the interpretation of simple harmless injunctions. This isn’t satisfactory, I argued, citing examples in Catholicism where divorce is frowned upon, and Islam where female genital mutilation is – in some cases mandatory. We cannot always separate religion from much of the problems we have with oppression and inequality in marriage, I said. It’s called “Man and Wife”, after all, and not “Husband and Wife”, where “man” is the default and “wife” is just something he possesses.

There were also some personal disclosures by some of the women which elicited winces of discomfort, despair, and eventual vocal disagreement by the panel as well as some other members of the audience: should women refuse to hire other women because, in someone’s words “women are emotional, can be petty, and are often unprofessional”? As I responded, hopefully with as much incredulity as I felt, “What would you say if a man had said that???” In discussions like this that can sometimes move fluidly from the solid grounds of rejecting discrimination on the basis of one’s gender to the murky waters of self-righteous recrimination of other members of that same gender for being the real reasons why they have what’s coming to them, it’s always important to be on guard. It is particularly so for women who eventually become victims of these prejudices when they become accepted as fact by the general publc.

What my experience of participating in the conversation tells me is that a lot more needs to be done. Sexism is discrimination against someone on the basis of prejudiced opinions, summaries, and conclusions about their gender without giving them a chance to prove themselves. Simple. Not giving someone a job because they’re thought to be incompetent before they are tested is sexist. Assuming that all unmarried young women are incompetent is sexist, even if many of them are (and I don’t believe that this is the case). Not employing young women with boyfriends (because they often can’t focus on their work because of their love life) is sexist too – and many more. These are sexist even if the person doing this is a woman! There will always be other avenues to talk about how young women (and men) in Nigeria could improve their competence in the workplace so they’re not mistreated at work. But in a gathering to discuss how to remove that kind of mistreatment, the focus on the victim seemed a tad out of place.

In all, the event was notable – for me – in the the openness with which the women (and men) present spoke about what were intensely personal issues and encounters in their marriage and their daily lives. These were information that couldn’t have been easy to elicit from anyone, but were freely shared in order to illustrate a point, refute another, or help others learn from past mistakes. This is where the convener, Joy Isi Bewaji gets an A+. For creating an avenue for women to share and learn from each other, provide support, and encouragement, proving that there is no knowledge that is not power, I salute her. As the diversity on the panelists’ table shows, it is not for women alone either. Men, hopefully, took away more than just the guilt of having been in a privileged position that has trampled on women’s rights for generation, sometimes non-deliberately. They also learnt about what they can do to make the future a better one for women, for their sons and daughters, and for themselves.

Like Oprah Winfrey who one may guess that Ms Bewaji aspires to surpass in her responsiveness and attention to human-angle issues around the country, especially regarding women, Joy is passionate about what she does, and has achieved success for doing them. At the end of the event, she presented a sum of 50,000 naira ($250) to three women each who, though indigent, had inspired her over a period of time with their strength and innovativeness. The money, according to her, came from donors. Days after the event, we learnt that 85,000 naira (>$400) more was raised – also through anonymous donors – for one of the struggling women at the event who had passionately told a story of her survival through a horrible marriage. The money can never be enough to solve problems that have roots in our evolution, cultural conditioning, and history, but it can have practical implications for someone living in poverty who however has the zeal, the smarts, and the ability to innovate and pull herself up. This is a great thing, and we need more of it.

It took over three hours, then the event ended. There will be many more in the future, Ms. Bewaji said. And to that, we say, amen.

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All photos courtesy of Joy Bewaji’s Facebook page where you can see the other pictures, along with more smiling faces than I cared to put up here due to the limits of space.

The Emptying Vessels of Lagos

On my way to work the other day, at the Oando Roundabout, one of the many along the Lekki-Epe expressway, I overheard a couple of traffic cops complaining about the drivers on the road. They spoke loud enough for drivers in each of the cars nearest to them on the road to hear, if they paid attention, as I did. They gesticulated as they spoke, complementing each other’s point within the same discussion. By the time I got close enough to them within the creeping traffic, all I could hear was “See them, all these cars, there is just one person in each of them!” I recognised it immediately as the same sentiment I’d harboured for a while, about the typical unwillingness of Lagosians to carpool. I also noticed that, like many of the drivers on the road that morning, I was also alone in my vehicle.

The Lekki-Epe expressway is a tar stretch of 49.5 kilometres starting somewhere around old Maroko (now called Sandfill) and ending, across the Lagos Lagoon at Epe. The road was constructed in the 80s during the last civilian administration before the military took over in 1983, but expanded recently when civilian rule returned to Nigeria in 1999 during the tenure of Bola Ahmed Tinubu. The expansion turned what was, at the time, a narrower town road into a wider stretch able to accommodate more vehicles commuting everyday to work at the Victoria Island end from deep into the Lekki peninsula. Lekki itself, like Manhattan in the United States is as much a peninsula as it is a mix-bag community of mostly middle and upperclass people (but with a considerable mix of lower class, indigenous people, itinerant service workers from out of state, and other ethnic Lagosians).

The House on the Rock Church, Lekki (pictured left, by the flag) was constructed with millions of dollars, and caters to the creme of Lekki middle and upper class Christians.

To claim to “live in Lekki” for most Lagosians and Nigerians is to claim a status that marks one as different from the masses. The image conjured is usually one of affluence: two to three cars for one family, a big house fully owned or at least rented at a high cost, a job in a prestigious bank or financial institution at the Marina or Victoria Island end of the Lagos island, and children who live either abroad, or who attend some of Nigeria’s most expensive schools. The perception is however unwarranted, of course, as many who live in Lekki (and yet work in low paying jobs, live in streets that get flooded whenever it rains, and typically take public transportation everyday to get to work) will attest. There are many “Lekkis”, from Lekki Phase 1, where the rich supposedly stay, and where rent for a three bedroom apartment start from two and a half million naira ($12,500) per year, to Jakande, halfway on the expressway, where rent is a little more affordable, but still higher for many average Nigerians (800,000/$3500) to Sangotedo, and beyond where many who can’t afford more than 400,000 naira per year ($2000), and lower, take residence. Like Manhattan, living on the Upper West Side is not the same as living in Harlem. Same borough. Different experience. (Certainly, different expenses).

On a typical evening, as in the morning for the other side of the road, hundreds of cars stretch as far as the eyes can see. (Photo taken at Jakande area)

What is true and indisputable about the peninsula today however was what was confirmed to me on that morning ride: there are too many cars on the road. In a recent news report, the number of private cars on Lagos roads was put at 600,000, with another 120,000 accounting for motorcycles. This is for a state of a population of about 9.013 million people. I don’t have a figure for the number of public transportation we have on the road, and we don’t know just how many of these vehicles ply the Lekki-Epe expressway, but what we see every day on the way to work, where a trip that should otherwise last for six minutes (Igbo Efon to Ikate, to use the example of my route) on a Sunday usually takes fifty minutes on a Monday morning, and the number of people we still see at bus stops every morning looking for rides to work way past the 8am opening hours, tell us that there is not an efficient ratio between the number of cars available and the people who need or use them. The is so much wealth, but little value.

Another view of the road at around 4pm in the afternoon. Motorists, most of them private cars, carrying less than two people in many cases, file behind each other for stretches of kilometres.

The Ibeju-Lekki local government that covers most of the area accessible to this expressway has a population of 117,481, out of which one can guess that more than a quarter of the adult residents have private means of transportation sometimes for themselves and for their spouses (and in some cases another one to pick up and drop off their children in school). This, ordinarily, shouldn’t be a problem in a free market, capitalist, democracy. The problem comes from what this has meant for city planning, the climate, sustainable development, ease of access for commuters, the road itself, and wellbeing in general.

Living in big cities has likely always had its drawbacks much of which relate to the level of noise and environmental pollution. In the case of Lagos however, much of it seem preventable and at the same time sadly inevitable. By having too many cars on the road most of which have the passenger seats empty, traffic jams increase, preventing most people from getting to work on time (except they have to wake up as early as 3.30am, like many of my colleagues do, thus reducing their quality of life, and costing companies millions of naira every year in wasted work hours otherwise spent in traffic, morning or evening), we pay a price in more ways than one. The traffic jams affect everyone including those in private transportation. A road that can currently take four to five cars at its widest, wear and tear increases as well as other maintenance expenses accruing to the state due to use, and may even break down into disrepair. More than that, more cars equal more carbon emission, damaging the atmosphere and endangering inhabitants, many of whom are already unhealthy from a sedentary lifestyle encouraged by private cars.

There are many solutions to the problem, but the state government will need to step up. For one, the Lekki-Epe Expressway, by now, should have ceased being the only access road across the Lekki peninsula. A beach-side road from Victoria Island, said to have been under construction for a number of years, needs to be completed as soon as possible. So are the number of inside connections that can take a commuter from Lekki Phase 1 to Ajah without having to get on the expressway. These routes haven’t been developed because the government hasn’t invested enough in making the constructions needed to connect these barely motorable inside roads. And, away from cars, where are the safe bicycle routes that commuters can use, satisfying one’s exercise and transportation needs at the same time? New York has more people, and more cars, yet there are spaces for cyclists to ride. Where are the large commercial ferries subsidised, perhaps, by the government, to move large quantities of people from Epe to Victoria Island without fuss? Where are the trams and in-city trains? Also, what about policies that encourage carpooling where, for instance, cars with at least three people inside it will get a free or reduced pass through the toll gate, or at worst expedited passage?

From my experience as a commuter without a private means of transportation, I can attest to the goodness of a number of Lagos residents many of who will stop to give strangers a free (or even reduced cost) ride towards their destination early in the morning or in the evening. I have given many such free rides myself, particularly when it rains. However, this is not, and should not be enough. There have been other solutions, including the new ride-share services like JeKaLo and GoMyWay which are both Nigerian solutions to allow the private owner to carpool with vetted strangers for a small fee. I haven’t used either of them so I can’t speak to their safety or otherwise, but their continuing success through use points to the fact that they are meeting a need and solving some of the problem. Services like Uber, Lyft, etc are also playing a part in reducing the number of private cars on the road by allowing their owners use them for public transportation during their free hours.

We need many more ways of solving a problem that seems – with the number of newly imported cars entering the city every month – to be on the way to only get worse. As for me, I’d keep taking occasional opportunities to trek and explore the outdoors, saving car fuel in the process and stretching my legs. I’d say let’s look away from cars totally, but this is Lagos, the city of statuses and egos. That would take a very long time.

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All photos courtesy of the blogger

Surviving SIUE – A Cheat Sheet

Over the last couple of years, I’ve received mails from young people who have gained admission into Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, are about to travel, and are interested in tips that can help them survive in the institution. I’ve often had to write them long emails answering particular aspects of their requests. Today, I want to put much of my thoughts on the matter here, in order to help many more that might stumble on the blog while looking for information about the school and the city. (I wrote something similar, earlier, for Fulbright FLTAs heading to the US, if this is your category).

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First off, congrats on your admission into SIUE. You should be proud of that. If you are also lucky to have got one of the many tuition waivers available for exceptional students, even better. Congratulations. What this means is that all you’ll have to worry about is feeding, housing, and transportation. To have the tuition burden taken off is a big relief. If you’re also extremely lucky enough to already have a Graduate Assistant (GA) position that also pays you a stipend of about $8.50 per hour for 20hr work per week, along with the tuition waiver, then even better. You are one of the luckiest students. All we have to do now is talk about the school, the environment, the people, and other interesting details. If you don’t have any of these grants and you still have admission to SIUE, let me address you first, below.

As a student, one of the things that could help take your mind of the stress of studying is a tuition waiver and/or scholarship. Most schools have this for exceptional students who apply for it. SIUE is no exception. I know a couple of friends who have applied and received this scholarship/waiver/grant without knowing anyone in the University. They merely applied on the website, followed up, and were selected because of their record. If you still have the time, go here and see if there’s one you can apply for. GA positions are usually advertised on the school website as well. With those, you get to work for the school in different capacities (either as a research assistant to a professor or a food attendant at the school food court. There are many others in-between), and get a stipend of up to $850 per month. Ask about these before you travel.

About the School: Much of what you need to know about SIUE can be found on the school website or on Wikipedia. Located in a conservative part of Illinois (at the bottom left end), most of the students in the school are from Illinois and neighbouring areas. Some of them have actually never travelled out of the Southern Illinois region before, which once surprised me. According to Wikipedia, 9.68% of enrolment comes from other foreign students. Out of this, there are Indians, Chinese, Taiwanese, Korean, African and European students. However, notwithstanding the seeming insularity, the presence of SIUE brings a multicultural presence to the area, and you will be surprised at how knowledgeable a number of the people you meet are about the world.

About Classes: I studied Linguistics/Teaching English as a Second Language in the Department of English, so my knowledge of class and studying is limited to that and the Department of Foreign Languages where I taught for one year as a Fulbrighter. If you’re familiar with this blog, you probably have an idea of my experience both as a student and as a teacher. The summary is that the classes are thorough, the teachers are patient and knowledgeable, and the master’s program is usually a combination of stressful and interesting times, as you’d expect from anything worthwhile. It helps a lot to talk to teachers about whatever is bothering you, ask questions rather than assume, and always turn in your assignments as at when due. Avoid plagiarism in all cases. This can cost you grades and your reputation.

Social and Care: SIUE has something called the International Hospitality Program. You should read about it. They’re also on FB. What it is is a group of (usually retired) family men and women interested in social good who volunteer themselves to be host families for international students. They do not really “host” you in their houses for the duration of your stay, but they invite you out, send you birthday cards, give you occasional rides to town, among other small conveniences. You’d be surprised at how much of a relief that usually is for a student living far away from home. One of the things that made my first night on campus one of my most memorable was the package left for me in my apartment by members of the IHP. My host family was a couple with an Indian father and a white mother, both Americans. They eventually became like real family inviting me out on occasions, sending me Christmas cards, etc. I am still good friends with their children, even across the distance.

Accommodation: For university housing, I’ve always expressed my preference for Cougar Village. I like it because it is a “village” in the true sense of it, but it’s also a small town, depending on what indices are used. It has a post office, a beautiful lake, a police presence, a regular bus schedule, fast (and complementary) internet and cable, heating and air conditioning, and a number of interesting features. I have many fond memories living there. However, I should say that the fact that I had a scholarship (for at least one year of my study) made it easy to stay at Cougar Village. The cost might be too prohibitive for many. In that case, having accommodation in town is advisable. You should ask around, preferably from international students associations. They will be able to tell you where you can get decent housing at affordable rates off campus. As most students also realise, sharing an apartment with a colleague/fellow student/friend is also a smart way to save money since both of you can share the costs of the amenities you consume.

Outdoor Social: Being a small town has not robbed Edwardsville (and the greater St. Louis area) of its fun. There is (or used to be) a small bar downtown called Stagger Inn where you can get very good toasted raviolis (my favourite snack) for under $10. The beer is good and you have a range to choose from. It also usually has a live band at least once a week. Close to it is Erato Bar where you can get the best mojito in town. If you crave Asian food, there is a Wasabi Sushi bar at 100 South Buchanan Street. There is also (was, at least, when I was there) a Chinese buffet in the same complex where you can eat-all-you-can for about $10. My favourite place for wine is an old winery about five minutes drive from downtown where you can taste the different types of wine before buying. I hope it’s still there. I think it is. Just found the homepage. You’ll find many more by going online for reviews, or talking to people. If you don’t go to town a lot, the Skywalk Cafe on campus located above the space between Founders Hall and Alumni Hall has one of the best wraps I’ve ever had. The food there is not bad for a student who has to shuttle between one class and another.

Transportation: In Edwardsville, as in most parts of the United States, it helps to have a means of transportation. Mine for about a year was a bicycle given to me by my adoptive father. I looked a lot awkward riding it around campus, particularly with a Nigerian cap on my head everywhere I went, but I loved it because it freed me from having to always wait for the bus. It also helped me discover Edwardsville by myself, depending on no one but a city map. In the winter, it may be a little tricky to remain on a bike, but thankfully the buses that go from campus to Cougar Village also made allowance for the bicycles in front of the bus. In any case, the situation of the roads will determine when is best to ride. The best alternative, of course, is to have a car. But since this is not an option open to every student, many of who have to pinch pennies to survive, I’d say go with the bus. It cost about a dollar to move from one place to another. The buses also go to almost everywhere, so you won’t get lost. The best thing about the bus is that it is usually air conditioned and is a good place to read or do people-watching, if that’s your thing.

Food: Like I said earlier, there are a number of good restaurants to visit if you can. Otherwise, cook at home. It’s cheaper and you have control. For my Nigerian/African brothers, some American foods can take getting used to, but it’s not big enough a deal to turn you off totally. Try things out and you’ll discover what you like and what you don’t.

Academic/Intellectual Resources: The Best Small Library in America for 2010 is located in Glen Carbon, about twenty minutes drive from campus. If you ever have the chance, pay it a visit. It’s a beautiful and resourceful place. I wrote about it once too, for the now defunct 234Next newspaper. I reprinted it here. You can find the pictures here. Otherwise, the Elijah Lovejoy Library on campus is a good enough place for research, studying, and any other intellectual enterprise. But if you live downtown Edwardsville and you want a place to use, the Edwardsville Library is also very good, and accessible. If what you want are non-academic intellectual clubs, ask around. I know of the Eugene Redmond Book Club in St. Louis. Google it. There are also a few open mic poetry readings around town that might interest you if you’re into poetry and such.

Other Dos/Don’ts: I can’t think of much. It’s a beautiful and lovely town, with nice and lovely people. Make friends, don’t be afraid to ask questions, and have fun. Before you know it, two years (or whatever number of years you need to spend) will be over, and you’ll be sad to leave. You’ll miss the deer and the ducks, the walkways and the lake. There are probably many more things you need to know that I can’t remember here. Don’t worry. Whenever you need to know it, you will. Most importantly, have lots of fun. And oh, don’t forget to keep plenty quarters on you at all times ;).

Good luck!

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