Seen on an office door at Principia College, Elsah Illinois.
I had gone with Chris to the game centre within the Student’s Centre in the University to while away the time, and have fun on some of the game consoles present there. Considering that we had written a class test two days earlier which had sapped all our efforts and energy, the lecturer had given us Wednesday free of class so we felt that we deserved some quality play time which we could spend doing the things we usually won’t get the time to do. In the Gaming Centre were table tennis tables, a bowling alley, plenty billiard boards and a few computer-based games, each requiring an amount of dollars to play.
But in the end, we did not end up having that much time to spare after all since he had to go to another class later in the evening, but for the little time we had, we touched and played everything except bowling which I’d never considered an intelligent form of recreation. When we played pool, I defeated him on all three games, and when we played ping-pong, I defeated him on the only one game we played. But when we got on the computer car racing game, he whooped my butt real nice every one of the three times we played. It was during one of those instances of complete hypnotism and game-cum-dopamin-induced excitement with the speed tracks of the computer game that Chris looked at me and remarked: “You’re becoming American”. And the reason for such a remark was that I had used the words “shit”, “(mother)fucking” and “son-of-a-bitch” one time too many during the intensive race, while lamenting how slow my computer-appointed Chevrolet seemed to be moving.
There is no punch-line to end this one.
Today, I went to the Principia College, Elsah Illinois with a two professors from SIUe and another international student from here. Retired Professor Wilson had been invited to give a talk on diversity to a few students in the University, and it turned out to be a nice experience. The campus of the College (called University in Nigeria) is located at a site off the river road and overlooking the great Mississippi River. No words can describe the grandeur of the river as seen from the road while driving. I’m much convinced that it would look and feel so much better while on a bicycle. According to Prof Wilson, Mark Twain the writer used to come over to the river to get inspiration. Oh well.
The journey to Principia took a little over thirty minutes from the SIUe campus, and we had to pass through a few small towns including Alton and Elsah, each with a repertoire of historical information, especially about the Native Americans that made the area their habitation for many years before their forceful dispersal. Alton has the famous Clark Bridge, and there is a famous painting of a prehistoric piasa bird on the face of the cliff also overlooking the Mississippi river. According to Wikipedia, Alton has “its steep-sloped streets filled with silos, railroad tracks, and brick commercial buildings”, and it counts among its famous former residents Miles Davies, the legendary trumpeter/musician, Elijah Lovejoy, an abolitionist who was murdered in 1937 for his role in anti-slavery movements (and after whom the Library at SIUe is named), and James Earl Ray, the murderer of civil rights activist Martin Luther King Jnr.
Today, I went to the Principia College, Elsah Illinois with two professors from SIUe and another international student from here. Retired Professor Wilson had been invited to give a talk on diversity to a few students in the University, and it turned out to be a nice experience. The campus of the College (called University in Nigeria) is located at a site off the river road and overlooking the great Mississippi River. No words can describe the grandeur of the river as seen from the road while driving. I’m much convinced that it would look and feel so much better while on a bicycle. According to Prof Wilson, Mark Twain the writer used to come over to the river to get inspiration. Oh well.
The journey to Principia took a little over thirty minutes from the SIUe campus, and we had to pass through a few small towns including Alton and Elsah, each with a repertoire of historical information, especially about the Native Americans that made the area their habitation for many years before their forceful dispersal. Alton has the famous Clark Bridge, and the even famous painting of a prehistoric piasa bird on the face of the cliff also overlooking the Mississippi river. According to Wikipedia, Alton has “its steep-sloped streets filled with silos, railroad tracks, and brick commercial buildings”, and it counts among its famous former residents Miles Davies, the legendary trumpeter/musician, Elijah Lovejoy, an abolitionist who was murdered in 1937 for his role in anti-slavery movements (and after whom the Library at SIUe is named), and James Earl Ray, the murderer of civil rights activist Martin Luther King Jnr.
One of the notable sights on the way from Edwardsville are the many oil refineries in Illinois that litter the way. “Those refineries refine the crude oil from Nigeria”, the professor quipped “before they are sold in the United States at different rates.” The crude oil is brought from different parts of the world – and indeed from Nigeria – in large ocean vessels, are refined, and sold as “gas”. What he didn’t know until I told him was that the finished petroleum products are also sold back to Nigeria – like chocolate products – at exorbitant prices whenever the steam engines of Nigeria’s refineries go down and the continent’s petroleum giant finds it hard to refine its own products. Passing through those areas of Illinois that I’ve never been before only reminded me of Nigeria’s Niger Delta: plenty smoke in the air, and plenty smell of gas – a depleting environment under serious gas pollution.
The Principia College is an institution for Christian Scientists and it graduated its first products in 1934. The campus is small, yet beautiful. The student population is 490 and from the little we saw, the students are warm, and all find a way of interacting with one another much more than one would find in a large campus as SIU because of the size. An interesting discovery I made was that one in every five students there was an international student. And over seventy percent of those international students are from Kenya. All of a sudden, it felt like if I was back on the campus of Moi University in Kenya again. I still haven’t discovered the reason for this density in Kenyan students population. At SIUe, the international students population is mainly Indian, and then a few others. In 1993,according to Wikipedia, the campus was designated a National Historic Landmark by the United States Department of the Interior.
The visit ended with a very delicious lunch at the University cafeteria where many of the international students worked as kitchen staff among others. The food also somehow reminded me of my stay in Kenya in 2005. Maybe it was because it was the first time I was eating rice again in a very long time. Luckily, we made it out of the campus early enough to get back to campus so that I was still able to get to class where my students, who had already waited for nine minutes, said that I was indeed lucky by a minute, or I would have met another empty class. Spoiled brats, those kids.
I got a text yesterday from a professor at my University in Ibadan, wondering whether my experience in America has met up with what I expected. I wrote back that the experiences were mixed, but within me, I am convinced that besides the abundance of fast food, traffic lights and sometimes searing cold, I have not seen any major difference in America as a place to live and Nigeria. Okay, maybe that’s likely to be perceived wrongly. I have met with many more interesting people, not any different from the interesting ones I’ve known before. I’ve also met with some strange people, not stranger than the ones I’ve met in Nigeria. However, there is a sense in which everything seems mostly normal, even though different. America is interesting, and so is Nigeria. I can grant that because of its place in the world, I seem to have a front-row to life’s interesting drama when I’m in the US than when I’m in Nigeria, but so far, I have not had any cause to stand in a public square staring in awe at any spectacular sight only because I’ve never seen it before, even though that seem strange enough to the people I tell.
Whenever I tell my American friends that I’ve been here for only two months, they immediately ask for my opinion on everything I’ve seen and experienced. And, instead of going with a previously standard response of “Oh it’s nothing. Except for the cold, it’s not much different here from where I’m from,” I now have to go into a long discussion on my very many notable observations, wonder, amazement, dread, lonesomeness and all, just to avoid a long stare or an awkward moment of uncomfortable silence that have now begun to attend any seemingly self-confident response. “It’s okay to feel lonely at times, and miss home, you know.” My classmate had said to me once, and he’s right. I should desist from this present stoic, often impersonal response to this distance, and really break down into my true status as a lost stranger in a distant land. Maybe only then can I find another part of myself necessary for the true experience of travelling. The problem is, it’s not working out for me. I wonder if there’s anything wrong with that.
A while ago, I published the 100th post on this blog, and it felt somewhat remarkable. If anyone had told me that I’d be making this many posts every week I might have doubted them, but that doubt would have come only from the inability to conceive a place where there is uninterrupted electricity and internet access. And for the reason of these indulgences, I had made it a point to always find something new to talk about even when I’m cold, sick, stressed, broken, lonely or just feeling plain lethargic. And sometimes, like right now, I would start the first word without the foggiest idea about what I want to blog about, but end up with something a little meaningful.
I have stopped counting my days in the United States. The calendar is there to do that. I just make a mental note of the hours as they pass by. By my calculations, I have spent over two months here and it already feels like forever. But I don’t feel the pressure to keep feeling nostalgic, so I believe that I have finally entered the cruise mode – that time of the journey where everything seems suspiciously smooth and fine. The problem is, I don’t like it. I want some action and new challenges. I do not want to get used to the idea that I’m in America, and therefore all is well with the world. This is what pushes me out every morning, and alas, this is what causes me all the great stress episodes that keep my muscles aching and my butt in bed for longer hours than necessary.
And so, you would notice that once in a while, this blog gets a make-over. I have settled my mind about the design so that won’t change. But the colours would, mostly to reflect my mood. I am now in the autumn cum Halloween mood, thus the cool green. As per theme, for now it will remain the Nigerian Ghoul in the American forest, perhaps until the mischievous naming muse returns. Did anyone notice a new page on the right hand column, titled “favourites“? In there is a list of some of my favourite blogs, links and pages, as they came to me. And for the new comers to this blog, it also contains a few of the blogposts that got the most views. Yesterday attracted the highest visitor hits since the history of this blog, to my little surprise. It must be because of that Pumpkin post. The last time we had that many visitors, I had written a report of my first class experience, then later a poem to respond to a certain loneliness. I just hope that my occasional musings at least get my readers smiling, or sometimes thinking. This is my 113rd post, dedicated to you, the regular, silent readers. I do hope you’re having as much nice a time as I am, wherever you are. If you are, say “aye”!