May I?

Please listen to this important announcement

The management and staff of KTravula.com wishes to warn our numerous guests, readers, friends, foes, admirers and commenters that as from sometimes in the next few weeks, posts to this blog might become erratic due to a change of (physical, and not web) address, due to no fault of the blogger and administrators. From then as well, the blog description might undergo a slight change from “the Nigerian Ghoul in the American Forest” to something different that they still haven’t figured out yet.

So when you come here and you see a change either in colour or in form of the blog, or wait for two days without seeing a new post, please DO NOT BE ALARMED :). We are in a process of undergoing a certain transformation, the ramification of which we can not yet fathom. Please bear with us.

Mgt.

Blasts From The Past

Here are seven more favourite posts from the past. Enjoy

Connecting with a Certain Past (2) (September 8, 2009)

Is Oyinbo a Derogatory Word? (August 27, 2009)

And there Was (No) Light! (August 17, 2009)

A Short Foodlist of Ps (August 28, 2009)

10 Reasons Why Cougar Village is a Village (August 31, 2009)

10 Reasons Why Cougar Village is NOT a Village (August 31, 2009)

Culture Shock (February 10, 2010)

The Best of KTravula

Out of fear that I may abandon this blog after my programme is complete, a friend suggested that I feature the some of my favourite post from over the past eight months and almost four hundred posts. That I will do beginning from this week. The most popular posts are already automatically listed on the right hand tab. But as has happened a few times on this blog, my favourite, or the most commented, sometimes do not always make it is to the list. So here we are. My top five favourites for this week. I sometimes go back to read them once in a while. What are your favourites?

A Short History of My Face

On the Origin of Names

How I Discovered the Value of a Quarter

Pumpkin

This Step, This Spot – A poem

PS: I just heard some horrible news about volcanic clouds all over Europe that is making it impossible for airplanes to fly. For me who would be going home via France (a welcome departure from the rudeness of London’s Heathrow Airport), I am worried. I do not want anything that will have to make me fly for 13 straight hours directly from the US to Nigeria. I don’t believe that anyone should stay for that length of time in the air, and definitely not someone with long legs and a resentment for cramped spaces.

Why Fulbright?

IMG_3770The heaviness on my person since I returned from Washington DC on Monday, I have realized, has to do with more than just my delirious nostalgia for the taste of a certain thrill and an unexplainable positive strangeness that dominated that trip to the East. It could easily have been because of the food, because it was the one thing that almost equally matched the large number of workshop sessions that followed each other one after the other, sometimes without much of a breathing space. We got out of one conference workshop session and we hopped right into another. It was mostly worth it, but it will take the whole of my holiday to truly catch up with the details of all that we were taught. The food however was a different matter. They were diverse as they were elaborate, and I left that hotel on Sunday feeling that I’d committed an unforgivable sin of indulgence – as my mum would have called it. In any case, it was scarcely two hours after then before I entered another cycle of feeding, this time in the neighbouring state of Maryland, and the foods (most of it) were Nigerian for a change.

Fried eggs, bread, pringles, mangoes, (green) tea, orange juice…

and then later in the evening: pounded yam, rice, beans (note: not baked beans or anything American, but Naija style cooking), snails, cow leg and other beef parts in pepper sauce, vegetable soup, Hennessey cognac, and finally some red Malbec Argentinian wine…

I should probably confess that I have never ever eaten this much food in one day. On the one hand, it could be some form of indulgence which I immediately justified from previous frustrations with pizza and long queues at pastries food stands. On the other hand, it just was a very convenient acquiescence to the warmth of my Nigerian hosts who were more than happy to have me around. I felt loved.

It is in returning to my base now that the value of those warm connections are making their presence felt on my wandering self. But again, more than just the thrill, I have been very humbled by the responsibilities the Fulbright tag, and slightly worried that I may have been irreparably changed by the week-long indulgence in a way that I might not yet recognize. Oh well, give me another week or two in this now gradually emptying University campus and I will regain my required pungency. Until then, let us drink to life, and to hope for the parts of the world where there is none. And to peace and understanding – no matter how elusive it gets. Yea, it’s still me speaking. I told you that I’ve changed. Where did the old cynical travula go? I too have no idea.

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.