Night

Here are a few more photos of the fall (although I think that a little after the fall, we should start referring to the rot season. That’s when all the leaves that have fallen, start getting rotten on the ground. Along with the incessant rain nowadays, the feeling of walking or riding through the numerous leaves is one of the best things of the season. I heard that it’s raining non-stop in Nigeria as well. How do we explain that? I used to think that non-stop rain in a characteristic of the month of July at home. What am I missing? Well, enjoy these photos, especially the ones I took at night yesterday on my ride back from a long day of class and of teaching.

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On Cycling

It is at times stressing, and definitely more exerting than driving a car. I have heard of the many advantages of riding over other means of transportation, and the best will have to be how it may help to protect the environment by reducing the amount of gas fumes in the atmosphere. And it’s healthy. With sufficient nutrition, the rider exercises his muscles and his mental alertness in a way that is not found in other vehicles like plane or car trips. The bike rider definitely lives in every second of the stretch, exercising his lungs as he takes in the breeze around his head. Besides this headache that I feel in my head as a result of yesterday’s daring long ride, I think I actually enjoy this new experience of cycling.

The bike trails in Edwardsville are some of the most advanced in this country, and they form a very beautiful network of tracks of tar for both runners and riders. Yesterday was my first long distance journey out of the campus by myself since the last time I’d made a similar effort about a week after I got my bike. That time, I didn’t go too far. I’d gone to the boundaries of the University, and returned when the signs began to read new names. But I had planned to return on another one of those trips whenever time permitted. The SIUE campus has been reputed to be one of the largest in the country in terms of land area, behind only a few other universities, so venturing out to the ends of the campus boundaries was something of a start. Yesterday however, I went out of campus – through a different route – into town for a visit.

IMG_0193But it was while returning, alone, at night that I had another one of my travula moments. I got to a traffic light that showed red, and I brought out my camera to immediately capture the contrast of the colours against the darkness of the night, only to hear some voices from inside a car on the road, also waiting for the lights to change, screaming in my direction.

“What are you doing?” Apparently they were concerned. For what, I had no idea.

My hand shook from the startling noise, and the camera moved. I had missed my target shot, and I looked back at them. From the distance, I couldn’t see who they were in the car or how many they were. There must have been at least one man, and a few other girls – most likely from the university, and most likely coming from a party. They sounded African-Americans, and the voices I heard were the girls’.

“I’m taking pictures,” I shouted back.

“What for?” I heard again.

“Why do you care?” I retorted, with a shrug. I just couldn’t understand their right to question my priceless appreciation of something of beauty even though, in my mind, I knew that their surprise must be one of these things:

1. That they’d never seen anyone on a bike at night.

2. They’d never seen anyone on a bike at night, taking pictures.

3. They’d never seen anyone on a bike at night, taking pictures of a traffic light!

They became quiet for a little while, and then the light changed. They must have then resolved the doubt within their murmurs, because I then heard: “Okay, have fun taking pictures,” and I said “Thank you” with a thumbs up gesture, before they went across the t-junction towards the university. In my surprise, I didn’t immediately move across the road myself, nor return to get another camera shot of the traffic lights, but later on the way home, I couldn’t immediately decide as well whether that was an awkward moment, or not.

PS: Today, I’m signing up for membership of bicycles-for-humanity.org and bikesfortheworld.com, two non-governmental organizations whose aim is to find unused bikes in North America, Europe and some other western countries and send them to spots in the world where they’re most needed, and where they might change someone’s life by providing an effective means of harmless transportation. Join them if you can. You might be helping someone, somewhere.

An Evening Ride

If you can’t get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you’d best teach it to dance.” – George Bernard Shaw.

Chinua Achebe’s new book (after more than 20 years), “The Education of a British-Protected Child: Essays” http://bit.ly/9qjji

Tumbling Down

I must have been filled with a little too much adrenaline on Friday when I sped out of my apartment, pedalling with all strength and style as I hurried towards the University. A few blocks away from my building, I began a little display of daredevilry and found myself in the grass, a few feet away from the depth of the lake. I didn’t fall in, and it was a relief – not because I won’t be able to get out (I can swim), but because I had my back-pack and it had my laptop and other important documents. I would be a shame to lose all of them in such moment of playfulness.

23082009928I can only blame adrenaline because there was no reason why I should have been speeding so much at the time, or standing up on the bike while riding, or – as I discovered while laying flat out on the grass – stretching one hand instinctively and without need to touch an overhead tree branch as I rode under it. By the time I brought my hand back on the bike handles, I had lost total control and was doing a 360 degree tumble from the bike track/road onto the nearby grass – luckily. The lake was still a few feet away, and I had a helmet on. There were no cuts or broken bones, but there was a little bruise, and a dirty spot on my cream chino’s trousers. It was some relief to find that there were no passers-by at all –  male or worse female students – who could have had no choice but to laugh or giggle at me as I tried vainly to pretend that all was fine and I didn’t have grass slivers somewhere in my mouth. The supernatural almost always kicks in to save me from undeserved embarrassment. I’m grateful.

I laid there for a while, staring up at the clear sky, then stood up, dusted my shirt, and rode on to the University in style. I did tell you I lead an interesting life, didn’t I?