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performing technology

I think the photo on this cover is incredible…

the world is falling apart…reports from lalaland

From the New York Times:

February 12, 2009

Laid-Off Foreigners Flee as Dubai Spirals Down

By ROBERT F. WORTH

DUBAI, United Arab Emirates — Sofia, a 34-year-old Frenchwoman, moved here a year ago to take a job in advertising, so confident about Dubai’s fast-growing economy that she bought an apartment for almost $300,000 with a 15-year mortgage.

Now, like many of the foreign workers who make up 90 percent of the population here, she has been laid off and faces the prospect of being forced to leave this Persian Gulf city — or worse.

“I’m really scared of what could happen, because I bought property here,” said Sofia, who asked that her last name be withheld because she is still hunting for a new job. “If I can’t pay it off, I was told I could end up in debtors’ prison.”

With Dubai’s economy in free fall, newspapers have reported that more than 3,000 cars sit abandoned in the parking lot at the Dubai Airport, left by fleeing, debt-ridden foreigners (who could in fact be imprisoned if they failed to pay their bills). Some are said to have maxed-out credit cards inside and notes of apology taped to the windshield.

interesting, common, maybe i’m guilty

“I can’t go to the Middle East. I don’t know the language, culture, or anything about Islam. I think Africa is more realistic.”

Replace Middle East with any South American country and I think you still find this a common mode of thought. I think I might be guilty as well. Why does Africa seem so accessible, possible?

i think i’m drinking a frappuccino

Less than three weeks left.

Finding a stable internet connection has gotten to be a more and more difficult task as time has progressed, but luckily I’m able to spend the afternoon at Friends Cafe, probably the nicest one I have seen so far. It’s in Nassarawa, the other side of town from CITAD and Mambayya House.

I was able to upload pictures, here are some. You can see the rest of you click the icon below:

three weeks left

one of the stickers at citad:

mambayya house, the compound i’m staying at:

my digital storytelling workshop:

bayero university:

where’s waldo?

guess the harddrive:

in Abuja with Umar:

in the linen market, he wanted to take a picture with the bature

YZ and Paul, they are kind of a big deal

Jummai, who works for DFID, needed to make a short slideshow/documentary about Ramadan and her work. Since it wasn’t Ramadan yet, she took me to her house and pretended to break fast with her family….at 2pm.

how i get around

hausa-wear

Saturday Kailu from Mambayya took me to Sabongari and Kuri markets and I’m finally starting to understand why Kano is known as the Centre of Commerce. Apparently people come from all over West Africa to visit the markets here, which are like huge bazzaars of shacks and rooms. It had just rained, so we trekked through the mud to stop here and there checking things out and saying hello to Kailu’s friends. I was surprised to come across a couple of shacks with modern, fashionable clothing with mood lighting and ambient music. Most things are from China, and apparently it’s not uncommon to see Chinese businessmen around the markets. Hence a few people asking if I was a “China Man”. I’ve heard Lebonese, Israeli, and Egyptian, but Chinese is definitely a first.

Kuri market is the linen market with stacks and stacks of cloth everywhere. I picked out a fabric I liked and took it to the tailer, where I had a proper Hausa outfit made. Maybe I’ll upload pictures later…just maybe.

the audacity of slow internet- scott finishes books

Last night I finally finished reading Dreams of my Father by Barack Obama. I picked it up in the airport in Netherlands planning on giving it a try and then passing it on as a gift to someone in Nigeria. I had previously kept away from it because I was still a Hillary supporter at the time or I just assumed it was another sterile “autobiography” from an American politician. It also has an incredibly boring cover, and yes, I often judge books by their cover. If you are going to pay to have a cover professionally designed you better impress me, dammit.

I can now confidently say that it is definitely worth the read. I chose it over the Audacity of Hope because he wrote Dreams before his political career, fresh off graduating Harvard Law School. I was really surprised by his honesty and the way he paints himself as an incredibly vulnerable and unsure person, trapped between conflicting expectations and images that connect him to a deep racist history in the United States and colonialism in Kenya.

I never imagined it would be as complicated and profound as it is, and as I passed the book on to my friend Umar to read, I actually felt proud that this person might be president. After the past eight years that means a lot, especially considering I expect so little from mainstream politicians.

That being said, I need to take more time to understand Obama’s policies (where they exist in some concrete form). It’s kind of a bizarre situation with this incredibly important presidential election coming up. I feel like I should be converting every McCain supporter I can find, but, I live in California and do we actually need to worry about California going red? I don’t think so. So what is another Obama bumper sticker driving through Santa Cruz? The best I can think of to do is focus on the propositions and make sure Obama is accountable to his promises and rhetoric once elected.

Oh, and we should start planning a coup d’etat just in case America totally lets us down and votes for McCain.

a quick note

I realize I have not updated in a while. I think the longer I wait the more I have to share and when I finally feel committed to writing something (and coincidentally the internet is available) I get overwhelmed with all my thoughts, experiences, and observations and have nothing less than something that looks like a novel sized hot mess of field notes.

So, instead of insulting you with that, I’ll just say I had an amazing day yesterday traveling to Jigawa state for CITAD’s “Rural Road Show” where we met with the local government and community members of Auyo. The purpose of these visits are to “plant the computer seed” and to present the technology and some of its uses, sometimes to people who have never seen a computer before. The presentation and most of the communication that day was in Hausa, so I had to learn to take comfort in being the awkward foreigner who doesn’t understand anything that’s going on.

The drive there and back was perfect (besides the usual crazy driving) and like my last visit to a village my first week here, it’s really refreshing to take a break from the busy and polluted streets of Kano to see a bright green countryside with its clay colored dirt, and boabob trees everywhere.

I can’t believe I’m already at the half-way point (and then some). I’m constantly excited and motivated by the projects I have going on here, but definitely worried that I won’t be able to get as much done as I’d like before September 15.

I’m not a haggler

Last night was going to be Adam’s final dinner at Spice Foods restaurant before he leaves the country tomorrow night. It’s our favorite place here and we’ve become friends with the owner. It’s just a quick drive down the street but since its always dark when we are ready to head out for dinner, we’ve taken achabas (motorcycle taxis) to get there and back to the hotel. Instead we got there only to find out that there was a private party, just like last Sunday when we tried to come for the buffet. We went to a Chinese Restaurant a couple blocks away that wasn’t nearly as good (and as far as we know didn’t serve beer).

I thought the hardest part about getting on the achabas would be the insane roads and driving practices, but really my biggest fear at the moment is just dealing with the drivers. All the drivers waiting outside of the hotel know that whoever comes out of it can afford more than the 50 or so naira fare that most people pay. And, according to the culture here just about everything must be haggled.

Common sense tells me that before I get on a bike I should be sure that the driver knows where I want to go and how much I’m going to pay him when I get there. This should be easy but it definitely isn’t. For one, I can barely understand their English and they can barely understand mine. The incredibly huge generator building next to us doesn’t make it easier for anyone to hear. Secondly, it’s in the best interest for the drivers to get you on the bike as quick as possible without ever really settling on anything. They know you have money and once you get there, they can charge whatever they want. So it’s always a struggle/argument with a lot of confusion and hussle. I usually end up paying more than I say I will, sometimes because they end up asking for more or because I just want to please them.

Why is that? At the airport when I first arrived, I was so determined to please the workers there that I didn’t even think to try and put my foot down and remind them that I had already been approved to stay until September, and no, I don’t want to have to go to an immigration office to extend my visa. Instead, I nodded and reassured them that everything is fine. I think my fear is somewhat grounded in reality, after all I am in a strange place that I don’t know well and especially when confronted with figures of authority (official or otherwise) I’m sort of at their whim. At the same time, I can’t set myself up to be taken advantage of because I’m more or less certain that I will be.

Anyway, the big move today! I’m excited.

diesel for thought

Africa Faces Another Rising Expense: Fuel

In the United States, where the median household income is about $48,000, $4-a-gallon gas is painful.

In Nigeria, most of whose 140 million citizens live on less than $2 a day despite their country’s status as the world’s eighth largest oil exporter, $5.50-a-gallon diesel is excruciating.

If your entire home ran off a diesel generator, how much energy would you use?