College of Love and Charity/We gather round thy humble shrine/We lift our voice in praise to thee/ And ask a blessing all divine/FAMU! FAMU, I love thee/We'll fight and win wheree'er the battle be/The orange and the green, thy sons shall ever defend/And loyal to thy voice of love attend/FAMU! F-AAA-MMMUUUU! FAMU/ I love thee!!
If you know these words by heart, you're an old school Rattler like me (Class of '99). It always sounds so beautiful when the symphonic band plays it. Makes me want to shed a tear sometimes when we get to the FAMU I love thee part. Right now, our alma mater means more than ever to us. FAMU is at the forefront of a crisis - one caused by alleged hazing. Our little school has been pushed into the national spotlight for a very bad reason. Robert Champion, a drum major for my alma mater FAMU, has died after performing at the Florida Classic - the game we play against Bethune-Cookman for those who don't know. Being on campus at FAMU, one hears the band in their constant practice, a lone student playing an instrument as they stroll to class, percussionists yelling cadences, tubas practicing. FAMU's campus is a musical one. If you live in a 10-mile radius of FAMU, you can hear the band. With this death, the band has been silenced. And campus is a different place. There is a heavy silence on campus. A sad silence. We hurt for Mr. Champion's family and we hurt for our beloved institution.
Being in the Marching 100 is no easy task. Imagine practicing in heavy costumes in 100+ degree heat, dancing with HEAVY instruments, having to be precise, knowing just when to flip your cymbal, doing the "death march", etc. That, my friends, would be enough of a hazing for me. I am not an alumnus of the Marching 100, but I do know they work hard and I do know they hold themselves to excellence. We set the standard and standard setters can't mess up. Even with 400 some odd people, no one better be out of sync and no one better not be out of step. Drum majors better not drop the baton. And this is where the problem comes in. If you make these mistakes, there will be hell to pay later. I'm supposing this was the case for Robert Champion - a personable man that I somewhat knew as he always participated in band camp. My coworker and I are charged with the task of fingerprinting all band members that participate in the band camp (a task I hate). Mr. Champion would come in, make small talk, thank me, and I'd tell him to have a good day. That was the extent of our interaction - but he did stand out to me. Probably because I had dealt with other band members I didn't like or just flat-out couldn't stand because of their arrogance. Or maybe because I wondered aloud how he got the last name Champion :). But Mr. Champion was always a smiling face that tried to get me to smile when I didn't want to see another band member or instrument walk through that door. It still makes no sense that he's gone, a family's holiday is ruined, and FAMU is now a headline.
The Marching 100 has been silenced. There are tons of Floridians out there whose dream is to march in the 100. In HBCU culture, the band is the showpiece of the universe. You get excited when you see the drum majors. They are representatives of the school. Little kids even dress up like them and try doing the splits :). Football games are never to actually watch the team, but to see who will "win" the halftime show. Silencing a HBCU band is also like silencing the school. I wonder how many people are changing their minds about attending FAMU, how many innocent parties have had scholarships placed on hold, and how FAMU will fare through all of this. Robert Champion put on the orange and green and "showed up and showed out" for FAMU. He should still be here to do that. At the end of the day, he was a part of our "FAMUly." Just like anyone who wears the orange and green, knows that FAMU is the College of Love and Charity, and believes in Excellence with Caring is. Rattlers, it's nation time. We must stick together now more than ever and support our school while honoring Mr Champion's death. RIP Robert Champion. March on. Lead on. Continue to be a champion...
To all my Rattlers out there, I'll leave you with this:
RATTLER!! RATTLERATION! We're the rattlers of the nation! When we fight with determination, we create a SENSATION!!
Friday, November 25, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Armchair Traveling
Everyone who knows me knows that I am a documentary hound. I love learning about the African diaspora - from indigenous Africans to America to South America to the Caribbean. Some people get bored by that type of stuff, but I can't help but wonder why wouldn't you want to learn about something different from yourself? My funds are limited so I travel through documentaries. Here are a few of my favorites:
1. Basil Davidson's Mastering A Continent - In this documentary, Davidson visits three African groups - the Pokot - a pastoralist group that lives in Kenya and parts of Uganda, the Dogon - a West African group that lives in Mali on the Bandiagara escarpment, and the Sucor - a West African group that lives in northern Nigeria and northern Cameroon. He shows similarities and differences between all three groups. The Pokot are herding people who believe cattle are a symbol of wealth. The Dogon are a scientific people who know the solar system and discovered constellations in ancient times. They live in the hills of the Bandiagara escarpment. The escarpment is where they fled to avoid slave raiders. The people of Sukkor are blacksmiths and agrarians. This documentary shows the difference in lifestyles, yet portrays the communality of life for all three groups. Very good and informative indeed.
2. Caribbean Crucible - This is one of my favorites! I traveled through Jamaica and the Dominican Republic watching this. Basically, this documentary shows the many Africanisms and syncretic practises in these two countries. My favorite part is when they show the kumina (a practice brought to Jamaica by indentured servants from the Congo). The kumina is performed during the "time of kill di goat" and "when you have somebody dead." Though this documentary is mainly about various music forms indigenous to the Caribbean, they unintentionally went a lot deeper by studying the religious aspects of the islands. The only misgiving I have about this film is that I wished they had shown more islands in the Caribbean.Of course, you cannot make a documentary like this without visiting the Maroons. My children love watching this as well. My husband has forbidden cable, so we're raising little armchair travelers, lol. Oh, Big Youth (thee of the red, gold, and green diamonds in his teeth) is also a young fella in this one.
3. Quilombo Country - Aw, Brazil! I bought my copy of Quilombo Country long before Chuck D narrated it. I don't know if they've changed anything, but I like the version I have. This documentary shows traditional "African" villages in modern-day Brazil. Quilombolas - as they are called - build their own houses, fetch water from the river, and catch and eat armadillo (yummy!) This movie shows the beauty of the Brazilian countryside, Brazilian folktales (i.e. Saci Perere and Matita Peirera), and how the Quilombolas fight to save their heritage and history. One of my favorites as well.Here's a clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmES6seCt3II
4. Born Musicians - The musicians of Mali who are born into musical families and have a musical lineage that has been passed down are called jalis. They generally come from the Mandinka people of Mali. This documentary shows the lives of different jalis and their families. It also shows the various instruments they have constructed from very rudimentary means. A calabash and a bowl of water becomes a waterdrum. The balafon is an instrument that makes beautiful music and is closely related to a xylophone. The balafon predates the xylophone. A very lively part in this documentary is when they show a wedding between a Mandika and a Fula. Very rhythmic and lively time! The dancing is on point too.
5. Masaai Women - Interesting look at the Masaai of Kenya and Tanzania. In this documentary, a British woman visits the women and asks questions that are none of her business and tries to push off her feminist ways on them. Other that that, it shows how the women view themselves, their appreciation for co-wives, and a marriage. If a Masaai woman marries into another village, the women of that village follow her, insulting her all the while. Get out of your box in America and watch the documentary to find out why this is. Also, after hearing what one woman says about her co-wife, it kind of made me wish I could've had one after my children were born. Here's a clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i-MGRgvVOo In my version, the narrator is British. I guess they've switched narrators in this one.
6. Professor William Found, York University, Department of Geography - I love this guy! He travels around the Caribbean under the guise of studying the terrain and geography of each country. We can tell he's really on vacation, but I love, love, love his documentaries - and he's a funny guy. The documentary I like most of all is the one on Dominica - The Nature Isle. We learn the history of Dominica. Self-proclaimed tour guide Rasta Bobby, shows The Professor (as me and hubby call him) around and takes him to a rasta village. We also mingle with Carib Indians, view the architecture of Dominica and meet with local historian, Lennox Honeychurch. Watching this video makes me want to move! Another one of the professor's video that I like is the one about Saba. Saba is a weird place high on a mountain that has a water shortage. All the water you use or drink there will be rainwater. All the buildings are cramped together because the island is so small. The airport with the shortest runway on earth is located in Saba. Slaves that were brought to Saba were brought there not to cultivate the land, but to carry packages for their masters. Interesting! He takes us on a trip to Montserrat where the volcano has just erupted. He can't land anywhere on the island because of all the lava, but it's nice feeling like we're in the plane with him as he explains what it looked before the volcano erupted. He also visits the Virgin Islands, Barbados, St. Eustatis, St. Maarten, and Trinidad. When I want to get away, I love watching his homemade documentaries. So nice and relaxing. Here's Dr. York's website for those of you who might want to take a peek: http://www.arts.yorku.ca/geog/wfound/video/index.html
I hope you enjoy your armchair travels as much as I do!
1. Basil Davidson's Mastering A Continent - In this documentary, Davidson visits three African groups - the Pokot - a pastoralist group that lives in Kenya and parts of Uganda, the Dogon - a West African group that lives in Mali on the Bandiagara escarpment, and the Sucor - a West African group that lives in northern Nigeria and northern Cameroon. He shows similarities and differences between all three groups. The Pokot are herding people who believe cattle are a symbol of wealth. The Dogon are a scientific people who know the solar system and discovered constellations in ancient times. They live in the hills of the Bandiagara escarpment. The escarpment is where they fled to avoid slave raiders. The people of Sukkor are blacksmiths and agrarians. This documentary shows the difference in lifestyles, yet portrays the communality of life for all three groups. Very good and informative indeed.
2. Caribbean Crucible - This is one of my favorites! I traveled through Jamaica and the Dominican Republic watching this. Basically, this documentary shows the many Africanisms and syncretic practises in these two countries. My favorite part is when they show the kumina (a practice brought to Jamaica by indentured servants from the Congo). The kumina is performed during the "time of kill di goat" and "when you have somebody dead." Though this documentary is mainly about various music forms indigenous to the Caribbean, they unintentionally went a lot deeper by studying the religious aspects of the islands. The only misgiving I have about this film is that I wished they had shown more islands in the Caribbean.Of course, you cannot make a documentary like this without visiting the Maroons. My children love watching this as well. My husband has forbidden cable, so we're raising little armchair travelers, lol. Oh, Big Youth (thee of the red, gold, and green diamonds in his teeth) is also a young fella in this one.
3. Quilombo Country - Aw, Brazil! I bought my copy of Quilombo Country long before Chuck D narrated it. I don't know if they've changed anything, but I like the version I have. This documentary shows traditional "African" villages in modern-day Brazil. Quilombolas - as they are called - build their own houses, fetch water from the river, and catch and eat armadillo (yummy!) This movie shows the beauty of the Brazilian countryside, Brazilian folktales (i.e. Saci Perere and Matita Peirera), and how the Quilombolas fight to save their heritage and history. One of my favorites as well.Here's a clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmES6seCt3II
4. Born Musicians - The musicians of Mali who are born into musical families and have a musical lineage that has been passed down are called jalis. They generally come from the Mandinka people of Mali. This documentary shows the lives of different jalis and their families. It also shows the various instruments they have constructed from very rudimentary means. A calabash and a bowl of water becomes a waterdrum. The balafon is an instrument that makes beautiful music and is closely related to a xylophone. The balafon predates the xylophone. A very lively part in this documentary is when they show a wedding between a Mandika and a Fula. Very rhythmic and lively time! The dancing is on point too.
5. Masaai Women - Interesting look at the Masaai of Kenya and Tanzania. In this documentary, a British woman visits the women and asks questions that are none of her business and tries to push off her feminist ways on them. Other that that, it shows how the women view themselves, their appreciation for co-wives, and a marriage. If a Masaai woman marries into another village, the women of that village follow her, insulting her all the while. Get out of your box in America and watch the documentary to find out why this is. Also, after hearing what one woman says about her co-wife, it kind of made me wish I could've had one after my children were born. Here's a clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i-MGRgvVOo In my version, the narrator is British. I guess they've switched narrators in this one.
6. Professor William Found, York University, Department of Geography - I love this guy! He travels around the Caribbean under the guise of studying the terrain and geography of each country. We can tell he's really on vacation, but I love, love, love his documentaries - and he's a funny guy. The documentary I like most of all is the one on Dominica - The Nature Isle. We learn the history of Dominica. Self-proclaimed tour guide Rasta Bobby, shows The Professor (as me and hubby call him) around and takes him to a rasta village. We also mingle with Carib Indians, view the architecture of Dominica and meet with local historian, Lennox Honeychurch. Watching this video makes me want to move! Another one of the professor's video that I like is the one about Saba. Saba is a weird place high on a mountain that has a water shortage. All the water you use or drink there will be rainwater. All the buildings are cramped together because the island is so small. The airport with the shortest runway on earth is located in Saba. Slaves that were brought to Saba were brought there not to cultivate the land, but to carry packages for their masters. Interesting! He takes us on a trip to Montserrat where the volcano has just erupted. He can't land anywhere on the island because of all the lava, but it's nice feeling like we're in the plane with him as he explains what it looked before the volcano erupted. He also visits the Virgin Islands, Barbados, St. Eustatis, St. Maarten, and Trinidad. When I want to get away, I love watching his homemade documentaries. So nice and relaxing. Here's Dr. York's website for those of you who might want to take a peek: http://www.arts.yorku.ca/geog/wfound/video/index.html
I hope you enjoy your armchair travels as much as I do!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Homesick For Some Culture
Yesterday, I went to a traditional African celebration - a bembe. Of course, I love it every time. But it made me homesick for life in South Florida. It made me about me think about my little church in Ft. Lauderdale and all the people there. When I was growing up down there, I didn't appreciate the cultural mix of Ft. Lauderdale - until I moved away for college and saw that life in South Florida was another world in and of itself. And my church down there (even though it was a traditional Pentecostal Church of God in Christ) was as diverse as they come. Our minister, Bishop Ellis, was a South Carolinian with an accent that made everyone assume he was an "Islander." He wasn't - he was a country boy from Sout' Cahlina (as he said). He couldn't preach for five minutes without having someone "warm up the drums and piano 'cause he was 'bout to tell it today." The assistant pastor, an East Indian from Trinidad, sure could jump up and down and shout with the best of 'em. When he was really fired up, he'd run around the church and preach right in your face. "Nuk tek a country boy like me fi tell yuh 'ow fi praise God, Eh EH!" he'd shout. Oftentimes, he'd grab someone's hand and make them run with him. To the older people in the church who lived here long before the influx of Caribbean migrants, his accent sometimes became indecipherable. After church, they'd whisper to each other "Did y'all understand Minister Madho today?" And the answer "I sho couldn't, but he sure gave us some good church today! Boy, that man know he can run!"
A man named George, a white man who was in a wheelchair, sat in the front row every Sunday. He had cerebral palsy, but he shouted "Amen!" the loudest every Sunday and would move his wheelchair back and forth to "dance." He had salt and pepper hair. No one knew how old he was. He didn't look young or old. The little kids liked for him to put them in his lap and zoom around the parking lot after church with them, before the bus from the group home where he lived came to pick him up.
When the church had dinners, everyone always looked forward to the Trinadadian curry and roti dishes, Jamaican jerk and brown stew chicken, Bahamian conch dishes and Southern fried chicken and collard greens. And George would bring dishes from around the world - but he seemed to love the Mediterranean. The West Indians in the congregation teased Bishop Ellis about his accent. "Sure you're not (insert Carribean island/South American country here)?" they'd tease, then nudge each other. "He say he not (insert Caribbean island/South American country here), but I know better." Or they'd pay him the highest compliment of all (to them) - Bwoy, dem Yankee dem really know ow fi have church.In spite of the varying cultures there, on Sunday, cultural differences didn't matter. We'd still wash each other's feet and anoint everyone's forehead with oil (literally). No one separated themselves off by culture/nationality. Of course, birds of a feather flock together. Yet and still, we all talked with each other to find out more about them and ourselves. And that makes me homesick. Hopefully, I'll return down there one day soon.
A man named George, a white man who was in a wheelchair, sat in the front row every Sunday. He had cerebral palsy, but he shouted "Amen!" the loudest every Sunday and would move his wheelchair back and forth to "dance." He had salt and pepper hair. No one knew how old he was. He didn't look young or old. The little kids liked for him to put them in his lap and zoom around the parking lot after church with them, before the bus from the group home where he lived came to pick him up.
When the church had dinners, everyone always looked forward to the Trinadadian curry and roti dishes, Jamaican jerk and brown stew chicken, Bahamian conch dishes and Southern fried chicken and collard greens. And George would bring dishes from around the world - but he seemed to love the Mediterranean. The West Indians in the congregation teased Bishop Ellis about his accent. "Sure you're not (insert Carribean island/South American country here)?" they'd tease, then nudge each other. "He say he not (insert Caribbean island/South American country here), but I know better." Or they'd pay him the highest compliment of all (to them) - Bwoy, dem Yankee dem really know ow fi have church.In spite of the varying cultures there, on Sunday, cultural differences didn't matter. We'd still wash each other's feet and anoint everyone's forehead with oil (literally). No one separated themselves off by culture/nationality. Of course, birds of a feather flock together. Yet and still, we all talked with each other to find out more about them and ourselves. And that makes me homesick. Hopefully, I'll return down there one day soon.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
WTHeck moments...
I work at a window. It beats the drudgery of my last job, but there are some things I'm just not prepared for at times. You would never imagine the amount of strange things I see and hear from people. Even though I have a co-worker, everyone loves to come to my window for some strange reason. I don't know why when he says "good morning", people will glance over at him and then make a beeline for MY window. This is just a snapshot of some of things that happened to me this week - and this has been a kind-of boring week.
1. A loudmouth New Yorker (I knew he was from New York because he had to give me his license) trying to tell me that because I'm from the South, I know everything there is to know about football. When I told him I didn't, he nudged his equally-as-arrogant friend and said "Yo, she need to chill with that bullsh#%. You know all they do down here is watch football and drink beer." They then proceeded to have a coversation about Southerners and what "they" do. Thank God I sit behind bulletproof glass. I so wanted to load up the shotgun, put on the camouflage, and give him one good Confederate shot. Then, at least he'd know that we watch football, drink beer, and shoot up arrogant Northerners too.
2. An African guy that came in and asked if he could park in front of the building to drop a grad school application off. I told him he could, gave him directions to the building he needed to go to, and told him to have a good one. I went to lunch. When I came back from lunch, he was sitting in the building. My co-worker went outside and the African guy comes back to my window and says "Thank you for allowing to park there." I told him it was no problem and asked him if he found where he needed to go. He leaves, then comes back within seconds, looks around and says "Is that other guy in here?" I told him he had stepped outside. He says "Oh, okay", then leans up real close to the window and says "I would like to know kindly if you are married." I told him I was. He nodded, thanked me, and thanked me again for helping me. You ever have those moments where you wish......? I'm not even gonna say it. My coworker later informed he had been sitting there waiting for me through my entire lunch break.
3. Three guys who came in (that I almost got a contact high from) who proceeded to rap their license plate numbers, make and color of cars, how they didn't want any tickets, and didn't want to get towed. "They tryna gimme a ticket, cause I ain't wanna click it. Driving a big body Chevy, yo, they checkin for me, but I got backup, I'm rollin wit my homies/This Chevy do you dirty like how New Orleans did with them levies." Yes, he said that - and yes, I memorized that part. Not to mention the other two guys shouting "Aaay! Aaay!" in the background for effect.
4. A very genteel Southern lady coming in asking if she could put pamphlets for her business in the Welcome Center. I told her yes. She showed them to me. On the front cover was a naked couple apparently in the throes of passion and I won't mention what was on the inside. I wanted to ask her if she was trying to get customers for her escort/prostitution ring. I then had to backtrack and tell her no, she couldn't leave that stuff in here. She said ok, but she needed to know where the sorority and fraternity houses were because "they'd like that stuff over there." Blank stare.
4. I say good morning to everyone that comes in in the morning. A guy comes in. I say good morning. His response "Hey, sweetheart, how you doing? You like bacon, eggs, and grits. I gotta call my mama and tell her to fix us some 'cause I know I'ma catch hell getting this permit from you." Then, I had to inform him that parking permits are free and all I needed was his license and license plate number. He looked shocked for a split second and said he could still call up his mama and tell her to cook "us" up some breakfast if I could make sure he didn't get any tickets.
5. The girl who came in wearing what looked like a bra that attached to biking shorts. It had no middle (stomach showing) or back, just lengths of cloth down the sides that appeared to hook to the biking shorts. Oh yeah, she did have the decency to wear boots and a halter-sweater (it stopped right under her bra) with that get-up. She needed to drop off an application to the graduate school. Godspeed and good luck with that.
5. Last but not least, the Jamaican guy that came in. My Facebook friends know about this :). The last time he came in, I was sitting behind the window. This time, I had to come out from behind the window and show him where to go. After being skinny all my life, I've become quite a thick girl (it took me five babies to get like this, lol). You would've thought he'd hit the jackpot or something the way he brightened up - and you know Caribbean men can put the "rundown and mannish water" sweet talk on you - and your friends and your mama and your friends mamas and --well, you get the point. He smiled his pleasure with me and then said "Ya know ya really remind me of a mudfish - nice, and roun' and brown." There was nothing to do but thank him and commence to looking up pictures of mudfish to see if they were nicely shaped.
But, I'm not complaining because I love my job and meeting new people. We'll see what next week brings - and I'll be back to tell you guys all about it.
1. A loudmouth New Yorker (I knew he was from New York because he had to give me his license) trying to tell me that because I'm from the South, I know everything there is to know about football. When I told him I didn't, he nudged his equally-as-arrogant friend and said "Yo, she need to chill with that bullsh#%. You know all they do down here is watch football and drink beer." They then proceeded to have a coversation about Southerners and what "they" do. Thank God I sit behind bulletproof glass. I so wanted to load up the shotgun, put on the camouflage, and give him one good Confederate shot. Then, at least he'd know that we watch football, drink beer, and shoot up arrogant Northerners too.
2. An African guy that came in and asked if he could park in front of the building to drop a grad school application off. I told him he could, gave him directions to the building he needed to go to, and told him to have a good one. I went to lunch. When I came back from lunch, he was sitting in the building. My co-worker went outside and the African guy comes back to my window and says "Thank you for allowing to park there." I told him it was no problem and asked him if he found where he needed to go. He leaves, then comes back within seconds, looks around and says "Is that other guy in here?" I told him he had stepped outside. He says "Oh, okay", then leans up real close to the window and says "I would like to know kindly if you are married." I told him I was. He nodded, thanked me, and thanked me again for helping me. You ever have those moments where you wish......? I'm not even gonna say it. My coworker later informed he had been sitting there waiting for me through my entire lunch break.
3. Three guys who came in (that I almost got a contact high from) who proceeded to rap their license plate numbers, make and color of cars, how they didn't want any tickets, and didn't want to get towed. "They tryna gimme a ticket, cause I ain't wanna click it. Driving a big body Chevy, yo, they checkin for me, but I got backup, I'm rollin wit my homies/This Chevy do you dirty like how New Orleans did with them levies." Yes, he said that - and yes, I memorized that part. Not to mention the other two guys shouting "Aaay! Aaay!" in the background for effect.
4. A very genteel Southern lady coming in asking if she could put pamphlets for her business in the Welcome Center. I told her yes. She showed them to me. On the front cover was a naked couple apparently in the throes of passion and I won't mention what was on the inside. I wanted to ask her if she was trying to get customers for her escort/prostitution ring. I then had to backtrack and tell her no, she couldn't leave that stuff in here. She said ok, but she needed to know where the sorority and fraternity houses were because "they'd like that stuff over there." Blank stare.
4. I say good morning to everyone that comes in in the morning. A guy comes in. I say good morning. His response "Hey, sweetheart, how you doing? You like bacon, eggs, and grits. I gotta call my mama and tell her to fix us some 'cause I know I'ma catch hell getting this permit from you." Then, I had to inform him that parking permits are free and all I needed was his license and license plate number. He looked shocked for a split second and said he could still call up his mama and tell her to cook "us" up some breakfast if I could make sure he didn't get any tickets.
5. The girl who came in wearing what looked like a bra that attached to biking shorts. It had no middle (stomach showing) or back, just lengths of cloth down the sides that appeared to hook to the biking shorts. Oh yeah, she did have the decency to wear boots and a halter-sweater (it stopped right under her bra) with that get-up. She needed to drop off an application to the graduate school. Godspeed and good luck with that.
5. Last but not least, the Jamaican guy that came in. My Facebook friends know about this :). The last time he came in, I was sitting behind the window. This time, I had to come out from behind the window and show him where to go. After being skinny all my life, I've become quite a thick girl (it took me five babies to get like this, lol). You would've thought he'd hit the jackpot or something the way he brightened up - and you know Caribbean men can put the "rundown and mannish water" sweet talk on you - and your friends and your mama and your friends mamas and --well, you get the point. He smiled his pleasure with me and then said "Ya know ya really remind me of a mudfish - nice, and roun' and brown." There was nothing to do but thank him and commence to looking up pictures of mudfish to see if they were nicely shaped.
But, I'm not complaining because I love my job and meeting new people. We'll see what next week brings - and I'll be back to tell you guys all about it.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Ah, lovely HBCUs (historically black colleges and universities) - those bastions of higher education that you love to love and love to hate. In my quest for knowledge of other countries and other cultures, I've come to understand that HBCU's and third-world countries are a lot alike. Don't get me wrong, I attended Florida A&M University (FAMU) and I LOVE my school, but there are things that make me thing HBCU's are the third-world countries in America. Remember those images of starving people in Ethiopia waiting patiently in long lines for food and water? Now, remember the line you stood in that wrapped around the building, spilled into the parking lot, and went into the adjoining neighborhood before you found out that your net check was half of what you thought it was going to be (and you needed to pay your rent, get some gas, and pay your phone bill that same day). If you can have a sit-down lunch at a nearby restaurant while STILL waiting in line, you got the third-world treatment HBCU-style.
Your office computer gets a virus and you need to do some work. You call the "IT people" and hearing singing and laughter in the background. As you try to explain the problem, they cut you off and say they'll have to call you back because they're in the middle of prayer meeting. They don't call back because they cut you off before you gave your information. You call back that afternoon. The person that deals with that problem is either in a meeting or at lunch and no one else in the office can handle it - even though they're the IT Department. Finally, said IT person shows up, takes your computer, and doesn't give you a replacement. A week passes, then two weeks, then a month, then another week - still no computer. You wonder if former President Bush's response time to Hurricana Katrina was faster than the time it takes you to get your computer back. Finally, after a month and a half of waiting, you get someone else's computer because your computer "couldn't be fixed." The work that you needed to get done has been forgotten by everyone - including the people that needed it done. Hmm, maybe that third-world HBCU treatment is a good thing.
Students, you need to talk to your advisor. Your advisor's office hours are MWF 9-10, 12:30-2. You have a class that ends at 12:15 so you can shoot on over and see your advisor. You show up at 12:30 on Wednesday. Your advisor is nowhere to be found. You wait for fifteen more minutes, then realize that it's Wednesday aka fried chicken day. You're the only butthole waiting to be advised and everyone else on campus is waiting in line to get some hot, fresh, fried chicken along with collard greeds, candied yams, and rice and gravy. Good thing they don't have watermelon on the buffet (yeah, I said it). The school would stop operating then, lol. You can't put getting an education or helping someone else get an education above eating some greasy-A fried chicken.
Finally, YOU GRADUATED! You're so glad to finally have your degree. You walk across the stage, shake hands and take a picture with the president. You can't wait to hang your degree on the wall. You know it'll be a while before you get your degree so you don't rush it. Six months later rolls around - still no degree. You're calling the school every day and being handed over to ten different departments every day - none of which knows anything about your degree. Finally, after a year of waiting, you receive your degree in the mail. It had actually been sent to an old address that your mom's first roommate used when she was in college and they misspelled your name too.
But even after all this, everything's okay because your professors cared about you. They called you at home and hounded you when you weren't doing well. They drilled learning into you and if you didn't get it, be prepared to show up on the weekend for some more education. Even after all this, you'd rather go to jail for aggravated assault than allow anyone to talk about your school. So, go ahead and wave your HBCU flag because you learned how to make a way out of noway, persistence, toughness, and grit. So, thank you, HBCUs for the third-world style treatment. When life gets rough, you taught us how to handle it and for that - I'll always appreciate my experiences.
Your office computer gets a virus and you need to do some work. You call the "IT people" and hearing singing and laughter in the background. As you try to explain the problem, they cut you off and say they'll have to call you back because they're in the middle of prayer meeting. They don't call back because they cut you off before you gave your information. You call back that afternoon. The person that deals with that problem is either in a meeting or at lunch and no one else in the office can handle it - even though they're the IT Department. Finally, said IT person shows up, takes your computer, and doesn't give you a replacement. A week passes, then two weeks, then a month, then another week - still no computer. You wonder if former President Bush's response time to Hurricana Katrina was faster than the time it takes you to get your computer back. Finally, after a month and a half of waiting, you get someone else's computer because your computer "couldn't be fixed." The work that you needed to get done has been forgotten by everyone - including the people that needed it done. Hmm, maybe that third-world HBCU treatment is a good thing.
Students, you need to talk to your advisor. Your advisor's office hours are MWF 9-10, 12:30-2. You have a class that ends at 12:15 so you can shoot on over and see your advisor. You show up at 12:30 on Wednesday. Your advisor is nowhere to be found. You wait for fifteen more minutes, then realize that it's Wednesday aka fried chicken day. You're the only butthole waiting to be advised and everyone else on campus is waiting in line to get some hot, fresh, fried chicken along with collard greeds, candied yams, and rice and gravy. Good thing they don't have watermelon on the buffet (yeah, I said it). The school would stop operating then, lol. You can't put getting an education or helping someone else get an education above eating some greasy-A fried chicken.
Finally, YOU GRADUATED! You're so glad to finally have your degree. You walk across the stage, shake hands and take a picture with the president. You can't wait to hang your degree on the wall. You know it'll be a while before you get your degree so you don't rush it. Six months later rolls around - still no degree. You're calling the school every day and being handed over to ten different departments every day - none of which knows anything about your degree. Finally, after a year of waiting, you receive your degree in the mail. It had actually been sent to an old address that your mom's first roommate used when she was in college and they misspelled your name too.
But even after all this, everything's okay because your professors cared about you. They called you at home and hounded you when you weren't doing well. They drilled learning into you and if you didn't get it, be prepared to show up on the weekend for some more education. Even after all this, you'd rather go to jail for aggravated assault than allow anyone to talk about your school. So, go ahead and wave your HBCU flag because you learned how to make a way out of noway, persistence, toughness, and grit. So, thank you, HBCUs for the third-world style treatment. When life gets rough, you taught us how to handle it and for that - I'll always appreciate my experiences.
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