Wednesday, December 5, 2007

WANTED:"Chill Pill"

It's mostly old people, pregnant people, working people, accomplished people, I-can't-remember-the-other-categories people that say "I can't remember the last time I smiled, relaxed, had fun" and so forth.

I guess I should put myself in the 'accomplished ppl' category then, because I really cannot remember the last time I smiled genuinely. (I smile the famous "gallows humour" often, especially when a photocopier tells me that he has misplaced a vital flowsheet from my project that's due for submission, or when the binder scratches his head confusedly when I ask him where ny project is. (The project I've toiled and speeeent on for a whole year. Ha! PS: actually he only misplaced the cover, not the entire project))

... But it's good for me to be thankful, so here we go:

I am thankful that I am alive and healthy. (This is the right place to start)

My supervisor was a blessing to me, which is a small miracle when I consider the hell some coursemates ARE experiencing.


I'm 97 % through with this school!!


...Emm... more thanks come later, in my mind :)

Monday, November 19, 2007

JUST A FEW MORE DAYS...

JUST A FEW MORE DAYS... JUST A FEW MORE DAYS...JUST A FEW MORE DAYS... NO MORE HEADACHES, NO WORRIES ABOUT THE PROJECTS AND DEFENCE... JUST FOOD AND REST AND ME...


JUST A FEW


MORE


DAYS.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Chai!

It's about four weeks to exams, and my project is still misbehaving. I might even have to modify the topic because of equipment wahala. Sigh... I had assumed that having just two courses would make the semester an easy one.

An incorrect assumption.

I'm not complaining or being moody about it, though. (Big miracle) On the bright side, I've been developing the non-academic aspects of my life, halelluyah! I guess it's all about seeing things -the good and the bad- in perspective then.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The Dentist's Next Patient

“Next please,” the middle-aged dentist spoke, poking his head out and taking in the number of patients he still had to work on. Plen-ty.

More than fifteen, he thought with mild distaste. On the other hand, the pay is going to be good today.

He closed the door and waited. The next patient was here to get his/her teeth filled. (He often couldn’t distinguish between male and female Middle-Belt names).

He had just dried the hands he’d washed. That the last patient had bleeding gums was an understatement; he’d told her to rinse her mouth with salt-water eight times. At the moment he was tired – of everything. People just didn’t care about their teeth enough. He often wondered what they stared at in the mirror for so long… it certainly wasn’t their teeth.

There was a timid knock on the door.

“Come in,”

The patient turned out to be a female. Probably in her late teens. And she looks familiar, he thought to himself.

“Em… good morning Sir,” she began timidly, managing to smile a tight smile.

“Yes, good morning. Please sit down,” he wanted to get it over with sharp-sharp.

She slid onto the chair without hesitation. Her eyes registered a healthy amount of fear as she watched him pick up the equipment from the nearby sink.

“I’ve sterilized them,” he reassured her.

“Ok”

As he approached her, he observed that the fear in her eyes was intensifying. It seemed like she had just considered bolting away but had thought better of it. She closed her eyes tight.

It’s better like that sef.

“Open your mouth please”

She opened. Three holes stared back at him. He hissed mentally. Hadn’t she noticed them before? He was about to inject the lower gum that held the premolar with the largest hole when she opened her eyes wide and held onto his hand. Or more like latched on.

Ha-ah! See me see trouble O!

“Release my hand now,” he nearly shouted. He was beginning to recollect small-small now.

“Please Sir…” she begged.

“Please what? I’m trying to relieve you of your pain. What are you thinking?”

“I know Sir, but please…”

He-e! Wonders, they say...

“Look, remove your hand. The sooner it’s done the better. After the injection you won’t feel too much pain,” he managed to force his irritation back. I still have plenty patients to attend to. I won’t tolerate this much longer.

Sensing his anger, the girl apologized, her eyes sad and scared. It melted a small part of his heart.

He lowered the injection once more. He made contact with soft gum… well, just barely. Before he could say "energise", her body jerked hard, and once more his hand was gripped by small hands. Surprising how strong an individual could get under duress…

“See…!” he began, thoroughly annoyed. “I have a lot of patients to attend to-” Tears streaming down her face vexed him some more, but also touched him. He remembered now:

Young Miss Weeping had been here before – twice, in fact. Once when she was barely three feet tall, and the other time was… three years ago? People never learned. To be fair though, the latter visit was no fault of hers. She had been ‘gifted’ with enough extra teeth, making her dentition scary-looking at best. Her mother accompanied her that day, and he adviced her (the Mum) to give her some medication, since she was “the hysterical type”. It looked like things hadn’t changed much.

As he watched her try to compose herself, he calmed down.

“I think you need some time,” he said, his calmness surprising him.

She looked up, sniffing. Grateful. “Thank you Sir,” she replied with all the gratitude in the world. It warmed him. He made a note to be more patient with his patients next time.

“That’s okay. I understand.” He smiled reassuringly, not feeling so tired and stressed after all.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Imagine!

One word keeps repeating itself in my head:


"Olodo"

A Chemistry lecturer called me that yesterday afternoon, by 2:56 pm to be precise (Actually, I'm not sure about the time).

Olodo.

Me? What did I do to deserve that?

It is simple:

One of the projects I'm working on has a chapter called three (you see, I'm psychologically scarred by that olodo word; I'm beginning to believe it and therefore SPEAK like one). Anyway.


My chapter three has to do with experimental analysis, and unfortunately, my department's lab doesn't have all the equipment I need, so I need to use the Chemistry lab, which does.
Now I'd heard that Chemistry lectureres weren't fond of Chem. Eng students, and the man did nothing to dispel that rumour. He started by asking me what I wanted in this irritated fashion lecturers in general are so fond of. I calmly stated my purpose.


"Go and get your procedures, then I can tell you whether we can help you," he replied cooly.


Me sef. Why didn't I think of that? I thought. Well, I did just that and went back to his office. There was another lecturer in the office this time, a woman. I greeted her politely.


"Chemical ba?" The man asked, clearly annoyed.

"Yes Sir."

"So... what do you have?"

"I got the procedures and I have written down the equipment I need"

"Okay," he answered, browsing through it.

"'Graduated cylinder... with lid'" he read aloud, not understanding it. He proceeded to read it again: "Graduated cylinder... with lid. A-ah! That is a measuring cylinder now"

"Yes," the woman confirmed.

"Yes," I parroted.

"Okay, we have that. 2ml eye-dropper with 0.5 ml graduations"
I winced visibly, I think.

"A-ah!" They both wondered. "Isn't that a pipette?" the woman helped.

Okay... it's true. "I think so, Ma"

"Flat bed press... for drying fabric"

I winced again; at the time I wrote the 'for drying fabric' part , it made technical sense.

"This girl is writing these things in her own words," he grumbled.

"Or she's using an old text book," the woman said.

"No Sir, I ... got it from the internet," I said.

He proceeded. "Oven"

"For burning the dried fabric and collecting the ashes and volatile matter," I said.

"That one is a fur-"

"Furnace, " I finished, eager to save my below-red rep.

That's when he said that thing. That I seem to be an olodo.

He didn't put it that way, to be sure. He said, under his breath but loud enough for the woman (and myself, of course) to hear: "[Ngbati gbati gbati] olodo". He said it in Yoruba. I just hate it when that happens, sigh.

"Ah!" The woman said, excited for the first time. "That's how those Engineering students are. And that is what they are releasing into the society (Releasing... like a plague or virus. Ok).

She buttressed her point with the case of a guy, also in my department, who didn't know how to carry out a "simple distillation of ethanol and water!"

They both said some other things, but I was still on 'olodo' sha. When they finished he told me to write a letter, asking for permission to use their lab. I said "thank you very much" to which they replied, "You're very welcome"

Olodo.

I guess it pains because I know.

I know that it's not necessarily "beef" that is making the Chemistry lecturers talk so.

I know that I don't know HALF of what a Chemical Engineer at my level should know.

I know that all those times our lecturers gave us 'areas of concentration' for exams and ignored the rest of the syllabus we were only cheating ourselves.

I know that the lecturers are not the only ones at fault.

I know that I could have studied harder, to make up for the inadequate education I was receiving.

I know that I should stop here. I have two projects, two courses, and two skit scripts to work on (actually, three).

Friday, July 6, 2007


Someone sent this to my box two weeks ago, describing it as follows:

Toyota Hilux Double cab for sale =N=900,000:00 negotiable ·
Still in very good condition
· Only 20 000km traveled
· Full service history
· Five Cylinders
· Airbags double
· Leather seats
· One proud owner
· Immobilizer; Power steering
· Climate controlled Air-conditioning
· Central door locks with remote control

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

BIG SIGH!
Our universities have resumed, after a 3-month strike. This means blogging will cease for the time being. (My heart has been beating faster as my exams approach. It will be over soon, thank God).
I've liked blogging quite much. I aim to improve, shake off my fears and be more original, etc. Browsing through fellow Nigerians' blogs has made me more proud of being Nigerian. It's time to embrace (Celtel music cums in): Nigeria!
Thanks for the comments. I really appreciate it.
My book awaits, so...
Godbless you all!