Friday, January 31, 2014

Suakoko Market Condom Distribution

January 41, 2014

A student of mine suggested we distribute condoms in the nearby town of Suakoko on its Friday Market Day. The market is a wild bazaar of sellers, buyers, thieves, drunks and prostitutes. Just the place to distribute 1,000 condoms in 30 minutes.
We started with the prostitutes who took hundreds of condoms
Then working our way to the market stalls.

While having a beer at a market tavern, a group of men began discussing HIV and AIDS. The conversation began with their stating that America has a cure for AIDS, but is withholding it to kill off Africans. I asked if that was true, then why were we distributing free condoms. The discussion became more serious as confusion what was the difference between HIV and AIDS, and the best ways to prevent getting infected. When the topic switched to AIDS being a demonic disease, it was time to get the hell out of that place. 

Cuttington Conundrum

 January 31, 2014

Students taking Final Exams
"No Excuses" sign
 Unlike American universities which get most of their operating expenses from outside sources, like legislatures, endowments, and private donations, eighty-five percent of Cuttington University’s revenue is from student tuition. Much of student tuition is paid through various student scholarships provided by private donors and organizations. These scholarships usually require a student to maintain a 3.5 GPA. Thus in order for the university to survive as an institution it has to maintain its student population and their GPAs.

The problems arise from the very beginning. The first is for the university's attempt to keep its past reputation and the second is the very deficient educational backgrounds of its applicants. Students are admitted who in no way can meet the educational standards the university professes. There is a total disconnection between course descriptions and syllabus with what most students can possibly grasp. This creates the bending of university written standards and rules to continually mollify the necessity of keeping students.

As an instructor I am faced with the decision to either  provide a curriculum which meets the course description, resulting in the failure of almost all students and their loss of subsequent scholarships, or do I dummy down the course in hope of providing some knowledge and grade according to lower standards. I who am teaching upper level classes has chosen to grade at the lower standards. I have students receiving A’s who cannot do simple math, have no idea of basic Biological principles, come with prerequisite courses from which they remember nothing, and are unable to comprehend analogies. So, what can I accomplish other than minimal levels of academic education?  

One thing I hope my students learn from me is that I mean what I say and I take no excuses. This is very hard for them. They have been living in a world where rules are continually bent, bribes given, sexual favors granted, and lame excuses readily accepted. Now as final grades are posted the ghosts come out of the closet.

The university’s written rule is. “Students caught cheating fail the course”. The university’s ethics board has devised a new plan to stop cheating and instructors prompting students on answers. It is a massive testing program. Instructor’s final exam questions are submitted to and printed by the ethics board. The exams are supervised by proctors then returned to instructors for grading and submission of grades. I have chosen not to participate, the only instructor to do so.

During my proctoring assignment of other courses, I witness massive cheating by students.  For the most obvious violations a student is moved to another seat.  An administrator of the exams says that two students have been cited for cheating, results pending decision by the student’s instructor. He qualifies his statement by saying that he has administered only half of the thousands of final exams.  

My classroom rules mirror the university’s, cheating is not tolerated, zero for those caught.  Before my mid-term exam, I tell my classes anyone caught cheating is given a zero for the exam. I catch about 30% of my students cheating.” How stupid can they be?” I ask myself, totally clueless of their past experiences. They are in shock that I not only read the exams in detail comparing answers, but would actually give them a zero! Several weeks later, I somewhat relent by saying I would double their highest score between mid-term and final exam. Anyone caught cheating on the final exam would get a zero for the course. Students take my word seriously and during the final exam they spread their desks to avoid any suspicion of cheating.. Yet, I find four students where cheating happens.  

After scores are posted on my office door, the first student comes to my house in shock and in tears pleading he is not involved in cheating. He is a top student who was caught previously sharing his answers during the mid-term. I notice he places himself away from the others for the final and moves once because his chair was in the sun. He states he did not share his answers with anyone, crying, kneeling, and pleading, but did leave his exam on his desktop when moving his chair. I ask how he can get such a ridiculous answer. He shows me his calculation which demonstrates does not know how to do long division.  The other equally good student sits close to him and has the same improbably wrong answers to two questions. The second student appears at my house. He cannot explain how he got his answer. I tell him that if he copied his answer without the first person’s knowledge, he still gets a zero; otherwise both students get zeros for their final grades. I challenge his manhood and character. He admits to copying without the other's knowledge. He gets a zero; the other gets an “A”.

Another case involves a good student who places his desk in the front of the room facing the blackboard and a second poorer student who arrives late for the exam, missing the first three questions, and who takes a desk slightly behind and to the side of the first student. I tell him he is not to get credit for the first three answers. He immediately looks directly at the first student’s papers to copy the answers. I reprimand him for that. I can see throughout the exam the exchange of answers. Their papers reflect the exchanging of answers. I post zeros for both their grades.

A repeat performance by the good student at my house saying there is no cheating. He is in tears, begging, laying on the floor in grief.  He is a graduating senior already accepted in graduate school. He loses it all with an “F”. It is the other student’s fault. The glare from his stare is frightening. I want to talk to the poorer student.  They both arrive later with a friend to help calm the situation. They both admit to the cheating. The second student also asking forgiveness, saying his mother living in the bush with little money works so hard to pay for his tuition. They cannot afford to repeat classes. How do they ever learn about rules, even at this late stage in their education? They both get “F”.

Administrative excuses are readily given by the Dean of Student Services for illness and bereavement.  To receive this excuse a student needs to “show proof” of the occurrence for which an officially stamped letter is given which reads “…he missed some of your course requirements. Kindly allow him to return to your class and do a makeup exam with you. Thanks for your usual cooperation and indulgence”.  Paradoxically a sign posted at final exams reads “Exam Ethics. No Makeups. No Excuses. Sorry for your illness or bereavement”. None of the students are ill or bereaved for finals and simply do not show. Their excused times in question do not cover when papers are due. They get scores for the work they complete, an “F” or incomplete.

Will these grades holdup after I submit them? I hope so, but there are no guarantees or real rules here. The university needs the students, mercy is easily granted. Students rule...their education and the future of Liberia suffers. Yet when faced by an object like me, the students do have the courage and conviction to admit wrong doing, but feel that forgiveness is always attainable. In fact, I have high regards for some of them who accept the consequences and are prepared to move on. There is hope and they may not be swallowed by the big dragon which is Liberia.


What does all this mean? Is the university to be blamed for trying to survive as an institution? Are students to be blamed for their deficient backgrounds and lax university rules?  Are scholarship donors to be blamed for insisting on 3.5 GPAs? Are fourteen years of two civil wars to be the excuse for a dysfunctional society? Are rebels to be blamed for wanting a piece of the pie? Am I to be blamed for imposing my moral standards in such a place? Is there no blame, maybe it’ God’s Will, or shit just happens?  Take your pick there is enough blame, enough excuses, enough moralizing to justify anything. 

As for me, I shall continue to be me, undaunted and unashamed of my principles. I assume all the other parties in this dance shall be steadfast in their viewpoints. I do feel that for those students who have Dr. Nick as an instructor, their view of the world out there may be slightly altered. If that happens, my stay is a success.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Washing Machine

January 27, 2014
My Washing Machine
At first I considered washing my clothes another activity to fill my days. Now it is a chore.The issue is that Liberians, unlike Samoans, dress like they are professional business people in America, but without air-conditioning. This results in a lot of smelly, dirty clothes.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Wolekemah Women’s Organization Parade

January 25, 2014

January 25, 2014 marks the 1st Anniversary of the Wolekemah Women’s Organization of the nearby Village of Sinyea (one mile from me). I am invited as a “patron”. The parade starts at 7:00 am followed by a rally and program ending about noondish. The invitation reads that the organization believes me to be” a humanitarian and a cheer giver”. How can I resist?

 Drums are beating and women are chanting slogans as the parade winds for over four miles of hot, dusty trails and ramshackle buildings, with bystanders watching on the roadside dancing to beat of the drums and shouting words of support. With occasional stops for water and dancing, I (the only male, white or black) trail well behind taking pictures entranced by their dedication as well as endurance.

The parade and program are to raise money to construct a building for teaching reading and writing to the many illiterate village women, as well as, provide support for battered and abandoned mothers.  Village women are doing this on their own without any outside assistance. As an “honored patron” that means donating money, but how this done is a complete mystery to me.

 I am soon initiated as to the protocol. It starts with the pinning of ribbons on my shirt for a small amount (thank goodness I brought some Liberian money). A woman gets up to sing a solo with a basket in front of her. The first donor throws money in the basket and tells the singer “to shut your mouth”; she stops singing. The next person throws money in the basket and the singer begins; so the cycle goes. A short play follows depicting an illiterate woman who paid for her husband’s education. The husband gets a good job in Monrovia then abandons her with a very sick child and no support. The play ends with a member of the women’s organization providing succor and a chance at learning how to write her name.

The quests are the introduced to come to the dais to say a few words and say the amount of their donation to be put into the basket. My donation and that of an absent Peace Corps who could not be there in are in US dollars. Our donations seem to be the most generous. The emcee later remarks how donations in US dollars receive more applause than Liberian money which is becoming less valuable at an alarming rate.

During my brief remarks, I float the idea that as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I would like to assist the organization in obtaining a grant. I sit down for one second before a member comes to me asking me to attend their business meeting next Sunday. I guess I am now a member of the Wolekemah Women’s Organization of Sinyea Village.

I must confess that my motives for volunteering to assist them are not totally innocent. I need their assistance to implement my grant for the mentoring, and feeding of the village’s neglected children.    

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Dee's Haircut

January 22,2014

I needed a haircut and borrowed some clippers from by Peace Corps neighbor across the road.
I asked his girlfriend, Dee, and fellow basketball player if she would cut my air. I like it short,using the number 1 clipper attachment.
Unknown to me, Dee removed the attachment which results in a head of head with no real hair. Her basketball has more fuss than my plate. At least hair does grow back.
Barber and customer

Keke Pua'a (Pork filled bun)

January 22, 2014

Keke Pua'a is a deep-fried or steam bun filled with fatty pork. It is a favorite breakfast food for Samoans coupled with five tablespoons of sugar to sweeten their morning chocolate drink. Keke Pua'a is one of the many foods that help to make Samoans the obese champions of the world.

Some how the Samoan Observer newspaper wrote an article on keke pua'a and used one of my photographs for which they gave me credit.The irony is the photo was taken as part of my efforts to reduce the amount of keke pua'a eaten.

Link to article and picture
http://www.samoaobserver.ws/other/community/8934-up-at-2-am-daily-for-keke-puaa

Ladies from the Bush

January 22, 2014

My house and the house of another Peace Corps Volunteer neighbor are favorite gathering and flopping places for other Peace Corps Volunteers who come in from their remote posts for a meeting or to use the only ATM machine within a six hour drive. This is a time of dread, especially since the young ladies have not used a flush toilet and soft toilet paper for a long time. The result is plugged toilets and my plunger becomes an indispensable tool.