Seeing Red, or WWID

If you ever find yourself in a strange new environment, I have a fun game for you to play. Remember your good friends from your previous locale, and then insert them into the situations which you come across in your new one, to try and imagine how the friends would handle them. The more ridiculous the situation, the more humorous the game becomes. And naturally, some people have very memorable or vivid character traits which make them ideal for this. Well, I have been enjoying this diversion the whole time I’ve been here, without ever really thinking about it. Back when I was bested by the chickens, I recall wondering how a particular friend of mine would have responded to the entire event. The poisonous creatures turning up in my room, the evil ferry from Zanzibar, the basketball loudmouth. I can think of hilarious ways in which different people I have known would respond to each, maybe you can too. But I think my favorite person to put in any situation here, bar none, is Ivan Shiras. Most of you reading this probably know who he is to some extent, but for those who don’t, I suppose an brief explanation of Ivan is in order. First, let me set the stage by admitting that, shockingly, the fraternity had an adverse affect on my academic life. By about my junior year I was constantly debating switching majors to philosophy just so I could graduate quickly and painlessly. At this point, I’d known Mr. Shiras for several years, as he was a year under me in the fraternity. Midway through the year, we realized that we were both physics majors, and began taking classes together. I will freely declare that the support of Ivan is probably the main reason I ended up with a physics degree. Over the next two years (yes, three plus two makes five, so what…) Ivan and I became, I don’t think its presumptuous to say, great friends. During this tenure, in addition to studying together we even became coworkers. Suffice it to say I had ample time to get to know many of the aspects of Ivan’s personality. Earlier, I said that people who have more distinctive traits are the most amusing to imagine in these different situations. Well, Ivan has an unforgettable personality. Once during an interview, when asked how his friends would describe him, his reply was “salty.” But just to say that would give you a wrong impression as to the magnificence of Ivan. I’ve never known a more capable person. Our friend Ivan is devoted, earnest, intelligent, and has the potential of being very, very…shall we say…meticulous. If I use any more adjectives this will sound like a personals ad, and then I’d have to explain his resemblance to Chuck Norris (if only you grew a beefy mustache, Ivan…) and Ben Stiller. To get a feel for the full spectrum of Ivan, it will help to know that one of our physics professors once called him motivated and bright, and that one of our coworkers once asked me why he ironed his blue jeans (to be fair, he doesn‘t iron his blue jeans, only his sheets). Intellectual elite but obsessively neat, that is the essence.
So to return to my original idea, since I arrived, I have been unconsciously putting Ivan into all the various incidents which befall me. In fact, when I am teaching I tend to imagine how Ivan would explain a specific concept. Or if I become stuck on a problem a student brings to me from some archaic university text from India, I try to remember how he would attempt to solve it. Although this inspires me, its not the entertaining side of inserting Ivan into life here. For those of you who know Ivan well, or from my concise description can picture him, think of Ivan in some of the following situations.

There are relatively few restaurants in greater Bukoba, go figure. When the various mzungu factions decide to have a weekend dinner together, there are really only three places we can go. At the first one, the menu is shockingly varied, with everything from hamburgers (cheese is just too much to ask…) to perch thermidor. The downside? The menu does not correspond with what the restaurant actually serves, and usually its by about choice number four that I pick a winner. The second restaurant has the menu problem as well, to a lesser degree. But the major issue at this one is the service. It took over three hours to get our food once, and that was surprising because it generally only takes two hours. That last hour was pretty rough. The third restaurant is afflicted with the same difficulties as the first two, and even more. I remember once there were eight of us dining there. We waited for a little over the standard two hours, and when the food came, two people’s orders had been completely forgotten, and two others were just plain incorrect. Four for eight, after two long, hungry hours. The bizarre thing is that these places weren’t busy, which could have helped explain the confusion. In fact, generally we are the only ones there. How could a person whose sole job is to take an order from a table to a kitchen only succeed fifty percent of the time? Especially when that person is working so exasperatingly slowly! Ivan, you would let loose a legendary tantrum if you ever tried dining here, I‘m sure of it, and I‘m sure it would be hilarious.

Thinking of Ivan being present at my school meetings is usually the best way to keep entertained during them. These meetings have the tendency to be brutally tedious. For the opening of school in January, all the teachers met to go over the minutes from the previous closing of school meeting, as well as to cover the logistics of opening. All told, this lasted for seven hours. I’ll give you an idea of what critical issues were discussed during this time. For at least the first hour, the old minutes were read, and questions were raised. What kind of questions? Well, every time that a list of participants was mentioned, various teachers would raise their hands to say that they had been omitted. Come on, does it really matter that the scribe forgot to write that you attended a twenty-minute session six months ago on whether or not soda should be allowed at some ceremony? Is it worth then arguing over for ten minutes until your name is added? Ivan’s answer would be “no!”, and mine as well. And that was just the beginning! The rest of this meeting and most of the others have continued so much in this fashion that I began keeping myself entertained by writing physics lesson plans instead of listening. Think about that.

The last situation I have time to write about is a bit ironic, as it deals with blue jeans. I brought two pairs with me, which I am not allowed to wear on campus, Ihungo being a former missionary school. But I do wear them when Aaron and I walk into town, which is three miles away. The walk back is usually a bit rough, as I mentioned sometime earlier that the school is on a small mountain (or hill, I don‘t know the exact height requirements but I hear Hugh Grant could help me out) and we generally return at around three in the hot African afternoon. Have you ever walked up a mountain-hill in sweaty, clingy jeans? Each step is awful, like when you walk through deep snow and have to first move your leg directly up, then forward, then directly down again. Its just so inefficient, isn’t it Ivan…? But that’s not what I thought was ironic. After this uncomfortable trek home, my jeans are always dirty, so I toss them in the hamper for Mama Shukuru to wash (don’t shake your head at me; I’m supporting the economy) when she has time. All this means is that my jeans get the Mama Shukuru treatment at least once a week. And what does the Mama Shukuru treatment include? Yes, you guessed it. She irons my blue jeans. In fact, because she irons them so frequently, she has somehow succeeded in ironing into both pairs that classy line that slacks have going down the middle of each leg. Except in jeans it looks a little less than classy. Ivan, what would you do if you had blue jeans constantly ironed to look like slacks? I actually don’t know where you would stand on this one. Would you be pleased that they are so orderly, or bothered (yes, bothered) that your jeans have become terrible hybrids, "sleans"? Help a brother out...

Anyway, I’ve written way too much and I think I have mostly avoided being offensive to my certain friend so far, so I’ll call it a day. Ivan, I miss having you around, in every situation here.