Bad Grades? No Problem. Go on Strike.

The students grades from last semester were posted for each department at different times over the last two weeks.

When the students from the Law departments received their grades, a very small portion of them passed. So they went on strike!

Not being at the university when this happened makes it more exciting because Djiboutians are great at spreading information quickly. So the story is all around town and people who have no university involvement are discussing it.

Apparently, somewhere between 180 and 200 students took the exams and between two and ten passed (the numbers are always different). So they either got the high school students to join them in throwing rocks at the university or the high school students joined a peaceful gathering incited rock throwing.

One would think, that a protest over grades would simply be ignored, but students from the other departments stayed away from the university for a few days, with an excuse to skip class.

And the grades are actually being changed of the protesting students!

There was also a rumor that the students knocked out the president of the university, but there is little evidence to verify this fact.

Who Decided?

This country might seem dirty to an American tourist, simply because it is quite dusty and there are quite a few bugs.

However, the people here are extremely clean. They (with the help of a house worker) clean and dust their homes everyday. They wash all their clothes by hand once a week (which can take more than half a day. They wash before they pray (which is five times a day), sometimes they shower and change their clothes three times a day.

A friend noticed that my American roommate and I do not clean the house quite that often. We are organized and clean, but we don't mind a days worth of dust. And we do not feel the need to deep clean the curtains once a month.

She commented on this by saying that her mother instilled in her the ethic that "simply because one is poor, does not mean that one should be messy". She takes pride in caring for her home and guests. With hurt in her eyes, she then said, "We are not 'first world', but we are cleaner than you." What I heard her saying, was "who decided that you are better and can change the rest of the world, just because you where born in a different place with a lot of stuff that you don't take care of."

So...who decided? I think we Americans (at least myself) have a lot to learn from the rest of the world.

You want your package?

Went to the post office yesterday because my wonderful friend sent me a package. I get there and go to the office for packages, but I went to the office for big packages, when I needed the office for little packages. While I was in the big package office, the post man (who I got a package from the the week before and we chatted about my job as a university professor) asked me if I knew a this university professor named Dan. I said yes, we work together. He tells me that Dan's package is being eaten by rats and has been there a long time, so he tells me to take it to Dan. No problem. I get it and head out to find the office for small packages.

After walking in circles for 10 minutes because I received extremely vague directions about the location of the secret window inside the p.o. box room which holds the room of small packages, I finally get to talk to the right guy.

I hand him the note with my name on it that says I have a package. He chats with me in Somali, asks to shake my hand (which is extremely strange for a Somali man), asks me if I'm married, and he chats with me about my boss who he knows.

Then he asks for my id. Which I didn't bring. So I tell him this and then he refuses to give me my package!!!!

So the post office gave me a package that didn't belong to me, that I didn't have a paper for, but it didn't give me MY package, which I had a paper for!

Frustrating. It is always an adventure in Djibouti.

(I successfully got my packages this morning with my id, thanks dear friends!)

Who waits for the cops?

On my usual bus, when it stops to let off some passengers. The man who collects the money and hangs off the side of the door is helping the people who are getting out, when a police officer comes to the driver's window and talks to him. The officer makes him back up to where his bike is a few meters behind. The officer walks from the driver side to the right side of the bus where his bike is located, he appears to be about to give the driver a ticket or something.

When all of a sudden the driver just hits the gas!

He leaves the police officer in the dust! Everyone on the bus is screaming...not because we left the police man (which if I could have communicated that I would have), but because the driver abandoned his money man. The money man is a very important factor in the bus experience as his yelling and money clanking keep it loud. The money man is frantically chasing the bus, he finally catches up and the driver takes off again.

My lack of communication skills probably made this far more entertaining and unbelievable. However, I'm not sure if I had understood what everyone was saying my Western-"obey-the-law" mentality would have allowed me to condone driving away from the police (who never did make any pursuit as far as I could tell).

Every Culture has a Remedy

I have been sick the past two days with a fever and some stomach issues. All I wanted to do yesterday was lay in bed and sleep. Which all my American roommates were happy to let me do, because its normal to want to be alone when you are a sick American.

But in a culture where families have multiple wives, ten to twelve kids is normal and everyone lives in a three room home until they are married (even if they are 40), loneliness is one of their greatest fears. It is a neighborhood duty to visit a sick friend and keep them company.

So yesterday, when I was sleeping and my fever was breaking, our house helper comes in a wakes me up and is trying to touch me. The last thing I want when waking up from a nap is to have someone try to touch me and speak to me in a language I know maybe 20 words in. She went away for a little bit so she could make me various cocktails for healing (a cold drink of lemon and garlic and a whole thermos of hot watered down orange juice), but then her cousin who came to visit her at work took it upon herself to keep me company. She sat with me and talked at me for a while, before commanding my roommate to sit with me before I got any worse.

Our house helper left me in her cousin's care, while she went to our neighbor to get me some entertainment. She comes back with our neighbor's wedding slide show and they all sit together while we watch it. This was not what I thought I needed. But they were convinced that if I was alone I would get worse and laughing was the best medicine (along with my thermos).

At least I know they love me.

White-Out Frenzy

The exam system created by the French is quite complicated. Two to three professors are sent with a heaping pile of papers (an attendance sheet, giant essay sheets, scratch sheets of multiple colors, forms if cheating happens, forms for absences...) to give each exam.

Most of the exams are in essay or long answer form. The students really like to make their exams beautiful, even if they have no knowledge because they didn't study.

This test beautification involves multiple color pens, highlighters and the BLANC-O (or white-out)! It seems to be a universal frenzy for these students to use white-out...but they are not Americans who all bring their own white-out. They are Djiboutians who share the white-out. So, one to five students will bring the blanc-o and as the test nears the end, the students will all throw the blanc-o around the room.

It is like this crazy testing security blanket. Maybe it makes them feel like they can work together and preserve group identity or maybe they feel the need to cover their mistakes or shame with white (which looks no better than a simple line through a word) like Adam and Eve with their leaves. Whatever the reason it is quite hilarious.

Happy New Year! Let the inconveniences begin

So New Year's isn't a big deal here. There are some Arabic tv specials and fireworks in the foreigner's housing areas, but other that and than telling everyone Happy New Year, it is pretty much a normal day.

For our house of four girls, the year started off with a splash (quite literally), despite the lack of festivities.

The day before New Year's Eve our lock broke on our front door (don't worry we are still safe because we have an outside door too). Then a repairman came to fix our leaking sink but he took five hours and didn't do it quite right.

But the most exciting part was our water pump breaking at 4 in the morning.

The city water only runs from 3am to 7am each morning. We open up a tank on our roof and it fills during this time. This is also when we have to do laundry. I got up to do laundry at 3, when I hear a strange sound from our water pump and then the deluge begins. I woke up all the roommates, we couldn't make the flooding stop, so we woke up our neighbors who have the controls. Thankfully it mostly stopped and we don't have carpet. So my brilliant roommate started to shovel the water into buckets. Nothing like a good flood in the morning to get the day started off right.

Thankfully after two nights of floods it is finally fixed.