Rpcvdraft - New pages [en]

New site

Admin — Mon, 14 Jan 2008 00:52:55 GMT

Admin:

We have started a new site. '''[http://wikifon.org Please click here for new wikifon]''' or put wikifon.org in your browser. Greg has sent all registered users of this site their name and other info to the new site. Sorry the email contains a new password you can change.

We have copied all of the pages in this site to a new one. We are putting the finishing touches on it Pictures are being slowly loaded one at a time. We expect to be notifying current registered users of this site between 1/15 and 1/20. All work that has been done on this site has or will be copied to the new site.

The new site will give us more control and allow our members more flexibility. For example, we will be allowing registered users to be able to upload photos (250k max each but could be higher). Of course will will have our own url (domain name).

Chris is also excited because, the new site will also allow us to add additional programs to support the various things we do. But for now the wikifon is at the top of our list.--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 19:27, 14 January 2008 (EST)

Training at UCLA - slices of memory

Wschroeder — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 05:06:38 GMT

Wschroeder:

Bill Schroeder, Nigeria XIII: LAX to Enugu - Slices of Memory with Spaces
Between

On the day we were supposed to arrive at our training site somehow a number
of us found each other at the Los Angeles airport. One of us suggested all
the suitcases to go in one taxi and the people in another. The excited
conversation is a vivid memory. The adventure was about to begin.

The Dracker Motel near the UCLA campus was filled by our group and a group
training for Ethopia. 120 young people living in one complex were preparing
to take the world by storm.

Women and men were assigned separate rooms. Bureaucracy being what it is
this seemed a significant achievement. Once divided by sexes we were
assigned rooms in alphabetical order. At the reception desk I asked for
mail for, "Scanella, Schnapper, Schmidt and Schroeder." I loved it.

I have a memory of a number of us hanging around the Dracker swimming pool.

We walked from the Dracker to the Myra Hershey Hall for meals. I observed
people hosing leaves off their sidewalk. I remember being somewhat
surprised that people in a desert would be so extravagent with water.

Classes at UCLA: I remember some of the Igbo language classes; I can't
remember one of the others.

We drank coffee. We talked. Sometimes we went to Will Wright's for ice
cream. Another ice cream store nearby had more flavours but wasn't as
pretty.

We fell in love.

One man described being on a civil rights march in Alabama. I came from a
somewhat right wing family in what we would now be described Lake Wobegon
country. Someone telling me they had been on a civil rights march in the
Deep South may as well have said they had gone for a walk on the moon.

I remember walking across the UCLA campus on the day after Halloween.
Overnight someone had entered a building with an observatory, got on the
roof and painted a brilliant orange and black pumpkin on the metal
hemisphere covering the telescope. I appreciated both the humour and the
excellence of the painting.

When we gathered at J.F.K. airport for the flight to Lagos it was snowing.
Our departure was delayed. When we did take off we were told the snow
caused the plane to leave with a light fuel load so we would be landing at
Bermuda to take on additional fuel. Bermuda -- night, warm, humid,
pleasant. I had never been south of New York before. I wondered if this is
what the Bahamas felt like.

Landing in Dakar: An airport guard spoke French - naturally. Everyone
seemed to be tearing around looking for Marie-France who could tell us what
he was asking or we wanting. Was there a stop between Dakar and Lagos? - I
have a feeling there was but I can't recall.

We had been told some of our luggage would arrive after we arrived. When we
got off the plane and were met by the Director of the Peace Corps in Nigeria
that luggage was on the runway next to the plane.

From the airport to our Lagos motel we rode in the back of a large van.
Night. No street lights. Everywhere there were little stands with small
lamps. We went around the roundabouts "the wrong way". We just laughed.
This was crazy. And fun. The energy level is one of my sharpest memories.

After some training in Lagos We took a bus from Lagos to Enugu. Somewhere
in the Midwest there was a "rest stop". "Girls use the bushes on the left,
boys the bushes on the right."

I remember the huge queue to get on the ferry across the Niger. Some
lorries had been waiting for days. Our bus got on immediately. Think.

Enugu: We must have been in the government rest house. At dinner the male
waiters with complexions as black as midnight wore immaculate white coats.
The meal was delicious. Then or later I have a memory of meeting Warren
Zeigler, Director of the PC in the East.

I remember waiting in the PCV rest house in Enugu waiting for the Headmaster
who would drive me to the school near Owerri. Indeed, the adventure was
about to begin. Why did the Peace Corps stop their rest houses?

Group XXII stories

Rcollman — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 13:40:29 GMT

Rcollman: add link back to description

[[Group XXII description]]

Sandbox Main page

Admin — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 14:30:51 GMT

Rcollman: /* See also */

[[Image:FON LOGO new3.gif|center|]]

<div style="text-align: center; font-size: 200%;">'''Welcome'''</div>

This wiki (called WikiFON) is for Return Peace Corps Volunteers (RPCVs) that are members of [http://friendsofnigeria.org/ Friends of Nigeria (FON)].

The [[General site map|'''General site map (click here''', remember links appear in blue)]] has a table of contents of links to different pages. It should give you a feel for the site.{{GoldStar}} The current purpose of WikiFON is to work on a draft of how FON members might place '''[[Stories]]''', '''[[Groups| group anecdotes]]''', '''[[Special:Imagelist|pictures]]''' and collaborate to create a record of their experiences.

This site is viewable by the public (remember the [[IPCP 01 The Infamous Peace Corps Postcard|''The Post Card'']]) and contributors must '''[[How to request login|request a userid]]''' and password issued by the site administrator. Content appearing on this site may not be used without permission of Friends of Nigeria (FON).

==Quick list of links ==

*'''[[General site map]]''' has most links to other WikiFON pages with descriptions of the pages

*'''[[Groups]]''' A list of every group with links to a description page.
**[[Group XXII description|Nigeria XXII (22) description]]
**[[Group XVI description|Nigeria XVI (16) description]]

*[[:Category:Stories|'''Stories''']] in an alphabetical list.
**'''[[Group Story Index|Personal anecdotes by Group]]''' Has links to an index page of stories. contributed by members of that group.
***[[Group XVI stories]] example of one way to list stories. A story page might link here and/or the [[Group Story Index|Personal anecdotes by Group]] page.
***[[Group IX stories]] another example.

*'''[[How to request login]]'''
*'''[[Help:Contents]]''' has a navigation bar on the right with help topics, FAQs and more

Group XIII bios

Wschroeder — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 00:30:12 GMT

Rcollman: /* Bill Schroeder */

==Bill Schroeder==
Bill Schroeder – '''From Nigeria to New Zealand'''.

I had been thinking of coming to New Zealand before [[Group XIII description|Nigeria XIII]] and the training days at UCLA. In Nigeria I applied to

the New Zealand Department of Education for a teaching position. One requirement was a police check. A police check in

Owerri for entry to New Zealand seemed odd, not least because at the time Biafra had declared itself an independent

state.

Back home and hopefully on my way to New Zealand, another piece of bureaucracy was getting clearance from the local

Draft Board to leave the country. I was invited to meet the Board. When I did I found myself talking with four or five

men, the youngest of whom appeared to be about 80. I was told I could leave the country if I produced a copy of my

teaching contract. I explained that New Zealand teachers did not have a contract, they only had a position. I have a

memory of them looking at each other with great doubt; clearly a teaching position without a contract was outside their

world view. To resolve their problem they again asked for my contract. I explained again. After going around this

loop a few times I was told I could go to New Zealand providing I sent a copy of my contract back to them. Within a few

days at the school I asked my Headmaster to write to the Draft Board explaining the situation. They wrote back to him

asking for a copy of my contract. The Headmaster was capable of great rudeness. He gave heart and soul to his reply

and we didn’t hear from them again.

The school was on the West Coast of the South Island. If it isn’t raining it is going to rain; the average annual

rainfall is around thirteen feet. It is a mining area with a history of industrial relations thick enough to cut with a

knife. It was a superb place to enter New Zealand.

After six years my career of teaching fourteen year-olds to solve quadratic equations had come to a merciful end. At

the same time I felt called to explore ministry in the Anglican church. I was accepted for training and spent two years

in an Auckland seminary, my only North Island experience. Since ordination I have had positions in parishes as far

north as one can go in the South Island, an isolated area of exquisite beauty, and a parish almost as far south as one

can go.

After fifteen years of inner-city ministry in Christchurch I was completely exhausted. I was asked to look after a

rural parish for a short time. The short time became three years and was a wonderful, restoring time. I still do a

bit of work for the church but more as an interest than a job.

I have two children, a daughter living near Christchurch and a son in Melbourne, Australia. My wife Val-mai and I live

on the shore of Otago Harbour, about ten kilometres from the city of Dunedin. Sometimes I stand and watch the ships in

the harbour channel. Those ships seem a long way from a Minneapolis Draft Board.

I grew up in Nigeria, entering as a socially ill at ease young man and leaving as a more or less reasonable adult. The

mentor for this change was the Headmaster at my school, an Irish Catholic priest – one of the most influential people in

my life. But all that is a story for another day.
[[Image:Bill schroeder 4.jpg|frame|center|The bike has grown, the clothes have shrunk, the hairline has certainly moved but I am still on two wheels.]]

[[Group XIII description]]
[[Category:Bio]]

Story X

Admin — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 17:06:36 GMT

Admin: example

IPCP 11 What JFK Had To Say To Us

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:45:37 GMT

Rcollman:

What JFK Had To Say To Us

A police escort with sirens blaring led our dozen Peace Corps buses in one long continuous caravan through every downtown light in Washington, D.C. It was high noon in the District the summer after the famous postcard had been found on the Ibadan campus and we--the 300 Ethiopia-bound Peace Corps Trainees at Georgetown University--were on our way to meet John F. Kennedy at the White House.
There were other Peace Corps Trainees meeting the President that afternoon. Peace Corps Trainees at Howard, American, Catholic, George Washington universities, and the University of Maryland, over 600 in all, gathered in the August heat and humidity on the great lawn below the Truman Balcony.
Arriving at the White House, I walked with the others up the slope with the Washington Monument behind me and the White House on the slight rise ahead, thinking how small the building was, no bigger than the country club where I had spent my teenage years as a caddie.

I thought, too, of how lean Kennedy looked, standing at a raised podium with his one hand caught in the pocket of his dark suit jacket as he said, "From Georgetown University, 307 secondary school teachers for Ethiopia." He looked up from the pages and asked, "Perhaps those of you going to Ethiopia could hold up your hands."

We cheered, thrilled at being recognized by JFK.

We were the Peace Corps, the shiny new creation that Kennedy had proposed in the last days of the 1960 presidential campaign, his experiment in international development that others had called a wacky and dangerous idea. The Daughters of the American Revolution warned of a "yearly drain" of "brains and brawn..for the benefit of backward, underdeveloped countries." Former President Eisenhower declared it a "juvenile experiment," and Richard Nixon said it was another form of "draft evasion." The following year, in 1963, Time magazine noted in a cover story that the Peace Corps was "the greatest single success the Kennedy administration had produced."
And now we were at the White House and John F. Kennedy was saying, "I hope that you will regard this Peace Corps tour as the first installment in a long life of service, as the most exciting career in the most exciting time, and that is serving this country in the sixties and the seventies."

Looking again at the old photographs taken that afternoon, I see the President smiling down at the group of young women in bright flowery dresses, and young men with short haircuts, white shirts, narrow ties, and serious dark suits.

"The White House," Kennedy said, summing up, "belongs to all the people--but I think it particularly belongs to you."

Kennedy ended his remarks and instead of returning to the White House stepped from the podium and walked down the slope and along the line of Trainees to shake our hands. He asked us where we were going in the Peace Corps and wished us good luck. Finally he stopped and said, "Well, I guess I better get back to work." He brushed back his hair in that famous gesture we all came to cherish and nodding goodbye walked a few yards towards the Oval Office, but stopped once more and glancing around raised his voice and told us to write, to tell him how it was going. He nodded goodbye, slipped his hand into the jacket pocket, and then, almost as an afterthought, he grinned and added...
"But no postcards."

Previous *[[IPCP 10 Who Stole Marjorie's Postcard?]] | Return to [[Infamous Peace Corps Postcard |IPCP index page (start)]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 10 Who Stole Marjorie's Postcard?

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:43:19 GMT

Rcollman:

Who Stole Marjorie's Postcard? Part 10

In 1965 Bob Gale, then running the Peace Corps Recruitment Office, traveled out to Ibadan, Nigeria, for a COS Conference. Gale had been a vice president at Carlton College and had developed the famous Peace Corps recruitment blitz [the most famous of all was the first in early October 1963 when teams of recruiters hit college campuses; these were mostly non-RPCVs as the first PCVs were just arriving back in the States. These all-out assaults on college campuses were very successful at recruiting Trainees. These early blitz teams were replaced by '67 with teams of RPCVs working out of regional offices, and HQ non-PCV staff rarely traveled outside of Washington to recruit Volunteers.]
Back in Nigeria, Gale arrived late in Ibadan from Washington and met up with a Nigeria APCD and headed for a local bar where he was the only white man having a drink. Then in walked another huge white American kid and a smaller African. Gale recognized the American. He had recently been the co captain of the Carlton College football team when Gale was there, and was a PCV in Ghana. He was hitchhiking through Nigeria and had been picked up by this smaller Nigerian who, when learning his rider was a Peace Corps Volunteer, immediately told him that he was the person who had discovered the famous postcard of October 1961, four years earlier.
The Nigerian explained that he was then working at the post office in Ibadan and had been told by a group of left-wing students at the University to look for any postcards from PCVs that might discredit the Peace Corps.
In her book, Come As You Are Coates Redmon asked an RPCV from Nigeria about the claim and the RPCV replied that "We've heard stories and stories. I think that no one knows the whole truth. But one thing is certain. Peace Corps Volunteers in Nigeria never send postcards. They are haunted."

Previous *[[IPCP 09 What happened to Marjorie]] | Next *[[IPCP 11 What JFK Had To Say To Us]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 09 What happened to Marjorie

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:42:15 GMT

Rcollman:

Part 9 What happened to Marjorie
As for Marjorie. She returned to Peace Corps HQ with Ruth Olson and Tim Adams and went to work with Betty Harris and Sally Bowles to put out the first issue of The Peace Corps Volunteer. It was, of course, an appropriate choice, as Coates Redmon states it in her book on the early days of the agency, Come As You Are: The Peace Corps Story, since Marjorie was the first returned Volunteers.
[In the next few--and final--blogs on this Peace Corps postcard, I will tell what happened to Marjorie Michelmore after life in the Peace Corps, how her postcard found its way from the Ibadan University campus mailroom to the world, how this postcard, in the words of Warren Wiggins "vaccinated" the Peace Corps from future troubles, and what President Kennedy, on the White House lawn, had to say to a group of Peace Corps Trainees about that postcard in the
The Peace Corps Gets Vaccinated, Part 9
In a memorandum to Sargent Shriver--attached to an Evaluation Report on Morocco (1963) done by Ken Love--and written by the legendary early Peace Corps Director of Evaluations, Charlie Peters, Charlie wrote, "Marjorie was as sensitive and as intelligent a Volunteer as we ever had in the Peace Corps." The lesson that was learned by the Peace Corps was that "even the best young people can be damned silly at times."
According to Gerard T. Rice in the first serious study of the agency and its creation entitled, The Bold Experiment: JFK's Peace Corps, "The President's personal support helped the Peace Corps weather its first storm." Kennedy hand written note to Michaelmore said, "We are strongly behind you and hope you will continue to serve in the Peace Corps."
At the Peace Corps HQ the feeling was that the agency had weathered this early storm. Warren Wiggins would write, "The greatest thing that could have happened to the Peace Corps in the beginning with a postcard from a Volunteer mentioning that people pee in the streets in Nigeria. It was like a vaccination.....Never again would a major newspaper, under the worst of conditions, streamed anything negative about the Peace Corps. Since then, the Peace Corps has had rape, manslaughter, bigamy, disappearances, Volunteers going insane, meddling in local politics, being eaten by crocodiles, but never again did it get a bad play in national news. The vaccination took; we were immune."
The PCVs stayed and the Peace Corps program continued and grew in Nigeria. As for Marjorie? Well, early in '62 she left the Peace Corps and married her Boston lawyer.
Several years ago I located Marjorie via an email address and asked her if wanted to write her account for our website: www.peacecorpswriters.org. Marjorie wrote back saying, 'thanks, but no.'
Today, Marjorie Michaelmore is 69 years old. How time flies.

Previous *[[IPCP 08 What They Wrote About Michelmore in America]] | Next *[[IPCP 10 Who Stole Marjorie's Postcard?]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 08 What They Wrote About Michelmore in America

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:40:49 GMT

Rcollman:

What They Wrote About Michelmore in America, Part 8

Segments of the U.S. Press were all over the postcard incident. The U.S. News and World Report wrote,"From the moment of its inception, despite laudable aims, the Peace Corps was bound to run into trouble." They condemned the naivete of the entire concept and claimed, "this is only the first big storm."
Commonweal wrote in an editorial "The problem involved is really bigger than the Peace Corps for it reflects the gap that exists between the wealthy U.S. and most of the rest of the world. Given this fact, incidents like the postcard affair are bound to happen."
Former President Eisenhower added his two cents, saying the "postcard" was evidence of the worthlessness of Kennedy's new idea
However, columnist James Weschsler of the New York Post came to the aid of the Peace Corps and Marjorie. "Nothing in the card was sinister. It contained the instinctive expression of horror of an affluent American girl in her first direct encounter with the gruesome squalor of Nigeria. She was neither patronizing nor self-righteous in her comment; yet, whoever found the lost card managed to stage a big production."
Michelmore, meanwhile, was getting support from Nigerian writing letters to Nigerian newspapers. Tai Solarin in the Lagos Daily Times wrote, "not a single Nigerian who knew this part of Nigeria would suggest that she was sending home a make-up story."
While Murray Frank and the PCVs at University College of Ibadan might not have known it at first, the Volunteers were also getting help from Washington. Shriver met with the President as soon as the news broke, telegrams were going back and forth between the Peace Corps and Sam Proctor, the Peace Corps Director in Nigeria, on how to handle the situation.
And Marjorie, too, was well aware of what was happening around her because of the postcard. She would later write Kennedy, "I regret very much my part in the unfortunate affair at Ibadan. I hope that the embarrassment is caused the country and the peace corps effort will be neither serious nor lasting. [ Marjorie was right. Five months after the postcard incident, a second group of Volunteers arrived in Nigeria and were met at the airport by Prime Minister Abubakar Belewwa.]

Previous *[[IPCP 07 PCV Aubrey Brown Shows Them How]] | Next [[IPCP 09 What happened to Marjorie]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 07 PCV Aubrey Brown Shows Them How

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:39:35 GMT

Rcollman:

PCV Aubrey Brown Shows Them How, Part 7

Nigerian PCV Aubrey Brown, who had had training and experience in non-violence resistance in the late fifties, led the Volunteers, and the Nigerian students, out of this confrontation over the postcard by the end of October, 1961.
The PCV had continued to take some meals and sleep in the dormitories, but they were isolated and shunned by the Nigerian students. Then Aubrey told the Nigerian students in his dorm that he would not eat if they would not eat with him.
The Nigerians began to bring him dinner trays to his room but he refused to eat. And soon they invited him to join them at meals. Other Volunteers and students did the same. Slowly, a dialogue began between the students and the Volunteers, which was, as Murray recalls, "more valuable than if the incident had not taken place."
Other Nigerians came to the help of the PCVs. The Nigerian-American Society, an organization of Nigerians trained in America, wrote letters to the editors of newspapers. One man, H.A. Oluwasanmi, who taught agronomy at the University of Ibadan and later was Chancellor the University of Ife, gave not only support to the Volunteers and Murray Frank, but his advice on how to understand the situation was, in Murray's word, "invaluable."
Richard Taiwo, an engineer in one of the Western Region ministries and a warm and wonderful man and supporter of the Peace Corps, praised the Volunteers and organized with others a party for all the PCVs at a very visible club in Ibadan, where there was plenty of Star beer and lessons in Highlife.
The Peace Corps in Nigeria also got help from Tai Solarin, principal of the Mayflower School, which he founded and named for our Mayflower, came to the side of the Volunteers. If it wasn't from these men, and the Nigerian-American group, Murray Franks now believes, "We might not have made it."
In the aftermath of the incident, Murray would write, "PCVs remained calm and were not retaliatory with Nigerians who taunted them. These young men and women balanced individuality and group allegiance, knowing that the issues were not personal. They remained reasonably self-confident and able to listen and learn."
The first real crisis of the Peace Corps and on-the-job training of what it meant to be a PCV had been averted and the infamous postcard turned into a moment of understanding and acceptance by all. The Kennedy Kids had shown their detractors in the United States that they weren't kids. And as Murray Frank, who guided them successfully through all these first months in Africa, summed up years later, "I would hope that if any new PCVs go to Nigeria they will be as good as the Nigeria I Volunteers. They couldn't be better."

Previous *[[IPCP 06 Marjorie Confronts William Sloane Coffin]] | Next [[IPCP 08 What They Wrote About Michelmore in America]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 06 Marjorie Confronts William Sloane Coffin

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:36:51 GMT

Rcollman:

Marjorie Confronts William Sloane Coffin in Puerto Rico, Part 6

At Idlewild Tim, Ruth, and Betty convince Margorie to go to Puerto Rico. Michelmore agreed to go for a 'few days' and Tim informed Shriver, telling Sarge he would keep in touch. He boarded the plane with Ruth Olson and Marjorie, thinking that once he was on the plane to Puerto Rico, he'll be okay.

Tim was wrong.

On the plane, Adams recognized Carl Mydans. It the time Mydans was a famous photojournalist, one of the giants for Life Magazine. Adams thinks: this is not a coincidence. With Mydans was a beautiful young woman reporter, Marjorie Byers. They are in first class. Of course, this is Life Magazine.

When they are airborne, Carl walks back from first class to talk to Tim who is riding in coach. [Of course, he works for the Peace Corps.] "Carl is such a gentlemen," Tim says, "I finally relented and we were able to negotiate terms under which Mydans and Marjorie Byers could get an interview with Michelmore after we all arrived in Puerto Rico."

When they arrived in San Juan they are met by Rafael Sancho-Bonet, then the Peace Corps' overall administrator in Puerto Rico [later he would be the CD in Chile.] Rafael drives them all to meet William Sloane Coffin, the director of the camp. Coffin is famous, especially in his own mind, and had been a chaplain at Yale, later an antiwar spokesman, later still, the senior rector at Riverside Church in New York City. In the Peace Corps Coffin was well liked, and well hated.

That day he was pissed that Michelmore had been "foisted on him" by Shriver. He did not want her in his camp. [Of course, Marjorie didn't want to be there either.]
Coffin position was, "I want it made clear that this girl is going to be treated just like everybody else here. Up before dawn, rappel down the dam, do drown proofing, conquer the obstacle course, etcetera."

Marjorie wasn't going to have any of it. "I will do this for a couple days to accommodate the Peace Corps," she tells all of them, "but I view it as an unnecessarily punitive action, and there is a limit. If I am not permitted to leave very, very soon, I will leave on my own."

"Marjorie wasn't kidding," recalled Adams. "She was ladylike, but tough. And she just wasn't going to take any shit from Coffin."

Something had to be done, and it was, by Ruth Olson, Rafael Sancho-Bonet, and Tim Adams. They would handle this 'incident' for the Peace Corps. They got Michelmore, to use early Peace Corps terminology, 'in, up, and out' of Arecibo with in two days.

Meanwhile back in Nigeria, another part of the "preposterous postcard incident" as Tim Adams termed it, was taking place. In Ibadan, between the PCVs and Nigerian students, there were real problems.

Previous *[[IPCP 05 Nigerian PCVs Make Their Decision]] | Next [[IPCP 07 PCV Aubrey Brown Shows Them How]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 05 Nigerian PCVs Make Their Decision

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:04:20 GMT

Rcollman:

Nigerian PCVs Make Their Decision, Part 5

Meanwhile back at Murray Frank's home, the PCVs had assembled and were trying to understand the intense reaction of the Nigerians. Nigeria, newly independent, was surrounded, as Murray put it, "with the visages of the colonial period, including and especially white people who symbolized a colonial past." What had quickly emerged in Nigeria was a self-image based on their new freedom, especially among the young intellectuals. These students, and others, were asking: how could the Americans help us if they were writing letters home about them?

While many of the new PCVs had experienced student protests in the U.S. they were still unprepared for what was directed at them. Could they survive the postcard? They didn't know.

They began to ask themselves: why stay when so many students wanted them to leave?
Other PCVs said. We know Nigeria needs teachers. We can teach. We are not imperialists, nor CIA agents, nor ugly Americans. We know who we are. We can make a difference.

In the long afternoon and night of discussion, Murray Frank was the discussion leader, moving the Volunteers from one hard point to the next. These young people were on the firing line, Murray knew, and they had to decide themselves.

And they were all young. Murray was the oldest in the room, only 34. Also, they were all newly transplanted in a new country, confronted with a situation that they had no preparation for, but they had, Murray recalls, "spirit and maturity."

They decided to stay. They decided to tough it out.

That decision by this group of "Kennedy Kids" made all the difference in their lives, and in fact, made all the difference in the future of the Peace Corps. If they had 'cut and run,' giving up at the first brush up against a hostile group of HCNs who did not know the reason these Americans were in Nigeria, it is a good chance that the fledgling Peace Corps would not have survived those few months of its existence.
The next day in Nigeria, the next day in America, Marjorie's postcard appeared in every newspapers; it was reported on the radio, and it was seen on television. The whole world knew what had happened in Africa with this young Peace Corps Volunteer. Within days, former president Eisenhower would make a political speech in Madison Square Garden in which he said that the U.S. should send Peace Corps Volunteers to the moon since it was also an underdeveloped country and they could do less harm there.

Out in Ibadan, Murray and his Nigerian Volunteers waited for directives from Washington, waited from advice from the Peace Corps HQ. There was no cable traffic from D.C.

Finally a telegram arrived. It was from the State Department back in Washington, D.C. The cable asked only one question: "Were there really over 256 words on one-side of the postcard?"
Don't you just love that?

Previous [[IPCP 04 Panic at Idlewild]] | Next [[IPCP 06 Marjorie Confronts William Sloane Coffin]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 04 Panic at Idlewild

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:02:43 GMT

Rcollman:

Panic at Idlewild ET Michelmore Arrives, Part 4

Tim Adams arrived at Idlewild Airport to a terminal overwhelmed with press people carrying tape recorders, cameras and microphones. Michelmore and Ware were about to touch down on a BOAC flight and Adams saddled up to a group of reporters and asked innocently, "Who's coming in?" Adams thought it might be Grace Kelly, then due back in the States. "It's that Peace Corps girl," someone said and Tim's heart dropped.

Slipping away from the reporters, Adams pulled out his official government Peace Corps ID and got past the customs officials and when the BOAC flight landed pulled Marjorie and Dick Ware into an empty room. The reporters, however, could see them on the other side of Customs, see Tim frantically telephoning Shriver at the Peace Corps Headquarters. Tim asked what he should do. Shriver told him, "Tim, I don't want the press talking to Michelmore."

Adams told Shriver that there was no way Marjorie couldn't talk to the reporters. When Shriver didn't respond, Tim took it as an opportunity to hang up. With Marjorie and Dick Ware behind him, Adams want out to handle the press conference.

Grabbing a chair, he jumped up and told the swarming reporters that Miss Michelmore was very tired, and that she would take only a few questions. Reporters were given five minutes. T.V. and radio got another five minutes. It worked. That night, ET Marjorie Michelmore was charming, attractive, and normal, and it was all over the next's days papers and on the nightly news.

By now at Idlewild a half dozen more Peace Corps HQ people had arrived, all having been dispatched from D.C. These were some of the famous original staffers at the agency: Ruth Olson operated as crisis manager for the occasion. She was well versed for the job. She had come to the Peace Corps in the first week of the agency from years of working in the military during World War II; Betty Harris, a former journalist and political operative from Texas was on hand; Tom Matthews had just arrived back from Bermuda. And also arriving unannounced and unexpected, sneaking throughout the press of people, was Marjorie's boyfriend from Boston, an NAACP lawyer.

It was here that Marjorie received her handwritten note from JFK. I don't know how that was arranged, my guess it was done by Bill Moyers, the rising start of the next Johnson administration, and at age 27, the Associate Director for Public Affairs for the Peace Corps. Moyers would go onto becoming Shriver's deputy director.

When the press cleared out, Tom Mathews headed back to Washington to brief Shriver on what had happened. Tim Adams and the others got tickets for the next flight to Puerto Rico. This was the plan worked out in Washington.

There was, however, a new problem for the Peace Corps. Marjorie Michelmore didn't want to go to the Peace Corps' Outward Bound camp in Arecibo, Puerto Rico. She had heard--via the Peace Corps Volunteer network that Camp Arecibo was "all Tarzan"-- and that wasn't her style. Tim was back on the phone to Shriver in D.C.

Previous [[IPCP 03 Meanwhile, Back In Washington]] | Next [[IPCP 05 Nigerian PCVs Make Their Decision]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 03 Meanwhile, Back In Washington

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 19:00:12 GMT

Rcollman:

Meanwhile, Back In Washington PC/HQ Waits for Marjorie Michelmore, Part 3

[Most of this reporting comes from Come As You Are: The Peace Corps Story by Coates Redmon, and interviews that I have done over the years with various early PC/HQ staff who were around during the first days of the agency.]

One of the key people I spoke to about the post card incident was Warren Wiggins, then the Associate Director for the Office of Program Development and Operations, and later to be the Deputy Director. Wiggins told me that the staff in 1961 were waiting for something to happen overseas with the Volunteers. Too many young people were overseas, he said, and there "had to be" an incident of some kind. On the afternoon of October 15, 1961, they got their incident when word reached Washington about Marjorie Michelmore and her postcard.

Gathering at HQ on that October Sunday afternoon, the senior staff was initially worried about Marjorie's life, as well as the lives of the other Volunteers. Wiggins also realized that "The Peace Corps could be thrown out at any moment. It could be the domino theory--first we're kicked out of Nigeria, then out of Ghana, and so on. Anything was possible." It would be the end of the Peace Corps before it had really started.

At first there were rumors. One was [it was incorrect] that the U.S. Ambassador in Lagos, Joseph Palmer, was trying to force Marjorie out of the country against her will. Then the Peace Corps heard from Marjorie herself. She cabled Sarge Shriver telling him that it would be best for the Peace Corps, and best for her, if she came home immediately. The word was cabled back to Africa from PC/HQ: get Michelmore out of the Nigeria.

Wiggins always said Shriver was calm and cool in such moments of crisis. You know, Hemingway's grace under pressure. But the courtly, as I recall him, Tim Adams, who had just come to the Peace Corps from the San Francisco Examiner to be the new public information officer for the agency, told Coates Redmon that by Monday morning when the story broke in the press there was, "panic in Shriver's heart. There really was. That postcard had created a cause celebre. It was temporarily the talk of the universe."

Shriver, however, was determined to outsmart the press. He didn't want them meeting Michelmore when she arrived in the U.S. after a long overnight flight from Africa. He was afraid of what she might say. And what would they ask her about the new Peace Corps? Were these young white American kids up to living in Africa? Anything was possible and it would all be bad for the Peace Corps.

Shriver came up with a plan: Michelmore would fly from Lagos to London, then fly directly to Bermuda, and onto San Juan, Puerto Rico, where she would join up with Trainees at the new Peace Corps Outward Bound camp. She would then "impart cultural sensitivity caveats to the Peace Corps trainees."

Tom Mathews, deputy director of Public Information, was dispatched to Bermuda to pick up Michelmore when she arrived on the island and fly on with her to Puerto Rico. [Marjorie's escort officer from Lagos was a guy named Dick Ware, a tall, good looking black man who was an AID official in Nigeria, and who was about to joined the Peace Corps Staff. He would make sure to keep Marjorie away from the press leaving Lagos and on the layover in London.] All bases were covered.

Then, two nights later--the night Marjorie and Dick Ware are flying across the Atlantic-- shortly after 2 a.m. EST, Tim Adams, got an urgent call from Wiggins. Warren had heard from Tom Mathews in Bermuda. The island was socked in and Marjorie's plane was being diverted to Idlewild in New York. Shriver, Wiggins said, wanted Tim to get to New York before her BOAC plane landed. Sarge Shriver wanted to make sure that the first Peace Corps ET, Marjorie Michelmore, was kept away from the American press.

Previous [[IPCP 02 Murray Frank In The Middle]] | Next [[IPCP 04 Panic at Idlewild]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 02 Murray Frank In The Middle

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 15:48:23 GMT

Rcollman: add page

Murray Frank In The Middle, Part 2

A couple of Nigeria I Volunteers hitched a ride from the University College of Ibadan to APCD Murray Frank's home with the news about the postcard. Protests were beginning on campus they told Murray; Volunteers were being ostracized. This was clearly not a training issue, and now Murray Frank was in charge of what to do next.

Frank had arrived in Ibadan early in October. While Volunteers were settling into dormitories at the University of Ibadan (then part of the University of London and called University College of Ibadan) to continue the training started at Harvard, he was arranging for Volunteer assignments. This meant Murray would visit a potential location, meet the principal and staff, establish that there was a position for the Volunteer to fill, and check out living conditions. By Friday, October 13, he was just getting started with this work, and also learning who the new Volunteers were back on campus at the University College of Ibadan.

The day after the postcard was found, Volunteers went into their college dormitory dining halls for lunch and found copy--word for word--of that postcard at each place. According to Murray, "Marjorie€™s comments described how the average Nigerian lived. While not inaccurate, her comments were not flattering, and to a Nigerian student" especially one concerned about Western imperialism" the comments seemed downright insulting."
-
When Frank learned what had happened on campus from the Volunteers who had hitched a ride to his place, he immediately arranged for all the Volunteers to come to my home that night for a meeting. He then went to the USIS library to phone Lagos--Frank did not have a phone in his home--to speak with Brent Ashabranner, Nigeria's first Peace Corps Director. Brent Ashabranner cabled Peace Corps Washington with the news.

By coincidence, the second-in-command at the American Embassy, the Deputy Chief of Mission, was on his way back to Lagos after a trip up North. Murray and Marjorie met him at a local rest house and they all agreed Marjorie should go with the DCM back to Lagos. It was while at the rest house that Murray spotted an AP stringer staying there and he quickly realized the reporter would be onto what had happened with the Peace Corps Volunteer at the university. Murray knew the postcard incident would be on the AP the next day, and he was right. By Monday morning, the news of PCV Marjorie Michelmore and the infamous postcard was a headline in every daily newspaper in America.

Previous [[IPCP 01 The Infamous Peace Corps Postcard]] | Next [[IPCP 03 Meanwhile, Back In Washington]]

[[Category:Stories]]

IPCP 01 The Infamous Peace Corps Postcard

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 14:33:49 GMT

Rcollman: set basic format

The Infamous Peace Corps Postcard, Part 1

Marjorie Michelmore was a twenty-three-year-old magna cum laude graduate of Smith College when she became one of the first people to apply to the new Peace Corps. She was an attractive, funny, and smart woman who was selected to go to Nigeria. After seven weeks of training at Harvard, her group flew to Nigeria. There she was to complete the second phase of teacher training at University College at Ibadan, fifty miles north of the capital of Lagos. By all accounts, she was an outstanding Trainee.

Then on the evening of October 13, 1961, she wrote a postcard to a boyfriend in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Here is what she had to say:

Dear Bobbo: Don't be furious at getting a postcard. I promise a letter next time. I wanted you to see the incredible and fascinating city we were in. With all the training we had, we really were not prepared for the squalor and absolutely primitive living conditions rampant both in the city and in the bush. We had no ideas what "underdeveloped" meant. It really is a revelation and after we got over the initial horrified shock, a very rewarding experience. Everyone except us lives on the streets, cooks in the streets, sells in the streets, and even goes to the bathroom in the street. Please writer. Marge.

P.S. We are excessively cut off from the rest of the world.

The postcard never was mailed. It is said that it was found on the grounds of University College at Ibadan near Marjorie's dormitory, Queen Elizabeth Hall. The finder was a Nigerian student at the college. Copies of the postcard were made and distributed. Volunteers were immediately denounced as "agents of imperialism" and "members of America's international spy ring."

The protest made front-page news in Nigeria and it sparked a minor international incident. As the Nigerian Ambassador to the United States put it, "No one likes to be called primitive."

Smack in the middle of this "international incident" was Murray Frank, the thirty-four-year-old Western Regional Director of the Peace Corps in Nigeria, who had arrived in-country only weeks before the Trainees and was busy developing sites for the Volunteers when the infamous postcard was found.

[[Infamous Peace Corps Postcard|Index of Infamous Peace Corps Postcard story]] | [[IPCP 02 Murray Frank In The Middle|Next IPCP 02 Murray Frank In The Middle]]

[[Category:Stories]]

Infamous Peace Corps Postcard

Rcollman — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 12:58:30 GMT

Rcollman: format

==Preface ==

*'''Infamous''': having a bad reputation; of bad report; notoriously vile; detestable.
*'''Peace Corps''': A body or group, free of oppressive and unpleasant thoughts and emotions
*'''Postcard''': a rectangular piece of thick paper or thin cardboard intended to be written on and mailed without an envelope.

'''The Infamous Peace Corps Postcard''' by John Coyne (submitted by Murray Frank)
Page links. Each page will have a next and previous link at the bottom.
*[[IPCP 01 The Infamous Peace Corps Postcard]]
*[[IPCP 02 Murray Frank In The Middle]]
*[[IPCP 03 Meanwhile, Back In Washington]]
*[[IPCP 04 Panic at Idlewild]]
*[[IPCP 05 Nigerian PCVs Make Their Decision]]
*[[IPCP 06 Marjorie Confronts William Sloane Coffin]]
*[[IPCP 07 PCV Aubrey Brown Shows Them How]]
*[[IPCP 08 What They Wrote About Michelmore in America]]
*[[IPCP 09 What happened to Marjorie]]
*[[IPCP 10 Who Stole Marjorie's Postcard?]]
*[[IPCP 11 What JFK Had To Say To Us]]

Other related pages about this story

Sometimes WAWA was a good thing

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 21:08:54 GMT

Rcollman:

We used to joke "WAWA" (West Africa Wins Again) when good idea was defeated. Who would think I was really happy to learn that a simple hand operated Stork hydraulic palm oil press had fallen victim to WAWA. This press was the greatest thing since sliced bread. I think it could squeeze out 30% more oil and produce a higher grade than a poor village woman pounding in her compound. The Ministry of Rural Development asked me to select 4 villages to receive these machines.

Back 'in those days', I viewed myself as an agent of change. This was neither a good or bad label, it was the nature of the work which I was being asked to do in Ikot Ekpene. It seemed to me that to be an effective agent of change, my primary role should be to help villages evaluate new ideas and for them to figure out how to adapt them to their own ways of doing things. The ideas the government was promoting were allegedly about community oil palm plantations, but it was really about reform of the traditional land use systems.

I was very excited about these Stork presses. When I presented the idea of a Stork press to the leaders of a village for the first time, we all learned something. My habit was to say, "if a village....then what do you think that village should do." Usually I would get a short reply. My job was to be the dumb European and ask for more information and examples. In this situation I asked them to tell me the process from who decided that the bunch of fruit needed to be picked to the selling of the oil to someone outside of the village. Then to tell me what they would do when the Stork press was being used. Thanks to the careful description, contributed by several people in the room, I realized there was potentially a big problem.

The problem was that they were going to assume some good old fashion American family values. Well anyway, that is how I put it to the village elders and the women who were in the back room listening to everything. The men were going to start giving their wives money every week, just like we did in America. (Pardon me, but this was 1966, when two parent family income was not common). I told them the women would be happy to have such modern men and the men were brave for doing something their ancestors could never imagine as happening in their village. I don't think it was the palm wine, we were all a little stunned about our thoughts.

Essentially, the women used to buy the fruit bunches from the men and process it into oil. The men's first thought was to take the bunches from the tree directly to the Community Farm Press, get paid and that was the end of the story. Except none of us had thought about the Annang way of getting money to the women. For example, the women bought clothes with their money for their children and themselves. To the credit of those elders, they broadened the discussion. They started to talk about the impact of a Stork press upon their traders and their local market. How would they arrange work at the Stork press. These thoughts were not in my head at all. And most importantly, they were working out a process which would incorporate the new idea into their existing ways of doing things. It took a couple of months and in a public meeting outlined what they would do if the government would give them a Press. Needless to say, some traditions remained, the women would bring the fruit to the press.

And WAWA? I think just about every village in the Eastern Region had similar traditions. My concern was that nobody in Government would get the "Americanization of the family" issue in time and things could "fall apart" when this was introduced as a community farm concept. It was like a white yam dipped in poison, which kept the insects away but killed the eater over time. As it happened, 5 months later, the Stork hydraulics presses were still in Port Harcourt waiting a part as I was being evacuated from Biafra. As far as I was concerned: Horray, WAWA .

==Post scrips==
Villages in Ikot Ekpene had some outstanding senior civil servants. There was no question that I was not a cookie cutter sort of person. Because of my approach, every community farm was different. This caused issues with those more junior civil servants who usually assumed that everything must be done the same. For example, I didn't realize that the Division of Cooperatives, in the Ministry of Rural Development, wanted the by-laws to be the same (boiler plate) for every community project. We had a couple of conversations where I finally asked them to show me where in the regulations they were coming up with that rule. The proposed organization met the regulations. Rather than confront me, they were stonewalling certification, which meant those communities could not receive seedlings for the acres they had cleared.

Then one day the Perm Sec (head) of Rural Developement came to Ikot Ekpene. Jacob Ague speech was all about the wonderful teamwork that was taking place in Ikot Ekpene. The Provincial Secretary and the Provincial Agriculture head had told him that a record number of Community Farms were planting record number of acres. He was so happy that all of his Ministry people were supporting such innovative methods that showed such concrete results. He knew this was not easy but everyone should take great pride in the results and push forward in support...etc..etc... etc. He said hello to me but spent some time with the stonewallers, congratulating them on their success and asking what special things were they doing to make these things happen so he could spread the word to others in the Division of Cooperatives. Those guys were smiling and telling him just how they did it (how they started doing it, but I won't quibble).

Over a beer in the Anchor Inn, the Agric head innocently asked me how my friends were since his friend, the Perm Sec of Rural Dev had come to town. Like I said, the people in Ikot Ekpene had some great senior civil servants who knew how to manage people. Not to mention the Perm Sec, who I knew had been stationed in Ikot Ekpene earlier in his career.

''(Which reminds me of the Wawa store I first saw in Princeton. It brought a smile. I could not figure out why Princeton University would use those initials, until I realized it was a chain of quick market stores. Go figure).''

Nigeria too long ago

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 19:25:05 GMT

Rcollman:

Nigeria too Long Ago

Pat O’Reilly ((16) 65–67

We were so young. Perhaps too young and inexperienced to have that sensibility to understand our own experiences.

Plucked from my Bronx Irish family I was placed in the town of Bori, Ogoni, Eastern Nigeria; on a tarmac road that lead to Port Harcourt or the Calabar River. How do you absorb, learn, and understand a world so distant from St. Benedict’s parish in the Bronx? And why was I in an Ag Rd group? I know the Peace Corps said they could make BA generalists into anything, but this placement was not what I had expected!

Classroom discussions of Nigerian culture and history. Language classes in Igbo and pidgin. A day at a college farm in East Lansing to learn animal husbandry. There I was at Michigan State University with 70 other guys training to become an Agricultural and Rural Development Officer. Part of Nigeria XVI, the second Ag Rd group to go to Nigeria. It was 1965.

How do I, now 38 years later, measure that experience. Was it work mixed with Star beer, jolof rice, lasting friendships? Or learning how people with limited resources and skills looked for ways—looked to me to make their lives and their villages better. Or trying to explain why I had come from so far away to help them, and, no, I was not a priest like Fr. Gallaher. Was Nigeria a safe harbor while others, at home, were questioning our country’s role in the world? Like many RPCVs I have harbored a sense of guilt that my friends and co-workers in Bori gave me so much more then I could ever give to them. And still that debt goes unpaid.

The last months in Eastern Nigeria were shadowed by a looming civil war —road blocks with armed soldiers became common. Newspaper articles appeared daily, with Igbo spokesmen claiming their region’s wealth was being taken from them. But we were young. Americans. We had no fear of how a war could possibly affect us. Then the call came to pack and leave for Enugu immediately. War was imminent and we were no longer safe.

Our group had just about finished our two years. All our possessions, including gifts of thanks from friends and well-wishers had been sent ahead to Port Harcourt. (Not to be seen again.) So, we left; Ogoni to Enugu, passing multiple roadblocks with armed soldiers inspecting passengers and barking orders to drivers, and then on to Lagos. Most of my fellow volunteers headed off to Europe, while civil war began to ravage ‘our’ country. Was this the beginning of the spiral that resulted in massacres, famine, military dictatorships, increasing massive poverty and personal wealth? Of dashed hopes? It is hard to image the kind souls we knew being caught up in that constant chaos.
[[Image:A_Picture.jpg|thumb|left|250px|Pat and Margie in 1998]]

Which Nigeria do we carry with us today? If any. Has it shaped our consciousness? Would I have become involved in a series of careers related to community development and public health without these experiences? Experiences that seemed to say, “Anything is possible—but do not put all your hopes into expecting things will all change for the better. WAWA.

The Peace Corps may not have changed a country. It did change lives. It did affect me. As time becomes more precious. As I open the FON Newsletter, and turn to the back, and then am grateful if I do not see another name I remember from a time that is not lost.
I know that after those two years, I was no longer that kid from the Bronx. I was different and better. I have more recently understood the mark these experiences had on me. Profound? Hard to say. My life has been too ordinary too simple, to justify using a term like profound. A marker. A time that allowed me to understand choice. A time that has enabled me to see myself reflected in the friendships of others and realize I could do more. An enduring mark on a kid from the Bronx. And there is still time to deal with that guilt.

''Pat O’Reilly is married to Margie Haynes O’Reilly (10) 64–66, and now work’s for a Federal welfare program in the state of Massachusetts.''

[[Category:Stories]] [[Category:FON Newsletter]]

Mbari revisited

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 19:05:04 GMT

Rcollman: Mbari revisited story

MBARI REVISITED
by George Kanzler, (21) 66-68

Do you eat sushi much? Notice how lots of sushi places aren’t presenting you with the hot towel anymore when you sit down to eat? You’re witnessing a cultural tradition eroding.

Sushi in America is becoming Americanized, the cultural and ritual traditions surrounding its service degraded and abandoned here. Actually, the degradation of the sushi tradition has been going on for a long time. Traditionally, hot towels were proffered before and after the meal because most folks ate sushi with their hands, so the custom was not only traditional but practical. But Americans eat sushi with chopsticks (how gauche!), so who needs a hot towel?

It’s typical of how food from another culture, when presented here, is shorn of its traditions. When’s the last time you were offered a salad after the main course in an Italian restaurant? They do it in Italy all the time. Or how about a Chinese restaurant? Soup, traditionally, should be served last there, but here in America you aren’t even offered that option.

Which brings me to today, when I stopped by at Odabro, my favorite Nigerian restaurant-bar in Orange, NJ, and had terrific egusi soup with goat meat and pounded yam, prepared by Ma, the cook in the kitchen. (I always call female Nigerian cooks "Ma," just as I did there; you can never go wrong). Ma brought me the food with a knife and fork, but at least she asked if I wanted hot water. I guess Odabro is getting Americanized and losing tradition, too. I opted for the big stainless steel bowl of hot water and dug in with my right hand, preserving the cultural tradition I’d learned.

A few months ago, my friend Ore had a birthday party for himself (remember THAT Nigerian tradition), and it was a small, quiet affair with half a dozen of his friends, all except me ex-pat Nigerians who had not been home in years or decades. I brought kola nuts and palm wine, and from the reception you’d have thought I’d brought winning lottery tickets. Suddenly, old rituals surfaced, Yoruba prayers and invocations were remembered, and libations were poured, kola nut was broken. Those two simple foods I brought rekindled cultural connections long forgotten.

My father always said that to know somebody (from another culture), eat his or her food. The kind of food, the rituals and traditions surrounding it, are one of the strongest parts of many cultures, especially Third World cultures. I hope you ate local food in Nigeria, not houseboy/cook stuff once prepared for the British. The Yoruba had great praise songs about their food, and about pepper. Breaking kola with a Nigerian was the fastest way to get to know him, especially if there was also some Star beer in the mix.

Food, even more than music or art, is an expression of culture. Nothing brings me back to Nigeria, spiritually, better than a meal like that egusi soup I had today, with Star beer or palm wine. If you want to really remember Nigeria, eat Nigerian.

Vol. 3, No. 4 Summer 1999
[[Category:FON Newsletter]]
[[Category:Stories]]

Typical day as RDO i/c IK Division

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 16:14:49 GMT

Rcollman: Move story out of bio to here

'''Typical day''' by Chris Collman Nigeria XVI 1965-67

What was my typical day like as the Rural Development Officer, in charge of Ikot Ekpene Division, Annang Province, Eastern Region, Nigeria? After the first 4 months, I was usually busy because other Nigerian civil servants gave me lots of leads and projects.

Get up in the morning. Stand under my bucket shower, put on my pressed shirt and shorts (hot irons killed the eggs of insects that liked the wet clothes on the line), eat a breakfast prepared by Fabian Cypril Ibanga. Then it was off to a village. Sometime I would have company or pick somebody up along the way. There would usually be a series of unofficial and official meetings and tours that might fill up the morning.

My afternoons varied. I might stop by and visit another PCV at a school, see another village and its leader just to say hello, or do a visual check on a project (usually for show). Or I might head back to the Divisional Office or see some Ministry of Agriculture extension agents or read some files. I would generally return to my house and have dinner. Sometimes I would cage a dinner invitation from another volunteer or eat out. Not every evening, but very often I would walk to one of several bars in Ikot Ekpene or visit people at their house in town. Maybe another PCV would show up with some excuse to leave their post like "My house was invaded by Army ants" or "the motor foot done broke".

A tough day would mean official visits to 2 community farms or one official visit and physical work. Usually the physical work was more symbolic than effective.

Official visits were always arranged in advanced and were based upon the local market week day, spaced a month apart for any given project. The start time was usually vague and in the morning (early for me, late for the village). There might be a brief pre community farm meeting with the extension agent and the leader(s). The meeting itself usually followed an agenda which had been worked out before hand. There could be 30 to 100 people at the meeting. Sometimes family heads would escort me to the community farm for a visit. I always encouraged and accepted an invitation to someone's house for refreshments after the meeting. This was where new business was discussed and questions raised, next steps to be finished by next official meeting were laid out and when the next official [[Things to consider in scheduling a meeting|meeting date]] was determined. I found that this worked well for everybody. Sometimes it was a good idea to have an unofficial visit, which might also be scheduled or just sort of happen. In general, an official visit never lasted less than a half day.

There were special official events. For example walking the perimeter of the proposed community farm was a very important event. Often a community farm was placed on the boundary with another village, so it was good practice to make sure the event was very public. There were different types of [[My nickname - Udoh Ukot|celebrations]], somebody was having a second burial, a festival, a some village party that might require my presence. Sometimes I would be asked to give a [[Where is the name of of Itu Mbuazo|speech]] or sit with Divisional Officer as an advisor.

Only that troublesome [[Rice Demonstration Project]] (assigned to me in my second year) might find me back in the same place twice in one week.

[[Category:Stories]]

Group XI bios

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 15:28:31 GMT

Rcollman: Link to Barbara T. Bush bio

[[Bio Barbara Tansey Bush]] from FON Newsletter FALL 2006 Vol 10, No 4

Bio Barbara Tansey Bush

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 15:24:04 GMT

Rcollman: add cat links

Autobiography by Barbara Tansey Bush (XI) 64-66

After I graduated from college in June 1964, I trained to be a
math teacher in the Northern Region with Nigeria XI and went to
Sapele in the Midwest Region to teach English and French in a
girls’ secondary grammar school. I went back to Nigeria shortly
after I left the Peace Corps. Soon after, in August 1967, the
Midwest was taken over by the Biafrans so I and many other
expatriates left for Lagos on freighters that had been docked at
Sapele. Several months later, I returned to Sapele. Once the
schools started up again, I taught in another girls’ school briefly
and then returned home for good.

I settled in Boston, MA in 1969. After leaving teaching, I got a
job as a mainframe computer programmer at an insurance
company. I spent the next 30 years working at various jobs in data
processing on IBM mainframes as a programmer, a systems
analyst, a systems programmer, and finally, a database
administrator at several Boston companies. Over the years, I
found that my Peace Corps experiences were very useful in my
work as each department was like a different culture with its own
language and orientation. In 2002, my mainframe job was moved
to another state so I retired.

In my last several years at my final job, Nigeria came back into
my life. A young Nigerian woman was hired for a new project and
we worked together. Efua was born the year I left Nigeria; her
father is Itsekiri (from the Sapele/Warri area) and her mother is
Ibo. It was such a pleasure to work with Efua and share our
experiences - mine in her country and hers in mine. Somehow it
brought my work life full circle working with this bright, articulate
woman on a technical project after having been a PCV in her
country. Also, at that job, I met Dave Crandall who had been in
Nigeria V and taught in the West Region. Every so often, we got
together to reminisce about Nigeria.

Several years after coming to Boston, I married but later
divorced. Then I married a man with three grown sons. Now I
am ‘Nana’ to six stepgrandchildren. Luckily they live nearby so I
can take them on ‘adventures’ often.

Retirement has been a pleasure. I have spent time tutoring at a
local family services center and volunteering in a local middle
school. Recently, I mentored a Somali Bantu refugee family of
nine for almost a year. Since only two members knew any
English, it was quite a challenge to help them get adjusted to life
here. Also, I spend time on various crafts, take singing lessons
and show my photographs at several local places.

[[Image:A Picture.jpg|center|thumb|250px|Barbara then with Roseline Maduanusi, her student,
and Grace, Rosaline’s older sister, a teacher in another school
in Sapele, and friend of the Sapele PCVs]]
FALL 2006 Vol 10, No 4
[[Category:Bio]] [[Category:FON Newsletter]]

View from the porch

Rcollman — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 14:45:47 GMT

Rcollman: /* An airplane went over */

A View from the Porch
By Martin R. Wong, Ph.D. (5) 62-64

== A View from the porch ==

Evenings in Ebem, Ohafia, are not for thrill seekers. The
somewhat weathered wooden porch that makes up the totality of
Kalu’s Stylish Bar overlooks Ebem’s main street, the only paved
street, on the way from Umuahia to Arochukwu. Off to the left
side of the porch is the kerosene fired beer cooler. I think I can
remember it actually being turned on once. On the right side was a
wooden bench that would seat five in a pinch. Men in Nigeria
don’t shrink from sitting hip-to-hip even when the temperature is
90 plus. A chair where Kalu usually sits completes the furniture.
After two hours of tennis in the hot West African sun, Kalu’s
Stylish Bar was irresistible. It was there I learned what transplanted
German beer will do to your head when it comes to you at 90
degrees Fahrenheit. Sometimes when finances were tight, a little
palm wine was in order. At other times I could even get a little
“illicit” white lightning distilled from palm wine.

The porch was a great observation post for watching people.
Ebemers mostly walked since the town was not that spread out
and bicycles were for long-distance travel. Just as with Times
Square, sooner or later everyone you wanted to see would walk by.
Across the street was “Stay Young” photo studios run by
Uduma Okala who usually spent more time on the tennis court
down the street, and on the porch, than actually in his “studio”
since business was not that good. He was perhaps the most
sophisticated of the porch devotees since he had lived for a short
while in Lagos and knew the ins and outs of diplomacy and trade.
Unfortunately his several “wives” and 23 children had kept him
somewhat tied down of late to Ebem.

Kalu owned the Stylish Bar. It was his house and his porch
after all. He was a large affable man with a broad voice, an onye
Ohafia in the old tradition - a warrior without a battle since time
had taken the edge off his aggression as well as his need to prove
anything to anyone other than it was nice to sit awhile over a warm
beer. He frequently wore a wrapper and sometimes a striped wool
stocking cap that had seen many campaigns. When tanked up a
little, he was known to jump to his feet and yell, “A bu onye
Ohafia”, a kind of Ohafia uber alles chant.

The other regular devotees of the porch numbered two or
sometimes three but there were always drop-bys who stayed
awhile to soak up atmosphere. Kalu’s was the only place in town
where one could honestly come by a beer, or just conversation, if
you happened to be down on your luck. Conversation - whether
in Igbo or English - was an Ohafia delicacy and the art of it was
not taken lightly. Everyone enjoyed a well-spoken phrase even if
the content was not very relevant.

==Money doubler==
For several days that summer the conversation was all about
the money doubler. An old Hausa man had taken to sitting on the
football field with a basket in front of him. He just sat there most
of the day and apparently slept there. Food magically appeared for
him to eat.

It soon became known that he was a money doubler with
contact to the spirits. He could double your money just by praying
over it. Nobody questioned this in any real sense nor did they
question why he looked so thin, malnourished, and impoverished
himself if he could double money. When I finally begged the
question I was told the obvious: it was spirit money that was
doubled. He, as the progenitor of the money, couldn’t spend it. I
had finally come across a true idealistic spreader of good will for
all. On any other occasion than this Hausas were seen as good
“watchnights” but generally lacking the motivation and drive seen
to be inherited in the blood of Igbos.

For a few days some of the non-porch dwellers were trying out
the money doubler with a ten Naira note or perhaps even a little
more - nothing that couldn’t be done without. Denizens of the
porch were far too sophisticated to go for anything like that. The
word spread like wildfire. It was true. When someone gave the
money to the old Hausa man and put it in his basket and he
prayed over it all night, the money doubled. When he opened the
basket in the morning, there was 20 Naira, handed over to the
owners for their inspection.

Conversation on the porch was heating up. Most Ohafians
have a little money stashed away somewhere for a rainy day; and
heck, the prospect of doubling it sounded quite good. Nobody
on the porch would admit to it, but brewing inside a few minds
was the possibility of getting richer.

I think it was a Wednesday night when the money doubler
really made his haul. Emboldened by the early successes, many
Ohafians (including a few of the porch devotees) secretly took
during the night what they had to the doubler for praying over. In
the morning, the old Hausa man with his basket was gone.
The fact of his disappearance with a considerable amount of
Ohafia money was predictable to anyone who has been around the
block a few times. Nevertheless the conversation on the porch for
the next few days was all about the story, the money that no one
on the porch would admit to losing, and how it all had taken
place. What was more interesting was that no one actually saw the
Hausa man as a thief, a grifter, a con man or any of the other
terms that might be applied to the typical Nigerian scammer. They
didn’t even seem angry. The money was gone, but the
conversation was all about spirits, and why the man had left before
completing his promises. He had to do it, they suggested. It was
getting to be too much, the stakes were too high, the spirits could
not convert so much cash. It just wasn’t reasonable to think that it
would happen the way they had hoped. He was a Hausa man after
all. They shouldn’t have expected so much. Suddenly their own
brand of logic was being applied to the spirit world.

My hard-wired brain thought a lot about superstition and juju
and the hold it has on people and I wondered about the Nigerian
mind. Two years after I got home my son was telling me about
how he had had money doubled on a real estate transaction. I
resisted his urging to invest. His experience with the money
doubler in America was a reenactment of the visit of the Hausa
man. He lost his ass.

== Palm wine stories ==

Some would say that alcohol is alcohol and the vehicle one
uses to get it into one’s veins - whether that be beer, wine, whiskey
or whatever - doesn’t matter. It’s not true. Palm wine tastes
something like a kind of juice you’ve never tasted before and
because it is like food, it takes awhile to sneak up behind you and
loosen the tethers of the tongue. A more descriptive name for it
might be “story elixir” or perhaps “liquid Maryanne”, but certainly
not “truth serum”. It has two effects on the human psyche: (1) to
tell stories to an appreciative audience who love everything you
have to say; and (2) to insert a drummer into your head who
doesn’t begin drumming on the inside of your skull until the next
morning. In this case, however, the going up is usually worth the
coming down.

Ohafians are story tellers anyway, but give them a few glasses
of palm wine and the technique is tweaked to perfection. Tales of
the bush, tales of times past, tales of basic human foibles gone
amuck, tales of the spirit world and most certainly, true tales of
the power and results of juju victimization are automatic. One
such victim was the coach of the Ohafia High School soccer team,
an intense man with a furrowed brow. He was not a porch regular
but dropped by occasionally to let off steam. His team had had
very little success in its season, games were lost at the last moment
by free kicks, and other sure shots had gone awry.

One day after a close loss to a nearby team, he showed up
while we happened to be working on a gallon jar of the grey
bubbly liquid that had been sitting on the porch for a few days.
The wine in his belly combined with the anger in his mind and he
suddenly declared loudly,“If you want to win you have to have
means!”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, thinking that he meant practice facilities,
time, balls, money, and so forth. He didn’t.
It seems the final free kick that was to win the game for our
side had started out unerringly for the upper-right corner of the
goal. Just before it got there it swerved and took a right-hand slice
of the kind any golfer has experienced. The other coach had been
seen visiting one of the suspected juju men in the area and this
was irrefutable proof that the other coach had means. “How can
we win?” he sputtered. The ball didn’t just slice, it was pushed by
the notorious means. Full stop. He declared that if we wanted to
win, we had better be prepared to cough up for some means of
our own. Everyone on the porch nodded in assent and
commiserated with the beleaguered coach. Vince Lombardi truly
was a man who had means!

== A sense of privacy ==
One day, the street was more crowded than usual. People were
standing idly, or haggling with the street-side vendors when
suddenly about twelve women strode purposefully by, their long
wrappers waving to uncharacteristically firm strides. They looked
fierce. The man who stood in front of the tank during the Tien
An Mun shootout in Beijing would not have dared to stand in
front of this phalanx. They were shouting about something that I
couldn’t make out. They were truly a sight.
“What’s it all about?” I asked to nobody in particular. I figured
one of the five or six men gathered there would give me an
answer.

At first there was no answer. Then Uduma Okala spoke up, a
slight tremor in his voice. As the story unfolded, it seemed that
some male person had been seen peering out through the
underbrush at the women’s public toilet. The women were
enraged.

Uduma’s comments unzipped the mouths of some of the
other men and conversation ensued about the event. Apparently it
had been a topic of discussion for a day or two unbeknownst to
me. These women were the heads of the women’s counsel and
they were out to avenge their spied-upon sister.
They were shouting something but what they were saying
went far beyond any rudimentary Igbo I knew. “They say that if
this person wants to see so badly let him come out,” someone
said. They were threatening to surround the person and unwind
their wrappers en masse, the better to shame him. No man in
town was ready to stand up against 12 angry women willing to
bare themselves seeking justice.

Clothes that went beyond the hundreds of beads that young
women used to wear had been brought to Ohafia long ago, and
with it came a sense of privacy that was not to be trifled with.
Women in this patriarchcal society, in addition to the cooking and
child rearing, did most of the other laborious work. They didn’t
have a whole lot of clout in the town counsel, but the further
indignity of someone spying on their private moments was more
than they were about to bear. As they strode purposefully by, a
chill went up my spine. I never found out what actually happened
nor whether the man was caught, but my imagination went wild.

==Morals==

One evening the towne crier stopped on the corner beating on
his bells, bleating out the day’s news in a kind of sing-song Igbo
that was completely unintelligible to me. The news was not good.
Among other things, a young girl had been discovered to be
pregnant. She was not married.

After the crier had moved on to his next corner, the boys on
the porch were murmuring amongst themselves about the event.
It was not good for the girl, it was not good for the girl’s mama,
and it was not good for the town. The virginity of a young girl of
marriageable age was still worth something in Ebem, Ohafia.
Morals had to have loosened up in the town for something like
this to happen. The men on the porch were not moralists, but
(Continued on page 14)
they somehow knew that this did not bode well. Free love had to
lead to something worse, like television.

==Presbyterianism and a goat sacrifice==

One day the usual crowd on the porch was small. Time to clear
and plant, I was told. That was the busiest time for men. Men
cleared the bush, burned away the underbrush, tilled the soil, and
planted the yams. The quotidian work, such as weeding and
tending, was done by women. The men returned to the fields at
the end of the planting season to harvest.

A week or two later was the ceremonial day for the “blessing”
of the planting. Ohafia was nominally Presbyterian. I had been
raised a Presbyterian and I knew what that meant - the proceedings
would be kind of dry, low key, and dull. I was wrong.

We all went out to the edge of the bush where it appeared that
everyone in town had gathered. Everyone was in a festival mood.
But when the actual ceremony started, it was plain to me that this
was serious. A bare-chested young man in traditional Ohafia
warrior garb, carrying a machete, was being feted in a manner I
knew nothing about. After the ceremony that involved a lot of
speechifying and the laying on of hands, he was sent out to the
bush with a goat, the cheers of the crowd following his every step.
We waited. I was told that if we heard three drum beats it
would mean that the head of the goat was severed completely
with one cut and that the growing season would be good.

As I stood in the crowd, an old man in front of us turned and
looked at me with what I thought to be more than curiosity. He
then talked to his friend standing next to him in a fairly loud voice.
Uduma explained that he was questioning why I, a Beke, was at
the ceremony. He complained that it was the white people, after all,
who had ruined the ceremony in the first place. After the
missionaries had come, the traditional sacrifice of a member of the
Udo - a sort of pariah class among the Igbo - had been stopped,
and a goat had been introduced in their stead. The old man
remembered with chagrin. This was Presbyterianism unlike any I
had ever seen.

==Dr.’s house on top of the hill==

Dr. Ogbenna had built, in honor of his own success I
suppose, a huge, walled compound just a half mile up the road
on the cross street. One day the hot sticky peace of the afternoon
was shattered when a huge Caterpillar rolled into town and
immediately began its duties by knocking down the few remaining
palms next to the dirt road and smoothing out the ground. It was
bright yellow and moved lumberously but purposefully. Half the
children in the town followed its every move laughing and
shouting at this powerful godlike creature, “Ca Ta Pi Lo”.
It was obvious; the road to Dr. Ogbenna’s house was to be
paved. Everyone on the porch laughed uproariously at the
corruption and influence that would allow one to have the
government build a road to your house. Dr. Ogbenna, as a doctor,
a “been to”, and a government official, was the most influential
member of Ebem society. If he wanted a paved road to his house,
he could damn well have it.

==Dreams==

The second most influential man in town, Igwe Okaha Igwe,
showed up one day. He was really just walking by and since
everyone on the porch knew him, as principal and as a famous beer
drinker, he was called up to the porch and a place was made for
him. Mr. Okaha, as I called him because I was merely a teacher in
his school, frequently wore a tie and was also perhaps the most
distinguished looking man in town. He was one of two or three
men in town who had been overseas to be educated. He could
laugh and joke, but it was always with a serious, distinguished air.
He nodded to me and made some kind of comment about
finally understanding why my lectures were so obtuse and turned
to the rest of the group. He started in with his usual conversation
about how things are in Detroit where he had lived as a student.
Everyone had heard it all before but listened politely until he
moved over to what had happened at the faculty meeting that day.
Miss Chineke, a math teacher, had disrupted the whole meeting
when she called out to the other math teacher and said, “I don’t
like what you did to me in my dream last night,” and further went
on to demand that he stay out of her dreams in the future and
what she was going to do if he didn’t. Much laughter erupted on
the porch as Mr. Okaha described the momentary chaos in his
faculty meeting.

I was told later in an aside that Mr. Ubamadu, the other math
teacher, was well known for doing that kind of thing. After all, it
was explained, she was 27 years old - well past the age of marriage
for women - and for him to come visit her in her dreams was
reasonable. (Mr. Okaha later wrote a book of memoirs. I got a nice
mention on page 127, if you care to look.)

==An airplane went over==

One day a small airplane flew over at a fairly great height. You
could hear the engine but the plane appeared to be very small -
perhaps a Cessna. The porch emptied quickly as everyone went out
into the street to catch a glimpse. An airplane flying over was an
event worth emptying the porch for. After the small plane
sputtered its way across the sky it was back to the porch for beer
and talk about the wonders of technology. Kalu mentioned that
he had once been to Lagos and had seen real airplanes up close.
Nigeria Airlines had one 737 painted green on one side with
“Nigeria Airlines” and on the other side was blue with “Pan
American World Airways.” It was always parked with the green
side toward the terminal. An airplane, flying or grounded, was still
a grand sight.

We looked in the direction the plane had flown. It went off
toward Arochukwu, another Ohafia town down the road where
the pavement ended. Arochukwu was a town well known for two
things, its warriors and its uncircumcised women. I wish I had
something to say about the latter but I was a Peace Corps
Volunteer. We were told we were ambassadors for America.
[[Category:FON Newsletter]]
[[Category:Stories]]

FON Stories and Picture links

Rcollman — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 21:31:01 GMT

Rcollman: Added category tag FON newsletter

[http://friendsofnigeria.org/Stories%20&%20Pictures.htm http://friendsofnigeria.org/Stories & Pictures.htm]

==See also==
Chris already tried to put in the WID Yellow Sun
[[Category:FON Newsletter]]

FON Newsletter links

Rcollman — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 21:28:40 GMT

Rcollman: added Fon newsletter category

[http://friendsofnigeria.org/Newsletters.htm http://friendsofnigeria.org/Newsletters.htm]

==See also==
Hope to get links to each newsletter. Sort of think I did this before but where ?--[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 16:28, 1 January 2008 (EST)

[[Category:FON Newsletter]]

FAQs

Admin — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 15:04:55 GMT

Admin: /* How do I add pictures */ added a bunch of internal links

Frequently Asked Questions.

==It is asking me to login again, grrrr==
"You timed out". The great computer in the sky thought you went to sleep and closed the connection from your computer to it. Usually happens when editing a page. GRRRRRR, is right. The cure is to press the Preview button or even better the Save button while editing something on a regular basis.

===Tricks to recover from a Time Out===
This can be tricky. Use your browser's back button. Usually this will get you back to the edit screen with all your hard work. Copy everything in the edit box (tip: Ctrl+A to highlight all, the Ctrl+C to copy). Paste it into a text file (or your favorite word processor) to be safe. Here is the Now login again and go to the page or section you were editing. The tricky part is replacing the old with the new (what you copied). Option 1 is to copy the new right over all the old stuff. Option 2 is to add a copy of the new above or below the old stuff. In either option, use the Preview button to see how it looks before you save it.

==How do I add pictures==
This site only has 25 megs of storage, so we don't want anyone to upload a big picture or sound file. Chris or Greg are the only people who can upload a picture. So email Chris (the ListServ has his email) a copy of of your picture and he will load it and tell you what he did on your "my talk" page.

[[Help:Pictures]] has some info as to what to do next. In the toolbox, [[Special:Specialpages|Special pages]] has a couple of useful links. [[Special:Newimages|Gallery of new files]] shows recent images, [[Special:Imagelist|File list]] show links to files that have been uploaded.

Of course you can always ask for help. Chris or someone else will be happy to put your picture where you want it.

You can use a picture or file more than once (site or page). See [[Common pictures]] or the [[Special:Imagelist|file list]].

Back up this wiki

Admin — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 14:30:25 GMT

Admin: added new section

Chris put this information here to try out. --[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:35, 1 January 2008 (EST)

==Backup a wiki instructions==

You may wish to save a copy of your wiki's articles as a backup or to copy them to another wiki. You can do this by exporting your pages in XML format. The quickest way to do this is by using the special pages Special:Allpages and Special:Export.

# In the toolbox in the left-hand sidebar, click "Special pages."
# In the list of special pages, click "All pages."
# From the "Namespace" drop-down menu, select the namespace you wish to export. "(Main)" is selected by default.
# Highlight and copy the resulting list of article names.
# Edit the result such that each article's name is on its own line. For example, using Microsoft Word, globally replace "tab" characters with "paragraph" characters.
#* Make sure there are no blank lines, especially at the end of the list.
#* If you selected any namespace other than (Main), each article name must be preceded with its namespace name and a colon. For example, the article RobKohr in the User: namespace would have to be listed as ''User:RobKohr''. Do this for '''every''' article name in the list.
#* To create a complete copy, you should export every article in every namespace that you've modified from the default installation, including associated Talk: namespaces (Category Talk:, User Talk:, etc).
# Highlight and copy the new, reorganized article list.
# Navigate back to the list of Special pages
# In the list of special pages, click "Export pages."
# Paste the reorganized article list into the Export text box.
# Check or uncheck the checkbox "Include only the current revision, not the full history," as you prefer.
# Click "Submit Query."

The result is an XML file containing the latest version of all your pages. The file can be saved from your browser and later imported into this or another MediaWiki wiki using Special:Import. (For example, using Internet Explorer, go to the File menu and select "Save As..." to save the XML file as a .xml document.)
You may wish to save a copy of your wiki's articles as a backup or to copy them to another wiki. You can do this by exporting your pages in XML format. The quickest way to do this is by using the special pages Special:Allpages and Special:Export.

# In the toolbox in the left-hand sidebar, click "Special pages."
# In the list of special pages, click "All pages."
# From the "Namespace" drop-down menu, select the namespace you wish to export. "(Main)" is selected by default.
# Highlight and copy the resulting list of article names.
# Edit the result such that each article's name is on its own line. For example, using Microsoft Word, globally replace "tab" characters with "paragraph" characters.
#* Make sure there are no blank lines, especially at the end of the list.
#* If you selected any namespace other than (Main), each article name must be preceded with its namespace name and a colon. For example, the article RobKohr in the User: namespace would have to be listed as ''User:RobKohr''. Do this for '''every''' article name in the list.
#* To create a complete copy, you should export every article in every namespace that you've modified from the default installation, including associated Talk: namespaces (Category Talk:, User Talk:, etc).
# Highlight and copy the new, reorganized article list.
# Navigate back to the list of Special pages
# In the list of special pages, click "Export pages."
# Paste the reorganized article list into the Export text box.
# Check or uncheck the checkbox "Include only the current revision, not the full history," as you prefer.
# Click "Submit Query."

The result is an XML file containing the latest version of all your pages. The file can be saved from your browser and later imported into this or another MediaWiki wiki using Special:Import. (For example, using Internet Explorer, go to the File menu and select "Save As..." to save the XML file as a .xml document.)

==Backing up your Wiki discussion==
I found out a way to do it: You can Export all your pages to XML using Special:Export for backup purposes:
#Just click on Special, list all pages
#copy the result
#edit the result to put each page name on it's own line (In MsWord, just do a replace tabs w/ paragraph end)
#Paste that in Export's list area.

Voila: A huge XML file with the latest version of all your pages. That XML file can be saved from your browser and later imported using Special:Import

PS: You have to do it for each namespace you want to backup (usually just templates, talk and Main). Unfortunately it does NOT backup image files, just their page.

{{grin}} [[User:Renmiri|Renmiri]] 16:54, 2 April 2006 (PDT)

::Thanks Renmiri, thats excellent! -Rob

* If you have to export changed messages and articles and categories, you have a big work to do. Good luck with this!

:::This works, but for articles in any namespace other than Main, you have more work to do. You have to lead each line with the namespace's name and a colon, just as you would if it were inside a wikilink. So, for instance, to back up the Template namespace, you'd have to precede each article name with ''Template:''. Which can be a nuisance if you've got a lot of articles in namespaces other than Main to back up.

:::And you probably do. Your wiki may contain important data in Category:, Help:, Project:, Talk:, Template:, User: or the associated Talk namespaces (Template Talk:, User Talk:, ''etc.''). Don't forget these. —[[User:Stormraven|Stormraven]] 15:26, 8 February 2007 (EST)

::::Please see the new Help document [[Help:Backing up your wiki]]. :) —[[User:Stormraven|Stormraven]] 13:45, 27 February 2007 (EST)

How to make a great wiki

Rcollman — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 14:15:06 GMT

Rcollman: /* Traits for success */ reformat

A user recently asked Rob (owner of editthis.info) what makes a successful wiki. Taking a quick look through the list of most active wikis can show you some traits that are useful:
===Traits for success===
1. Focused subject matter. A wiki needs to be about something to be successful. It needs to appeal to a niche that isn't entirely satisfied elsewhere.

2. Though it needs to be a niche, there must be 15+ people interested in it at any given time unless you have some really dedicated people working on this wiki.
*Interesting critical mass number.

3.The people must have a strong interest in the subject matter. This is important because wikis need editors to give them life, and no one is going to edit something they don't care about. This is why wikis related to role play games and software development projects do the best. They have passionate readers that have something to contribute. '''Note:''' these aren't the only two successful subjects, but they are the most frequently successful.

===Starting tips===
1. When starting a wiki, it is important to focus on structure rather than content. I have seen many wiki owners put in tons of content, and it is wasted due to lack of interest. Put in an excellent structure, throw in some content (incomplete is good). People like to fill in the blanks, and an incomplete but well designed structure sucks people in to create the content.
*We have tried to have pages for groups, with a rough outline on each. Maybe we need more blanks?

2. Post links (with a description of why someone would be interested) on forums and blogs after you have some starting structure. This is where most of the traffic comes from followed by email referrals. Be sure to focus on forums and blogs that are related to your subject matter otherwise you will get labeled as a spammer, and users that see the link won't care about your wiki either since it won't be related to their interests.
*Encourage posting's to Listserv to link back to our wiki.--[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 09:22, 1 January 2008 (EST)

Group XXII bios

Jlosse — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 21:30:26 GMT

Rcollman: moved text, little edit of couples

In November, 2001 the Goldsmiths hosted a reunion of Nigeria 22 RPCV's who were near Portland at the time (at least the ones they knew about). It included Debby and John Losse, Hilde and Mike Levine, Leslie and Jim Goldsmith, Stuart Lewin, Cindy and Joel Wingard.

It was a wonderful evening.

[[Image:PCV XXII reunion1.jpg|center|500px|thumb|Left to right are Debby Losse, Hilde Levine, John Losse, Mike Levine, Leslie Goldsmith, Stuart Lewin, Jim Goldsmith, Cindy Wingard and Joel Wingard]]

Where is the name of of Itu Mbuazo

Rcollman — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 15:31:48 GMT

Rcollman: Copied from story4 page

Story 4

A rope, a speech and gets a temporary bridge built.

There are really two parts to this story. The motivational part and the doing part.

== Introduction ==
In 1966 I was asked to motivate the Clan of Itu Mbuazo (one of the "I"s in INI county council) to see if they would turn out to built a temporary bridge. INI was the most rural of the 4 county councils and the local court in Annangeyong was the most distant from my base in Ikot Ekpene. This area was separated somewhat from AroChuchu, the center of vast trading empire and the AroChuchu juju or slave trade. In short, I believed these people were tough and strong willed. Reaching there via 4 wheels was always exciting and rain meant a 3 or 4 mile walk.

There was a good road to a large market at Ikpe Ikot Nkon. There was a major river (Isu Enyong) between the market and Itu Mbauzo. A long levee lead to an old Bailey bridge, with broken boards, that crossed the Isu Enyong. From there the road went up some steep hills into the clan area of Itu Mbauzo. There was a market there, but traders could only come and go by bicycle.

This story is about a sometimes dry river (Isu Akpabo) bed that filled up in the rainy season. It was located between the Bailey bridge and Ikpe Ikot Nkon. At one point in time, there must have been a bridge there of some sort. There were two cement abutments that were probably close to 40 feet apart. The villagers of Itu Mbauzo put two palm trees across the gap so their women could get to the major market when it rained.

I think the Assistant Divisional Officer had come back from a visit to INI. He told me the people of Itu Mbauzo would like build a better bridge than a palm log. He arranged a meeting between me and a few of the leaders. it was clear that while a few of the leaders from the small Itu Mbauzo market, wanted a better bridge, the rest of the villages in the clan were not so willing to assist in the project. Further, there was no way that the Ministry of Works was going to build a bridge. Somebody from that arm of government, suggested that a couple of big trees could bridge the gap and there were plenty around for that purpose. But by the way, they did not have any truck or equipment that could help, they offered me the use of a rope.

So it would have to be done by hand and that meant lots of manpower. And that would mean all the villages in the area would have to agree to send men.

==The big speech==
I was very doubtful that a 21 year old american boy was going to be able to convince the Clan of Itu Mbauzo if they didn't want to do it. However, I was never afraid listening and talking. I did go to 10 to 20 community meetings a month all over my division. As I drove my Mini Moke, I couldn't figure out what I was going to say. All I could really offer was the use of a long stout rope from the Ministry of Works. By the time I left the good road I was fairly certain nothing was going to happen as a result of this special meeting.

By chance, an event delayed me. When I arrived at the District Court, it was full of village heads and elders. Judging by the sounds, the tenor of the group was not in favor of doing anything. A year after this meeting I was in Somalia and I wrote the speech as I remembered it in my journal.

I did not speak much Annang or Effic and generally had someone acceptable to the village translate. And the people of Itu Mbauzo spoke a dialic that was hard for others to understand. Reguardless of the translator, it was my custom to have my words and those of others translated sentence by sentence. I appreciated the time between sentences to think and watch. I also liked to keep the translator hanging on my every word, never quite knowing where I was going to end up. Adding local stories and sayings also kept everyone on the same page. This speech still gets me excited.

===Where is the name of Itu Mbauzo ? ===

''Messero Obong Isong Udonja ye Obong ye Ite ye Ma oooo.'' {I greet you Clan Head Udonja and Chiefs and Sirs and Madams}. Thank you for coming today at this Court so I may speak to you. All of you know why I am here but listen to what I will tell you.

This clan suffers from many things. Your market is not developed. The Country Council wants to help but can not. Why? Other markets in other places have been improved: Urura Akpan, Obo Annang, Offiong Etuk. Where is the name of Itu Mbuazo?

Other clans have community farms. I work with them. They show the government they are willing to help themselves. They also will be richer. Community farms are in every County Council. Listen: Ikot Udo, 60 acres; Nyara Enyin, 35 acres; Ndia 20 acres; even Ikoi Ikot Abia 30 acres. Where is the name of Itu Mbuazo?

A government conference on Rural Development was held in Ikot Ekpene. We talked about our problems in this division. Everything went into a report to government. When roll was called I heard: Ikot Umo Essen Owo is here, Odoro Ikpe is here, Ekpenyong Atai is here. Ikot Udo is here. All other clans were there. Where was the name of Itu Mbuazo?

Young farmers clubs started oil palm nurseries in the division. It is not much to do. Very easy to take care of. I first head the name of Annang mong of Itu Mbuaso 1,200 seedlings. When I saw the final report I saw Ikot Abia, Ikot Mba, Ikot Udo, Iquen, Nto Edino. But where was the name of Itu Mbauso?

Every man here knows that the road is closed for 5 months of the year. Every woman knows it. Every child knows it. Even this European knows it. But what do the people of Itu Mbauzo do about it? You have a saying "If a man sees another man hanging from a plam tree by only one rope, he should not worry that he does not know how to climb a palm tree. He should climb it and help."

Have you seen a man who has been caught by the water? His black skin is the white color of palm wine. His face, his arms, his legs are swollen with the water inside. His body is cold and stiff. His eyes are the color of raffia. He has not life.

Today, I saw a woman wash a young boy on that bridge that crosses Isu Enyong. She put water into his eyes to clean the dirt. She rubbed the body with soap to clean it well. When she put the boy into the back of my car, she held the stiff, white body close to her so it would not fall out. They boy's white eyes could not see the women outside of the compound at Ikpe Ikot Nkon. His ears, whiter than the sun could not hear the women crying. His swollen legs could not help him to the casket waiting for him.

I will tell you this Itu Mbuazo. When a man, woman or child drowns at Isu Akpabo, I will do the same for you. When an old woman falls into the water I will carry her here. I will cry an wail and beat myself with sticks along with your women. Yes, I will do this Itu Mbauzo because I could not talk sense to you. I will cry because someone died who did not have to. I will beat myself because you refused to help yourselves again.

You should build a temporary bridge. When Isu Akpabo rises every family here would not like their women and children to cross the single palm tree over it. I ask you to improve it, for your children, for your women If you do this government will hear about it.

I will not promise a tractor, a bailey bridge or a new market or a community farm. But if you do this and the Divisional Officer and government asks me, "Where is the name of Itu Mbauzo?" I will show them your efforts. I will put it on the radio so others may here of Itu Mbauzo's strong men, who are also famous as fighters, hunters and who manage large farms. But fame in these things does not keep the water from catching you. It does not bring your name to government.

I will promise to moan and cry with women. I will promise always to ask the question: "Where is the name of Itu Mbauzo?"

''My speech ended, with a huge positive yell from the crowd. Nobody knew that a young boy had died that morning about 5 miles from the Court and I had carried him and a relative back to his compound.''

==How to build a bridge ==
My plan came from my 3 years of experience as a Boy Scout counselor at a large summer camp in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Arrange for group of men cut two big trees the day before. Make sure they are big and long enough to span 40 feet or more. Drag the trees to the site along the levee road using a rope and place small logs on the path as rollers. The trees were around 5 feet at the butt and well over 3 feet at the narrow end. They were cut about 10 feet longer than the gap between the abutments. Everything was working according to the plan.

An then reality set in, these trees were not Lodgepole pines. How do you lift one end up 6 feet to get it on the abutment? We could not get enough man power on the log to lift one end. We could only lift it so the top of the log was not even flush with the top of the abutment. The rope didn't seem to help, even if you put 50 men on it, the log pinched the abutment the harder you pulled. We spent a lot of energy and after a while the leaders were yelling at men not to leave because the day was long and there was no end in sight. We didn't have time to build a ramp, which was probably a 1/2 days effort with headpans and shovels and logs.

I kept thinking of Egyptians and their big stones. Then I figured out what might work. I asked for a strong 6 foot log. Something strong enough to hold the end of the big log up. So while a small group of men went off to cut a piece of iron wood, we dragged the second big log out of the swamp, up on the levee and close to the abutment. Then we took a break and women came with palm wine.

We already had the rope around the big log. The iron wood stick happen to have a Y at the end. I ran the rope over the it. This stick was on top of the abutment and pointing in about a 45 degree angle towards the log. We set out the men again, some lifting and the rest on the rope which ran at right angles to the log. In 15 seconds the log was on the abutment. In another 30 minutes the second log was next to the first. A few skinny long palm trees we put in the middle, and lots of palm frons placed on top, to hold the earth which would be put on later. Everybody was happy and very impressed with themselves.

There you have it: a rope, a speech, and a bridge.
--[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 10:31, 31 December 2007 (EST)

Language Instructors Elephants

Admin — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 15:11:09 GMT

Admin: Interesting Chris had issue with this page, did it get lost?

Language stories: I was taught Igbo and Pidgen but was stationed in an Effic (Annang) speaking area. I have already mentioned how I got my [[Story1|nickname]]. Here are two other stories.

==Training story==
One of many embarrassing moments in training. I was not very good with speaking languages. In truth I only had 3 years of high school Latin and avoided Spanish and French. I only had two years of College and skipped language. Understand that a Great Uncle of mine spoke 26 languages fluently and is said to have founded the Bureau of Translation in the US State Department. His brother, my grandfather (son of missionaries) spoke English, French, Classic Greek, Modern Greek, Turkish, and Latin upon his arrival in the US to attend school at the age of 12. These talents never materialized with me.

I was assigned to the Eastern Region group in our Peace Corps Training. We were taught Igbo and pidgen English. One of my most embarrassing moments came when I left the dining room after attending classes for maybe a week. I saw a group of our Igbo language instructors. My first instructor called me over. Another asked, "Oh so this is one of your students? So what can you say in Igbo besides greet us?"

For some reason I was feeling brave. I had just memorized the Igbo word for friend and how to makes something possessive. With a big smile I put my arm around my short and somewhat stocky instructor and said "Ah bu enyim". All the instructors started laughing. This was not a polite laugh of appreciation but a belly shaking laugh of a great joke. "This is my friend," should not get quiet that laugh

My Great Uncle Emerson's genes might have warned me about Igbo. It is a tonal language, so a word that may look the same, may have a completely different meaning depending upon how one tone compared to another.

Well, I had thrown my arm around my instructor and proudly proclaimed that "He is my elephant".

==Vigilant Post Script==
My language abilities from Michigan State University Igbo Language training, sort of got me into trouble just before I was evacuated from Biafra via Port Harcourt. As the longest serving PCV in the southern part of the Eastern Region, I was asked to move to the Peace Corps office in Aba (an Igbo speaking area) from my usual station in Ikot Ekpene (an Effic or Annang speaking area).

One day I tried to cut through the huge Aba market to get back to the office, in my plainly marked "Rural Development" Land Rover. I realized that the market was much bigger than the one in Ikot Ekpene and I was almost lost. So I stopped and two men who were talking in the middle of the road came over and asked if they could help. One of them volunteered to direct me out of the market if I would drop him in another part of town. I agreed.

The two men said good by. One of our language instructors was from Umuahia. Without putting too fine a point on it, he talked through his nose. I clearly heard one of the men speaking Igbo with the same kind of dialect as my language instructor.

All over Biafra at the time were posters with the headlines "Be vigilant", why didn't I keep my mouth shut? My guide asked me where I was from. I said I was from Ikot Ekpene. He was a little annoyed and asked what country I was from. I told him I was a United State Peace Corps Volunteer who had been working for the Ministry of Rural Development for the last two years in Ikot Ekpene. Today I forget how it happened, I think he asked me if I spoke any Igbo. In Igbo I told him "I speak a little Igbo", then asked in Igbo "Where are you from?".

I think he corrected my Igbo and said Aba. In English I asked where in Umuahia his friend was from, and explained that some of my group was there. This was the wrong thing for a dumb ignorant stranger to ask a vigilant Biafrian. He asked me sharply how I knew that. I tried not to laugh and said because he talks like this (and gave the Igbo leaving greeting by speaking though my nose.) My guide ended up by directing me to a Police Station. I was detained there because I was a suspicious person and a stranger who my guide did not know. I was steaming mad.

Eventually and in good time after refusing to write out a statement, I saw someone in authority (perhaps the commander of the station) and my guide. The commander turned to my guide and said that I was known as a real friend of Biafra. He thanked my guide for his vigilance. After my guide had left, I was asked what had happened. I first asked the commander where he was was from, I think it was Onitsha. So I explained how my first language instructor was from Onitsha but my second language instructor was from Umuahia and spoke through his nose just like my guide's friend. Everyone in the room laughed and confirmed that some people in Umuahia spoke that way. The commander apologized for detaining me because I recognized an Igbo dialect.

A couple of weeks later, I hauled a drunk who was trying to search me at a roadblock outside of Aba, into the same Police Station. The drunk and some others from the roadblock thought I was turning myself in as a spy or something. With a big smile as I walked in the door, I grabbed the drunk's arm and loudly announced that I had found a stranger who was acting suspiciously and was giving Biafra a bad name. I was thanked for my vigilance and I returned to the Peace Corp office.

==Franconia post post script==
And many years later, in my small rural village in Northern New Hampshire, an Nigerian family came to town. Dad was on his way to obtaining a PhD and was working as a social worker. I initially was told they were from Lagos. In our first meeting, I naturally responded with an ''ah dim ma!'' when they told me they were from Onitsha. Chicka immediately started dancing about and asked in English, "How do you know 'ah dim ma'?". This allowed me, much to my delight, to rattle off in Igbo "I speak a little Igbo". I lent them my Igbo book because none of their 3 kids spoke any Igbo.

Wonderful.--[[User:Rcollman|Rcollman]] 23:51, 4 November 2007 (EST)

Here is page 20 from Nigeria XVI Ibgo text book [[Image:Igbo text 20.jpg]].

[[Category:Stories]]

User list

Admin — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 13:30:35 GMT

Rcollman: /* Current users */ added Norman Gary

This page was created to keep track of users with ids and those on the waiting list. Early dates are for example. A list of all users can be found under Special pages ([[Special:User list]])

Format below is: date, full name, group number, who created id (Greg or Chris), userid

==Current users==
#12/1/2007, chris collman, XVI, G, rcollman
#12/1/2007, greg jones,## ,C, gjones
#12/2/2007, peter hansen, ##,G, phansen
#12/2/2007, Mike Goodkind, XVI,G, not sure which one is real
--'''Start of Testers'''
#12/31/2007, Nick Thiemann, ##, C, nthiemann
#12/31/2007, John Losse, ##, G, jlosse
#12/31/2007, Bill Schroeder,##, C, wschroeder
#12/31/2007, Frieda Fairburn ,##, G, ffairburn
#1/1/2008, Norman Gary, I, C,ngary

==Waiting List==
# none

==User list as of 12/31/07==
1. Admin (Bureaucrat, sysop)
2. Emgoodkind (board)
3. Gjones (board, WikiFON mentor)
4. Goodkindm (board)
5. Gzell
6. Jlosse (tester)
7. Lboyd
8. Mgoodkind (board)
9. Mmalaghan
10. Nthiemann (tester)
11. Phansen (board)
12. Rcollman (WikiFON mentor)
13. RobKohr (Bureaucrat, sysop)
14. Rveatch
15. Rwynne
16. Smedvitz
17. Vdelancey
18. Wkeller
19. Wlewis
20. Wschroeder(tester)

Feedback

Rcollman — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 19:51:29 GMT

Rcollman: /* Sample entry */ edit instructions and links

Here is a place to enter feed back about this WikiFON. Main thing is to make comments, offer suggestions or ask questions. Don't worry about format, somebody will tidy it up later. Be sure to check back with this page if you asked a question. Click on the edit tab to add something.

==Sample entry==
Hey Chris - I want to put a table with people's names and where they lived. How can I do that?--[[User:Test|Test User]] 14:51, 29 December 2007 (EST)
:No problem Test, did you see the group lists in edit mode, that was a table. Do a copy and paste that into the sandbox and play with it. I think I put a link to the MediaWiki help page that will tell you more than you want to know. Best --[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 14:54, 29 December 2007 (EST)

Hi somebody - the links to other pages do not jump out at me. Must be my old age. Can we set the WikiFON so I can read the '''LINKS'''. Thks --[[User:Test|Test User]] 10:11, 28 December 2007 (EST)
*Sorry for the delay. Yes I think I can do that. Let me do some research on how. I have the same problem. Thks for comment --[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 15:00, 29 December 2007 (EST)

Neophyte questions:
I don't seem to be able to save the url as a favorite. Should I?
My first attempt to add info to Group IX Training wasn't saved. What didn't I do?
[[FFairburn]] 11Jan 2008

::I think you asked 2 questions:
1. I can not save the url as a favorite. Strongly recommended: I have editthis.info./rpcvdraft as a favorite in Internet Explorer AND as a bookmark in Mozilla Foxfire. I like to save the homepage of a wiki, so I can chose to log in or not. After logging in, I go to My watchlist or my contributions as a quick way of jumping to where I last left off. Just an idea. Tip when a url does not seemed to be go to organize favorites or organize bookmarks. Sometimes the name is not what you remembered or it is placed at the bottom of a long list or urls. This happens to me on a regular basis. Or I saved it to a folder within favorites and thus I do not see it! (big grin).

2. On this site, I recommend to save your work frequently. Just to make sure you understand the process check [[Help:Contents|Help page]] or click on the edit help link in the box in the upper right. Also there is a timeout on this site which might be preventing you from saving your work. It will make your log back in and then you will lose your work. FAQs links (see [[FAQs|GRRRRRR]]!) is my vent about having to save my work often. It is NOT you.

Hope this helps. --[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 10:45, 13 January 2008 (EST)

==Main page suggestion==
"One benefit of being away for a month is you get to have a fresh look at
things. My initial reaction to the web site is one of confusion. It
was not completely clear to me how to get to the table of contents and
the overview that would tell me where to plug in. Obviously, I was able
to figure things out and get there eventually, but maybe we should make
it more obvious for the new users. I didn't think of telling you that
reaction until I slept on it, and I realized I was somewhat uneasy about
opening up the site. I don't have a specific suggestions for making the
roadmap more obvious, but thought you'd appreciate the feedback." email to Chris from Greg Jones 12/30/07
:Excellent point. I was thinking of something else when I created that page, however we would like the testers to jump right in. So I added a welcome sentence with a bold link to General site map. Then realized that the ToC on the general site map page might be improved by showing some sub categories. Eventually, I can see the front page changing to have something like a ToC (replacing the See also section) and having the text part be even shorter than it is. Thanks for sleeping on it but I would have agreed straight away. Is this better --Chris signed in as [[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:10, 31 December 2007 (EST)

==Site errors==
===Time Outs - Losing work ===
John Losse Dec 31, 2007 5:54 PM reminded Chris that this site does not warn people when it thinks a person has been connected to the site but inactive for too long. This is called a time out.
:Chris will post a warning. Keep hitting either the save or preview button when editing a page.
:Chris will find out what the time out period is
:Chris will document his trick for recovering text in edit mode, when "edithis" says he has to login to edit text.--[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 08:32, 1 January 2008 (EST)

===Weird behavior if not KISS===
I created a page called Story3. Then I copied it to "Language Instructors & Elephants" back in November 2007 and put in a redirect in the Story3 page to the new page. Today, I went into edit part of it. When I saved it it shorted the page to "Language Instructors" and said it did not exist. I was able to use the back arrow on my browser and copy the contents to a text file. I logged back in as Admin ran into the same thing when I tried to edit the page. Then I created a page Language Instructors Elephants and pasted the text file. Weird. Must be this wiki does not like ampersands in the title or I did something when I copied or moved the original story3 page. Moral: Keep it simple for now, not fancy; don't do something for the first time that you don't want to lose--[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 10:21, 31 December 2007 (EST)

==New topic==

FON Logo

Rcollman — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 14:58:53 GMT

Rcollman:

The FONlogo seen here has an interesting history. The first Peace Corps Director, Sarge Shriver, sent small lapel pins to those PCVs who served during his directorship. The stylized hands in the design we have used were inspired by that pin. C Leigh (Purvis) Gerber designed the logo on the FON website from the original Shriver pin.

Chris Collman modified it for use in the WikiFON. He also used it as the basis for the background image and coordinated many of the site colors from this logo.

Add page

Rcollman — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 14:02:29 GMT

Rcollman:

Needs to be added but see [[Help:Contents#How_to_basics]]

The short version of how to add a page.

#Click on your username on the top right (next to the image of a person)
#Click on the edit tab
#Type in the name of the page you want to create (for example "Palm Wines of Nigeria"
#Enclosed it in double brackets like this <nowiki>[[Palm Wines of Nigeria]]</nowiki>
#Save the page (at the bottom "Save page")
#Click on the page name you just typed (should show up in Red, if it is in blue the page already exists.
#You will be in edit mode at the new page
#Start adding content

Alternatively you can start a page link on any page. Such as your group story index page. But don't worry about that.

Current events

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 14:27:24 GMT

Admin:

Most current event is at top
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:15, 20 November 2007 (EST) I had some fun with Header page to change the the page wrapper, page content areas and navbar at top. Tricky but it sort of works and I think I can bring it back to the default.
*--[[User:Rcollman|Chris C.]] 09:33, 18 November 2007 (EST) I think that just about roughs out the WikiFON - now we need content
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)We have added a template for every [[Groups|group]], click on the template allows an edit
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)Each group now has a sample page. Feel free to edit.
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)We created a [[Group blank]] and <nowiki>[[Template:Group Blank]]</nowiki> just to copy
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)A [[Image:Note icon.gif]] was added after a [[Groups|group]] to indicate more info was there
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)A [[Image:Page icon.gif]] was added after the link in the group story index page to show more info was there
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)[[Common pictures]] is a table that has images which can be added.
*--[[User:Admin|Admin]] 09:27, 18 November 2007 (EST)[[Template examples]] is a table that has different templates used in the WikiFON

Nigeria 3 description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:46:31 GMT

Admin: Nigeria 3 description moved to Group Nigeria 3 description

{{Infobox Group Nigeria 3}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group Nigeria 3 stories]]

[[Group Nigeria 3 bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Nigeria 2 description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:45:53 GMT

Admin: Nigeria 2 description moved to Group Nigeria 2 description

{{Infobox Group Nigeria 2}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group Nigeria 2 stories]]

[[Group Nigeria 2 bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Nigeria 1 description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:43:50 GMT

Admin: Nigeria 1 description moved to Group Nigeria 1 description

{{Infobox Group Nigeria 1}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group Nigeria 1 stories]]

[[Group Nigeria 1 bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXXI description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:42:39 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXXI}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXXI stories]]

[[Group XXXI bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXX description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:41:27 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXX}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXX stories]]

[[Group XXX bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXIX description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:40:35 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXIX}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXIX stories]]

[[Group XXIX bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXVI description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:39:56 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXVI}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXVI stories]]

[[Group XXVI bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXV description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:39:20 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXV}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXV stories]]

[[Group XXV bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXIV description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:38:21 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXIV}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXIV stories]]

[[Group XXIV bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXIII description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:37:47 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXIII}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXIII stories]]

[[Group XXIII bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXII description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:37:06 GMT

Jlosse: /* Training */

{{Infobox Group XXII}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
'''Group 22''' trained at Boston University beginning the third week in June, 1966, ending mid-August. A smaller group going to Cameroon trained with us. We were all headed into teaching at Craft Schools, Teacher Training Colleges or Secondary Schools.

The Director of Training was Bill Southworth [http://PeaceCorpsOnline.org/messages/messages/467/2013757.html (see message reference)], and the staff included:

The political scientist A A Castagno of BU, [http://books.google.com/books?id=9fAjtruUXjEC&pg=PA14&lpg=PA14&dq=aa+castagno&source=web&ots=RahwagV90e&sig=7AT3tXYl0Z9jWLatbVhLMl8m8TI, (see reference link)] who provided an academic view of Africa and a broad political context for our service. He astonished some by predicting that the Soviet Union would have trouble one day with rebellious muslim minorities.

The Hausa expert John N Paden, who did his doctoral research in Kano, gave lectures on Hausa culture, including the very useful advice that, to learn proper pronunciation, we should listen to the Hausa kids, since they speak more slowly and clearly. [http://gazette.gmu.edu/articles/9950/ Link for more about John.]

Sam Adams, an RPCV who had served in the Western Region.

Language instructors Ralph Fotheringham, Monty and Fran Bessmer, and others

Hausa "informants" Haroun al Rashid Adamu, Zakari Kano, Felix Obinani, Benji Ishyaku, Yinusa Paiko and others

[[Image:Training009.jpg|center|500px|thumb|]]

Warren Kantrowitz, MD coordinated the medical stuff: shots, VD lectures, etc. [http://www.healthgrades.com/directory_search/physician/profiles/dr-md-reports/Dr-Warren-Kantrowitz-MD-E9E53563.cfm?tv_eng=google_pcrawl more about Dr. Kantrowitz]

In the five years of Peace Corps existence, training seemed to have evolved from an early emphasis on survival skills (what the military nowadays might call "training the snake eaters"), to what was basically an academic program with some field experience in the Boston schools and a week doing community action in the then black ghetto of Roxbury.

A great strength of our training was the Hausa language/culture program. The instructors and informants used the book (then in manuscript form) by Charles and Marguerite Kraft, Introductory Hausa. [http://www.isp.msu.edu/afrlang/record.php?id=974&recordtype=material&searchby=materials&language=18&materialType=All%20Types (Material link)] Language classes ran 4 or 6 hours per day, depending on other demands, and included a lot of time in BU's language lab. Most of us were amazed to find we could actually bargain in Hausa with the traders who showed up at the ambassador's residence in Lagos our first night in country.

We were further broken down by subjects we would be teaching - English, Mathematics, History, French, etc. These groups met often and were typically led by a member of the BU Education faculty who aimed to make teachers out of liberal arts majors, in a hurry. There were mini-lessons, videotaped and publicly analyzed (a tech marvel for many of us at the time). The teacher training was capped by several weeks of student teaching in a Boston high school – where the summer population was a mix of students who had to repeat a class and those who wanted to get ahead.

Boston was hot and muggy that summer.
[[Image:Training008_cc.jpg|center|500px|thumb|]]

There wasn't a lot of time for diversions, but we were bused to Cape Cod for the Fourth of July, and a few folks took in ballgames at nearby Fenway Park. Training often lasted until 9 or 10 pm, and a place across Commonwealth Ave. called The Dugout provided what little after-hours activity could be had. The Dugout is still there: [http://search.cityguide.aol.com/boston/bars/the-dugout/v-88892 The Dugout] It was not a bad way to train for Star Beer, in fact.

(For more training photos go to http://idisk.mac.com/jlosse-Public )

We were frequently hauled out to various medical facilities for shots, but anyone who claims to have forgotten Gamma Globulin Night on Bay State Road needs to visit a member of the helping professions who deals with repressed memories:

Gamma globulin was to prevent hepatitis, or at least make it more victim-friendly. The dose was 1 cc for each 20 lbs of body weight, so for most of us this meant 3-4 cc's per cheek, administered in a one-two punch by a tandem of nurses, one on each side of the cot. To get to the climactic cot moment, we waited in a line stretching out the door and down the sidewalk. The newly inoculated came out by the same door. Seeing them and hearing their accounts acted as a stimulus to the imagination. Mass hysteria also played a part. The needles got bigger. The gamma globulin became like molasses, based on their testimony and the vigorous rubbing they needed to do to make the stuff disperse, all those many cc's, to the rest of the body.

We had been administered a battery of psychological tests in the first week, which provided the staff a number of opportunities. In addition to a private meeting or two, there were ongoing weekly group sessions with a shrink. One, Dr. Globus, had an interesting approach. Sitting in the corner of a room too small to provide comfortable seating for the 8 or 10 of us, he said absolutely nothing, week after week. He looked around a bit, but mostly he held a lit cigar whose ash grew and grew. No ashtray. Just his legal pad, which he never used for writing. This behavior provoked humor, sarcasm, frustration and anxiety, no doubt all part of the Grand Plan. Our group did suffer a high rate of "deselections", but we never knew if it was the input of Dr. Globus, too much Star Beer training at The Dugout, or that dang falling tone in Hausa that was responsible.

For one week we left the dorms on Bay State Road to go to Roxbury for community work. The jobs varied – most of us were attached to social service agencies and lived either in churches, the YWCA, or with local families. It was an eye-opening experience, though did not exactly track with what most of us would find in Northern Nigeria.

Training ended in August and we were given a few days to go home and settle our affairs, reassembling in New York City. The Peace Corps put us up in Manhattan for a night and then next day, put us on a plane. The plane was an Overseas 707 chartered from World Airways, and we were the only ones on board. At the time World Airways [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Airways World Airways] did mostly military charters connected with the Viet Nam war, and the cabin crew seemed to enjoy the change. There was a lot of singing and, after a shortened period of darkness, we were over Africa and coming in to Lagos.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
Group 22 arrived in Lagos in late August, 1966. Then as now, the airport scene was chaotic, but we were shepherded by embassy people through customs and onto a bus of some kind into the city, ending up in dorms at the University of Lagos. On the way in we were wide-eyed at the streams of people going both ways along the road, carrying and pushing or pulling their loads. The University of Lagos was a complete contrast - large modern buildings. For breakfast they served US style boxed cereals!

At night there was a welcome and reception at Ambassador John McConnell's residence attended by embassy staff - educated Nigerians in colorful dress. Out of nowhere appeared traders who spread their goods out on the lawn - many of whom spoke Hausa and provided us with evidence that we'd been well taught at BU - sometimes it seemed they had learned their Hausa right out of the Krafts' book!

Various people were invited to go into the heart of Lagos' modern night life district after the ambassador's reception. It seemed like Times Square only noisier. It was overwhelming. Some proved better than others at morphing The Twist into West African High Life. The embassy folks who accompanied us were extraordinarily good hosts and, looking back, good at protecting us.

Back at the university dorms, sleep finally came amidst a cacophony of strange bird and animal calls.

Next stop was Kaduna, capital of the North. We were flown there on a DC3. We carried a ladder in the aisle with us to exit the plane in Kaduna, where a welcoming delegation waited on the tarmac. After the serious attention paid in training to Hausa standards of dress and modesty, this ladder, once deployed, created challenges for some of the genders represented in Nigeria XXII.

In Kaduna we stayed at the luxurious [http://www.harrys-stuff.com/africa-nigeria/hamdala-hotel-kaduna.php Hamdala Hotel] for a couple of days. They had a swimming pool and an ostrich on the grounds. We were treated royally and introduced to ministers and PC Staff. First Aid kits were issued, and they contained serious stuff! We were given big bottles of Aralen, the malaria medicine we'd take every Sunday for two years and then for a time even after we came home.

It was in Kaduna that we finally found out where we would be stationed. The assignments were probably complicated by the political pressures of the time. Civil disturbances in May and June had resulted in many teachers leaving their posts or not renewing contracts, and every school seemed to have needs. Having become so close during training, most of us didn't realize that we might not see each other again until two years later at the termination conference - it all depended on where we were sent in that vast area.

People left Kaduna at different times - a group of ten or so might be driven to Kano, spend the night in the Peace Corps Hostel there, then be picked up in a jeep by staff or PCV's from their ultimate destination even farther north (Sokoto, Katsina, Maiduguri). Others found their way to Yola, Numan, Bauchi, Abuja, Ilorin, Birnin Kebbi - names we'd never heard of, and not all of them were in Hausa-speaking areas. These trips also served as an introduction to how rules of the road evolve when the number of travel lanes decreases from 2 to 1 to zero.

It was the end of the rainy season, and the north was green and beautiful.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXII stories]]

[[Group XXII bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XXI description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:36:26 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XXI}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XXI stories]]

[[Group XXI bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]

Group XX description

Admin — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 13:35:49 GMT

Admin: Add blank page

{{Infobox Group XX}}
This is a blank page. If your group wants to try a different format, please try it.

Our group was great.

==Training==
We trained.

==Service==
We served.

===Service Started===
We arrived.

===Service Events===
What was going on.

===Service Ended===
Our service ended

==See also ==
[[Group XX stories]]

[[Group XX bios]]

[[Category:Groups]]