Strike makes for an interesting first day at UoG
GONDAR, ETHIOPIA—It was an atypical first day of class for the new semester at the University of Gondar (UoG).
GONDAR, ETHIOPIA—It was an atypical first day of class for the new semester at the University of Gondar (UoG).
What made my first meeting with my Broadcast Writing
students unique wasn’t the students or the setting. The students, all young men, were
excellent. They seemed inquisitive, and enthusiastically participated in class
activities. The journalism department let us meet in their computer lab, which
is equipped with new computers and software. It even has a smart board. The lab
isn’t hooked to the internet yet, but they’re working on it.
Today, we talked about the elements of news, and what makes a story
newsworthy. Later, I’ll introduce peace journalism, and we’ll discuss how to write broadcast and multimedia news in a professional, non-inflammatory
way.
Unfortunately, only about half my students were able to make
it to class. Normally, I’d be steamed about this. However, those who couldn’t
make it had a pretty good excuse.
Since Monday, all motorized transportation has been
suspended in Gondar. This means no taxis, buses, or bajajes, small
three-wheeled vehicles. All transportation is shut down as part of a larger
anti-government strike in the region that has shuttered businesses and schools.
Today is the strike’s last day.
Those who couldn’t make it to my UoG class literally couldn’t
make it to my class, since they had no way of getting to campus. I’m
anticipating a full house at our next class session on Friday.
My big send off
Before heading up to class this morning (literally, up 216 steps and two large hills/mountains), my Fulbright colleague and friend Tim sent me off with a photo shoot. Now, Tim is nothing if not...thorough. He went online, found my CV, and calculated how many years I’ve either attended school or taught—thus the number 49. I’ll take him at his word, though I suddenly feel a million years old.
Before heading up to class this morning (literally, up 216 steps and two large hills/mountains), my Fulbright colleague and friend Tim sent me off with a photo shoot. Now, Tim is nothing if not...thorough. He went online, found my CV, and calculated how many years I’ve either attended school or taught—thus the number 49. I’ll take him at his word, though I suddenly feel a million years old.
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