The electrician guys are here at day's start, but of course without promised supplies. We're assured they'll be here soon, with soon being measured in funkified Cameroon time. I’ll be happy if the lab’s power’s fixed while we’re still in country.
Our destination is a lab upgrade in Batibo, but random communication needs/withdrawal force a stop in Bamenda for the city’s interned café. Others opt for a stop at the craft shop, but I’m so used to so much net that I spend the entire 1.5+ hours feeding my information addiction. NY Times, my dad’s columns, Wired News: I frantically download all interesting things I can find onto a floppy to fully satisfy the craving while back and disconnected in Mbengwi. Wow: so information deprived in all of under a week offline.
So to Batibo. It’s PHS Batibo, Dr. Fonjweng’s old school, and this connection seems to fully explain why we’re here. With a 15 computer lab, I think we’ve got little to no work cut out for us. I couldn’t be much more wrong, as exhibited by a power supply erupting into smoke in Steve’s face, dozens of random ancient computer tic setbacks, and other assorted problems. All told, we leave 5 of our better machines at the lab, successfully repair all but ~2 of the originals, and leave the networking to the guy with half a clue and our email addresses who runs the lab.
Suddenly, it’s dark and, to my surprise, we have a problem. Apparently roadside bandits attacked a car along the road between Mbengwi and Batibo that we’re now supposed to drive. Dr.s Fonjweng and Gangulee try for a local hotel room and find them all booked. Apparently, there’s some todo for an American bank that’s opening. With little alternative and the professors confident we’ll have enough cotravelers from the party to ensure our safety, we get on the road.
The allure of danger keeps me going maybe 5 minutes; most everyone else is out when I awake to shift into a position that’ll put my other leg to sleep. Of course, it’s a bandit-free ride back to Mbengwi.
And another reason today blows: my laptop does. The heavy piece of shit had a good run, and I’m pretty sure it’s beyond just comatose. My regret at a further barrier to connectedness is coupled with satisfaction that I don’t have to carry the damn thing around anymore. I’d consider the depth of my emotional connection to a chunk of circuitry a sign of how fundamentally computers are changing the world. Or I’m just a huge dork. Or, and probably most likely, both:)