Gauss

Legend has it when the famous mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss was in primary school his (mean, lazy, etc…) math teacher gave the class the assignment of adding up the first 100 positive integers. So 1+2+3+4+…+97+98+99+100=? He then sat back at his desk with a (mean, lazy etc…) look on his face while the students toiled away, doomed for the next few minutes to tides of elementary addition. Well all of his students except for Gauss. After a couple minutes Gauss approached his (mean, lazy, etc…) teacher with the correct answer, 5050. How’d he do it!?

There are several theories about how he might have conceptualized his addition shortcut, but I’ll explain the most common here. The brilliant young Gauss saw that 100+1=101, and 99+2=101, and 98+3=101. Little Gauss had discovered a pattern! By looking at the middle two numbers (50+51=101) he reasoned that there were 50 such pairs with sum of 101, thus the simple multiplication 101*50=5050 yields the desired summation.

Ever since hearing this story in grade school myself it has always fascinated me and I’ve been filled with admiration for Gauss ever since. Now why did I tell you the story of the (mean, lazy, etc…) math teacher and Gauss?

One of my students’ favorite activities behind talking and messing around on computers is asking for bonus points. They ask for bonus points if I give them a test, they ask for them if I don’t give them a test, they ask for them if it’s too hot, or it rains, or if it’s a day that ends in ‘i' (so luckily I get a break on Dimanche). After initially curbing to such demands I’ve learned to turn a deaf ear to them. That is until recently.

In my youngest class there were 10 minutes left in the class and I didn’t really have anything prepared. Usually I’d teach them a few words in English or we’d sing a song. It was the last period of the day – a real scorcher of one too. I was ready to be done. Suddenly something clicked. I got up and walked to the front of the class.

“Do you want +3 bonus points?”

Suddenly everyone was paying attention. Three bonus points! That’s almost unheard of.

“I’m going to write a math question on the board and if just one person can solve it, I’ll give you all plus three bonus points.”

Most kids were very excited at this so some of the others were a little more concerned.

“What kind of math problem,” they asked.

After replying that it was simple addition, they were in agreement and I started writing. When I had written the question in its entirety and explained the three dots meant EVERYTHING in between their excitement died down a little bit, but most went immediately to work.

I went back to my desk to play the role of the (evil, lazy, etc…) math teacher hoping but not at all expecting a young Gauss to be seated in my class.

Soon the air was awash with answers. It’s 1,000,000. No it’s 345. No it’s 5,000,000. After a few minutes the whistle blew, indicating the class was over. I sighed inwardly, no Gausses in my class today. Suddenly a little voice floated across the air.

I’ve got it sir. It’s “cinq mille cinquante“ (5050)

My heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

Turns out that “cinq mille cinq cent” (5500) sounds an awful lot like “cinq mille cinquante“ (5050) in a room full of noisy children and my kid wasn’t the next Gauss. Still damn close though. In fact despite the fact that this was one of the youngest kids in the youngest class in the school none of the other kids in the other classes even got close. I was already thinking of doing an advanced math class next year and after this I’m really excited to do so.

First Rain

The sunburned, parched land aches for rain. From the puffs of dust that dance in the air after every step to the wilted and nearly dormant plants it can be seen everywhere. It’s in the eyes of the half crazed chickens as they dash from shade patch to shade patch, mouths open panting. It’s in the desperate flight of flies, attacking anything that sweats, fighting for a little moisture. It’s in the dry, hot air, literally sucking the moisture out of every breath. It’s everywhere. And yet we can do nothing more but to wait.

The sun blazes its way across the clear, faded blue sky marking the passing of each day. There hasn’t been a cloud able to stand up to its bright, strong rays in months. And then a telltale breeze flickers through my hair so softly I’m sure I must be imagining things. And yet it comes again, stronger this time and this time with a touch of ozone. My eyes dart up the horizon seeing a looming wall of dark, strong clouds. I rub my eyes and look again, almost surprised to see its still there.

Minutes pass and the wind is coming in gusts, carrying with it the overpowering scent of clean, beautiful wet rain. I stand up and step outside – not wanting to miss what might be the first rain drop I’ve seen in half a year. And I’m not disappointed.

The first drop strikes the skin of my shoulder, stabbing me with a pinprick of coldness. Then another, and another and they are dropping fast and furious around me. I’m soaking now. The ground itself is dancing and alive as it absorbs its fill then starts to form small puddles. Fighting down the urge to shiver I smile. The first rains have come to Toma.

A day by numbers

4 times: I hit the snooze button
87 F: In my room at 7:30 am.
8 seconds: The average period of our rooster’s crowing
10 minutes: The duration of his crowing
2 rocks: thrown at him by me
62 students: My biggest class today
32 students: My smallest class today
12 years: age of my youngest student
22 years: age of my oldest student
2 minutes: time a student who misbehaves in my class has to wall-sit for.
6 classes: In my schedule today
16 computers: working computers in my lab
7 computers: computers working when I arrived
373 MHz: their average processor speed
12 GB: their average hard disk space
154 MB: the average RAM per computer
3 hours: time the youngest class spent raking up rocks with their hands in the sun
105 F: temperature in my room during the afternoon break
3 seconds: time on average to turn on the fan after entering my room
6 liters: water I drink per day on average
2 days: time left until I leave for vacation
20 hours: length of the bus ride to get to the beaches in Benin
5 days: time I will be spending on the beach
9 months: time I have spent in Burkina as of Saturday
5 months: time since I’ve seen rain.
2 months: time until it’s expected to rain in Toma.

Festima

The green leaves of the mask rippled in waves to the sound of the drum beat as the dancer’s feet flew, pausing only momentarily to strike the ground. Kicking up clouds of dust he made his way across the field, sometimes floating, sometimes bouncing but always embodying the pure rhythm of the eight drum players playing nearby. This is my first night at the mask festival in Deadougou and I’m blown away.

Hearing the words ‘mask festival’ I’m excepting to see someone wearing a mask parading around for everyone to see. I wasn’t expecting this – mask troupes from eight countries, hundreds of dancers, a wide variety of drums and whistles and of course a staggering variety of intricate masks and consumes.

The dance floor is a dirt patch about the size of a soccer field which is surrounded by people. The event offers three types of seating. For about $.25 you can stand in the sun and watch, $.50 buys you a seat under a shaded hanger while a dollar buys you a seat in the shaded, makeshift risers. We had decided that since this was a once in a lifetime kind of thing we’d splurge and get a weekend pass for the stadium seating.

What started out as a small group of people talking about going had surprisingly grown into a group of about twenty from all across the country. We were all staying together in two very crowded bunk house style rooms – two rooms each with sixteen beds, four windows and nothing else. The spoilt volunteers, such as myself, who were accustomed to a blasting fan all night long complained about the heat while the truly “HardCorps” volunteers had no problem.

The heat of the midday sun was an equalizer, drawing complaints from everyone. But mostly we watched. The masks costumes were made from everything from leaves and straw to reeds and leather. There were dancers on stilts, dancers doing back flips, dancers spinning for minutes straight. It was an awesome experience.

Taking pictures was supposedly forbidden without first buying a photo pass. We all chipped in and got one, giving it to the person with the best camera, Leslie. You can check out the pictures she took here.

An Evening in Ouahigouya

June 30th, 2009

I’m lying on a bench on the concrete porch outside my house on my back. The cool night air flows over me, giving me some respite from the heat of the day. The bench feels cool, especially in comparison to the dirty hot concrete floor I have just been standing on. I can see the moon above next to the concrete overhang - its full brilliance obscured by the clouds, dust and smoke that seem to permanently reside in the skies above.

Inside, Bernadette, the other boarder at this house, scolds Bulgeisa, the serving girl. Her usually soft and kind voice takes on a sharp tone as she scolds in Moore. I hear the sound of the tables being set. One table will be for Bernadette, Bulgeisa and my two host sisters, Gidoni, 7, and Dorine, 8. Their table is a proper kitchen table with six chairs. The other table is for me, my parents, Jacques and Felicete, and my brother, Faniel, 3. It’s not an arrangement that I hope to keep for the whole three months that I’m here, but at the moment I lack the necessary language skills to say anything else.

Geckoes crawl on the wall behind me, their small feet clinging to the wall so effortlessly, for a moment I feel as though I am hanging upside down, looking down at the floor upon which they crawl. Four of them appear from around the wall in a line, as if waiting for the leader to make sure that the coast is clear before venturing any further themselves. Their large black eyes shine the light of the florescent bulb which is their goal. Or more correctly, the insects and moths that fly haphazardly around the bulb.

Lizards here are very common, so far I’ve managed to identify and find names for three kinds: margouya, geckoes and salamanders. Margouya are by far the most common – when I’m outside they are a constant reminder to me that I am indeed in Africa. Not that I really need a reminder, the constant heat around me is reminder enough. Most of the time when I talk to people in the states it is hard to know where to begin. The heat is usually where I start. The first week here you can hardly stand it, sweating all day and all night. My skin, so used to the dry, clean Montana air, does surprisingly well the transition. Other trainees haven’t faired so well. Cases of heat rash, caused by the clogging of overworked pours, are fairly common, evident by red itchy bumps appearing on the skin. Spiny heat afflicts a few more. I’m told it feels like being stabbed by small needles every time pressure is put on the affected skin. It doesn’t sound fun.

Patience, our dog walks cautiously up to me. I hold out my hand to him, not expecting him to come much closer. To my surprise he does, and allows me to pet him. He is a good dog, but you can tell he has had a rough life. Scars cover his face from fights with neighborhoods dogs. He’s skinny, like everything else around here, despite the fact that he is fed every day. I think a lot of it is the need to have a large surface area to volume ratio to lose heat. He looks at me with his big brown eyes as I pet him, his tail slowly wagging. It took me a while for him to get used the idea of getting petted. Apparently dogs here aren’t petted. I asked Dorine why she liked Patience, she replied that he was a good dog and that he guarded the house. After a couple minutes of petting he has had enough, and curls up on the floor to sleep. I’m never sure if he comes to me for the attention, or the chance that I have food.

Part of the courtyard around me is visible in the all too familiar fluorescent light. This corner of the courtyard is home to the only tree, as well as the ominous hole which marks the opening to the well. The hole looks a little small for me, but seems a perfect fit for my three siblings. They seem weary of it, though the sisters do get water from it almost every day. The rope to the bucket is tied to the tree and looks strong enough to hold their weight. I’m fairly certain I could pull them up if need be.

Dinner is served and it is time for me to go inside.