It was a really interesting teaching experience. The students were enthusiastic and very amicable. There was a water cooler in the teaching room, as well as coffee, and sandwiches that were laid on by the host company for the course. I quickly learned not to eat the sandwiches. they use the same type of fish and meat paste, in Nigeria, as they do in Britain. These pastes are rather infamous in terms of their lack of flavor, and the fact that, regardless of what they are supposed to be made out of, you really can't tell any difference between any of them.
The water cooler was the usual type with a five gallon bottle mounted upside down on top of it. But, remembering the warnings about making sure that the bottled water was in fact bottled and not refilled, I noted that this particular bottle had no label on it, and was severely scuffed and bashed around. More than one of the students in this particular seminar was from the company that was hosting the seminar. One particular fellow was acting as a kind of host, and I asked him if this particular bottled water was safe for me to drink. He looked at me, rather doubtfully, and said well, it should be okay. I replied, bearing in mind that they asked five other instructors before they ask me, and none of them would come, and if I get sick they're not going to send anybody else. He said I'll get you some bottled water. He was very good about it, and brought multiple bottles of water for me each day for the rest of the course. At the end of the day, I must admit that I took a bottle home with me in order to use, the next morning, to brush my teeth.
The host company, as well as providing the refreshments in the classroom, had laid on a lunch for the candidates. Mondays, when teaching the seminars, I had an awful lot of administrative work that needed to be done, and so generally I didn't eat lunch. However, at a little before noon, on the Monday, I noted to the students that the company had kindly provided lunch for them all, and dismissed the class. The candidate acting as host led them to the room where the lunch was provided. I stayed behind, starting on some of the administration. Shortly the host came back into the room and asked if I was coming for lunch. I explained about the administration, and he replied I think you better come. Okay, I thought, this is a cultural thing: I am the instructor, and therefore I must eat first. So, I went with him to the lunch room, noted that there was mushroom soup available, fill the bowl for myself and sat down. Everyone else, who had just been standing around, dove for the buffet table. Some of them, of course, sad at the table where I was sitting. I apologized for not understanding I now realized that it was a cultural thing and because I was the instructor I was supposed to eat first. No no, one of them replied. It's not because you're the instructor. Is because you're the oldest person in the room.
Is this a great country, or what?
I mean, coming from youth obsessed North America, it was just a little refreshing be in a culture where age and experience are, in fact, valued.
Not all the experiences were particularly enjoyable. On Wednesday afternoon, while we were covering physical security, which, of course, involves the necessity of the provision of reliable power supplies, the power went out. Also on Wednesday, that evening, as James was starting to drive me back to the hotel, we were stopped by a man with an automatic rifle standing in the middle of the street. James pulled up to him and started yelling out the window at him. I felt that this was possibly a bit foolish, seeing as how it was the guy outside who had the automatic rifle. I didn't realize at the time, but this was an example of what are known as bullion cars. Bullion cars are the armored cars of Nigeria, and transfer some of cash between the many many banks in Nigeria. The bullion cars are generally Toyota pickup trucks, with heavily armored steel box campers mounted in the bed, generally accompanied by chase cars, and also supported, where they make their pickup, and where they make their delivery, by armed guards. Shortly after James started yelling at the fellow with the automatic rifle, one of these bullion cars came roaring out of a side street, followed by its chase car, and sped off down the road. As soon as this happened James stepped on the gas and drove away from the fellow with the automatic rifle, who, not pleased at being so dismissed, fired off two rounds in the air. (At least, I hope they were in the air.) As we drove away, James turned to me with a big smile. "Don't worry," he said, "Mr Robert! Those guys, they're all crazy!" Somehow this was not reassuring.
One of the cultural points that I missed, at the beginning of the course, was the issue of business cards. I am a beard. I am a techie. I consider business cards to be a tool of the devil, the devil being defined as marketing. So, although I had business cards, I generally just put a stack of them down on a corner of the table, pointed out to the students that they were there, and allowed them to take one if they wanted one. However, Nigeria, in common with a number of Asian countries, considers business cards, and the presentation of business cards, as a sign of status and respect. So, learning this, I then had to take my stack of business cards and go around and present one to each of the candidates in the seminar.
I ran into another cultural problem, or a couple of cultural problems, while we were doing telecommunications. We were covering the topic of onion routing. I was explaining that onion routing had been, if not invented, at least posited, by the US Navy. I pointed out that the Tor browser and system, despite the fact that Tor is not spelled in capitals, is, in fact, and acronym, simply standing for "the onion router." I explained about the layering of encryption and described some of the activity in terms of an onion routing Network, but the students seem to be having a very difficult time understanding the concept. Finally, someone asked, can you write that on the board, so I did. As soon as I wrote down onion routing, all the women in the class immediately said oh, on-neon routing! And nodded knowingly.
First cultural problem: I was pronouncing it wrong. At least for them.
The guys were all still sitting there with blank faces. Finally, one of the men asked, why do you call it onion routing? Well I started to explain, haven't you ever noticed the layers when you cut through an onion? All the guys in the class recoiled in horror! Second cultural problem: apparently, in Nigeria, you don't cook if you're a guy. If you are male, your mother cooks for you, your sister cooks for you, your wife cooks for you, or you eating a restaurant, or you starve to death. But guys don't cook. So, I struggled through an explanation, once again describing the layers of encryption that surrounded a packet, added by each node in the onion routing network. I think I finally got the concept across, but it would have been a lot easier with an onion.
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