We were, at all times, surrounded by family. The house that my father had built for us wasn’t finished in time for our arrival. The original plan was to have a visiting area downstairs, and private quarters upstairs. When we arrived, the first floor was a floor, and the second floor had no doors. This meant that when we woke that first morning in our tents (to prevent mosquito bites that could bring malaria), our extended family was jabbering at us in a foreign tongue, peeking through the tent windows wanting to see us.

You see, in Nigeria, I’m white. I was literally called “whitey.” You have no idea how surreal that felt. There are no words to describe the battling emotions of confusion, amusement, surprise, and partial insult. I’m neither black nor white, I’m a pretty little mixture that my relatives simply couldn’t get over. They thought our skin was so clear!

This is because they were spared my pubescent years. My acne was horrendous, I assure you.

I am not very good with crowds, so more often than not I spent my time in my tent trying to sleep off my misery from having countless types of bugs bite me. I was, literally, a delicacy. My mother and I were ravaged; the remainder of my family was ignored. It was absolute misery. I was afraid to scratch the bites in case I broke my skin and got an infection, but not scratching meant I felt like I was going nuts. A quarter of the time I was in a Benadryl-induced haze, trying to cope. When I was out in the visiting room, I did my best to learn Ijo (ee-jaw) from my relatives, and take photos of the children.

The children were hilarious. You pull out your camera and they are immediately posing like veteran models.

And that’s it for today. I’ve uploaded a sample of my photos to Flickr, if you’re interested. I need to take photos of my sketch diary. I’m planning on making a Blurb photo book of the photos and diaries from the entire family so we have a comprehensive memorial of our adventure.

So I said I’d be unplugging because there was no better way to describe how cut off I would be from the rest of the world. By the end of the trip, we were making jokes about how the Gulf of Mexico probably wouldn’t exist anymore. It’s not like we knew, in our village there weren’t any radios, newspapers, televisions, or Morse Code, now that I think about it. There aren’t even roads. In fact, his town is lacking several things, which I took the liberty of listing below:

1. Roads
2. Police
3. Stores
4. Plumbing
5. Electricity
6. Outhouses

Number six was a sore point for my sister, mother, and me, to put it delicately. I never thought I’d be so happy to see a toilet once we got back to modern amenities. It was beyond bizarre to travel to this village, which you can only reach by boat. Depending on your boat, it can take you one hour to get to my father’s “complex,” or three. And that’s after driving from the airport for five hours along the freeway. Which brings to mind another list…

1. There are no lanes on the freeway
2. The shoulder is the extra-fast lane, if you assume the general flow of traffic is kind of in lanes
3. There are no speed limits
4. There are many pot holes
5. There are no road signs
6. Amazingly, there are no car accidents

I assume the final point occurs because when you’re driving, you’re driving. No talking on the phone, etc. You adopt a defensive driving mentality when you realize it’s an “anything goes” situation.I didn’t even see bruised/bent bumpers, or lights blown out, or anything. Just cars zipping past me at speeds I was afraid to contemplate.

Also, because I get motion sick, and I was a passenger in a stick shift car for five hours, I spent most of my time concentrating on not making a mess of myself. I failed on the return trip, much to my embarrassment and shame. It’s amazing how easy it is to feel like you’re seven years old again, shocked that you’ve emptied your stomach into your lap and wanting to sob from the overwhelming sense of dismay and mortification. But hey, I only made a mess of myself, and didn’t ruin the car in any way. Which is good, because it was the personal car of my father’s cousin. Pardon if I’ve just supplied far too much information.

There is trash everywhere. If there was a case for recycling, waste management, up-cycling, reuse, and any other sustainability buzz word that you can think of, Nigeria is a prime example. It’s quite amazing how the western world has completely screwed up a region of land like this. I mean, there are American products EVERYWHERE. We were in the middle of nowhere, and I mean the middle of nowhere, but Beyonce was on the radio. There were Coke products and McDonald’s knock-offs. There were plastic bottles everywhere because we live in a throw-away world. The only problem is, there is no designated place to throw anything away in Nigeria. So they throw the trash to the side of the road. Out of sight, out of mind? More like “If I don’t look at it, you won’t see it.”

I don’t mean this post to be negative, for there were a lot of things to love about Nigeria and my experience there. But as of now, I’m still suffering from a sort of shell shock over how all the modern conveniences of consumption have made its way to this country, without any of the modern waste management systems.

But then, it’s so hot there, considering we were in the tropics… you don’t care about anything except how hot it is when you realize there’s no escape. No electricity, remember? That means no air conditioning. That means no fans. That means talcum powder because your bestest of best friends.

I promise to write a far more coherent post soon, a far more positive and summarizing post, with photos of my sketchbook and time in Nigeria. I’m still transitioning from the six hour time difference, and the time change was not in my favor. Ergo my writing this at three in the morning. Curse you, oh befuddled biorhythm!

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” asked Alice.

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“I don’t much care where,” said Alice.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.

“So long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

The above is a selection from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, and is applicable to my situation. I’m working on a personal budget now that I’m transitioning to the “real world” from academic life, and it just occurred to me that I have no idea where I want to be in say, a year, financially. I just keep thinking, hey, if I have enough in savings, that’s good, right? But let’s face it, that’s a paltry goal if I ever heard one. I’d like to get a car in the next year, be able to support myself, get an apartment, etc. These are major purchases which require some planning.

Good thing that planning is exactly what I’m good at.

In other news, Don Norman continues to be a topic of conversation it seems, as shown through the blog post at 90 Percent of Everything, where I wrote a lengthy response. I agree with the blog author when he said he felt Norman was being inflammatory to get people talking about it. I also feel the blog author was guilty of the same inflammatory writing by referencing only a brief moment of the forty minute talk. Take a look. Watch the talk, it’s worth the time.

Also, I’m thinking of changing the name of this blog from Siriomi Reflects to something else, perhaps. I’m an academic, even if I’m pursuing an industry profession for the time being. Have any suggestions?

Great innovations can come from anywhere, any place. Usually they come about when a new technology is unleashed upon the world and inventors and technologists scurry to find something they can do with it. Most of these attempts fail, but a few stick. The researchers come aboard after the technology has been unleashed. But this is precisely when they can be most effective, because it is now that they can play Pasteur’s game, starting with a real need, figuring out what the scientific needs are, doing the science, and then feeding the results back to a practitioner community that is desperately awaiting the findings.

Norman’s idea of when and how the researcher comes into practice interests me because it seems so one-sided. Look at his sentence structure. “Researchers come aboard after technology has been unleashed,” and “feeding the results back to a practitioner community.” I agree with these statements but I feel that it is a reflexive relationship, that research has just as much to learn from practice as practice has to learn from research.

The point of Norman’s article is that there needs to be a “translational developer,” someone who can speak the researcher and practitioner lingo and translate for both parties so the relationship is a bit more productive. I agree with this statement. The part of the article I’d like to address is this idea of the “real need,” the researcher’s role in the time line of divining it, and the role of science in this research-practice divide.

How many times have researchers stumbled upon something while in pursuit of something else? I’ve gathered a few in the following list.

• Coca-Cola was originally researched and designed as an anti-drug, anti-depression, headache medicine
• Synthetic dyes came about when a young London chemist attempted to find an anti-malaria drug. This went on to inform immunology and chemotherapy.
• An improvement on existing pacemakers was created when the inventor was attempting to create a heart monitor.
• Viagra, the erectile dysfunction medicine, was originally the result of hypertension research

My point is that researchers don’t simply “come aboard” after the technology has been created, but are often the reason the technology was created in the first place. Recognizing alternative applications and uses for said technology, then, is where we address this idea of “need.” How do we determine what people need, versus what they want? And who are we to say that you “need” something versus “want” something as practitioners and researchers? How is telling someone about themselves not, in some way, manipulative? I cannot understand who someone is because I am not them. I have not lived their life, experienced what they experienced, learned what they have learned. So who am I, as a researcher and practitioner, to say “this is what you need?”

Like Norman said, we like to think we know the best way to design or perform scientific trials. But let’s face it, we’re all just drinking our respective Kool-aids and sticking to it. And that’s okay, because we don’t know any better way of doing it. The important thing, it seems to me, is in the questioning of existing methods and experimentation of new methods.

I must ask, Mr Norman, why is it so important that such areas as design, musical practice, etc, have “data” to support the “best way” of doing it? I just can’t get behind that idea. I think it is a continuing failure of such fields that they (we) listen to the data-mongerers. Sometimes all you can do is go on “faith.”

We cannot have data support everything because there are immeasurable occurrences in this world because guess what—more often than not, the things we do as people, as persons, do not make sense. We are emotional beings. We are “irrational” creatures. Claiming that I can describe the patient-doctor relationship through a scientifically-proven and data-supported method is piffle. Why? Because that relationship must be determined case-by-case. Who the doctor is in relation to the patient, and vice versa, will lead to different requirements, sensibilities, and sensitivities.

So yes, I agree that we need a “translational developer,” someone who can speak the lingo of both parties and act as an arbiter, of sorts. At the same time, I feel if both parties want the other to pay attention to what they are doing, the first step could be to stop complaining. If you want someone to listen to you, it pays to listen to them. Perhaps it’s trite, but hey, The Golden Rule (a.k.a. an ethic of reciprocity) seems to work more often than not for me, professionally and personally.

I found this related video, that discusses other target topics, yet abstracts out the idea of reciprocity and relationships which I think is applicable and admirable.

I am finding, more often than not, that this is not the case as I employ the word “why.” Why do you think/feel that way? It’s not a combative word; it could be, with the right tone. This is a word of inquiry, of trying to understand what the person means rather than what they say. Say what you mean and mean what you say is a cliche because so few people do it well.

My point behind all of this is that I am realizing that life is about negotiation. By engaging in a dialogue, we open the possibility for deeper understanding. In more deeply understanding one another, we are more likely to “compromise” because we understand the other party’s terms. Compromise has gotten a bad reputation these last couple of years, or so it seems to me. According to Merriam-Webster, compromise is what happens when two or more parties make concessions to one another to reach an agreement.

Don’t we do this everyday? I want juice from the fridge, but my mother is pulling something from the freezer. I could push her aside, but rather, I wait, conceding that she was there first. My mother, realizing she is taking longer than is polite, concedes stands to the side pulling out additional ingredients. This gives me space to crouch beneath her and reach the fridge handle.

A simple example, to be sure. But there is something to it, methinks. As my peers and I venture into the industrial or academic realms, continuing our lives as professional adults, I feel we are all learning something in the form of negotiation. This could be professionally speaking, but also personally, as in my example with my mother. Negotiation is required for survival for nothing you ask for will be given to you freely. You must negotiate the terms and come to an agreement.

Why I felt the need to write this at one in the morning is beyond me. Thanks for indulging!

P.S. I have graduated from Indiana University with a Masters of Science in Informatics, specializing in Human Computer Interaction Design. If you’d like to see my thesis submission, check out my Flickr set. I took photos of the paper submission as well as the Blurb book I created for my personal copy.

However, capstone is on hold for 48 hrs while I work on a pretty interesting design exercise for a job application. I won’t go into details, but I’m loving the whole doing design in a short amount of time. It’s like being in my first semester of grad school… without the whole oh-my-god-what-am-I-doing-should-I-even-be-here mentality.

I was also a part of a super secret committee that was working on the faculty gifts. We unveiled them this past Tuesday, and it seemed to go over fairly well. I’m really proud of the little blurbs I made for the covers, I tried to make them unique to each professor and played around with the names from the different papers we read for each class.

And because I think it’s important, I made a Vimeo group for capstone and experience design presentations. What better way to showcase what we do at Indiana University’s HCId, than to let people see our capstone projects?

So. I’ve gotten a lot done, I have more to do. I have this design idea that could do fairly well for a design competition, methinks…

Also, for my graduation present to myself, I think I’m going to bite the bullet and get a DSLR. Photography is one of the last artistic mediums I haven’t dipped my hand into, and I already have the composition skills down from drawing, painting, sculpture, and furniture arrangement. Low aperture (f/1.8) means less light means more detail, right? Or is it the other way around…

Vimeo group: http://vimeo.com/groups/hcid

Scribd groupd: http://www.scribd.com/group/84916-hcid-at-indiana-university

If you can’t make it, I’m going to take video and post it on my Vimeo account.

When: Thursday, April 29, 9:30 am to 10:35 am
Where: INFO East 130
Attire: LBD, Haute Couture, tattoos, pajamas, ninja costume, or whatever makes you feel most stylish in the morning
What to expect: Design Rogues, Joke Tracker, Critique Wall, Hand-holding Gloves, Role-based Budget Blog, Rock Clock, the Cow of C.O.W., Safety Belt, and many many more!

“Why is being a nerd bad? Saying ‘Hey, I noticed you’re a nerd’ is like saying, ‘Hey, I noticed that you’d rather be intelligent than be stupid, that you’d rather be thoughtful than be vapid, that you’d rather believe there are things that matter more than the arrest record of Lindsey Lohan. Why is that?’”

and…

“It’s not that I mind being insulted, it’s that I mind being insulted so poorly.”

Why can’t I be this nerd-cool? I want to be this nerd-cool.

Original video: How Nerdfighters Drop Insults

Conceptualizing the _____

Originally uploaded by Siriomi

Okay, I’m sitting in the back corner of the Hyatt bar at CHI, having a bit of a freak out. You see, I just read another set of papers, one by Daniel Fallman included, which has basically sealed the deal. I don’t want to have anything to do with the term “user.” Fallman’s paper, Design-oriented Human-computer Interaction, claims that designers are bricoleurs. I, however, think users are the same.

Because I don’t have time to be timid, I’ve emailed Fallman asking his thoughts on the matter. I’ve included a link to this sketch, which I drew during the drive down to Atlanta. Props to me for fighting my motion sickness!

Thoughts? Should I change the title of my capstone from Conceptualizing the User-Maker to Conceptualizing the Bricoleur? Argh this is so frustrating.