19 July 2011
We spoke in a mix of Russian, English, and Kiswahili.
"I have to get to meeting," Elena kissed me again.
"It is still dark. And raining. What time is it?"
"I don't--" she leaned over the bed, fumbled around, and came up with her cell phone. "Six seventeen."
"And the meeting starts when?"
"Eight."
"No problem. I can get you on a taxi at seven-thirty."
"Can I use shower?" she placed an arm across my chest and rested her head on my shoulder.
I laughed, "You can, but you won't like it. It is a bit cold."
She kissed me again, and then she started to get out of the bed.
"Where is light switch?"
"The power's still out. There's a flashlight on the floor, right bel--"
"Found it!"
She got up and headed toward the bathroom. I sat up, found my cigarettes, and lit up.
"Paul? What are those?"
She was shining the light across my one-room apartment, toward the corner opposite the front door.
"Oh those," I smiled, "A little hobby of mine. You didn't see those when we came in?"
"Was dark. And I was preoccupied, as you may recall."
I smiled.
"So, what are these?" She walked over to my one table in the whole place. She was admiring my puppets. They were made of modeling clay. Joe the Martian was hot pink, and Beauty the Leopard was yellow with black spots. They were standing in one of my three Mars sets--the one with layered rocks. My camera and tripod were nearby, but not pointing toward the characters.
She noticed the camera. "You take pictures of these?"
"Stop-motion animation. My nephew, Enos, and I, we've been learning it from the Internet. Something we're doing for the kids."
She had a look of surprise as she turned her head and scanned around the room, presumably looking for evidence. "What kids?"
"Other people's kids. In the schools. Around Mwanza. I make short videos that explain various science concepts. I visit the schools and show them to the children. Or, some kids play them, themselves, on cheap laptops provided by one of the NGOs. I also do shows for the street kids--the ones who aren't in school."
"Do these guys talk? Have voices? You do voices?"
I laughed, "My nephews and one of my students--well, former student--they do the voices."
"And these videos, they are on Internet? How many videos? Can you show me some?"
"Don't you need to get that shower?"
"Uh--yes. Can you show me videos later, after the meeting? You can join our group for dinner..." She was excited.
"I can do that, sure."
I kissed her quickly, and then she started for the bathroom. Half way there, she turned back toward me and twirled the flashlight beam just below my waist. "Care to join me?"
I smiled and said, "That'll make it a little warmer."
The day the other men came to Pluto they had a parade. The people would allow the Martians to stay. Now it was 25 April 4075. Abyon couldn't wait for the ninth of May, for it would be her birthday. Soon Martians moved to the people city. This made Joe remember the time when he was only 8 years old. He had gone on a school trip to Earth.
18 April 2013
"To summarize, we're expecting a little light rain in the morning and partly cloudy conditions this afternoon with a high of twenty-eight. Tonight, overcast with a low around sixteen. Up next on StarTV MorningStar News, we'll meet Doctor Paul Kishosha, creator of Joe the Martian's Adventures, a new show airing each Saturday morning at nine, here on StarTV," the beautiful young anchorwoman, Teresia Bilame, teased.
During the commercial break for Coca-Cola, HIV prevention, and wireless smartphone services, I was directed to put out my cigarette and join Miss Bilame on a set that resembled a western-style living room--a couch, a couple of comfortable chairs, a coffee table, bookshelves behind the couch, and a television.
Miss Bilame faced one of the cameras and read from the teleprompter, "Welcome back to StarTV MorningStar news." She smiled and said, "Joining me this morning is Doctor Paul Kishosha, the creative force behind Joe the Martian's Adventures, a new program running each Saturday morning here on StarTV at nine."
She turned toward me, "Dr. Kishosha, how are you this morning?"
"Paul, please. And I am well. Very well on this fine Thursday morning, Miss Bilame," I smiled.
"So, tell me about Joe the Martian. The show has been airing for three weeks, now. How is it going?"
"Uh--so far, very well. Excellent indeed."
"And your subject is science?"
"Our subject," I winked, "is entertainment. For children. And their parents and grandparents. Everyone," I smiled again. "It is an entertaining show with a little sense of humor so that the whole family can enjoy. But, you are right, it is also about science."
"And, so, what is a typical show like?"
"Each show has a variety of things. There is always an animated piece featuring Joe the Martian and Beauty the Leopard and a visit with a real, east African scientist, doctor, or engineer. We also like to show children doing a science project--like planting trees and flowers in their schoolyard, or setting up a weather station. And there is always an update on what is happening in the sky with the stars, planets, and the moon. We offer tips on disease prevention and protecting the environment, and we like to show something going on in nature--wild gorillas, flamingos on Lake Natron, an erupting volcano, the silence of snowfall on Kilimanjaro, things like that."
"Let's see a clip."
They showed a couple of minutes of the five-minute claymation piece about Joe and Beauty exploring the dunes of Titan. These were compared with the linear dunes on the coast of Namibia, and other dunes in the Sahara. It was from our second episode.
"The Martian," Miss Bilame smiled, "is really cute. Titan, that is a moon of," she looked at an actual note card that she picked up from the coffee table, "Saturn, right?"
"Indeed it is, Miss Bilame. A wonderful world orbiting our sixth planet from the Sun."
"Why, Doctor Kishosha, are the characters rendered in clay? Why not use computers? Is it too expensive?"
"We use clay because it is fun. Kids respond to it. Yes, computer graphics would cost more, but, honestly, clay is more fun. And clay is something a child can work with at home."
"Speaking of cost, how did you fund your project, Joe the Martian's Adventures, which runs each Saturday morning here on StarTV at nine?"
I thought about Elena. I'd not have done anything like this if it hadn't been for her. After seeing my novice attempts to use these characters to convey simple science concepts to children--that the Earth goes around the sun, the moon goes around the Earth, for example--she said, "You need to distribute these more widely. Put them on Internet. Television. Something." Then she got really excited. "I think you can get funding for this! A science program on Internet--or TV--or both! I can help you! And--Oh, God, this is great! The east African science journalists--they know everyone. They can put you in touch with many African scientists..."
I replied to Miss Bilame, "We've gotten started using a mix of sources. The government, of course, is a major sponsor, through COSTECH--"
"That's the Tanzania Commission for Science and Technology," Miss Bilame interjected.
"--and the EAC--the East African Council--they're helping with distribution of the show to Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi. We're also working on getting some support from my friends at the space agencies in the US, Europe, and Russia to dub the show in other languages--English, French, Spanish, Arabic, Russian. We haven't started with that yet, but we will. We'll put these out by satellite and over the Internet for our international fans," I smiled.
"Fans?"
"Oh, yes," I chuckled. "Right now, you can download the shows we've already aired. And Joe and Beauty have their own social network sites. They already have hundreds of young fans. And we've been receiving e-mails from children all
over Tanzania--some in Uganda and Kenya--just from the first three episodes. And the parents--they enjoy the wholesome programming and wonderful health and environment tips. Some of the kids make their own Joe and Beauty drawings on their computers, and e-mail them to us," I held up a printout of one of the pictures and a camera operator zoomed in on it.
Miss Bilame turned toward the camera to her left and said, "The web addresses for Joe the Martian and Beauty the Leopard are on the bottom of your screen. You can also go to Star-T-V-T-Z-dot-com for all the latest on the show. That's Joe the Martian's Adventures, each Saturday morning here on StarTV."
She turned back toward me and asked, "Any plans to make some Joe the Martian t-shirts?"
I laughed, "When we do, would you like one?"
Joe soon became very rich. He had a human guard to watch his house. The guard's name was Magembe Juma the Seventh. He had a graceful wife named Magdelena Fumbuka. The next day was ccccold. The whole planet was under half a meter of snow and ice! Everyone stayed in their homes. The next day a red hot meteor struck the planet! All of the ice had melted. No one was hurt for the meteor hit somewhere else. The water was quickly drained into a crater.
25 February 2019
It was a sunny day and all of Mwanza was beautiful and clean for Joe the Martian Day. Children and their families had spent the last week cleaning up their city. The solar panels on the homes on the hillslopes above the city were glistening. Some of these homes had been freshly repainted, as well. Visitors from all over east Africa--and beyond--began arriving on Saturday. The hotels were full. The restaurants were doing a brisk business. My staff gave tours of the Joe the Martian studios out near SAUT throughout the weekend.
I wasn't sure what to make of this day. It wasn't my idea. The city council voted to declare 'Joe the Martian Day' to be the last Monday of February, now and into the future. It would bring in tourism dollars, they said. It would showcase the city for investors from all over the world, some hoped. Me? I was feeling shy about the whole thing. I was surprised, although pleased, by the impact that these characters and their approach to science education was having in east Africa--and beyond. But I was feeling uncomfortable about having to head downtown to preside over the First Annual Joe the Martian Day Parade. I wasn't in this for the public attention.
"Paul?" My notebook, sitting on the kitchen table, queried as I sipped a cup of hot tea. I was looking out over Lake Victoria through the back window of my hillside home of three years.
"Yes?"
"You have an incoming call from Elena Ivanova."
"Oh, wonderful! Put her through."
Elena's beautiful face, with its smiling eyes, appeared on the notebook screen. "Elena! So wonderful to see you."
"Guess where I am?"
I couldn't tell. The sky behind her was blue; that was all I could see. No clouds. It looked as sunny where she was as my heart was feeling at that same moment.
"Does this help?" She swung her phone around.
"That's my house!"
"Can I come in?"
"It's unlocked. Wow! You're really here?"
Her voice echoed through the house and from my notebook as she said, "Right here, Paul, my friend!"
I headed to the front door. We embraced.
"What--what are you doing here?"
"It's Joe the Martian Day. Where else would I want to be?" She smiled.
"Come in, come in--let me show you my back patio. I have a wonderful view of the lake," I shut the front door and led her through the kitchen and to the back door.
"Can I get you anything? Tea? Water? Wine?"
As we went out through the back door, she said, "Wine? It's only nine in the morning. You trying to get me drunk?" She winked.
"Wine it is." I went back into the house and I heard her exclaim, "Oh, Paul, it is beautiful here! What a wonderful view you have!"
I returned to the patio with two glasses and an opened bottle of a South African cabernet.
"Sit, sit," I suggested as I poured wine into each glass.
She sat at my little outdoor table. I moved the other chair next to and closer to her so that our knees touched under the table. We toasted, "To old friends!"
"And Joe the Martian!" she exclaimed. Our glasses clinked and we each took a sip.
Then she said, "Paul, no ash tray? No cigarettes?"
"I quit!" I said proudly, "The doctor said 'you smoke too much, and you work too hard.' Well, so I quit smoking."
"And did you cut back on work?"
"No, not really. I love what I am doing," I smiled. Then I asked, "So, really, why are you here?"
She sipped her wine. Swallowed. And said, "I've been transferred to Nairobi."
"That's wonderful!" She'd been working in Mumbai, reporting on developments in south Asian science and technology for the BBC and journals like Nature. "When do you move there?"
"I just arrived. Last week. And I couldn't wait to come down here and see how you are doing." She smiled again.
It had been a few years. She'd been married for part of that time. It hadn't gone well. We kept in touch, but we'd not seen each other while she was in India.
"But, Paul, here is the thing--"
Maybe it was the early morning wine, maybe it was the way the sun glinted off the lake. Or her smiling eyes. It was her. Here. At my home. In Mwanza. I suddenly felt alive.
"--I don't have to stay in Nairobi. I think the real action in east African science and technology development is here."
I took a deep drink from my wineglass.
She continued, "What you have done--what Joe the Martian and Beauty the Leopard have done--for science and education here--it is just astounding. Children all across east Africa are growing up with those lessons they learned from Joe and Beauty in mind. They're choosing technological careers. And their parents and grandparents are embracing this, as well. Do you realize that Tanzania leads the world in off-the-grid production of electricity? That its new products for water purification are selling better--because of their quality workmanship--than anything China or India is producing?"
"But Joe the Martian didn't do all of that--we've only been on the air for six years--wait a minute--what are you saying, Elena?"
"I'm coming to Mwanza. And I'd like--"
"Paul?" It was my notebook. I could hear it through the window. It was still on the kitchen table. "Paul, this is a reminder. You have thirty minutes before you must be downtown for the parade."
One day Joe was trying to make a new machine to get through the electric fence. Then Joe tested his machine. "It works!" said Joe. When Joe landed back on Pluto he told the people. They were overjoyed with excitement. So they built more. They collected rocks and things. Soon there was a big party and everyone took off.
7 June 2047
The late autumn air was cool and dry. The sky was overcast but there was no threat of rain. Precision Air's 17:30 dirigible to Bukoba was passing overhead and toward the lake. Carolnine, Elena, and I were walking home from the market. Carolnine carried a basket of fresh vegetables and bread on her head, just as the women of Mwanza used to do. She also carried some fresh tilapia and a liter of nonfat milk inside her refrigerated torso. There was a festive mood in the marketplace we'd just left. Street musicians were playing, and children--fresh out of school for the day--were buying treats from Kisukuma-speaking robovendors.
When we arrived at our hillside home overlooking the lake, there was a woman of perhaps forty or forty-five years sitting on the bench on our front porch.
As we approached, she looked uncertain as to whether to get up. Whether we were who she was looking for.
"Carolnine?" I said.
"The house is reporting that the woman is Sandra Nakabuye."
Elena said, "Sandra Nakabuye. That sounds familiar. Why does it sound familiar?"
Carolnine responded quickly, "She was one of the crew members of the Second International Mars Expedition. They returned to Earth four months ago."
As we re
ached the porch, Nakabuye stood up and offered her hand, saying, "Doctor Kishosha?"
I received and shook her hand and said, "That's me."
"Oh, it is so wonderful to meet you!" she gushed, "And you must be Elena Ivanova!" She hugged my wife.
"And you are Sandra Nakabuye. Of Second International Mars Expedition," Elena said.
"Second International, yes. Third crew on Mars."
I opened the door. "Come, come inside! Welcome to Mwanza!"
"Thank you!" She entered and we followed her in. Carolnine closed the door and headed toward the kitchen. Before leaving the front room, she turned and asked, "Can I fix you three something to drink?"
I looked at Nakabuye and asked, "Water? Juice? Tea? Iced tea?"
"Oh, no thank you. I actually can't stay long." She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a gift-wrapped cube of about eight centimeters on a side. "I came to give you this."
She handed the small package to me. It was heavier than I expected, and cool to the touch. I said, "What is it?"
"Open it."
Elena's eyes met those of Nakabuye. Then they met mine. She nodded.
I tore off the gift-wrapping. It was a glass cube. Embedded at its center was a rounded, reddish-gray granule of about 3 millimeters in diameter.
Elena beamed. She asked, "Is it?"
"Yes, it is," Nakabuye began, "I was given permission by the U.N. to give this to you. I brought it all the way from Mars, just for you, Doctor Kishosha."
I didn't know what to say. I looked at Elena, and she was wiping a tear from her cheek.
"I don't know if you realize what an impact Joe the Martian and Beauty the Leopard have had on Africa. The world, for that matter! I grew up with those characters. I had all the dolls: Joe, Beauty, Mandy the Elephant... all of them."
I'd sold Joe the Martian's Adventures in 2026. The videos, the lesson plans, e-books, toys, t-shirts, everything. The buyers formed JoeCorp, still headquartered here in Mwanza. Really, the children of my nephew, Enos, mostly ran it.
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