Balancing act

By Keafon Jumbam

We are about to delve into some pretty serious stuff regarding some rather unfortunate impacts of climbing the academic ladder as a black woman. My aim is to get us talking about how to turn things around for the better. And since it’s from a personal perspective, I will dip into my private business to illustrate what I mean.

You ready? Let’s get started:

(c) keepcalmomatic

Women are supposedly great multitaskers: chairing boardroom meetings, holding down relationships, babies and family life while simultaneously globetrotting to save the world. Oh yes, we are known to juggle many balls at once. In fact, we are expected to have it all– kids, family, and a fulfilling job. The problem is – I’m almost certain I missed out on the juggling lessons. If I were to draw a distribution curve of my professional time budget, it will be heavily skewed to one side – the studies side.

Sometimes it feels like I messed up big time by focusing on education, because when I finally lifted my head up from my books, everyone my age had found “the one” and conversations had shifted to diapers and crèches. I was always the good student, holding fastidiously to my books and obeying religiously to lecturers and parents’ instructions to, “Focus on your education, there will be plenty of time for other things later”. And so I did. Nobody ever mentioned what happens when “later” becomes “now.”

Right now my success is becoming an issue. The higher I climb the academic ladder, the costlier it becomes for me to make relationships work. I’ve become a threat (by default) to married women who would cling ever so tightly to their hubbies at social gatherings. Being African has exacerbated the situation – both society and parents have suddenly changed their tune to, “No husband yet? What is wrong with you?” Or “You aren’t getting any younger, you know.” Elders ceaselessly pester one about wanting to meet their grandkids soon, amidst snide comments of “Will you marry the PhD?” Add to this a Christian upbringing and you are sure to be casting out demons from here to Jericho and back, all in a bid to “rectify” your single status.

It doesn’t help that brothers who show up at my door are immediately intimidated by my academic background. One recently told me – within minutes of introduction – that I would have to avoid talking about my academic qualifications if I wanted our relationship to work.

“Men get intimidated; it’s just a fact,” he emphasized.

Ben is definitely not intimidated.
Ben is definitely not intimidated.

This was not an isolated incident; I’ve had many such comments from guys, some describing how my lobola price is sky-rocketing because of the PhD. keep calmBut it’s not just “finances”, or lack of academic qualifications in the men, oh no…One PhD fellow blatantly told me: “I could never consider dating a woman that has studied up to your level because they tend to wear the pants at home. I can’t stomach that.” Phew, did I just dig my grave by embarking on this PhD journey?

No, this blog is not a ploy to bag a guy. I really, honestly, want to know why somebody’s desire to learn should be intimidating to others?! I’m aware of how men (and particularly African men), have been socialised to be the sole bread winners, but we are in the 21st Century and educated women should not be a threat. Surely it must be nice to have a partner that can give you intelligent conversation and earning power of her own. I’m happy to be a trophy wife (emphasizing the assets ABOVE my neck, of course).

If you’re an academic achiever who happens to be female, are your experiences similar to mine? Any tips or tricks you can recommend? Am I forever doomed to just love furry four-legged males? But just in case you were wondering, I remain standing strong, with unwavering high standards. And in the words of my favorite author Chimamanda Adichie:

“A guy who would be intimidated by me is exactly the kind of guy I would not be interested in.”

The only keen male in my life?
The only keen male in my life?

Poo-rification

By Keafon Jumbam

I recently attended three weeks of intensive laboratory training on fecal hormone assays – okay, let’s be honest: poop analysis. If you’re thinking- eeuw, you are not alone. Before embarking on this PhD degree, collecting poop didn’t cross my mind. I mean, who thinks about poop, right? Except, hard-core dieters and maybe crazy scientists? And now I’m one of them, patiently waiting on batties to – em – crap so I can scoop it up, much to the surprise of the batties themselves. But guess what, there’s plenty of power in poo. Let me explain.

Lab work involves eating, naturally.
Lab work involves eating, naturally.

When stressed, an animal releases stress hormones into its system, which is commonly measured through blood extraction. But therein lies the catch: the very act of capturing and drawing blood from an animal is not only cumbersome but could contribute to further stress. And that’s not all; licensed personnel and strict ethical requirements are needed to carry out such operations. Thanks to recent advances in science, you can avoid all the above logistics by simply collecting poop. All you need do is wait for the animal to do its business – which in my case is pretty easy, since we spend time with them daily collecting behavioural data. The best part is that it’s a non-invasive and simple method of collecting scientific data without interrupting the animal’s normal activities. Once collected, it is crucial to freeze the samples immediately to prevent hormonal degradation.

Poop pulverization
Poop pulverization

The fun begins in the lab when we play around with chemical solutions and extract hormones from the samples. Firstly, you freeze-dry the samples and then crush them before extracting the hormones. So now you have your hormone extract – yippee, but how much of it is in your sample? Caution: plenty of calculations and pipetting involved!

Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect

A colleague and I had some pretty embarrassing moments as we quickly reached out for our cell phones when asked to do simple calculations and unit conversions. “You may be PhD students out there but in here, you are elementary level” a staff member joked. It didn’t help that our pipetting skills got worse as the weeks progressed – the harder we focused, the worse we got. “When you focus too hard, you tense up and make more errors. You need to relax and get into a rhythm that works for you” was the advice we got from the experts. We’re tough field biologists – who knew transferring liquids in a controlled environment could be so tricky?!

Stephanie, our patient poop tutor
Stephanie, our patient poop tutor

Despite our failures, the exposure and experience we gained were invaluable. It was also comforting to know that it took the professionals several months of trial and error to master their art; we couldn’t possibly get it right in just three weeks. I must admit I have new respect for the challenges of a lab environment – it’s not all as straightforward as I’d thought. I went home in high spirits, looking forward to my next lab visit to perfect my skills. After all, practice makes perfect, or in this case, poo-fect!