Ardo Zubairu
08-24-2005, 07:24 PM
We may never live in a technological society in Africa but I considered that I lived in a technological home. I was raise on educational toys and chunky train sets and not spoil with material possessions. Yes, my toys collection is almost museum quality, a DVD player and well, these days mobile phone is a necessity, not a luxury. I told-my father. eventually he succumbed and arrived home clutching a brace of MTN pay as you go cell phones, on basis that we probably wouldn’t-they would run out of dose, and I was lure of swapping inane text massages with girls-when my number was published in hints magazine(text mate page).
Only when the phones began to ring at the same time did the awful truth dawn. We were a family with five mobile phones, three landlines for fax, voice and modern, two answer machines and four further handsets, each with their own extension.
We have more telephones than most small businesses. Another glance around the home revealed more horrible technological truths- we also have four computers: a pair matching his-and-hers laptops for blue moon business trips, a Mac to chat on Microsoft messenger while ostensibly doing homework, another for me to write on, and a PC for father’s freelance career as a news surfer.
Then there are the, gulp, five television sets, the digital box, the satellite dish, the various games consoles, five CD players with integrated tape decks and radios. One DVD player (if you don’t count the facility on all the computers as well as the play station 2), more portable stereos than you can physically carry one record player and a set of mixing decks.
In my defence, there are six people living in the house, but we have managed to much more electronic consumables than an attached area one corner shop, in about 10 per cent of the floor- space. However, the real reason the booty roll call is so high is not because we are spendthrift technolophiles but because of two factors- built-in obsolescence and inherited parsimony.
My dad simply cannot bring himself to throw anything out as long as the red light still comes on when you plug it in .As a result, only one of the laptops works properly-the older one has a broken lid held on with dock tape .And the Mac on which I am writing this has been in the house since 1986. In addition, is so basic that it is little more than a glorified typewriter with pretensions. We only have two freezers because the old one was too good to throw out when my father bought an integrated model-and, of course, it might come in handy should there be a world shortage of ice cubes.
All the televisions moved down the family pecking order with the arrival of newer, operational model: one is black and white, a present for my mum marriage 29 years ago. It is probably an antique. Two of the CD players jumps, all the tape decks eat cassettes, and only one of the answer phones is audible.
Some of these problems could be remedied, but thereby lies another problem-I am 2000 kilometres far away my home-Yola- and we lost all the instruction booklets-when our Elder Brother died in autocrats 1 years ago. And my sister have no idea how to use the timer on the oven, or how to change the on going message on the answer phone, or programme any of the three video recorders: and although all the stereo equipment has alarm clock facility, no one knows how to programme it. Therefore, my sister woke each day to a wind- up homer Simpson alarm clock
However, you might very well say.
Yep, the technology may be durable but the ability to operate them is fleeting. Together with an item’s built – in technological obsolescence comes the obsolescence of knowledge. Back in the far off days of my first Toshiba satellite pro 4600, I could programme the machine to do everything but stand up and salute me.
Now my brain can keep up with technology and I have cram out all my manuals steam. Of the 14 programmes on my washer-drier, I use all off hand. Therefore, we are modern, materialist, and technological home. We have a dedicated internet connection, a thuraya line, six email addresses, fax, photocopier, more machines than NASA in the kitchen. However, we have no bloody toilet paper.
Only when the phones began to ring at the same time did the awful truth dawn. We were a family with five mobile phones, three landlines for fax, voice and modern, two answer machines and four further handsets, each with their own extension.
We have more telephones than most small businesses. Another glance around the home revealed more horrible technological truths- we also have four computers: a pair matching his-and-hers laptops for blue moon business trips, a Mac to chat on Microsoft messenger while ostensibly doing homework, another for me to write on, and a PC for father’s freelance career as a news surfer.
Then there are the, gulp, five television sets, the digital box, the satellite dish, the various games consoles, five CD players with integrated tape decks and radios. One DVD player (if you don’t count the facility on all the computers as well as the play station 2), more portable stereos than you can physically carry one record player and a set of mixing decks.
In my defence, there are six people living in the house, but we have managed to much more electronic consumables than an attached area one corner shop, in about 10 per cent of the floor- space. However, the real reason the booty roll call is so high is not because we are spendthrift technolophiles but because of two factors- built-in obsolescence and inherited parsimony.
My dad simply cannot bring himself to throw anything out as long as the red light still comes on when you plug it in .As a result, only one of the laptops works properly-the older one has a broken lid held on with dock tape .And the Mac on which I am writing this has been in the house since 1986. In addition, is so basic that it is little more than a glorified typewriter with pretensions. We only have two freezers because the old one was too good to throw out when my father bought an integrated model-and, of course, it might come in handy should there be a world shortage of ice cubes.
All the televisions moved down the family pecking order with the arrival of newer, operational model: one is black and white, a present for my mum marriage 29 years ago. It is probably an antique. Two of the CD players jumps, all the tape decks eat cassettes, and only one of the answer phones is audible.
Some of these problems could be remedied, but thereby lies another problem-I am 2000 kilometres far away my home-Yola- and we lost all the instruction booklets-when our Elder Brother died in autocrats 1 years ago. And my sister have no idea how to use the timer on the oven, or how to change the on going message on the answer phone, or programme any of the three video recorders: and although all the stereo equipment has alarm clock facility, no one knows how to programme it. Therefore, my sister woke each day to a wind- up homer Simpson alarm clock
However, you might very well say.
Yep, the technology may be durable but the ability to operate them is fleeting. Together with an item’s built – in technological obsolescence comes the obsolescence of knowledge. Back in the far off days of my first Toshiba satellite pro 4600, I could programme the machine to do everything but stand up and salute me.
Now my brain can keep up with technology and I have cram out all my manuals steam. Of the 14 programmes on my washer-drier, I use all off hand. Therefore, we are modern, materialist, and technological home. We have a dedicated internet connection, a thuraya line, six email addresses, fax, photocopier, more machines than NASA in the kitchen. However, we have no bloody toilet paper.