“Neri, wait,” he said, “let me know what you think. It’s a powerful book.” After thanking him, I got ready to leave. He walked up to his tall library and handed out a thin book to me: “It’s only 80 pages, but I think it will change your life. “I’ll admit it,” he said, “I don’t know a lot about Islam, but if you want to include a novel from Africa into your work, read this.” I think Chris knows this already, but in that time frame when I popped the question in his office, he already had contributed a great deal to my research. for a while now I appreciated that he was ready to help me out whenever I needed help––a rare comfort to be found in the world of academia, especially as an international student. So, I was elated when he said “YES” and added, “we are kindred spirits–you need support from people like yourself.”Ĭhris is from Nigeria and has been living in the U.S. I hadn’t taken any classes with Chris whose field of expertise is Postcolonial Studies and African Diaspora. The analogy is to be unpacked in an entirely different post dedicated to the intriguing subject-matter, and so, right now, I will move on. If you’re a PhD student or has ever travelled the intricate path of graduate school, you know what I mean.Īsking a professor to be on your committee is a serious business–-it is like a marriage proposal in so many ways. As I was sitting in my soon “adviser-to-be” Chris’s office in Tate Hall on an unseasonably hot afternoon, I felt nervous.
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