We sat so close to each other that our knees were almost touching. The gorgeous miss didn’t
seem concerned with the secretive senses heating my inner loins. It appeared to excite me more
than it affected her. She patiently explained what electronic mail was, the process of emailing,
receiving, sending, composing, forwarding, replying, and the rest of the stuff she thought I
needed to know.

She clicked a few strokes on the keyboard, let her eyes dart over the screen for a quick moment,
and then revealed one thing I could have never anticipated her to know in my wildest
imagination, “You have lots of spam.”

Wait a minute! I thought. Did she just say I have lots of sperm? I nodded, wondering how she could
know something so secretive like that. Does the computer with all this bright screen facing us have
X-rays that can reveal internal stuff like that? When I thought about how I was told in class that the
computer has a built-in camera, it made sense. Furthermore, when I asked my buddies how to
connect with American girls, I was made aware that they are straightforward and tell it like it is
without batting an eyelid or beating around the bush.

She confirmed this advice by stating in no uncertain terms, “Be careful. Don’t just let anything
in; you might get a virus.”

Her expression changed as if she were concerned about something very grave. She endorsed my
conclusion when in the most cautious tone of the day, she warned, “A virus is the last thing you
want.”

The manifestation of utter concern told me she had every intention to be my girl, and that was
why she was warning me not to go messing with other girls because I might catch a virus.
I was still scrutinizing her features when she went on, “It’s challenging to get a virus out once it
infects your operating system.”

As if she knew what was on my mind, I thought of telling her how she would be my dream
queen and how we could finish each other’s sentences. But I did not want to come across as
feeling already locked in because I heard downright presumptuousness turned off many
American girls. I changed tact and assured her, “I hear you loud and clear. I won’t risk it; trust
me.”

She gave me a sideways look and continued, “The most important thing about protecting
yourself from a virus is not to play online games.”

Thinking she meant meeting strange women online like the Resident Adviser had warned about
me, I gave her my word. “No, I will never do that.”

Before I could calm my senses, her soft bedroom eyes beamed at me. “I can still get rid of the
spam for you.”

Bingo! My dream had come true quicker than I had the right to anticipate. I felt erotic heat
rising in my entire body, which caused me to move as if I were getting ready for something, and
that was when she assured me: “It’s a piece of cake.”

Instantaneously, an excited pump ricocheted right into the center of my puffed chest. My face
brightened as my heart smiled at the thought of her codeword ‘cake.’ Thinking how sweet a
cake is, my attention quickly transformed with an overmastering lust, and I could feel sensuous
adrenaline cascading up my already-tingling spine. While buried in these erotic thoughts, the
revelations were turning into melodious music to my ears. At that zero hour, my toes rubbed
against each other, and I swear my face started to feel that tingling sensation of someone who
was about to sneeze.

How can I be this lucky so quickly? My thrilled inner voice asked quietly.
Right away, a sense of insatiable sensual excitement rippled throughout my body. The rising
heat in me plunged my mind into a frenzied drive. I felt warm and moved closer, ready to tell
my newest desire: I was a man who doesn’t play risky games that would catch us a virus.
However, before I could open my mouth, she looked at me and asked, “Do you have a clean
hard drive?”

I was about to tell her how my low driver was still fresh since coming to America, that it had so
much reserved firepower and was eager to get-up-and-go helter-skelter. But she suddenly
poured cold water on my salacious thoughts. “I don’t have time right now, but I can show you
how to insert your floppy later.”

I groaned inwardly because waiting for her would be like a stomach-eating ulcer. Unable to
hold it together, I struggled to keep my hands to myself but failed. I leaned forward and rested
my elbows on my knees to think of how I should tell her just how much I appreciated her
titillating gesture for later. However, she clicked a link, and many lines of what she called
unwanted emails popped up. As I continued to feel all my feelings, she paused for a few
seconds to read a few lines.

As if our body chemistry had undergone mosaic osmosis that caused her to sense what was
cascading through me, she said, “Playing games is the easiest way to get a virus, and you might
not realize you have it.”

I thought she was talking about how many healthy-looking people could be infected with HIV
and not even know it.

I assured her, “I know that for sure.”

With her smooth face glistening beneath the bright fluorescent light, she cautioned, “Just don’t
fall for that I Love You virus; it will have a devastating effect.” I nodded as she went on, “It just
proves how sneaky people are that a small virus can affect lots of systems.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” I declared with a jutting passion that made my day much better.
“Don’t forget our systems are always vulnerable. When you go home, get some virus
protection.”

I opened my mouth to crack an assuring joke, ‘Don’t worry. I’m so strict about the safety of my
operating system that I staple a condom on my underwear just in case luck smiles my way.’ But
I changed my mind to reassure her, “Don’t worry about that; I will protect you and me at all
times.”

She looked puzzled and questioned, “Protect me from what?”

“From any of the devastating viral infections.”

“You can’t do that; my PC is already protected with the most up-to-date anti-malware software.”

“Your PC?” I asked, looking for some clarification.

“Yes, my personal computer.”

I thought she was using the term personal computer to mean her Area 51. As if she had felt my
raunchy deliberations, her tinted red lips had already made the perfect curve when she
disclosed, “See, this is spam, the unsolicited emails people send to your inbox without
permission.”

‘Dang!’ I cursed quietly, and not wanting to look like a fool by asking any more questions, I
hung back.

She clicked the delete all button, looked up at me, and pronounced, “See, I have gotten rid of all
the spam.” I nodded, struggling to calm down my juiced-up nerves that had misinterpreted that
unsolicited email spam was sperm.

After nearly an hour of tutoring, I had an idea what email was.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” I apologized.

“Be my guest,” she proclaimed in a susurrant timbre.

I nearly asked her what time I could come back to be her guest. However, I didn’t want to look
overzealous or desperate. So I held on for a sec to see if she could tell me when and where on
her own volition, but she did not look like she would disclose.

To send her a covert message that I was really on my way out before she gave the details of her
invitation, I reluctantly said, “I think I have to start going. Thank you very much.”

The moment I reluctantly stepped away, she declared, “Okey-dokey!”

I stopped mid-step, thinking she called me okay donkey to insinuate her suspicion of a
well-endowed stud. My gaze quickly dropped to my fly, and a sly eyebrow shot up at her, but
she was not paying me much attention. I decided to sound comical as well as trendy, instantly
copped Ray Charles’s voice in the famous Diet Pepsi commercial, and blurted, “You got the right
one, baby, uh huh.”

Instead of responding to my happy-go-lucky wisecrack with equal zeal, she froze me with a
sharp glance over the desktop and asked skeptically, “Got what right?”
I winked, “What you just said. It’s so right on.”

She stared at me, her surprise the first genuine emotion I had seen, and asked, “What did I say?”
I raised one of my eyebrows teasingly and reminded her, “You said okay, donkey.”

“No, okey-dokey, just means everything is okay.”

“Oh!”

That was all that came from my mouth. Feeling foolish and struggling to calm down from all
the heat that had cropped up in every cell of my body, I did not trust myself enough to say
another word.

“I’m glad I was of some help.” She smiled, got up, and bid me goodbye.

My mind switched back to the computer class, reminding me that someone who learns music
late in life will play it in their grave. With this thought and knowing the computer class was a
prerequisite for other courses, I headed to the lab, more than determined to burn all the
midnight oil, practicing and practicing.

When I took my seat, even though the exigent grip of lust had not fully receded, I could not stop
thinking about how my competency in email communications and Microsoft Word applications
would also open so many doors in America. Knowing I was in a country where nearly every
solution to a problem involved the use of a computer made me very conscious that anyone who
did not know how to operate these machines would have a difficult time functioning in
America.

It was not until much later, in a class on how to keep our computers safe from virus infection,
that I learned “I Love You” was a computer virus that swept through banks, securities firms, and
web companies in the United States. This computer worm, one of the most destructive viruses
of all time, was disguised as a love letter in an email note with “I LOVE YOU” in the subject line.
When it was opened, the message was re-sent to everyone in the recipient’s Microsoft Outlook
address book. The virus spread quickly and damaged about forty-five million computers in a
single day.

With such revelations, I didn’t deny that as a native of the motherland, my technological
background in computer literacy was utterly underwhelming.

Every time I went to class, I felt like I was carrying the rawness of the underdeveloped world
upbringing on my shoulders. On such days, I calculated the odds of making it through
successfully. When they didn’t look promising, utter powerlessness consumed me, beckoning
and urging me to accept my situation and quit.

However, with nothing to lose, I refused to let this reality be a barrier because I had no
alternative. I recognized that from the time I came to America, I had learned how to get used to
adapting to new situations, challenges, and habits. With this mindset, it wasn’t a surprise that
on some days, I stopped beating myself up and just went along for the ride to let these everyday
computer challenges arrive at their own pace.

Amid these varying degrees of reactions, the thought of what I endured to get where I was and
the exorbitant fees I’d paid was enough to coax me to do whatever it took so I could move on to
the next challenge. From then on, it seemed if I quit, it would be as if I went to the store, paid for
items, and left without taking them with me just because I could not push the shopping cart to
the exit. Furthermore, the deadline for withdrawing had elapsed. If I dropped the class, I would
get a straight F, messing up my Grade Point Average. Under these circumstances, it made no
sense because I would have to retake the mandatory prerequisite.

At this dawning moment, it became apparent America would not stop for me to learn about
computers and then catch up with me. Left with no other choice, I realized I was all I had, and it
was up to me to lift myself and face the technological challenge head-on. This ratiocination
meant refusing to have words like ‘too hard’ in any sentence and never using them as a reason
to dismiss something somebody with comparable intelligence could do.

Such optimism left me imbued with the zeal of a newly crowned missionary who would do
everything in his power to succeed even where others had failed. Soon, it was only a matter of
time before I realized that I was becoming better and more confident each time from all the
endless exercises I did in the computer lab.

This discernment led me to discover that if I stayed on task and stuck to a systematic approach,
I would eventually find the proverbial needle in my third-world haystack. The more this
realization dawned on me, the more it came to light that difficult situations inspire ingenious
solutions. Henceforth, I was determined to work harder because my success in this class would
depend on what I did every day.

In no time, I discovered I didn’t have to go very far from what I was doing because, at no cost, I
already possessed the most important faculty of success: my head. Inside was the brain, the
natural garden of knowledge that controls what I learn and remember.

That meant the technical competency I wanted to achieve could only be harvested if these
mental faculties were cultivated constantly. The best way to plant it in my cerebral farm was by
hitting the textbooks and nurturing it through practice to make it perfect. If I stayed on it, I was
sure my knowledge would grow, and I would reap endless fruits from computers in America
forever.

This fervent awareness caused me to take the bit between my teeth, and my eyes started to glow
with utter determination. Even when I was in my dorm room, I did nothing by halves. I rolled
up my sleeves and studied the textbook to learn how the combination of different keys
functioned. I made sure I used all my weekends to study and do all the homework for the next
class, familiarizing myself with all the questions and readings for the coming week. I
comprehended that if I ran the gamut, I would be ahead on my assignments and acquaint
myself with the following class exercises to be up to speed with everyone else. A little bit at a
time, my persistent mind started to hang onto its self-created optimism.

After staying at it over time, my confidence increased tenfold. Everything that seemed
complicated started to look like a no-brainer. I was now functioning with ease around computer
screens, keyboards, and printers, the same machines that initially intimidated me. Toward the
end of the class, immense pride filled me with a sense of pending accomplishment. When the
class finally ended, a fleeting and furtive air of triumph engulfed me. I briefly covered my face
and took a deep, thankful breath. When I looked up to depart from the final exams, I was like a
dog with two tails—it was difficult not to chuckle about my initial paranoia.

My necessary technological adjustment was finally complete, and I was ready to function in the
electronic world of the United States. Based on this newfound thought, I could feel my coming
for America universe had just expanded beyond my wildest dreams. This recognition was more
than captivating because when I left Africa, I never imagined one day I would be competent in
the push-button electronic world that was going to dominate every day of my life from the time
I woke up till the time I slept.

When I stepped out of the building, my face caught the full strength of the rising autumn wind
as if it were ushering in a new epoch of my computerized advancement in the United States. On
my way to the residence hall, I exhaled a sigh of ultimate relief. The moment I inhaled, fresh air
filled my lungs, leaving me feeling revitalized as well as exhilarated.

Since Friday is a holy day of worship for Muslims, and out of respect for his faith, I usually
stayed away from our room Friday afternoons to give Moe his private space to carry out the
most important Islamic prayer of the week, called Jumah. I yielded to the delightful mood of this
phenomenal achievement and detoured to treat myself to a nice celebratory early dinner at
McKenny Hall.

The moment I took the first bite of my first Kung Pao Chicken with rice, my taste buds
exploded, and that was when it hit me that without appreciating the struggle, the good times
wouldn’t be as sweet.

Sated and now sober from being drunk with excitement, I exited the building and saw the
dying day setting beautifully in the tender glow of the evening. At the sight of the retreating
splendor of autumn, my thoughts galloped ahead, and the anticipation painted my new hi-tech
world in rose. The wind followed suit and spun dead leaves out of my way as if some divine
power were at long last clearing my newly opened road to success in America. It was the final
affirmation that the gloomy days that swept in monotonous despair were now a thing of the
past. In one, two, three steps, the eagerness of a driver willing to drive nonstop until he reached
his loveliest destination enveloped me.

When I arrived in my room, the road to the American dream was now wide open. By the time I
closed my eyes, I had a feeling I was born for this. But little did I know that just because the
technological challenge was over, it didn’t mean the social challenges had stopped. I was about
to find out the hard way.

Given the experiences to come, it was as if after narrating all my challenges to my peers, I had
not understood the slang they used to warn me:

Fo’ shizzle my nizzle, check your bungee cord, I give you my word cous. The blind leap into Uncle Sam’s
backdrop ’bout to turn-up and go batshit crazy