I spend some time washing clothes and proof reading an article for a friend in the UK. Then make my way up to college for a brunch date with Hassan who's going to help me with my written Arabic.

When I arrive the students are massed in the "speakers' corner" area. Apparently some thief broke into the girls' boarding house and took mobile phones, jewellery and equivalent to US$60 in cash. Some girls are so disturbed they've gone home. They will miss their studies. The fellow students are outraged – they protest to the authorities and declare a two-day boycott of lessons. Now everyone will miss their studies. Sounds like less work for me but I can't help being surprised they don't protest about more important issues.

I cannot find Hassan, perhaps he's forgotten. Instead I bump into a short, slightly heavy girl from my 4th year class. I remember her from the globalisation discussion last week as she was and still is wearing an ultra conservative black ee-biya over and occasionally glimpsed pair of denim jeans. She loves jeans, she has three pairs, all the same – all gifts. She takes me for ful and a mango juice even though she's already had breakfast – what a sport. Hassan finds us and apologises, he's been involved in the protest but now he's too late, already it's time for the 4th years'; even though I'm aware they're boycotting lessons, I think I should turn up anyway.

Curiously, there are half a dozen students in my classroom. You see, it has an air-conditioning unit and already the day is quite hot. This protesting is all very well but they still want to sit inside. I tell them if I were the Dean I would lock the class rooms but no one takes me very seriously.

I use the time and the classroom computer to edit the article I was proof reading earlier. Some students are interested to help but frankly their English is not up to it.

In the late afternoon I go down to the river. It's time to cool off in the Nile – my second swim today.