Do you hear the people sing?

So I just got back from watching Les Miserables with my mom. I know, given my past obsession with the musical,  I'm a bit surprised myself that I didn't make it a priority to see it sooner! Anyway, I thought it was really great. I love those songs, I loved most of those actors and I just love the unadulterated, unapologetic romanticism of this story that has been enjoyed for over 100 years.

When I watch that musical and listen to those songs I feel like a revolutionary. I would like to think that I would have been brave enough to fight for what I believed in. That if I was a member of the upper crust, I would have treated the peasants differently. That if I was in a position of power like the Monseigneur,  I too would have had mercy and trust in a defeated man I didn't know.

It's easy to watch that musical and feel shivers about how how bad it was back then, and how marginalized the poor were and how corrupt the government was and then go off with our day because, um hello! Those things happened a couple centuries ago! Life is good now!

Sure, Marius, I would have joined in your crusade and stood with you, but...I don't live in revolutionary France. Your struggle is over and I'm already free. And all the people I know are too. So, great job. Your friends didn't die for nothing. I see myself and my own struggles echoed and amplified through your stories, I identify my own mistakes and fears with yours, but life just isn't as grand anymore. Not for me. For better or worse, life isn't a romantic novel.

But wait! Governments without the consent of the people? Little girls like Cosette trapped in slavery? Abject poverty that many of the wealthy ignore? Children like Gavroche fighting in civil wars and revolutions? Women like Fantine marginalized into prostitution to survive?

Sounds like...Uganda! And Tunisia! And Syria! And Thailand! And parts of the US that everyone ignores! Sounds like all sorts of places in the 21st century!

Each and every one of those larger than life characters from Les Mis is counterpart to a real person today. And there are so many of them. Some are literally the beggars at our feet as we cross the street or as we drive through the next zip code. Some are in far away lands like Sudan or Palestine. But in a globalized world of ever increasing international trade these people are our neighbors in a very real way. Surely we can afford to export compassion as well as grain.

The French Revolution is over. The American Revolution is history. World War Two is a topic for Oscars winning movies.

But, there are so many battles left to fight. The war against poverty is just beginning. People are finally starting to talk about it and, most importantly, listen to the calls of global injustice and inequality. The human race is good at responding to the call to arms. It's in our nature. The pages of history are littered with glorious battles.

The thing is, providing health care to a child with diarrhea or a family without mosquito nets is so much less epic than following a flag into battle. For the time being, our personal liberties and safety are not at stake. I mean, yes, I could make an argument about how human security affects US National Security because the poor and marginalized are more likely to become terrorists, but that's not my point. My point is that the war against poverty and all the oppression and injustice that often accompanies it is, largely, not our own. To a degree its against foreign governments not fulfilling their duty to their people (which I also won't say much on because then we get into American Exceptionalism, which is a controversial topic). But, most importantly, this war on poverty is, in a way, against ourselves.

Let me explain that. NO I absolutely don't mean that we personally caused inequality or should feel guilty about it. But we are in one of the most unique situations in the history of the world in that we can actually do something about it! I really believe that. We have the resources that no other generations have had. The internet gives us a way to mobilize like never before. It gives us information about the state of the world  that we can't ignore. It's given us an easier way to give monetarily to causes we believe in.

Money by itself won't solve these problems, but, put in the hands of an honest, transparent organization committed to a purpose you believe in, it sure would help. Last summer my parents were kind enough to give me some money to pass along to a girl, Sharon, whose education had been interrupted by the civil war in Uganda and who had no funding to go back. They gave her a fairly large sum which paid off debts she had owed for previous school semesters as well as the tuition for the coming term.

As I prepare to go back to Uganda next month, I've been trying to figure out a way to get her more money to pay for her next semester. I thought it would require some big sacrifice on my part. But as I went through my records I was rather humbled by what I found. The costs of Sharon's school semester, a fee so great in their economy that many don't graduate high school, was 123,200 Ugandan shillings.

That's 45 dollars and 38 cents.

To put that in perspective, that's the cost of perhaps 2 shirts at target, dinner for 3 at Applebees, or a few movie showings at the theater.

On a student's budget its not nothing-but it's worth thinking about. As the venerable C.S. Lewis said, "I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare...If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us,... they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditures exclude them."

I'm going to keep buying myself stupid unnecessary things just because I want them. But I'm trying to train myself to at least put things in perspective and consider the fact that the money I'm paying for a pair of shoes is more than what I would need to give to help a girl receive her education. Sometimes I will carry on. Sometimes I may re-evaluate because really, there should be some things I would like to have and cannot have because my charitable expenditures exclude them.

What I'm saying is that, guess what? Be careful what you wish for, Jenny. There is a revolution going on now. It's a bit abstract and you won't have to die for it. So that's a relief. But its there and to ignore it or refuse to participate in it in any way shape or form is to deny a moral imperative. There is suffering and there is pain and their is inequality and there really is some little thing you and I can do about it. And if we all do that little thing, who knows? Big things may start falling into place.

I don't get to stand on a barricade, but I do get to stand on a soapbox! This tirade is as much a sermon to myself as anyone else. But to prove that I put my money where my mouth is, I'm stepping off this comfortable self-righteous soapbox real soon and am heading out to Uganda next month to work for a development cause I believe in. And while I'm there I'm gonna find Sharon, I'm gonna go with her to her school. And I'm going to personally pay for next semester's tuition.

If anyone else wants to contribute some small amount to help victims of civil war receive an education feel free to let me know--there's no overhead!

Vive La Revolution!

Sharon and Rom- the angel who helped me get the money to her

Self-Recognition

You know that phrase that people use to describe something they could easily recognize?

They say, "I know it like the back of my hand."

It's supposed to prove a point. But, I've been thinking lately. I don't really know the back of my hands very well. If I were asked to pick out my hand from a random group of dismembered hands... I don't know if I could do it. Especially if all of those hands were white.


It's just a thought.

Fate and Free Will: My Latest Existential Journey

HELLO WORLD!

I'm alive! And home in St. Louis! And I've done nothing at since getting here! After a couple days of sleeping in and watching hours of 'Once Upon a Time' I decided maybe I should do something marginally productive. So here I go. I've been meaning to write in here for awhile. But the most important things I had to write about were still secrets until a few weeks ago.

That aren't now. I'm not totally sure why they ever were, but sometimes I just have to baby my sub-conscious and keep things to myself for awhile, under my own control until I feel ready to let them go. If you are reading this blog, chances are that you already know everything I'm about to say. And I'm so sorry that this is so long. But I'm gonna say it anyway because I need to get it out in words. My two biggest things lately?

I'M GOING ON A MISSION! TO BOSTON!

also...

I'M GOING TO UGANDA! AGAIN!

I feel ridiculous. My life has been so incredibly, amazingly, unmeritedly blessed lately. But I'm going to be really annoying and say that...sometimes to many blessings can be a curse? Alright, no no. Not a curse exactly. But a trial. And why not? I've had trials turn out to be blessings, so why not blessings that amass into a bit of a trial? My problems are SO GOOD. And I don't want anyone to think for a second that I don't recognize that. But I've had some problems lately, nonetheless.

Let me back up for a second and just give this whole mission thingy the attention it deserves.

I never EVER thought that I would go on a mission. It just wasn't my thing. I thought sister missionaries were weird and awkward and just ugly girls who hadn't made the age 21 deadline of getting married in the Mormon world. And then my beloved sister Laura ('Sister Hurst' actually!) went on a mission and I became a bit more exposed to the whole thing. And I don't think my sister is ugly or dumb or anything like that--quite the opposite, so don't go there! She's weird yes, but all we Hursts are. I was intrigued that this girl I loved and respected was doing the whole mission thing, so I was forced to think about it a bit more, but I still didn't think it was for me. Laura was older and more gospel-oriented than I was.

Then I went to college. After freshman year, pretty much all the boys left on missions. Then, as they turned 21, girls from my freshman ward started trickling off as well. That was all well and good, but it still wasn't for me.

Then my roommate Kasey got her mission call to Hong Kong. And oh my gosh, I got so excited for her.  Basically I shocked myself with how happy I was for her and how giddy I was. And I started harboring a secret hunch that, despite my personal leanings, fate was going to send me on a mission. And I would go to Asia.

That summer I went to Cambridge. I met some really awesome girls. One of them, Jacqueline, was a returned missionary who had served in Japan. Another one was Lauren who ended up submitting her papers the year after we got home and is now in Malaysia on her mission. Why is this relevant? Well, these girls were really influential role models for me. They are both geniuses. They are both smart, free-thinking, beautiful girls with plenty of opportunities ahead of them, but chose to spend 18 months on a mission. They totally shattered  what was left of the rude stereotype of sister missionaries that I had in my head.

When I got back from Cambridge was when I first started seriously considering the mission thing. That's over a year ago. I talked to my bishop, started my papers and everything. And then I sort of just let it slide. I got distracted with other things and the timing wasn't right. I'm glad I didn't go a year ago. I've had so many important necessary experiences since then that I wouldn't trade for anything--most importantly, Africa.

Doing research for two months in Uganda really expanded my worldview and my love for strangers. I did work for hours on end that was both monotonous and emotionally draining. Seems like good preparation for a mission to me. Being in Uganda and seeing how happy many of the people were despite their poverty put some things in perspective for me. It made me see more clearly that material well being is never ever the end goal in life. Happiness is the ultimate goal of life. And money is not required for that.

I believe that the purest most sincere form of happiness comes from the gospel of Jesus Christ. Happiness comes from living that gospel. From being kind to others, from serving others, from building a strong family, from being loyal to your friends and to your family, from putting others before yourself and from the gratitude that comes from knowing that all things are a gift from a loving God. I want to dedicate my life to development. But, forgive me for the chessyness, I sort of determined that the development of the human soul was more important that the development of a human's material well-being. I want to do both. They are both incredibly important, especially at the margins.

But a mission is something I can only do as a young person. This is the only time that I can dedicate 100% of my time to the Lord. I don't have a family yet or a career. It's incredibly intimidating but also a very intriguing concept to spend 18 months of my life attempting to put others first. I want to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with people because I earnestly believe that it is the surest path to happiness. And I want to help people, and I want people to be happy. Not 'Christmas morning' happy, but 'inner joy' happy. Obviously, I can't do that on my own. But I want to put myself in a position that I can be an instrument in the Lord's hands, as they say. I plan to dedicate my professional life to development and to children's rights. After internalizing what I realized in Uganda-- that joy overcomes poverty-- it seemed like it was finally the time to put my mission papers in. I finally felt like maybe I was mature enough for such a big adventure.

Ok. Let's speed up a bit. I got back to the US from Uganda. I talked to my bishop. I convinced him that I was for serious this time. I didn't tell anyone but my family and my roommate, Lottie. I started my papers. I was working in them late into the night the morning of General Conference when they announced that 19 year old girls were suddenly allowed to go on missions.

I was rather put out. Knowing, as I do that everything is about me, I had assumed that something momentous would happen in regards to missions at this conference. I just thought that they would be, I don't know, opening China or something. But no. All it meant was that I was suddenly super old in the mission world as a girl about to turn 22. I felt a little irrelevant. And also, it became really difficult to get meetings with people since every girl and her younger sister was suddenly flooding the mission office with applications. I had planned on going on my mission in January. With the sudden flood of girls, leaders started telling me that I probably wouldn't get called until March or April.

March or April?! That was so far away. I wanted to go immediately before I lost the nerve! Nevertheless I decided I still wanted to submit my papers now rather than wait for another semester and I started trying to think of productive ways to spend the few months that would probably exist when I was not in school just waiting for my mission.

For anyone who doesn't know mission calls are pretty much out of your control. I put my papers in. I told them I was available to serve starting January 1st. After that, they can call me whenever and wherever they want. So, even though my availability date was for January I started making contingency plans. No one I knew was getting calls till later so it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. I signed up for classes for next semester. I applied for a grant that only enrolled students can get. Most importantly, I applied for a job in Uganda.

Jigga what now? I know. This job opportunity just fell from the sky. I was finishing up teaching my Friday lab one week and checked my email on a whim. There was a notice from the International Development Minor that there was a company looking for someone to evaluate an NGO in northern Uganda in February and March.

Holy Cow. It was like the heavens had opened up, light had descended on me and the universe was saying, here you go Jenny. This perfect opportunity with perfect timing for you. Most likely the time I would need to kill before my mission. I emailed the company as soon as possible and the more we talked, the more I thought, 'this is perfect.' I interviewed with them and felt that it went well and then didn't hear back for over a week.

I was on pins and needles. Here were these four huge futures laid out before me, all of them mutually exclusive.
1. Go on a mission in January.
2. Go on a mission later and go to Uganda instead in the winter.
3. Not get the Uganda job OR an early mission call and go to winter semester at BYU.
4. Not get the Uganda job, get a mission call for some point in the middle of the semester and chill in St. Louis until it was time to leave.

So timing was stressing me out. Also, location was stressing me out. I was terrified to go somewhere I would be disappointed with. I might be going to Paris or Tokyo. I might be going to Topeka Kansas. There was just no saying.

Well, I finally heard back from the Uganda job and... I GOT IT! It was SO exciting. I hadn't realized just how much I wanted it until I was screaming and dancing and running around and telling everyone I knew and just feeling so joyful about it. I thought. Ok. This is what God wants me to do. My mission call will come for April and it will just be a sign that I'm doing what God wants me to do. I can help people in Gulu and on my mission. My two worlds, the two things I love, were coming together.

After Thanksgiving, my call finally came. I could go into a lot of detail about that, but this post is already way too long. So basically, I opened my call and was so happy and excited and felt so blessed. And then I re-read it and saw that my call was for January 16.

Crap. I had already told the Uganda company that I could work for them. At first, it didn't seem like a big deal. I would just defer my mission until I got back and I could do both. I was a little annoyed that God hadn't manifested his will for me by making my call for later, but I didn't think it was a huge deal.

Turns out other people did. People who had no idea that I was even considering going on a mission were suddenly throwing their 2 cents in as I tried to just tell them how excited I was that I had gotten my mission call for Boston. They'd say things like 'well the Lord called you for this time, so you need to go now." Or they'd imply that the Uganda opportunity was somehow a temptation to be shunned so that I could do the Lord's work. They said, 'well, maybe there is someone important that you need to meet on your mission in January.' Not everyone was like that. But, enough were.

I was torn apart. It was a total guilt trip. And I'm a girl with a diagnosed anxiety disorder!

I'm not required to go on a mission. It's entirely my choice. But there is this superstition around mission calls that each and every aspect of it is dictated by God. What if I was ignoring God's will by defering my mission? It was just so confusing. Both a mission and the Uganda experience are great things. Both seemed like real, sincere, earnest, helpful ways to serve God's children. Evaluating an NGO in Uganda would help an organization to better serve the people that I love there in Gulu who were affected by the civil war. It would also help me along my life path, it could be a stepping stone for me towards my end goal of working for something like UNICEF and helping children as my career. I wasn't deciding between going or not going on a mission. I was deciding whether to go on a mission in January or in April. And what if there was something that I could give to the experience in Uganda that maybe someone else wouldn't be able to do? Was it selfish to think that way and accept the job? Or did I really have any special abilities or skills that would make my services in Uganda more valuable than the other applicants who had not been accepted?

I was so confused. Why couldn't God just reveal his will for me? If I was certain that it was important to Him that I go on my mission in January, I would have done it. But I did not get that answer. I didn't really get any answer. And I didn't have much time to be wishy washy. My call date was within a month and a half. My Uganda job needed a concrete answer. After days of prayer, anxiety, study, pondering, advise seeking and many many tears, I still didn't really know what to do. Had my fate been handed to me with that specific date on my mission call? Or did God still honor my free will to decide between two great things?

In the end, I decided that God didn't really care.

Yeah, haters! I really don't think he cares! In the best way possible. God wanted me to make my own decision. Agency is one of His most important gifts to each of us and, in this particular case, I'm not unique or  important enough that God can't accomplish his purposes in either Uganda or Boston with someone else. It's my business to do with my life what I will and to perfect myself in what way I think is best. And no, I didn't have this earth-shattering answer to prayer that indicated this sentiment. Because I didn't feel at all confident in my ability to receive personal revelation, I started praying for the option of last resort- "Heavenly Father, please stop me if I'm making a mistake." And then I decided to do what reason told me to do. And that was: have your cake and eat it too. Defer the mission, go to Uganda and then serve in Boston. Do both!

Willing to change my mind if lightning struck me down, I went through with the process of deferring my mission call. Really, I didn't have a big choice moment. I asked my bishop if it was possible to defer. My bishop talked to my stake president who was willing. He talked to the mission headquarters in salt lake. They were reticent, and my wonderful stake president fought for me. I didn't know what was going on. I just got a call saying, "your new mission call date is April 10, 2013."

And that was it. My existential crisis was, apparently over. I was doing both.

Which after a deep breath and moment of thought, brought on a whole slew of other worries now that each of them were real. Like, I'm not going to see my family for almost two years! Like, I'm going to get sick again in Uganda! And, I'm going to be so old! And, when will I finish school? And, all my best friends will be gone when I get back!

And I'm still dealing with those realities. But I've been taught a powerful lesson, and that is this: even though we choose our fate, that doesn't make fate void. More like a follow-through on our commitments. To quote the wise Regina Spekter, "you take the things you like, and try to love the things you took."

That's what I'm trying to do right now. I've taken two great things that I like. They will both reveal my flaws, they both force me to confront my insecurities, but they are mine because I have chosen them. And now, I am learning to love and embrace those decisions.

I know what you are thinking, "Jenny, you are so spoiled, how can you complain about these awesome things and say that they are trials, or that you have to force yourself to love them?!" And all I can respond is that it is what it is. And that is: I am afraid. These two things are going to require hard work, sacrifice and removal from the people that I love.

But I'm doing them.

These Streets

Ok, so I haven't written for a little while and I still have so much to write, but just to jump forward for a moment, something really creepy JUST happened that I need to report. I got home, told Laura about our adventure and then started writing in my journal so I could get the facts out before I started sensationalizing it. So here's what I wrote in my journal. Sorry its so poorly written. Just imagine me telling you this breathless, face to face: 

Alright. 

Thank heavens for best friends, cell phones, the police and a bag of gym clothes. 

Lottie and I just had the freakiest experience ever. I posted a status about being at the SWKT late that Lottie and my friend Rogelio started commenting on. Lottie said that she would come meet me at the bottom of the hill and Rogelio said to be careful of rape hill which I kind of made fun of him for. I didn’t even ask Lottie to come get me. She just felt like it. So we were talking on the cell phone as we walked towards each other (and she remarked that there was a police car around which was weird) and then we met up and just started walking. We got one block, to where the isles ends and I see this tall man dressed in drag coming towards us out of the dark. 

It was a tall guy, dressed in heels, wearing a blonde wig and a sheer black mask over his face. I pointed him out to Lottie and we both started walking a little closer to each other and were like ‘what’s going on?’ The guy just kept walking straight towards us so I was like “heyyy” because I was pretty sure that it was just a prank or something but it was still really scary cause he got to the point where he was only like 3 or less feet away. So we walked past him and he started following us. Lottie and I were holding hands by this point. 

Then, Lottie broke into a run, so I did too and the guy started running behind us. And I’m a really slow runner so I just turned around and hit him in the chest with my bag of gym clothes that I’ve had all day. I think I said something like “Seriously what are you doing?” and me and Lottie both screamed I think. The guy didn't say anything the whole time. Anyway, we made it to the other side of the street and just turned around to look at him. We weren't going to outrun him. 

So we just looked at him and Lottie was like “should I call the police?” and I was like “yeah.” So she did but hung up and the guy just kept staring at us. Then this girl on the other side of the street that we had just come from was like “Are you guys ok?” and I was like “yeah…there’s just a guy standing here.” And she was like “he’s been following me all night!” So I was like, “seriously Lottie, call the police.” So she did and she starts talking to them but it sounded pretty generic like she could possibly be bluffing so I called out to the guy who by this point was like 10 or 15 feet away but still staring at us. So I was like “She’s seriously calling the police.” And the girl on the other side of the street was like “ok, Austin stop now” or something. “Happy Halloween” (that last part to us). Which was like, what? And then she came over to our side of the street sort of hugged the guy, but forcefully to get him walking and was like “sorry, guys, come on Austin. Happy Halloween.”

And meanwhile Lottie (who can’t hear under the best circumstances) is talking to the police giving them our exact location. She told them that the girl and guy were walking off and the woman asked which way so we told her. Within about 1 minute we saw a police car going in that direction. Apparently they had gotten several calls about that guy tonight. Me and Lottie just walked the rest of the way home asking each other what the hell just happened?

 It was so not in good taste and it was so…inspired that Lottie decided to come meet me halfway and that we were together when that happened. I’m so glad I wasn't alone. And apparently I now know what I would do in a crisis. Run really badly, hit the person half-heartedly with a bag of clothes, scream and call the police.

Interesting. 

"The Prince of Egypt TWO"

Okay so I came up with what blogs I was going to write awhile ago and if this was closer to the actual event I think this post would make more sense. Because it wasn't actually that exciting. It was just a fun little event we went to.

So the story goes like this: One day Corrine and I were walking up from our house in the residential area to all the stores. At the top of this great big hill across from a restaurant called "I feel like Chicken Tonight"

We saw these fliers advertising The Prince of Egypt TWO

Entertainment being rather scarce around those parts Corrine and I were very interested. So we took pictures of the sign so we could remember it and then went along our merry way.

"Live Drama" What does that even mean in this context?

Ok so fast forward about a week. It's after church on Sunday. We've walked all the way home down an enormous hill and I'm tired and probably a bit cranky and don't feel like doing much of anything and we were debating whether it was worth it to go up and see the play seeing as we had NO idea what it was. We get a call from Corrine who had stayed at church to teach piano. She had gone straight to the play and she wanted to let us know that "It's awesome! They have a set and everything!" 

Well that settled it. They had a set. We got in a taxi-bus and headed up. When we got there it was in this HUGE church and they had an amazing sound system and they really did have a pretty impressive set. They proceeded to act out The Prince of Egypt but with lip sync during the songs. The scene when Moses chases the men from the well who are bothering the little sisters turned into a long-winded karate fight. I can't quite remember but I'm pretty sure that at one point they changed one of the songs, replaced it with a song from the Lion King and made the words religious. 

I'm having a hard time conveying it in this post but the play was HILARIOUS. 

During the song that Jethro sings about looking at you life through heaven's eyes, there were some dancers going that were actually really good. But one of the dancers was SO flamboyant and cheesy that I literally had tears in my eyes watching the performance. He was just soo goofy. And then when they showed a market scene it was totally a Ugandan market where they were haggling tennis shoes and stuff. Very anachronistic.

But when the plague killing all the first born struck it was so chilling. The theater was totally silent and then women started walking on stage holding young children in their arms and just wailing. Wailing like I've never ever heard a person wail in real life. It was like they were emitting this pain from the bottom of their souls. It was the kind of thing that you never would have been able to get non-professional actors do in the United States.

And then everything paused and this white evangelist speaker came out and started preaching about Christ. For like 20 minutes. The whole stage was just frozen behind him and he was telling us to close our eyes and pledge ourselves to Jesus. I'm pretty sure he was the guy who owned the church and paid for everything. Finally he stopped his speech and the play finished up. 

It was just such a unique experience. If your Mormon then you are familiar with road shows. This was like that but on steroids and with much more soul. We met up with Corrine and the girls she was with from church (Josephine and Anette and Mary). We even stuck around to fill out a little survey about our experience thanking them for the show.

It was a pretty cool way to spend a Sunday afternoon and a fun look into Ugandan religious culture.

 And also a really good work out for my laughing abs. 

Football Hooligans

Ok, so as I promised, here is the start of my belated blogposts about Uganda! I can't promise how good these posts will be since I'm kind of overwhelmed by the sheer number of stories I need to tell. Its important for me to get them down before I forget them. And since this blog is mostly just for myself / my closes friends anyway, I hope you will forgive me.  This post will draw heavily from my journal entry written at 3 in the morning on Satuday June 9th aka the first full day I had in Uganda!

So around 11 me, Matt and Wayne headed out to get breakfast/a ticket to the game for Alfred our driver. We walked up the road and then started crossing this little bit of jungle-y part towards this area that looks like a slum but is really a thriving market. 

One of the entrances to the market as seen by my balcony

Outside the market is a stall where women will make you a “rolex”. This is a scrambled egg inside a sort of ciabatta rool type thing that they fry. It was so cool. Just like in a shaky outdoor hut with flies everywhere and minimal hygiene. We sat on a bench to wait while they cooked. It was pretty cool. They put the food in bags for us and we walked through the market to the other side to catch a taxi.

I just found this on the internet, but rolex stands are really common throughout the country. They are the go to (and perhaps only) fast food around besides samosas. Unlike McDonald's though, you have no one to blame but yourself when you get food poisoning--more on that later!

Did I say taxi? I meant one of the old white vans crawling throughout the city. They pick people up on the street and cram like 13 people in. When you want to get off you say “stage.” I’m so glad Peter and Wayne were around to lead everything because I had no idea what was going on. But the rolex was good! It was funny because as we were biting into it, Peter was like “well…it’s not an exact science but…let’s eat this and see if anyone gets sick. If not we are coming here everyday.” So I was a little nervous but it was way good. 

Another internet picture just for kicks.
It's pretty appropriate though complete with plastic bag and  tentative white hand.

After riding the taxi for a bit, we got to the nicer area where we bought the ticket for Alfred. I tried to get my money exchanged but my bills weren't big enough. Lame. We then walked into a nice store, bought ourselves soda in glass bottles, were given straws and drank them while riding the taxi home.  On the way back, traffic was getting pretty bad and a man passed on the street selling Uganda jerseys for the football match we were about to go to. So Peter yelled out the window for him to come over and we bought jerseys. (Peter was spotting me since I still don’t have any money). So I had a black jersey and immediately the conductor next to me (not the driver but the man who manages money) turned to me and was like “put on! Put on!” so I did he was like "yeaaaahhh!!" And then as we were walking back people kept giving us the peace signn and we were like ok? This is really odd. But then we realized it was because we were all in our jerseys and people were getting so psyched about the game.  So. Then Alfred picked everyone up from the apartments and we went to the match!

                                                                    

                                                               It. Was. Crazy. 

I think my pictures can do most of the talking. It was so crowded and everyone was going crazy. There were vuvuzelas everywhere and people were selling all sorts of stuff on the streets and guys had paint out to paint people’s faces.  So we did that (we got a Uganda flag painted on our cheeks) and we seriously think it was probably house paint. It smelled so bad. We made out way up into the stadium, getting totally squeezed by the crowd. I got so swept away by the human traffic that I was pretty much impaled by the cattle gate thing everyone went through.

The road leading up to the stadium

You see armed guards everywhere. 

Absolute chaos. It was right around here that I practically got impaled.
It was alarming.

Everyone w as dressed up in the Ugandan colors (red, yellow and black).
 I think this man's expression is cute.

Also, as we were walking up and the crowd was going crazy I GOT PICK POCKETED!!! Everyone was dancing and was super excited to see us muzungus (white people) so they were dancing up to us and this one guy in a memorable white shirt kept dancing next to me. And he was keeping really close. I started to get freaked out like, is this guy hitting on me or …what is he doing? So basically I noticed that he had targeted me. And it was so easy to get swallowed by the crowd so I jogged up to catch up with everyone and he would be jogging right behind me. Eventually I felt him slip his hand into my pocket and take my ticket. I was like “hey!” and reached out trying to get it from his hands but he wasn't giving it back. Then I stopped trying to fight him because I was like … is this a good idea? Confronting  a full grown African man? So I turned to my group and was like “he just took my ticket!” and immediately Brady ran after him into the crowd. 

I wasn't hopeful. But low and behold, Brady came back with the ticket in his hand! I was like “how did you get it????” and he was like “… I just got it.” All mysteriously. It turns out that he chased the guy long enough that eventually the thief turned and handed it back to Brady. I guess a bunch of Ugandan’s were running after Brady too. When I asked why the other spectator Ugandans were following the chase Brady figured that they were trying to get my ticket back too.  Isn't that awesome? 

The infamous ticket.
By the way a lot of these pictures are actually Wayne's so this is in fact his ticket.
 But you get the idea.

Read number Two. Just read it.
T.I.A.

Finally out of the thick of it and climbing the stairs to the actual stadium.

Ok so we got into the stadium about 2 hours before the match actually started. We sat around for awhile. Wayne read his lugana grammar book  (trying to learn the native language) and we all just screamed and were bombarded by a crazy amount of noise and vuvuzelas etc. 

Armed guards who didn't really seem to do anything

the gang...and this was before the match even started

Cheerleaders

check out the crowd!

his sign says "ask Nigeria, Ghana or Angola" which I guess means that Uganda beat them recently.

The hats! The hats! 

The Uganda Craines (the football team) has the motto "we go, we go."
The motto for Uganda is "For God and my country."
It's not uncommon to see things spelled wrong. So I really fit in in that country.

The girl I am hugging is the wonderful Corrine

see that crazy face in the middle there?
Truly alarming (its a mask)

Wayne being a  nerd / really smart person and studying his language book

I know this sounds really weird but I don't think I had ever seen this many black people in one place.
Just all black  people with hardly any whites. Africa was good to me that way. No shortage of black people.

It had a sort of Mardi Gras feel

She told me to look sad during halftime when we at 0:1

The match was cool. People got so into it but I didn't really know what was going on. At one point people started throwing their water bottles down to the field because they were so excited. Which explains why they weren't supposed to bring bottles in-they turn into missiles! There is so much more to tell but I just don’t even know how to put it into words. We ended up tying 1 - 1.  You would have thought we won the world cup or something the way everyone was freaking out. Afterwards we were dancing around and a bunch of Ugandans kept coming up wanting our picture. We were like celebrities. EVERYONE wanted a picture with the muzungos in their Uganda get-up at the game. It was really fun. 

Let the crazy dancing with total strangers begin!

Peter and this kid got into a vuvuzela-off

truly giddy now

and here is an example of how people just kept jumping in

Leaving the stadium the Senegal team was waiting in their bus. Everyone was booing at them and they had a police barrior and the team was just like “…” as they looked out all posh at everyone. I mean, we were celebrating a tie for heaven's sake. They also had police buses to keep people they arrested in. 

Just a random girl. Such was the spirit in the air that you just run up to people and take pictures with them and no one thinks anything of it!

police were really straining themselves

Later that night after Alfred drove us back home and after we had eaten dinner with some friends from the ward, we looked at people's pictures from the day. It was so funny because peter plugged his thumbdrive into the tv and it just started playing his Christmas playlist. We didn’t know how to turn it off so we just ended up looking at all these pictures of football hooligans with "Oh come Oh come Emmanual" in the background. Excellent.

Anyway, as I said that was my first full day in Africa! I'd like to say oh, you know that kind of shinanigans never happened again, but actually...we wen't to another football match the next week! I don't have as many pictures from that game and it was mostly more of the same except that

1. My professor and his 12 year old daughter were there totally jet lagged

2. We won that match (against Congo) 4-0 and people were out. of. control.

3. The atmosphere in the stadium was such that men were climbing on the poles holding up the speakers throughout the game (so about 30 feet up).

4. After the match an announcement came on saying that people weren't allowed to get on the field. I thought this was a silly superfluous announcement. 

5. Within 10 minutes the field was flooded with fans running around, screaming, blowing their horns. To get them off, the authorities turned the super high power sprinklers on. This just provided a new outlet for play.

6. On the way home we say a boda with no less than 5 guys on it. That's one motorcycle with 5 people crammed onto it going down the highway. 

That kid wanted to blow the horn I had bought. So I let him. And I was being a bit of a germaphobe so I wasn't sure what to do after that. So I let him hang onto it. He proceeded to blow the horn into my ear for the next hour. I ended up just telling him he could keep it. Giddy, he ran off into the crowd. 

My "I can't believe this is happening but this is really fun and I love it and I'm not sure if a mob is going to  break out in
 the next 5 minutes and also this is really loud" face.

Ok friends! Thats it! My experience as a football hooligan! Props if you made it to here in this lengthy post! Next stop...Prince of Egypt TWO. Get excited.

p.s. sorry about the weird white highlight on the text. It happens whenever I copy and paste text and I don't know how to get rid of it.

Princess Jenny

I'M BACK!!! IN AMERICA!!!

And let me just say: I feel like a princess.

Life is so easy here. Well, maybe not easy. We all have problems wherever we are in the world, however rich we are. But convenient. It's so convenient here. I got off the plane, met up with my beautiful mom and waited for my dad to circle around and pick us up and take us home. No public transportation at all!

Then when I got home, I had all sorts of welcome's waiting for me: my favorite Schnucks cookie cake (usually consumed at children's birthday parties), a 'welcome home' balloon, even a bouquet of flowers next to my bed. My tabby cat, Bonnie, seemed to think that my homecoming was too good to be true. And then my older sister Emily showed up and I was reunited with one of my best friends! We sat at the kitchen table just talking and talking and talking about me, Me, ME!

Thus, I have come to the conclusion that I am a princess.

And then --I have to admit it-- one of the most magical moments was when I opened the closet door in my room and was reunited with all my clothes! Clean, cute, clothes. Expensive clothes. Colorful clothes. Coats from England and vintage dresses from Carolina, belts, headbands- all sorts of nonsensical clothes that you would only wear if you aren't planning on getting your hands dirty.

Ok, I know what you are thinking. You're thinking is in one of two camps. Either you are bracing yourself for a lengthy soapbox about poverty and white guilt or you are thinking that I'm playing up my economic position a little bit. Well, this ain't no guilt trip. Yes,  I just came from a place where many people live in poverty. And yes, there is totally unfair inequality in the world. And anyone reading this is on the lucky side of that inequality. But that doesn't mean  we have to feel guilty all the time. I just think we need to be aware of our riches.

Growing up I thought oh, I'm normal, I'm middle class, everyone has as much as I do. Not so. Even by American standards I would say that I am disgustingly spoiled. I just went to Uganda! I have way more of everything than I need.

And yet, we live in this entitlement culture. With everything available at the press of a button we sometimes forget how wonderful our lives are. We get bored. In the words of that famous comedian talking to Connan "Everything's Amazing and No one's happy." It's sad. Because even with all the money and luxury and technology that we have, we generally don't have a life style of happiness. Ugandan's are fond of putting religious mantra's on the back of their taxi vans. Things like "God is Good," or "God is with us all the time" or even "God's Plan 3" (what?). But one of the best mantras I ever saw on the back of a taxi was "The rich cry too."

So there they are in Uganda, totally poor, but with a gross national happiness value that I would hazard to guess is higher than ours, reminding themselves that even wealth cannot cure pain and sadness. We shouldn't be happy because we are wealthy. We should be happy because we are alive. And we should be grateful for everything.

I don't know, I just think its kind of amazing. I don't need to feel guilty about the inequality of the world- I didn't create the system- but I do need to do something about it. Even if its small. And I do need to be mindful of my blessings and my opportunities.

My sister directed my to a quote that I really like:

"If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty." -Rilke


No poverty. No quota on happiness. No limited stockpile of joy. Its there for the taking. And in my world of bounty with food and clothes and technology, but most especially family and friends and love, I am a princess.

And I am a poet.