Teaser

Hey all.


So I realize that its been awhile since I wrote anything. There are a few reasons for that:


1.) My computer cord has broken and its hard to find one to borrow and so my computer dies very quickly


2.) I have been working 12 hour days with no breaks


3.) I am in a town in Northern Uganda


4.) I don't have the pictures uploaded yet


5.) There is not time to give these posts the attention they deserve


In light of this, I decided to just give all you adoring readers a little teaser. And a promise. 


I think about my blog all the time. And I've been keeping track of the posts that I want to write. As Emily would say I am pregnant with blog posts. So here you go. A list of all the blog posts you can expect in the near future:




Football Hooligans


The Prince of Egypt TWO


Outside In


Guiness Records


Every Day's Song


There's Room For Everybody


Silent Laughter


Sacriledge 


Neocolonialism


Torture Chamber


Jenocide


Mille Collines


Borders


Gulu Take 3: Going Native


Slumber Party 


L'amour Partout 




Alright, that's all for now. I promise I'm going to write these posts. In the meantime you can just make guesses what they are about. If you happen to care.


Much love,


Jenny

Colour Me Pineapple

Going to a Ugandan primary school = the most fun I may have ever had in my life. There are a couple of friends at church who work as teachers in this children's school in Kampala. It's pretty rundown and there are way too many kids there. I think this is one of the worst schools in Kampala because a nurse visiting to help give vaccinations was lamenting how poor the hygiene there was. 

In theory we were there to help administer the vaccines as well, but then there was a problem when they realized they weren't sure which children had already gotten it- kind of makes me miss American infrastructure! 

Well, I wasn't going to complain. Instead of holding kids down while they cried we got to play with them! We started off by helping with their exercise books. While about 50 kids (per class!) sat and talked (or picked fights!) a couple were called up at a time to colour. I think they did it this way because they had limited chalk. Anyway, they had these little books and Peter and I acted as human copy machines. We would open each student's book, turn to the first blank page and write: 

"Today is Friday, 15th June, 2012

Colour Me"

And then we drew a pineapple with varying degrees of success. At the bottom of the page we would write "pineapple." Looking through the other pages, sometimes the kids are asked to copy the drawing, sometimes they are asked to shade it. But this is their version of art class I suppose. It was mass pandemoniom. Josephine, the friend we know from church was one of the teachers there and she had to shout so much to get the kids attention. She seemed so competent though, I was shocked to hear that she is only 20! I want to be as cool as her. 

A final thing worth noting before we take a look at the pictures is that Ugandans often name their kids hilarious things in English. Here is a list of some of the names I have heard here. These are people's first names: Innocent, Surprise, Prince, Freedom, Paris, Friday etc. 

I love it.

Well, here are the pictures! It was so much fun and I just felt so much love while I was there with the children. We couldn't really communicate verbally but we just hugged and I picked them up and they pet my hair and stroked my skin and smiled their big lovely smiles.

I pulled that kid on my lap.
 He wasn't very demonstrative but I think he liked sitting there as I rubbed his back for about 20 minutes.
The girls behind me are playing with my hair.
They love white people hair.

Check out Mr. Batman!

Josephine and her typical "uh!" expression. She is so funny and so outgoing.

I'm in love!

model child. This girl is beautiful.

I'm in heaven

Beauty queen again. The girl in the background was super cute as well. Very shy though.
She would keep close to me, but duck her head when I tried to make eye contact. She would hold onto my arm though and good naturedly tug at my fingers, examining my bones and my skin.
Yep, little girl. I may be a different colour, but I'm human too.

One of the classrooms. They were all in a sort of pavilion separated by little walls. Mary is teaching this class. She is another friend from church. When we first met, I told her that I was from Missouri expecting her to have no idea where that was. Instead she said "oh yes, I know it from the hymnbook! 'Forget not the wrongs of Missouri'?"
I was totally blown away. Halfway around the world and a Ugandan girl knows my home state through an LDS hymn.
I love this world.

I don't know why she is wearing the scarf like that. Ugandans get cold more easily thean us Americans do though

check out these two kids pulling each other's cheeks in the foreground:
totally indicative of the general chaos in the school

beautiful picture of Corrine and one of her favorite little boys- she's been there before. 

it's just such unwarrented love and welcome that we recieved there. Mostly for being white, but I think also for taking an interest in them. But mostly for being white, lets be honest.

My little friend again holding onto my arm. She was my favorite. 

look, I have friends! Except I don't know the girl's name on my right. She is Mormon too though

they went crazy for the camera

A shout out to Peter for taking a lot of these pictures. And a shout out to the beautiful children: just that one morning with them made my whole trip worth it.

"We are not fine"

Alright. Well, as promised, here is my first blog about Africa! I think I've been putting this off because I don't even know where to start. The  longer I stay here the more daunting the task seems. How on earth can I summarize the marathon of stimuli, joy and exhaustion that is Uganda?

I guess I will start at the beginning: I got off the plane.

As I exited the cabin into the fresh air of an early Friday morning, I was bombarded with an overwhelming smell. I couldn't even describe it. Was it sweat? Heat? Pot? I had no idea. But it was Uganda. Most people have trouble with the humidity when they get here- well, coming straight from St. Louis, that's not really a problem. The smell was a bit to take in, though. It wasn't necessarily overwhelming, just pervasive. The air smelled. And it was a scent I knew I would smell for the next two months.

I stepped down the steps of the plane onto the pavement. There was no tunnel leading us into the terminal. Just a porous wall of dark human bodies. They stood at interviews guiding us into the airport where we waited through customs. There was neither time nor energy to feel nervous. I paid the man at the booth 50 u.s. dollars for my visa (a piece of torn paper stuffed into my passport) and was officially in Uganda. The luggage carol spit my bag out almost immediately and I made my way to the exit. This wasn't super hard as the luggage carol was, as near as I could tell, only one room. And, as promised, the program director, Peter Caroll, was sitting right at the entrance waiting for me.

I had meet Peter before, we had been in a class together, but I didn't really know him. What does one say to the first familiar face after 36 hours of travel? Do you hug? Shake hands? Nod? I just said hi. Pretty anti-climactic but there you go. He took my bag and we walked to the parking lot where a man introduced as our driver, Alfred, was waiting for us. Peter told me to take the front seat for a better view and I made to open the passenger door only to discover it was the driver's side- traffic laws in Uganda are the same as England! So, slightly embarrassed, I crossed around to the other side and we were off.

It takes an hour to get from the airport in Entebbe to Kampala, the capital. Along the way I saw all sorts of sights you would expect to see in Africa. People walked along the side of the road and I stared at them in amazement. I had come to Africa, and these were real life Africans living their real every day lives which neither start nor stop when a new mzungu like me shows up.

We pulled up to the complex and Peter carried my stuff up to the apartment on the second floor. Even though the program hasn't started yet, there are a few people already here. I came in, again unsure how to greet these people who were both strangers and the closest thing I had to home. I was put at ease when one of them stood up and gave me a hug immediately: everything was going to be ok.

 The apartment was humble and cramped but much nicer than I had expected. It was just the interim house before everyone else showed up and each time a new BYU student trickled in, it got more cramped. I was the straw that broke the camel's back apparently, because we moved to our new place that night. When I arrived there were 7 people sleeping in a two bedroom apartment, and one of the beds was in the living room. To be honest, it looked really fun. Everyone seemed really tight already and they were very welcoming.

Corine in the front living room that doubled as her bedroom for a month

the kitchen

the study/room for the married couple. Outside is the porch

yay for drying your own laundry where everyone can see it!

view from the balcony to the left

and to the right

ok...I don't know why I'm including so many balcony pics...I didn't even live here. I just spent the afternoon

the boys room: a sea of mosquito nets. 4 people slept in there.

I took a nap in the boys room, feeling quite conspicuous under the mosquito net. There was also a pervasive smell of boy in there. It took awhile to fall asleep and it was off and on, but when I finally got up I was alone in the apartment with the two girls, Corrine and Jordan. Jordan is a nursing student here with her husband. We ate lunch and chatted. It was fun and they were easy to talk to. Like I said, the longer I hung out with everyone, the more at ease I became.

I finally ventured out from the apartment in the late afternoon as I helped move everything over to our new apartments. Yes, that is apartments plural. There is one for the 10 boys, one across the hall for the 7 girls and another downstairs for the married couple and the professors when they arrive.

And let me tell you: these apartments are nice. We all came in sort of suspicious, especially after the cramped communal conditions of the last place: it was almost too nice. Corrine, the anthropology student, was actually pretty annoyed about it. Here are some pictures of our shiny new apartment before we started tracking dirt and dust in. We are the very first people to live here.

view from the front door taken later that night

another view from the front door

and again from the front door. pretty ritzy eh?

our bathroom

water heater. If we want a hot shower we have to wait 30 minutes at least for it to heat up

my bedroom...there is another bed in there now. It's kind of comforting to have my home sheets. And I'm really glad I brought my own pillow.

view from our balcony: men play football in that field at night a lot which is fun to watch

other side of the balcony view. There is a little hut with a table under it and a patio with chairs if you want to hang out outside

all the nice houses are surrounded by walls with barbed wire

the front gate. Our porter's name is Innocent

Up and to the right on that field is a little footpath. We follow it up to get to the food stand, our Uganda version of fast food. More on that later.

The food stand is across from a little market. When I first spied this through  my camera, I didn't know what to make of it. Turns out there are business in there: food and salons and clothes etc. 

That night we went to our former landlord's house for dinner. This was really fun. We got traditional African dinner (don't ask me what this consists of because I pretty much just ate what was on my plate without asking too many questions) and sat in the living room and talked. The landlord is a doctor who was educated in Germany and travels to Europe and the U.S. often. His two daughters and wife were really funny. Witty. And, as is typical of most people  in Uganda, they are a very religious family so we had an inspiring conversation about God and marriage. They could have been Mormon. Seriously, it was like he was giving us a sermon or something that was at once solemn, hilarious and spiritual. After we left late that night we all just turned to each other and were like "that was celestial, man."

Oh yeah. So the people here. There is Peter the program manager who just graduated as well as Matt an IR student and sort of right hand man- they are both engaged. Brady and Wayne, econ students. Tyler and Jordan, the married couple. And Corrine, the other single girl. We are sharing this colonial palace right now just the two of us. We stay up late having dance parties.

That night, half of us walked back to our new place while the other half stayed at the old one since the mosquito nets were already set up there. Wayne explained things to me as we went, shining the flashlight of his phone while we walked the dark dusty streets teeming with people. Everyone loves to say hi to mzungus (white people). So we wave and say 'hi, how are you doing?' To which they reply 'fine' and then we say we are doing fine too and move on. I was getting the hang of this routine, occasionally stubbing my toe as I struggled to keep up through the rough hilly, uneven and unpaved 'sidewalks,' the excitement of such a foreign place slightly muffled by the calm certainty of my more established companions. Then we passed a family on the side of the street next to a small fire.

Someone made eye contact and the pleasantries began:  'hi, how are you?' etc. etc. then keep walking. The automatic response is fine. I think one of the children said that. But the man behind us, probably the father, called out, "we are not fine! we are not fine! we are not!" in his exotic accent but we hurried on, leaving them to the dark streets.

It was a harrowing moment. And I wish I could describe it with the words it deserves, but I can't. I don't mean to be cheesy or ignorant as I comment on this novel poverty. All I know though is that though I am a tourist or at best a traveler,  this is someone's life. This poverty is million's of people's lives. Its horrible and overwhelming and humbling and mortifying. And it's real.

That's the only comment I have on the subject so far. It's real, and I see it, so I am a witness. While some people are much better off than others, almost everyone is very very poor according to my middle class American standards. This doesn't mean they are sad or lazy or angry- quite the opposite. But it does mean that I need to ponder over the relationship between money and welfare, and between happiness, family and success. I don't want you to think that everyone is sad and suffering. People smile so much here. But that man and his comment had a powerful affect on me.

Well, anyway, we got back to our new apartments, I spent the night in the girl's mansion by myself, I wrote in my journal, and I slept quite well.

That was Day 1 in Uganda.

My London Coat Hanger

Greetings from the other side! Here I am in the Pearl of Africa. I finally got an internet stick today so I decided its officially time to start getting down to buisness. You know, research, classes, reading, BLOGGING. You can see where my priorities are. But before I jump into Uganda I think I need to devote a post to my 12 hours in London. Because it was pretty magical. And it came first chronologically.

Alright. So on Wednesday before I left, my mom and I ran a bunch of errands and honestly I think we were both a bit stressed out. I was leaving my family for a few months which isn't abnormal because I go to school in Utah. But there is something magical about summers in St. Louis with my nephews. So it was sad to leave that portion of my summer behind.

The flight to Chicago was pretty uneventful. In fact, I literally can't remember it. Which is slightly incredible. Once I got off the plane in Chicago, I had to switch terminals. This is the first time I've ever had to do that in O'Hare. So I took the airport tram to the other terminal and just walking into that terminal already felt like being in a foreign country. There was a lot of BO in the line for security which was unorganized and crowded. There were many languages all around me. There was a middle eastern family crying then laughing and then crying as they said goodbye to a young man. It was really sweet. But with all the jostling, I only got through security with enough time to buy a water and a snack and then I was boarding the flight to London.

This was a good flight. I stepped on, started hearing the English accents and had this moment of !!!. The more I heard the more I was like am I sure I don't just want to stay here? I love England. I know England. It's familiar! Oh! But best of all, I was in the row at the front of my section of the cabin so there was a wall instead of seats in front of me ie lots of leg room and personal tvs that pull up rather than attach the seat in front.

I have this theory that the people you sit next to on international flights never really leave you. It's a weirdly intimate experience to travel halfway around the world two millimeters away from a perfect stranger trying to sleep without touching them. I remember my cute young middle eastern guy on my trip to France. I remember the black hoddie band man last year. Funny...maybe its only people on outgoing flights. Anyway, the ladies sitting next to me were middle aged sisters. At first I was intimidated by them but eventually we started talking. I found out that they grew up in London and had been in the Midwest with two girlfriends for the week to do a roller coaster tour. How unique! I also found out that one of them works for a children's charity in London. What are the odds that I would be sitting right next to someone doing something so similar to my dream?

They asked about what I would do during my layover. I told them I wasn't sure. Which is weird because I actually had a very specific plan laid out: Tower of London, Oxford street, pick up the books I want, back to airport. But I think I was afraid they might make fun of my Tower of London plan. So, as actual Londoners, I asked for their opinion. It was the middle of the night, high up in the sky, the women next to me had just finished their third cup of wine (I feel like this would only be complimentary on a European flight) and the barriers came down between us. Since I couldn't follow all of the lady's instructions I had her write them down on my tube map I had printed off the internet. This is the result:

Pretty awesome right! They basically just drew up this treasure hunt for me. Along with more general explanations, here is what it said:

"Heathrow=change@ Holburn onto Central Line going east to St Pauls. Get off & see cathedral then follow signs for Millennium bridge = cross river on bridge to Tate Modern = have a look = head towards Blackfriars walk along South bank/ see Hayward Gallery from outside / can go inside Royal Festival Hall for free / underbelly space is free/ask at festival hall for free programme  of June events you can pick up from festival hall places to eat and drink. keep walking along the river (if you want) towards parliament* Once at Parliament walk up towards Trafalgar Square, past 10 Downing Street/changing of the guard/Trafalgar Sq then National Gallery/also National Portrait gallery?Leicester Sq premiers & a little garden then back."

WHEW! She and her sister emphasized that I wouldn't be able to do it all. The one writing turned to me saying, see a plan is like a coat hanger. It's just a structure to try things on and take things off of. Nothing permanent. And then she drew a picture of a little hanger, added squiggles for wire and wrote "your London coat hanger" next to it.

Brilliant.

Well when two middle aged British amusement park tourists draw you a map with step by step instructions at 2 in the morning, I'm pretty sure the only sane response is to follow it! So Tower of London got chucked off the list and follow it I did!

There were logistics like putting money on my oyster card for the London underground and then of course the hour long ride into the city. There were minor setbacks like insistent  rain and my inability to find an umbrella- I ended up buying a cheap one. There was the fact that I found myself sitting in a little window alcove of St Pauls popping my malaria pills with my hair frizzing out around me and my thick glasses sliding down my nose looking like a hobo. There was the moment when a group of girls blatantly laughed at me as my umbrella flew inside out on the Millennium Bridge whilst I tried to take a picture. There was the rain giving my tired feet blisters as I walked for hours and there was, oh yes, the fact that technically it was the middle of the night for my inner clock.

But I followed that plan. It was just like a treasure hunt and my Londoners didn't let me down. I got pulled into a Free Palestine Rally (not literally, I just talked to a hipster dude giving out leaflets), I walked around the  Tate Modern and saw some pretty cool Rothko-esque work. I walked southward along the Thames running into some over-sized couches made out of grass whose purpose weren't entirely clear. I walked past the aquarium, past the London eye and finally, FINALLY (my feet were getting tired) I was at Parliament. Whenever I see parliament I just can't help but grin. I dare you to look at that building and not at least smile. You're in London, man! You're alone, you're on your way to Africa, for the very first time in your life you are navigating a subway system by yourself (successfully, I might add!) and it is THE coolest feeling in the world. Who cares that I looked like a train wreck. I felt alive.

Well, I walked up to Parliament and stood at the little convience store across the street, distinctly remembering the time wmy buddies and I stopped there at that same shop for quick food just last summer. I had a choice to make. More walking to see Downing Street etc. or off to Oxford Street which was part of my original plan. Well, embracing the image of the coat hanger I decided that it was time to try my coat on. So I headed down to the underground and caught the train to Oxford Street. Oxford Street was really cool and I would totally have drank it up if I had a friend, wasn't tired, didn't have a huge backpack and wasn't dripping rain. Window shopping and hipster hunting was fun though. Eventually I started asking people for the nearest bookstore. This lead to a series of boomerangs for me. I crossed Charring Cross Road and the "We Will Rock You" theater like 6 times. Too far one way and then the other, I kept asking for directions from all the wrong people.

Finally I aproached some men handing out free yogourt as a promotion. Turning the yougourt down (I already had two), I asked if they knew where the nearest book store was. Book store? They looked at me with good natures bemusement.

"We're here handing out free yogourt, do you think any of us has ever read a book in his life?"

said one of the men. It totally made my day. Eventually one of the guys sorted me out with very reliable directions and after a bit of finagling around the construction, I found it! My book store. To explain a little bit, I really wanted to buy the conclusion books to this series that only came out in the UK. I started it last summer and I now I'm going to finish it gosh dang it. Without paying for shipping fees. As I was walking I started seeing signs with the word SoHo on them.

Now, I don't actually know what SoHo is, but it seems like it would be a magical place full of fashion and hipsters and apartments that are much too expensive. So as I was checking out my three books I abruptly asked the store clerk "am I in SoHo right now?" He laughed and just said that I was teetering on it. If I went to Greek Street I'd be in the thick of things. Was that a challenge?

I left the store, found my way to Greek Street, only a few minutes away, took a few pictures and considered one more thing checked off my bucket list. And then it really was time to go home. Excuse me? Did I say home? I meant the airport. My new best friend. So, back on the tube, switch lines, take it for an hour into Heathrow. Go through security, blah blah blah.

it seems like every time I'm in London there is a protest for Palestine

this is exactly the kind of man I would expect to see walking out of those gold adorned gates

and then this one not 3 minutes later! So quintessentially British. And yes, I people  stalk.
Get used to it.

Millennium Bridge! Very slippery! Great view of Tower Bridgde...

and the hipster London boy fashion stalking begins...

this image comforts me. I would like to swim in it.

YAYAH!! 3 cheers for the man purse!

and this is the view behind manpurse man. This is the Tate Modern museum. I mean, my next penthouse.

Ok, I don't care what you fools say, this is magical. All the black lines are zippers and its actual fabric! 

this actually solves a major mystery of one of my fb friend's profile pics awhile ago.
A bit awkward asking a stranger to take this picture.

London Eye! It had quite the line

and again with the 'random stranger please take a picture of me looking like a hijacked water monkey  in front of this famous backdrop!'

obligatory chaco picture.
I'm a bit disappointed. These shoes gave me killer blisters.
Granted I was walking for 5 hours in the rain.

I really can't even express how pleased I am for finally understanding the  underground.
Something just irrevocably clicked in my mind.
 Essential Life Skill  = conquered!

a bunch of British flags above "American Apparel" on Oxford Street
It don't get much better than that in my book.

oh so lost

Hipster man me like your fashion!

So to the Ho!

Sherlock season 1 finale anybody? Eh eh? I'm happy to join a drug syndicate with you

So, yeah  that was London. It was absolutely incredible. And its the transience that made it so unique. Imagine just stopping somewhere for a few hours, a world capital on the other side of the ocean, walking among the people, riding their transportation, thinking your own thoughts, laughing and smiling to yourself at bizarre times; imagine the quiet success of a most unusual tourist.