Final blog before I leave

Ohhh what a great three months this had been. I want to say thank you to all of my faithful readers (aka my mom) for always… reading…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Today I discovered something interesting about the water here. See for this whole time I have been washing my face, brushing my teeth with and drinking this water. But because we don’t have a lightbulb in my bathroom, and I am always doing it after dark, I never actually saw the water. Today I went in there in the daytime… and I realized that the water that comes out of my faucet is cream colored. And I don’t mean cream tinted, I mean cream colored. You can’t see through it. It’s like those Sobe’s that are Pina Colada flavored.

Now… normally I would stop using it… But living in Sudan for a while has greatly desensitized me to gross stuff. So I just went away until it was night again so I couldn’t see the water. What I can’t see can’t hurt me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday I drove with the craziest Boda I have ever driven with. Yes, even crazier than the drunk one.

Ever wondered how to drive like the best? Now you can with this problem-solution system!

Problem: A bunch of traffic in front of you
Solution: Speed up!

Problem: Red light
Solution: Speed up!

Problem: Steep hill
Solution: Speed up!

Problem: Speed bump
Solution: Speed up!

Problem: Motorcycle catches on fire
Solution: Speed up! (it will put the flames out)

Problem: No room on the road
Solution: Go on the sidewalk!

Problem: No room on the sidewalk
Solution: Go there anyway!

Problem: Absolutely can’t get through the sidewalk
Solution: Go in the bushes!

Problem: No room in the bushes
Solution: Go back on the sidewalk and hit people!

There was one point where there was a huge traffic jam in front of us, so he sped up towards the DITCH on the side of the road, drove straight off a three foot drop into the ditch and drove in that for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday Jerome had his mother over, and she was sitting on the couch watching cheesy televangelists while Jerome was ironing his clothes. Then he decided to turn on this reggae music really loud.

So naturally I started dancing and shaking my butt all over the house (and him) for the whole song while he got mad at me.

When I got done I came into the living room and sat down on a chair. His mother scooted closer, looked at me square in the eye and whispered:

“Thank you.”

Creepy? Yes. Hilarious? Yes. Did I stay in that room for more than two seconds longer? No.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

See this is Kampala. It is now one of my favorite places because I meet the strangest people in the world.

See I love strange people. I don’t care how weird they are, the more strange they are, the more I love them. I have been meeting a LOT of those here.

I would like to introduce you to the king of them all: Tony.

Yesterday I was going on a trip with a bunch of kids to visit the slums. I got to the place where they were meeting, and saw this small black child with a big mouth running towards me with reckless abandon. He slammed into me and hugged my legs.

“Awww, how cute” I thought.

Shortly afterward, he started making bird noises, dancing around me, and repeatedly head butting my nether regions.

And that was how I met Tony. What followed was about three hours of us acting like crazy people together.

Now I wanted to capture the awesome glory of this kid on video, but unfortunately every time I took out my camera he stopped. So after a while of convincing him, I got him to do some of his more popular “dance moves” on camera.

So here… is the glory of Tony.





Jerome (after seeing the video): Is this child possessed??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me and Jerome and one of our friends, whom I only know as “The President” (and who always looks like he is about to fall asleep) were walking down the road to get some eggs late at night last night and I walked out in the road

Jerome: Get out of the road! You will be splattered
Me: No I won’t, no one will hit a Muzungo. I have powers.
Jerome: No everyone who is driving now is DRAHNKADS (drunkards) they will say “oooh this muzungo is playing with me, let me just aim for him”
Me: All right.
The President: You aren’t even safe on the sidewalk
Jerome: Right now the roads are soooo dangerous
The President: Not only drahnkads, but WOMEN are driving.
Jerome: Oh Jesus save us
The President: They get their men to let them drive
Jerome: *girls voice* Oh come on let me tryyy, I want to drivvvve! *guys voice* No you don’t know how to drive *girls voice* Don’t you laaaaaav me?? *Guys voice* All right
The President: *Shakes his head in disgust*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday Pastor Ssempa came to pick me up to go to a beach party. He beeped the horn, and when I came out he jumped out of the car with a doo rag on and started yelling at me “Yo yo yo man wasaap yo yo man yo?”

Then he threw me another doo rag and we drove around the city acting G, and then had a photoshoot.















~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Today Pablo told me that Coke is bad for me because they put antifreeze and cyanide in it. He said they use coke to deseminate (desintigrate) dead bodies.

Then he tried to steal my coke.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my last post before I leave, but please be praying for:

1: Me to be effective in these last days (I have 7 videos to make in 6 days)
2: Me to be able to get college stuff done while I am here so I don't have to do it during break
3: My travel to go well


Thanks guys! You are all amazing and I love you!


Justin Taylor Phillips

Muzungo

Blog blog blog

Kampala could possibly be the funniest place I have ever been to. I think I spend about 40% of the minutes in my day laughing. See everyone here has a very friendly mentality, and loves to be around other people, and they are just funny people in general… So that keeps me laughing. But the other thing is… Kampala is a very developed city, a lot like New York. You can pretty much get anything here that you could get in America. But almost everyone that lives here has grown up in a village. So the whole city is a bunch of tribal, hunter-gatherer people who are used to primitive living, living in a big city. So it creates a really strange atmosphere.

Anyway… I live in a house for guys here, with about 4 other guys sleeping here, but about 10 other guys living here. I wanted to introduce you guys to some of them:

Jerome




Jerome is the owner of the house. He is possibly the most hilariously mean person I have ever met. He yells at everyone he sees, and forces everyone in the house to “be a man”… which includes telling everyone to talk deeper than they do, grow beards, and force girls out of the house.

He always calls me “Muzungo” which means white person. He chases people out of the house whenever he feels like it, and yells a lot. He makes the women in the next building cook for him every night. He also has a collection of DVDs that he buys for $5, which each have about thirty recent movies on them (I don’t know how). He always brags about how the Ugandans make dvds with so many movies on them, even though the packages and menus are all in Chinese. He says they just put them in Chinese because they sell them to Chinese people. He also has a collection of hundred year old cassette tapes of the oldest Christian songs in existence. I often come in and find him dancing to “He’s got the whole world in his hands”, which is his favorite song.


Joseph.




Joseph is a pre pubescent 18 year old who has the most unique accent I have ever heard. It is extremely high pitched, and is the strangest combination of Ugandan, Swedish, and Jamaican. It also cracks every other sentence. Those things combined together make me laugh so much at pretty much everything he says, which he loves. They also make Jerome scream “TALK LIKE A MAN” every time Joseph speaks. He enjoys coming in while I am reading my Bible and turning on Prison Break, which of course has gotten me addicted to Prison Break. While we are watching it he yells “Masta plan!!!” (Master plan) every time there is a twist in the plot.

*On tv*
Lincoln: We’re trapped! They’re going to kill us!
Scofield (the main character): *Looks cunningly at him* No they’re not… Cause I’ve got this! *takes out some contraption*

Joseph: HAHAHA MASTA PLAN!!!!!!

Bad guy: Now you are finished, give up!
Scofield: *Smiles* That’s what YOU think.

Joseph: AHHHH MASTAAAA PLAN!!!

Scofield: I have a plan

Joseph: AHHHHHHHHH MASTA PLANN!!!!!!!!

Scofield: *smiles*

Joseph: MAS!!! TA!!!!! PLANNNN!!!!!!!

*Tv is off*

Joseph: *whispers* Massta plannnn


I really want to get a video of him doing it, because I don’t know if you can fully imagine the beauty of him yelling that in a high pitched, cracked Ugandan/Swedish accent. It is enough to keep me watching just to hear him do it.

Pablo:

Yes, I know, Pablo is not really a Ugandan name. I don’t know why that’s his name.

The first time I was introduced to this guy is when he called my phone (I don’t know how he got my number) and asked me to walk over to the next house and give it to a girl for him to talk to. Then Jerome grabbed the phone

Jerome: PABLO DON’T YOU CALL THIS MUZUNGO AND TELL HIM TO DO THINGS, YOU COME OVER HERE YOURSELF! AND BRING FOOD! IN FACT, I WILL NOT LET YOU IN UNLESS YOU HAVE FOOD FOR ME! I SWEAR!!

So Pablo came over. He didn’t bring food, so he bum rushed the door and broke through Jerome’s grip. Then he opened the fridge, took my bread, my milk, and my peanut butter, ate it all, then left.

I instantly fell in love with him. Apparently he comes over here all the time and “borrows” Jerome’s Dvds, food, books, clothes, friends, etc.

Then I saw him the next day at church:

Me: *Grabs him and punches him a lot* Pablo, you ate all of my food!
Pablo: No, its ok! It’s ok! Don’t worry about it!
Me: What??? It’s my food, you are buying me new bread and milk!
Pablo: No no, it’s really ok! *takes me by the hand* Look, come meet my girlfriend, she is the cutest girl in Uganda…
Me: *Almost falls over laughing at the ridiculousness of that statement*

Apparently he thought just gazing on his girlfriends face would comfort me and make me forget the loss of my food. It didn’t. He quickly jumped on a truck and waved goodbye though, so I didn’t get to punish him anymore.

He is definitely one of my favorite people in the world. Today he heard that I got new food and rumor has it he is coming over. I am going to put salt in my milk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So something I have been thinking a lot about, and now the biggest dread of my life, is having to answer the question "So, how was Sudan?" a brazillion times.

Like seriously. I have this deep pit of dread in my stomach that threatens to take over my life. I don't know what to do.

I mean... I don't mind telling people who CARE what it was like... but most people just ask out of obligation. Their minds say "How can I make conversation?" and then they think of the most dominant thing in my life, and ask how it is/was. The same way everyone who met me used to ask "How is the acting business?". Most people don't actually care, they just feel obligated to ask. And it is especially ridiculous when people ask me as just a passing statement. Like you would ask someone "How ya doing?".

If someone is passing me in the hall, and they ask "So how was Sudan?" do they really expect me to stop and tell them everything about what happened in sudan in the space of the 15 seconds they are passing me?

So I have been trying to come up with ideas to solve this.

1: Threaten everyone who approaches me with a punch to the nose if they ask me that question.

Pros: No one will ask me
Cons: No one will like me ever again. Everyone will hate me.

2: Act like I have lost my voice

Pros: All I will have to do is point at my throat a lot
Cons: I will just have a bunch of "So, you never told me how Sudan was..." later... and everyone will hate me.

3: Write a report on how it was, print out a bunch of copies, and pass them out to whoever asks.

Pros: GIves people information, saves me time
Cons: People will think I am unthankful, everyone will hate me, and I will have to kill a lot of trees (you know how much I love them trees)

4: Just say "Hot" every time someone asks me

Pros: Will be funny (probably only to me)
Cons: Everyone will hate me


So with all my options, the outcome is inevitable: People will hate me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I am learning to cook on charcoal stoves. Ballin.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Jerome: *runs in the room, speaking in a high pitched voice* HELLO MUZUNGO *slaps me* I LOVE YOU YOU ARE MY FAVORITE BECAUSE YOU DON'T MAKE TROUBLE FOR ME AND YOU ARE FUNNY AND BEAUTIFUL. *normal voice* see muzungos make everything beautiful. That's why I love you. And because you buy me food. Thank you for being here. *runs out*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Comin back on the 22nd!

Kampalalalalalalalala

So I am in Kampala. I am not realizing just how much I missed really tasty food.

I got Coco puffs and a sausage roll and almost died from happiness.

Now, I didn't miss these things at all when I was in Sudan, but now that I am in civilization, it is kind of strange how happy I am to have them. And milk. And cheese.

Anyway...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kampala is FUNKY. It is a weird city if I have ever seen one. On one hand, it is a LOT like new york. When you are downtown, it looks just like it... just not very diverse.

But on the other hand... Everyone here has just recently come from tribes. Very few people have actually been born in Kampala. So that influences all kinds of things and makes them so strange.

One thing that is funny is how... even though I don't know how this would happen... the bodas are MORE dangerous here then they are in Sudan.

Yeah.

I mean, picture Manhatten traffic, add in badly potholed roads, and add in about 50,000 motorcycle buzzing in and out of every gap that is wide enough for their handlebars to fit through... and some that aren't.

I have already seen someone wreck on one of them, and almost had a wreck (When you are driving highspeed next to a car and it starts to change lanes... onto you... that's bad. I had to beat on the van with my fist to get it to stop so we could live)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I'll type more about Kampala later, but for now I wanted to say something that has been on my mind a lot during this trip.

Now, in most churches in Africa, there is a certain way to pray. This way includes lots of screaming and intense looks on your face and shaking and bending.

See, one of the things I do most is wonder. I wonder about a lot of things in the church. Now, I don't especially trust my wisdom, so I don't want to be foolish and speak out against things.... But I still wonder.

One of the things I wonder most about is this kind of prayer. I don't understand it. I mean, from reading the Bible I seem to have gotten something much different then everyone else.

See this is how I understand it, biblically: I am talking to God.

Not very complicated.

So... I know God hears me when I talk to him, so logically, I should talk to him the way I talk to any other person who hears me. But it seems like a lot of people talk to God as if he doesn't really hear them. Or as if his ears are really bad from his old age.

For instance, according to me, when I ask God for stuff it is like asking Trevor (my brother) for his ice cream. Now if I want him to give me his ice cream he just scooped, which many times, because I am lazy, I do, I will say "Hey Trevor, can you give me that ice cream please?" Now if he is in a good mood, he will give it to me... he is a nice brother and he cares about me.

So that is how I logically see talking to God. I need something, I ask for it. It takes about ten seconds. But that is not typically how I see prayer in the church today.

Back to Trevor: If he is in a bad mood, he will be hesitant. If he is, I would beg more until he gave it to me (assuming I really wanted ice cream that badly). If he was in a REALLY bad mood, I might have to beg for like... a minute.

So it seems like most people take the "Bad mood" example to justify praying over and over for the same thing, really fervently. They point to the example of the widow coming to the Judge and bothering him until he go so annoyed that he gave way. Or the example of the man knocking and knocking at the door until finally the annoyed occupant came and gave him food. As if we "win" things from God through endurance.

But personally, the way I have seen God, through the bible and through my experiences, he is not some person who only gives us things when we annoy him enough. He is a father, and he is unchanging. Like Trevor if he was in an amazing, loving mood all the time. I mean, if I was in a good mood I would give my brother or sister anything they want, as long as it is in my power to give it to them. And I am very limited in love, I am very selfish, very needy, and generally a broken human being. God, on the other hand, is none of those things. He is perfectly loving, perfectly selfless, and he is complete. So the idea that he would only give me something if I annoy him enough seems ridiculous to me. If I, being a sinner and a broken person, would give my brother anything in my power to give him if he just asked, how much more would God, being perfect, give me anything as long as I just ask??

But lots of peoples prayer doesn't seem to reflect this principle. When they want to pray for something, they say "IN THE MIGHTY NAME OF JESUS, I PRAY FOR SUCH AND SUCH TO HAPPEN, LORD JESUS MIGHTY FATHER! AND I PRAY THAT SUCH AND SUCH WOULD TOTALLY HAPPEN, LORD JESUS MIGHTY FATHER, THAT YOU WOULD CAUSE SUCH AND SUCH TO HAPPEN WITH YOUR MIGHTY HAND, LORD JESUS MIGHTY FATHER!!! I PRAY AGAINST THE POWERS OF SATAN, LORD JESUS MIGHTY FATHER, THAT ARE PREVENTING SUCH AND SUCH FROM HAPPENING AND I BINNNNNNNND YOU IN THE NAME OF JESUS, LORD JESUS MIGHTY FATHER, YOU WILL NOT PREVAIL!!!!!!!"

Now, when I hear this... I simply cannot escape picturing the same manner of speaking in the context of me asking for ice cream:

I go up to Trevor, and getting my best "intense" face on, I raise my hands and scream: "IN THE MIGHTY NAME OF JESUS, I PRAY THAT YOU WOULD GIVE ME THAT ICE CREAM, BROTHER TREVOR AWESOME GUY! AND I PRAY THAT YOU WOULD PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR ICE CREAM, BROTHER TREVOR AWESOME GUY, AND I PRAY THAT YOU WOULD CAUSE YOUR ICE CREAM, BROTHER TREVOR AWESOME GUY, TO COME INTO MY HANDS RIGHT NOW!!!! I PRAY AGAINST THE POWERS OF SATAN THAT ARE PREVENTING ICE CREAM FROM COMING FORTH INTO MY POSSESION, BROTHER TREVOR AWESOME GUY, AND I BINNNNNNNNND YOU IN THE NAME OF JESUS, YOU WILL NOT PREVAIL!!!!!"

Now I picture him sitting there stunned for a couple seconds, and saying "Wow... all you had to do was ask." Or maybe "Were you really even talking to me, or just saying stuff?"

Do we not have faith unless we feel like we have done something to deserve the thing we are praying for? Like we have somehow won it by endurance? Don't we know that all the pacing and screaming and repeating in the world couldn't make us deserve a penny from God?

Maybe I am wrong. I mean, in Acts they were praying fervently for Paul's release. But then again... they obviously didn't have faith for it, as they did not even believe that he was at the front door. Maybe sometimes that kind of prayer works because it makes us believe that what we are praying for will happen, though if we were to have the faith and just say "God", it would also happen.

I don't know... so I don't teach... but I do wonder. A lot. In fact I am quite torn about the issue right now. On one hand I don't want to seem like some unspiritual, uncomfortable christian in the prayer meetings here, but on the other hand I feel so stupid screaming my lungs out for things for hours when God says all I have to do is ask.

What do you guys think?

Ohhhhhhhhhhh it's that time again....

Thank.

God.


I just got back from Kampala last night, which was a journey that invoked mixed feelings in me.

Let's start with the not so good feelings:

1: Barf

Ok, I know that's not a feeling, it's a noun/verb/adjective (It IS an adjective, ie. "What kind of cake is that? BARF cake.")

But even so, it is what I felt.

Let me tell you what invoked this feeling in me....


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So let's go back to about... 33 hours ago. It's 6:30 in the morning and I am on a large bus packed next to an extraorinarily fat man (for Sudan) and an extraordinarily tall Dinka man (even for sudan).

Actually... first some information. To get to Kampala, you first must ride a 15 passenger van with 20 people in it about 4 hours over miniature-grand-canyon roads to the Ugandan city of Koboko, then you board a large bus for 10-11 hours over somewhat better roads to Kampala. This story takes place on the way back from kampala, so it's the same thing, but reversed.


So back to the story, it's 6:30 and everything is all fine and dandy (I mean, as fine and dandy as things get squished next to a fat guy on a bus with 50 people on it and no a/c in 100 degree weather going over mountinous dirt roads.) I was sitting with the window cracked and I was thinking about how lucky I was.

Then, bored by the long trip, Mr extraordinarily tall man decided this was a great time to blow chunks (For you old people, "Blow Chunks" means "Vomit") into a small plastic bag.

Now, I did not know it at the time, but apparently the deep gutteral sound made by someone throwing up is actually Sudanese for "Hey everybody, let's have a barfing contest!".

So they all began.

Unfortunately I only caught the first round, because I tied a bandanna around my mouth, stuck sound cancelling headphones in, blasted some underoath, and stuck my head out the window (Thankfully I had barely won the window seat by fighting a drunk guy). Judging by the sounds I heard between songs, I would guess there were around 13 rounds of this before everybody ran out of "Juice".

So, oblivious to the chaos inside, I was in my own world outside of the bus. Everything was all fine and dandy again. What I did not know is that on Sudanese buses, the conducters hand out little plastic baggies to everyone who might throw up. I also didn't know that after you use one of these, you simply throw it out the window. You don't even have to tie it up. It makes sure the bus doesn't get all groaty.

Great, right? Except for three fun facts:

1: If a bag isn't tied, whatever is in it flies out.
2: Fast wind makes everything fly backwards
3: My head was out the window, and I was sitting in the back of the bus.



Yeah.




See if you can fill in the blanks!

With a look of _______ on my face, I tried to get my head out of the window, but vomit travels _____er than me. I got _______ all over me. "______!" I said, wiping it off on the fat man's _____. Sudanese vomit tastes like ______.

If you answered "Cotton Candy" for the last blank, you are slightly off.

But besides that, and the fact that my butt is still numb, and the fact that I am sick, and the fact that I was cheated out of $200, the trip was pretty awesome.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


One day while we were there, I put my bandana on my head and unbuttoned couple buttons on my shirt because it was hot.

Barrack: What are you trying to do, be a nigga?
Me: Um... what?
Barrack: A NIGGA
Me: *laughs* Do you know what that is?
Barrack: Someone who is stubborn!
Me: Sure.


Now, why they think that, or why me putting a bandana on my head automatically makes me "Stubborn", I don't know. Later, after being called a "Nigga" about 30 times by everyone around me, I decided to take the bandana off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Now, I have witnessed deception at it's finest.

A very common thing here is Picture Posters. They are posters with pictures all over them and explinations, usually centered around one person, like a musical artist.

Surprisingly, most people here don't understand the concept of digital photo editing, and they believe that if a picture shows it, it must be true. So whoever makes these pictures takes serious advantage of everyone here.

I have compiled a list of a couple rules that anyone who knows how to edit photos can take advantage of:


1: If two pictures are next to each other, they must be related.

Example:
























Now as long as the person in the picture is in a pose that makes them look like they might be somewhat famous, it must be true.


2: If a head is on a body, it belongs there

Example:
















Woah!


3: Whatever is written on a poster is true. No exceptions.

Example:
























Wow! What a guy!


So there are some pretty funny ones here. One of the popular artists here, Lakadube, died recently, and some of the posters showed George Bush with his face in his hands and the caption read "George Bush mourning the loss of Lakadube"


Yep, he was THAT good.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wanted to let everyone know (So that you won't mistake me for someone else at the airport) that my arms and face have gotten about 20 shades darker since I got here. If you look at my arm next to my stomach, it is like putting dirt on a white table. For serious. I will put a picture up soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today we went to sell the bibles (the only reason we are selling them is because if someone gets something for free, they will not value it. We only sell them for one pound (40 cents) and we use all the money to buy more bibles) and we almost got killed. Literally, we almost incited a riot.

We were at a huge solid wood table, and because of how many people were pushing in to try to get one, our table broke.

We ran out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pray:

~That I would know what to do next month

Untitled

Tiny brown butt-cheeks
Show through tattered rags clothing
My love at first sight

HAWAAJAA???

*EDIT*



I forgot to tell you guys about something that happened to me yesterday:

So I came into my room and Essa was sitting there with a picture in her hand.

Essa: She is yo maammy?
Justin: What? *looks at picture*
Essa: Yo girlfriend?

It was this picture:



Except it is just my head and shoulders, because it's for passports.
















Justin: That's definitely me, I had longer hair before.
Essa: OHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHA JAAAASTEEEEEN
Justin: Yep
Essa: She is very beautiful!
Justin: "She" is me, Essa. I had longer hair.
Essa: She is your girlfriend?
Justin: No, it's me.
Essa: Yo girlfriend?
Justin: Me. Me. Me. Look, it's me with long hair. *puts picture next to face and puts fingers over face to show long hair*
Essa: You? AHHHHH HAHAHAHA JAAAASTEEEN. She is very beautiful!
Justin: .........

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wanted to take this post to address an issue very... dear to my heart.

That is, the issue of "Hawaja"

Hawaja (HAH-WAH-JAH): Pronoun- Disfigured contraction of How and Are and You formed by saying them very fast and pronouncing the Y like a J. Most commonly used by the people of South Sudan when talking to white people, or "Kwatcha"'s. It is a vain attempt at greeting them in their own language, and it is most effectively used in the machine gun approach. Saying it repeatedly as fast as you can so that it will be hammered into their brain.



So I am having a problem. This phrase hitting my ears can be compared to needles peircing my face. Over and over and over and over again.

Every time a group of children here see a white person, they all of the sudden start a competition to see who can say this phrase the most times per second. The average speed it about 10 hps (Hawaja's per second).

So picture hearing a voice that is almost too high for the human ear to hear screaming "HAWAJA?" in your ear.
Now picture that happening every time you go outside, approximately 100 times.
Per minute.
Everywhere.

Walking: HAWAJA?
Driving: HAWAJA?
Sleeping: HAWAJA?
Reading: HAWAJA?
Working: HAWAJA?
Dying: HAWAJA?
Taking a shower: HAWAJA?
Going to the bathroom: HAWAJA?

At first I tried to deal with this with Humor.

Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Kwes (good)
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Horrible
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Amazing!
Child:HAWAJA?
Me: I'm dying
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Never better!
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Never worse
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Discontent
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Ecstatic!
Child: HAWAJA?
Me: Defenestrated!


Unfortunately this got old pretty fast. First of all, I can only think of so many states of being for myself. All of that conversation would have happened in about 10 seconds time. Second of all, there is no one around to appreciate my humor.

So then I tried ignoring them.

Group of children: HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?
Me: *ignores*
Group of children: *grows more frantic* HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?
Me: *continues to ignore*
Group of children: *screaming in desperation* HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?

Now at this point, I could have sworn some of the children were dying from strain and lack of oxygen. I would not have been surprised if the jugular vein of one of the children just exploded. Then of course the rest of the children would just continue.

Then when I was about to get away, one child chased after me, ran in front of me, and with a last (seemingly dying) breath, desperately screamed "HAWAJAAAAAAAAAAA???????" while falling to the ground.

Seeing his desperation, in a moment of "Your faith has made you well" type behavior, I knelt down, looked him in the eye, smiled, and quietly said "Ana kwes" (I'm good).

The look of accomplishment and excitement on his face was one that is unrivaled by any Olympic athlete or Nobel prize winner. He got up, and with wide eyes, ran as fast as he could back to his friends, jumping the whole time and screaming.

Yes, I went soft.

Fortunately I have now found a way to silence them. Mind games.

Well, not really mind games, but just beating them at their own game.

Child: HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?
Me: HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?
HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?
HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?HAWAJA?
Child: *silent, trying to figure out what just happened*

OWNED

See fortunately my yelling voice is scarier and louder than all of theirs put together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I love playing with the children here. Sometimes I go to schools that are really far away, but people will forget about our meeting or something, so I will just play with the kids in the local villages.

I usually have to win their trust for like... an hour before they will actually come shake my hand, because the village children think I will eat them. Sometimes I will lie there like I'm dead until all of them gather around me, and then scream and jump up and cause all of their hearts to stop for a couple seconds. Eventually after a while they realize I am harmless. Though I must say one of the funniest things I have ever seen is when I point at a little boy and he starts running away, then when he's like half a mile in the distance I just point at him again and he starts running again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 reasons why Sudan is paradise:

1: The toilets never clog
2: You can't freeze to death
3: Your brain won't die from too much entertainment
4: You can marry anyone you want as long as you have enough cows/goats
5: You will never run out of vitamin D
6: You will never be wet for too long
7: The food never has preservatives or other crap
8: You can't become pale
9: No one will comment on you saying "Good" instead of "Well"
10: Your children will never see anything inappropriate on tv or online, nor be obsessed with video games

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guess what time it is?

Time to remake another song!

So this time I chose to remake one of my all time favorite nonsensical songs, This Is Why I'm Hot by MIMS (Music Is My Savior).

Here is the original: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVckVtf-7Lk (I am not responsible for the content of that video, I have not watched it. You really don't have to watch the full thing, if you listen to the first thirty seconds you basically have heard it all)

Here is my version: http://www.mediafire.com/?m1zvj2oki3e

Enjoy!

And for all of you people who sing, don't make any comments about my pitch issues. All of the recording for this was done after I had been teaching all day TALKING LIKE THIS so people could understand me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I drank a bunch of ants yesterday after I left my coke bottle sitting open for about an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We found bibles! I called the Bible League in Kampala and at first they said they could not sell us any, but then when I told them more about what I am doing they said they would sell me 800!

So:

Prayer:
~That we would be able to get the money from the states in time to get bibles from Uganda
~That it wouldn't be super expensive to ship them (there are 20 huge boxes)
~That God would give the leaders here the ability to start a bible study during exams
~That God would show me what to do in Dec


Thanks!

P.S. If any of you yell HAWAJA at me when I get back as a joke, I will slap you.

It's getting hotter here, don't bother wearing clothes *I am. getting so hot. But I don't have any clothes to takkke off!*

I thought that this next post was going to have to be one with really bad news.

See a couple days ago, after I had been riding my motorcycle for a long time, but it kept turning off. So in the middle of a back road I decided to check up on it and see why it wasn't running well. So as I was going over the motor I decided to grab a pipe and pull on it...

...what I didn't know was that this pipe was so hot that I could not even feel it burning me until I had been holding it for three or four seconds. I looked at my hand and it was like melting. So I thought "Shoot, I need to find some water!"

Thankfully it is rainy season here, so pools of water are everywhere. I saw one near me, but unfortunately it was too far away to reach. My bike does not have a kick stand, and having it working is more valuable here then having my hand working well, so I didn't want to drop it.

Then I saw hope! A little boy was standing about 20 feet away watching me scream.

Me: YOU!!! COME HERE AND HOLD THIS!!!!!! QUICKLY!!!!!
Boy: *stands there staring at me*
Me: GET OVER HERE AND FREAKIN HOLD MY FREAKIN BIKE!!! AHHHHH!!! MY HAND IS BURNING AND I NEED TO PUT IT IN WATER!!!!!!
Boy: *Eyes get wide, and starts to slowly walk backwards in fear*
Me: *remembers I can speak some arabic* ETA!!! TALE INI!!! (YOU, COME HERE!)
Boy: *starts to walk backwards faster*
Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH *whimpering* Please... come here. I need you.


Now, I should have thought how this looked to the little boy:

Him: *Walking along the road, warily watching the scary looking white guy fix his bike*
Scary White Guy: *Starts screaming*
Him: Oh shoot, this guy is dangerous.
Scary White Guy: *Suddenly looks at him with crazy wide eyes and starts screaming at him*
Him: Oh shoot... This guy wants to kill me
Scary White Guy: *Screams more, waving his hands everywhere and pointing at him*
Him: My life is over. I am going to die unless I think fast. But if I run away too fast he will chase me. Maybe if I back away slowly...
Scary White Guy: YOU!! COME HERE!!!!
Him: AHHHHHHH
Scary White Guy: *deceptively starts begging*
Him: Sucka, won't fool me with that one.

Anyway, right at the point where I literally was going to forsake going to to water in order to strangle this kid, someone else yelled at him and told him to hold my bike for me, so he did.

So my hand started to swell really bad, and had these crazy marks on it. I got home and put it under cold water, because if I took it out, the pain was almost too much to handle. I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital or something. I looked at my hand and it looked like the flesh had partially melted on three of my fingers.

Then I thought... Wait... I am here doing the work of God, and... God made my body...

Me: God, I am trying to work here! I can't have a jacked up hand!
God: Ok

So about five minutes later my hand was completely back to normal. There is one tiny blister on my thumb, but that is all. WORD.

PRAISE GOD.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was looking around for Esther the other day and calling for her in the house, and I heard her say "I'm ova here!!" down the hall. So I walked over to the room where I heard her voice from, walked in the wide open door and there she was, almost completely naked, just... chillin.

Essa: *with a big smile* WELLCAAAAM!

Now... for some reason, despite her warm welcome, I did not feel welcome in that room. So I left very quickly.

Essa: *as I'm walking away* HAHAHAHAH JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASteeeeeen...


See something I have had to get used to here are the rules of nakedness. In the US, the rules are typically "Don't take off your clothes in a place where others could see you". But here it is different. Like if someone walked around town naked, or was walking in the house naked, it would be horrible, they would be like... shot. But the second they go into a corner, or into some place with one of their sides obstructed, they have full license to take of all their clothes. The ultimate naked place is the river (Which is right under a road) where guys just chill out completely neckey with no shame. There are girls chillin out all around, but for some reason the nature of nakedness changed when you are in certain zones. It is no longer strange. Especially since now the rainy season is ending, and it is getting hotter. (Yes, the 110 degree weather I was just in was like winter for them)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now Stanley says "blast" all the time. I think maybe it's because I almost fall over from laughing every time he says it. He talks about blasting the market people, blasting the church people, blasting pretty much everybody. I still have yet to see this "Blasting" take place, but it is a moment I am eagerly awaiting.

Maybe he will pull out a stick. I don't know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I went to the market yesterday and found pringles, peanut butter and jelly (the kind that is mixed together, called "Goober") and some chocolate milk powder.

I was so pumped to eat this stuff. Then I discovered how they make this Peanut Butter and Jelly:

1: Eat some drain cleaner
2: Poop it out
3: Put it in a jar
4: Slap a label that says "Goober" on it.

Let's just say I was deathly scared of Methane poisoning for about two days.

The pringles were ballin though! I ate all of them in one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I have been dancing straight for the last couple hours here because I got a recording program on this laptop, which has a built in microphone!


So... Yes, I wasted 2...or 3... or 4 hours of my day yesterday playing with it. I wanted to make an accapella version of a song, and I chose to do one of my favorite songs, Heart it Races by Architecture in Helsinki. I am actually really surprised with the results.

Click here to listen to it (Just go to the page and click download. Make sure you turn your speakers way up, if you have it quiet you will only be able to hear like 1/3rd of the "instruments" in it. In fact, it is the best to listen to it with headphones)

I know almost none of you probably know this song, but it is one of my favorites so I have been listening to it non stop. (No I don't know all the words)

You can listen to the original song here.

Ok yes, I had better things to be doing. But once I start on something creative it's really hard for me to stop until it is done. Tell me what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently while I was making that song, Essa and a bunch of other people were listening to me. When I got done and came out of my room, Essa started making fun of "me praying". She thought that I was.. praying... that whole time. So her and everyone else were listening to my super spiritual self praying in different keys and different sounds for hours and hours.

Me: No I was actually making a song
Essa: Of course... of course...
Me: No seriously
Essa: AHAHA Jaaaaasteeeeen!
Me: Uh...

She thought I was trying to make excuses for my weird praying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prayer requests:

~For the students here to have amazing understanding when I am teaching them, and that I would have a really good mind for teaching.
~For us to find more bibles
~For every meeting I have to be made, and not missed.
~For the generational and tribal wide curses here to be broken.
~My health

Boda Boda : Glory : Lanch : Blast

So I am going to be using a motorcycle that the Pastor here has soon... But until then I have to use boda bodas. Boda bodas are kids that wait around at a corner on motorcycles and give people rides for 2 pounds (If you are white they will charge you way more unless you are wise and tell them it is 2. Then they will let you pay 2. Or 1.)

Boda: TEN POUND
Me: I pity the fool that makes me pay more than one pound
Boda: Ok
Me: Pays 1 pound

Now that was before I knew that 2 was the standard fee. I figured that if I was good I would just get it as low as possible.

Now picking a Boda Boda is a challenge. You want certain characteristics in a driver and you have to be able to pick one out.

Now most people want one who is:

~Slow
~Careful
~Safer than sorry
~Has a nice motorcycle

Here's my checklist:

~Fast
~Fast
~Fast
~"Brave" enough to pass between two semi's to avoid being stuck behind them for thirty seconds.
~Doesn't look at holes in the road as obstacles, instead looks at them as launch ramps.

See I personally feel much safer with people like this. I have come to see that usually when a Boda drives slow, that means he is a bad driver, and when he drives fast he is very good. I feel way safer going 70 down the road with a good driver then going 10 down the road with a bad driver.

Now it is a challenge to pick which Boda is going to be like this. My best method is simply to look for the most intensely B.A. kid I see with the nastiest motorcycle, then I ask him "Do you go faster than you are supposed to?"

See most kids will say "Oh no no." because they think white people want to go slow. But if they chuckle, give a smile, and say "Ahyi" (yes) then we are in business. As you can guess, these are not easy to find. So I have come to know a couple of them pretty well that I like to drive with, and I look around for them.

So I want to introduce you to my favorite, Sabaah:























Sabaah enjoys:

~Sunsets
~Smiling
~Listening to his heart
~Friendship
~Being responsible
~Rice and beans
~True love
~Crushing other people's dreams
~Looking like he will mess you up
~Messing you up
~Winning
~Laughing at people that are different
~Cutting other Boda Boda drivers off
~Growing chest hair
~Finding the biggest fake diamonds possible and sticking them in his ear
~Winning the record for "Stupidest thing to do on a red motorcyle in Sudan" every single day.

He is smiling in the picture. See it? I tried to get a badder looking picture of him, but he is so bad that he doesn't do anything anyone says so I had to be content with that pose.

I picked him originally because when I asked him if he was too fast, he looked me up and down, threw the ciggarette in his mouth to the side, and said "Let's go".

I had allotted 15 minutes to get where I was going. I was there in 5. I had scheduled out my day for me, and by the time we got two the third thing on the list, we were an hour ahead of schedule. Ballin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would also like to bring everybody's attention to this notice, put up at one of the highschools here:










Now this sign PUMPED ME UP. It made me feel like one of the Spartans on "300". It made me want to buy a chemistry book, join a Sudanese highschool, and take the exam. Cause apparently scoring well on this chemistry test is like winning the freakin Nobel Prize. I mean... the NATION takes notice. And like they said, "GLORY SHALL BE OURS" (I almost peed myself with excitement when I read that part). This is truly something worth committing your life to.

And really you got nothing to lose! Even if you bomb your exam, "Any written information can serve THOUSANDS OF GENERATIONS." So like if a caveman had had one of these books, it would STILL be serving us today. That is return on investment at it's finest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So Essa has been becoming more and more controlling as the weeks go by. If she wants me to eat, she makes me eat. If she wants to wash my clothes, she washes my clothes. She will do anything to get what she wants. I was studying at my table, when Essa walks in:

Essa: Welcome to laaanch!
Me: I just ate lunch
Essa: No you eat
Me: I'll eat in a little bit
Essa: No you eat
Me: I will, I just have to finish this.
Essa: You come-a and eat *Walks away*
(ten seconds later)
Essa: *Runs in* YOU EAT LANCH NOW!!!
Me: I will! In a little bit!
Essa: *Smiles* Jaaasteeen *walks away*
(thirty seconds later)
Essa: *Walks in slowly and starts rubbing my back* Jaaaaaaasteeeeen... Yoo eet lanch now... Please... I make and you eat and... pleeeeease... Ahh you feeling baaaaad?
Me: No, I just want to finish what I am doing first and I will
Essa: No. Eat now.

So I went and ate second "lanch"

I have been wearing a certain pair of jeans for the last three days because my other pants are in the wash, and she has come up to me three times practically on her knees begging me to take them off and let her wash them. One time she tried to drag me into my room to get me to change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday I fell in love with Pastor Stanley, the pastor of the church here. Our internet wasn't working so I went and told him

Me: Hey the internet still isn't working
Stanley: Yes... Tomorrow I am going to go up there (to the internet base) and blast them.
Me: *laughs for a long time* Blast them?
Stanley: Yes.

Today I came back and he was on his computer and it was working,

Me: Woah, what happened?
Stanley: *Chuckles and grins* I blasted them. They fixed it very fast

Now I don't know if that is funny to you guys... It made me laugh for a long long time, but I don't know if it holds the same power if you don't know Stanley. I'm still not clear on what "Blasting" someone consists of, but it is obviously effective.

JAAAASTEEEEEN!

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh

What to say, what to say?

I know I don't post very much serious stuff on here... I am sorry. I just have a hard time talking about serious stuff to a computer. And when my mind is thinking in a serious way I am usually doing something besides posting a blog. But I know you guys want to know, so I will try to tell you a little bit:

So I have started a discipleship program for the students here. I am training 10 students from each of the 7 schools around here for a month, and then they are each going to start their own group of 5-10 people. So at the end of Nov, I hope to have 70 small groups going. In these groups people read a passage from the bible together, then they discuss it until they know what it means, then they find some way to apply it to their life. I have tried it out on a couple small groups of 3 people so far, and it has worked really well.

I have also been going around to each of the schools and speaking at their church groups about the importance of letting our minds be shaped by the word of God. I have learned a (really bad) Nigerian accent (which really isn't Nigerian at all, it's like... a mix of Arnold Schwarzenegger and an English man... Don't ask me to do it for you), and that has allowed most people here to understand what I say. Unfortunately I have to picture myself being a Nigerian to speak with it, and that makes me adopt the mannerisms of one too... Which means I preach like a black person. Anyway, at the schools, I give them a simple three step process, complete with hand motions! (Thanks to Daniel King, who advised me to do that)

1: READ (Put hands like you're holding a bible)
2: UNDAA STANDI!!![Understand] (Put fingers to head)
3: DOOEEET!!!!!!! [Do it] (Punch the air)

I have had kids come up to me and scream the three steps in my face and give me a huge smile a whole week after I spoke at their school.

The only problem is with Bibles... People here don't have them, and can't afford them. Thankfully I have all you guys back there to help out. I posted a note on facebook about it and God has already provided so much! Check the note out here for more information.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I want to dedicate this section to my best friend here, Daniel.






This kid is like... Me. He is weird, and runs around the compound making strange sounds, and his love language is violence just like me. He steals and breaks my stuff every time I leave my room, enjoys throwing expensive things on the ground, kicking me really hard, spitting on me, and putting huge grasshoppers on me when i'm not looking. Whenever I come back from somewhere and see him in the yard he yells "JAASTEEEN!!!" and throws whatever is in his hand at my head (with deadly accuracy), typically a stick or an orange. I wouldn't have it any other way. At the end of the day he comes and hugs me for like ten minutes straight saying "Jaaasteeen.... Jaaasteeen.... Jaaasteen..." over and over again. I could hang out with him all day.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of "Jaaaasteeen", it has become very popular here for people around the house to say that... it's like in a "oh, you!" kind of way. I don't even get it.

Me: Hey is dinner ready?
Essa: Ya ya!
Me: Awesome! Thanks!
Essa: AAAAAAAHAHAHA... JAAAASteeeeeeeeeen...

Me: Hey have you seen Pastor?
Vicky: Aaaaaaaaaah... Jaaaaaaaaasteeeen...
Me: ?
Vicky: Jaaaaasteeeen...
Me: ?
Vicky: *walks off*

Me: *walks by*
Essa (to her friends): There goes my saaan! (son)
Me: *Smiles*
Essa and friends: Aaaaaaaaaaaahhahahahahahaha.... Jaaaaaasteeeen! *continues saying that for the whole time I am walking up to the gate and out*

Essa: Eat yo foood now!
Me: I'm gonna eat when I get back
Essa: AHAHAHAHAA JAAAAASTEEEEN!!!!
Justin: What?
Essa: Walks off mubling "jaaaasteeen, Jaaaasteeen, Jaaaasteeen..."

Me: Have you seen my camera?
Deborah: JAAAASTEEEEN!
Me: Hi, have you seen my camera?
Deborah: JAAAASTEEEEN!!
Me: Hi... Have you seen my camera?
Deborah: JAAAASTEEEEEN!
Etc....


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I was reading my bible on my bed and all of the sudden I heard someone screaming bloody murder outside my window. So I jumped out my window (No, I didn't think about using my door) and went to see what it was. Across the large barbed wire fence that separates this compound from the village next to it, one woman was beating the snot out of another one with a large stick. Like a stick the thickness of her wrist and the length of her thigh. And I don't mean just hitting her with it, I mean beating the snot out of her with it. As hard as she could, frantically. A bunch of people were crowded around, but no one was doing anything about it. Then another woman came with a stick and I thought "Good, she will break it up." But then she just joined the other girl in the beating.

Now this leaves me in an interesting predicament. Normally if I saw anything of this sort I would jump in and stop it right away. But here in Sudan things are different... a couple times I have broken up fights and been told harshly by someone in authority to never do it again, and to let the people settle their own disputes, that the culture here is much different, and they don't take kindly to white people butting into their problems. Now if this was a man beating a woman... There is nothing in the world which would have stopped me from stopping it. But this was a woman and another woman. Usually in this situation I would have disregarded anyones advice and stopped it, but I am trying this new thing called "Listening to older people" which is greatly encouraged in the bible.

But no one was stopping her... no one was doing anything. Before I could decide what to do, she had stopped beating her. Then as I was trying to ask some people what was going on, I saw the girl who had been beaten pick up a garden hoe and rush the other one with it. I started running through the barbed wire, but before I got through, another woman ran and took her OUT. Like tackled her so hard her feet flew up in the air.

After that the girl got up and ran away screaming. I think her fingers were broken.

I don't know if I did the right thing or the wrong thing... Like, the woman was being beaten for a long time, and sometimes on the head. She could have died. Her fingers were twisted different ways...

Do I defend the defenseless, or listen to my elders?

I don't know. This was the first time I had ever made the decision NOT to defend someone before, and now that I have, I don't feel good about it.

What would you do?

Ever wanted to be a worship leader? Come to Sudan.

Fun facts:

~I ate goat intestines about thirty minutes ago and they were very good.
~It's hard to drive a motorcycle in complete darkness, but very fun.
~Mosquitos aim for my eyes.
~If you smack a mosquito when it's on your eye, subsequent eye pain far outweighs the glory of vengeance.
~The feeling of a gecko trying to jump out of a toilet which you are covering with your butt is unpleasant.
~It's hard to "#2" standing up.
~Bamboo poles don't break over your head, no matter how hard you hit them against it.
~If you are standing on a stage and you reach your arm out over a large crowd of people, someone will probably try to pull you in.
~Drunk soldiers with firecrackers and bicycle chains don't like people yelling at them.
~If you lend in-ear headphones to someone who has never heard of cleaning their ears, the headphones will magically change color.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


One of the things I really want to do is bring Sudanese worship songs to the United States. I thought the best thing to do would be to teach you guys how to write them, so I wrote this handy dandy guide:

The Handy Dandy Guide to Sudanese Worship Song writing.

1: Think of a line that has to do with God
2: Add any tune you want
3: Scream it until your lips get numb

It's easy! Here is a real life example, my favorite:

"Jesus, you are the king of Africa"

Lyrics:

Verse 1:
Jesus, you are the king of Africa! (repeat x4)

Prechorus:
Jesus, you are the king of Africa! (repeat x2)

Chorus:
Jesus, you are the king of Africa! (repeat x4)

Verse 2:
Jesus, you are the king of Africa! (repeat x4)

(repeat chorus)

Verse 3:
Jesus, you are the king of Africa! (repeat x4)

(repeat chorus)

Bridge:
Jesus, you are the king of Africa! (repeat x4)

(repeat chorus x2000 or until you pass out)

It's that easy! Anyone can do it!**





**does not include persons that are mute, dead, or are for any reason unable to perform the following actions: "screaming, "thinking", "speaking", or "repeating".


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So the team came in this week, and in the last few days the conference that I have been working to advertise happened. Over 5000 people have decided to give their lives to Christ so far! It has been really awesome this last week, and I am looking forward to an amazing next two months here. I am working on my Sudanese accent so I can be more easily understood by the people here, you have to speak in a very special way for them to be able to understand you.

The blackist wife/wives in town

I know I am continually changing my favorite things to do in the world... but the stuff just keeps getting better.

At first, it was driving dirtbikes in Sudan.

Then it was driving dirtbikes with no brakes in Sudan.

Now it is officially riding dirtbikes driven by drunk people in Sudan.

That's right.

I was visiting my friend in a far village here in Yei, and walked all the way there. But by the time I got done visiting I was tired and needed to get back fast, so I waved my hand to be picked up by one of the many dirtbike drivers here. One of them pulled aside and when I told him where I was going he said it would only cost two pounds! So of course I accepted, it was about three miles away. I got on, adjusted my butt to be somewhat comfortable, then proceeded with flying down the back roads of Yei at what I would guess to be 45-50 mph. That might not seem like fast for America... To get an accurate idea, picture driving a motorcycle at 45 down the side walk in New York (But bomb the street first).

Needless to say, I was thrilled... yet I was perplexed. Even I would not do what this man was doing. (He was very good at it too). Then I smelled the strong smell of jeezy juice (aka. Crunk juice, aka. Booooooozy, aka. Alcohol) coming from his open mouth in front of me.

"What did you do next?" You might ask.

Well obviously the logical thing, I told him to stop and I got off. Of course I didn't ride all the way home like that. Of course I didn't tell him he was an awesome driver and ask if he would be around town much to drive me around. That would be stupid. I would never do that. You should know me better. Shame on you for even letting that thought cross your mind.

You heathen. Don't judge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway...

Onto the title track of this post:

I was eating dinner with Anthony and my other friend named "Koo Koo" (I think it's spelled differently but that's how it's pronounced.

Anthony: *eats some green slimy stuff* so Justin, are you going to get married in Sudan?
Me: Hahaha no, I told you I have a girlfriend back in the US.
Kookoo: Do you not like black woman?
Me: *ignores Kookoo*
Anthony: No no no, you must marry here. We will find you the blackest wife possible. You will go back to the United States and your friends will ask you "Is she even a human???"
Me: We have black people in the United States.
Essa (passing by): It's true!
Me: Yep, and like I said, I have a girlfriend, look: *Shows picture of Kenzie*
Anthony: *Stares* Ohhhhh
Kookoo: *Stares a bit too much*
Me: *Snatches it away*
Anthony: Well then you can just have both!
Me: Huh?
Anthony: If you have many cows, you just marry both of them.
Me: Cows? Um...
Anthony: *Explains how you give 7 or so Cows to the family of the girl you want to marry, and she is yours*
Me: That's not really how it works in America... It is illegal to have more than one wife.
Kookoo: WHAT??
Anthony: My grandfather had over a hundred wives! He was a cheif, he did not even know his own children when he met them on the street.
Kookoo: *Plays out Anthony's grandfather meeting one of his kids and asking who his father was*
Anthony: They told me the homes of his family went for miles and miles, and that he would go around from house to house and give each wife two hours.
Me: Two hours?
Anthony: For playing sex! *grins*
Kookoo: Now that is just prideful...
Me: *Falls on the ground laughing (rolling in chicken poop)*

The team comes tomorrow!!

Woooooo!!

(Sorry if your small children are reading, if they are now might be a good time to have the old "What playing sex is" talk with them.)

Who does "birthdays" anymore anyways?

My entire birthday experience in Yei:

Me: Hey it's my birthday today!
Essa: Ok.

Me: Guess what?
Anthony: *doesn't guess*
Me: It's my birthday today!
Anthony: Oh! Will you buy me some candies?
Me: No.
Anthony: Oh

Then I ate way too much food and spent the night fighting invisible mosquitos, hearing my parents call my name, and thinking my room was trying to kill me. (Crazy pills)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Essa is feeding me far too much.

This morning she left me two loaves of bread for breakfast, which I ate. Then when I was about to leave, she grabbed me and started yelling(lovingly)

Essa: WHY YOU NO EAT BREAKFAST??? I MAKE IT AND YOU NOEAT!!!
Me: I did! I am so full!
Essa: No look!

Then I look in and there is a huge plate of...

Yep, you guessed it: Spicy chicken wings. For breakfast.

Essa: You eat! Grow big!

Anyway... if anybody was worried I would lose weight here...worry no more. I have chicken wings. And ants. I'm actually starting to not mind ants in my food. They are so small and so nutricious. (spell check)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I also found out that...

1:...Some cute pet monkeys are mean and like to bite me.
2:...the person who's motorcycle we have been using doesn't like us anymore, so we can't use it. 3:...Anthony borrowed one from someone else for free!
4:...(while driving it) our new one is missing a couple parts.
5:...those couple parts are both brakes.
6:...you can't stop without brakes.

Me (driving down hill too fast): Anthony, why is it not stopping?
Anthony: Because that uh... thing... is not working.
Me: You mean the brakes?
Anthony: Yes, that one.
Me: Heh... heh... uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Aren't those... kind of important?
Anthony: *grins* Yes!


Fun times, fun times.

*edit* Do you have trouble knowing where, and where not to urinate? Do you find yourself embarrased, confused, and in despair because you have accidentally urinated on something you weren't supposed to? Your friend's flower garden, your friend's dog, your friend's leg... It can get very confusing trying to decide what is ok, and not ok to urinate on. We know.

That's why here in Sudan, we empathize with you. We make it clear where to urinate.

I will drive by faith, and not by physics, natural laws, or any kind of logical reasoning

So I have found a new favorite pastime: Near death experiences in Sudan.

And of course by that I mean "Driving a motorcyle here."

Many of the places me and Anthony have to travel here are up to five miles away. The first time we just walked. The first time I also almost passed out.

Many people here drive motorcyles. There are not any normal brands, just ones like "Senke" or "Xingxaiong". They are not exactly suited for the terrain here... But then I don't think anything save a mountain goat on crack cocaine with a death wish is suited for the terrain here, so I guess it makes no difference.

I am kidding, of course. Kind of.

It's not that bad, it's like this:

Take a motocross track. Now throw multiple bombs on said motorcross track. Now let a large herd of dinosaur walk a couple laps around said motorcross track. Then pour 4 swimming pools on it, and let natural lakes form. Next tell a bunch of people to walk around the track. Then take some of those people and secretly tell them "The object of this game is to jump in front of motorcycles! Go win!" Next put some really old men on bikes, attach 10 foot poles sideways on their backs, and set them loose. For good measure, tell them that if they hear a horn, they need to swerve towards it.

Oh, then throw in a bunch of blind dogs who think they will be the victors in a clash between them and a frieght train, and train them to hate... everything.

Now drive a motorcyle five miles on the track and see what happens.


So anyway... Me and Anthony rented a motorcyle to use. He drove to the first school, and then, after I told him I am very good at this and I drive them all the time in the US, he let me drive to the rest of them.

Now, I don't know why I love dangerous things so much. There is some kind of amazing joyful feeling I get from doing things I know could possibly hurt me very badly. I think if I were being hunted through tall grass by velociraptors on ATVs (my greatest fear) my main problem would be laughing too much. Of course stuff is scary when I first start, but then I reach the point where I realize that I don't have to fear death, it just becomes so comical and thrilling. I have actually had some of my closest times with God in these moments, when I see death for what it is and, seeing it's power is gone, laugh. I really hope that there is some deep, godly character trait that causes me to be like this instead of some stupid immature one (like most things I do are the cause of). I don't know what trait that might be...

I have to go, because this place is closing, but I want to leave you with a quote (which I will translate)

Context: Me and Anthony were in front of a large class of highschoolers telling them about the conference happening in a week, and how there is a Karate team there. Translations in ( )

Anthony: You know! There is there even a Boxer group of students! They play... what do you call it? Kung foo! They are shoot a log and make it to peices! They can shoot you and you will make to peices! They are born again christians!
Student: But... How can a born again be a Karate?
Anthony: Because they are born again!

Apparently the student was satisfied with that answer... Personally I didn't see the logic.

The culture here is so amazing though... while we were doing one talk, the principal raised his hand and asked:

Principal: But how will you be feeding 1000 people?
Anthony: You see because in the bible it say "The sparrows get what they need to eat". And we are better than sparrows! Jesus will feed us!
Principal: Ahhhh, ok!

Like the principal accepted that as an answer. I was picturing the same thing happening in the Public School System in america...

Got to go! Place is closing! I have a funny picture for you but I will post it later!

My birthday is tomorrow!!!! I get to turn 18 in SUDAN!! WOOOOO!!!!!


Justin

Just stay here next to my bed and scream your lungs out while I sleep

So I don't have a ton of time on here (It takes a while to get back into the intelligent english speaking mindset, so responding to emails takes a while).

I know that you guys may be thinking "Wow, Justin is going to die because he has no one to mommy him anymore." But you are wrong.

My cook, Essa, has taken the place of my Mom, Kenzie, and Trevor. She tells me when to eat, what to eat, when I need to change clothes, what clothes I should change into, and when I should go to bed... all without budging. I don't want to argue with her, because she makes my food. Even though I am pretty sure what she is already feeding me consists of chicken guts and malaria water, I know it could be worse. (It tastes good, I just don't dare question what it is, I went in the kitchen the other day and saw her taking some kind of chicken innards and frying them, and it looked just like my food). She calls me her son too. When the other ladies ask what she is doing, it is always "Cooking food for my son." or "washing my son's clothes" or "telling my stupid son which water he can drink" (I can't drink the rain water, only the malaria water). I love her though, she even stirred my sugar for me when I showed her there were ants all over it <3>

What is really weird is that even though I am in this third world country with people who don't even have enough food, God is still breaking my heart for the youth of America. By seeing the youth here at this church I am beginning to realize that we in the US are, in fact, the unlucky ones. The ones born into a culture of over indulgence and immorality. I am questioning whether I want to raise my children in the US.

I finally uploaded some pictures, so here you go:

This is what most of Yei looks like.

These are the two pastor's kids, Daniel and Rebecca, they are almost always in my room. I know how to tell them to bring me something, to leave something alone, and to dance in Arabic, and they sometimes follow my commands. They have a habit of eating dirt and stealing everything dear to me, like my camera, shoe, towel while I am in the shower, candy, etc. . They also have a habit of trying to get their terrified friends to sneak up to me and touch me. Rebecca almost always makes them cry because she forces them to touch me when they don't want to, breaking them emotionally. I think some of them are starting to get more comfortable though. The last picture is Rebecca trying to imprison Daniel in my guitar case.

A Gecko I caught and then Rebecca almost killed.

Do you recognize this guy? You should, because it is me.

I know I look different, but that's what the Sudanese sun does. Don't hate.

This (not to be mistaken for the picture above, which is me) is my roommate, "Evangelist Tambrat". He is the happiest person I have ever met and makes me fall on the floor in happiness sometimes. He has started 7 churches in Uganda but he acts like a little kid. His response to everything I say is "HALLELUJAH!! PRESS THA LOD!" He also forces me to drink tea in the morning and eats half of the food Essa makes me, which I don't think he is supposed to. He acts like he understands me a lot, but most of the time he doesn't really.

Tambrat: *Opens food container to see I have eaten all of the oranges*

Me: Oh sorry man, I didn't know you were coming back

Tambrat: *smiles really big and shakes his hands* I am FREE!!

Me: Good!

Tambrat: PRAISE THE LORD!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: Hahahaha yes! I ate all the rice too...

Tambrat: PRAISE GOD!! I AM FREE!!!

Me: Awesome, bye!

This is a poster at the place I buy my Cokes. If you can't read what it says, it's "JOKING WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S WIVES IS LIKE COMMITING SUICIDE." I don't know why I found that worth taking a picture of, maybe because "Joking around with other people's wives" is so common in America, so it was good to see the truth. If someone ever "joked" with my wife, I would definitely be chasing after his half-naked self with MY machete.

I know those aren't the kind of pictures people wanted, but they are the kind I like to take, I will take more of the kind normal people like later.

Love you guys!

Justin

P.S. For some reason when people comment my blog it gives me inexplicable joy.

"Yes" is the answer to all questions.

I made it!

These last two mornings I have woken up with the same feeling I do when I am at home... Then I realize I am in Africa. It has not yet failed to make me laugh for like ten minutes.

The base here is amazing. We drove here and I was greeted by (approximately) a billion kids. The food here is actually pretty good. I was prepared for the worst, but so far I have had chicken and bread and rice. I had sugar, but crazy ants got it (not american kind, african kind. If the american kinds are little babies, the kind here are crackheads). The only thing that has weirded me so far is when I tried to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and about a dozen roaches were on it.

Sorry I am kind of delirious right now from the travel, and maybe from the food or climate, so I might not make much sense...

I had a really good time with all of the kids yesterday, a huge crowd of them gathered around me, and one made a face at me, so I made a face back. That is when they became my followers to the death. Not really, but they pretty much regard anything I tell them to do as the best thing ever. Yesterday about 75 of them and me had a huge dancing/singing/beatboxing and rapping party for like 2 hours.

I am also having a hard time with people understanding me. Here are a couple sample conversations that show how most communication goes:

Me: How are you?
Anton: Yes
Me: Cool

Cook (Running into my room): Do the chickens carry you???
Me: I think so
Cook: GOOD!

Me (speaking to my roommate, named "Evangelist Tamkar"): So what do you think is peoples main problem here?
Tamkar: The bible says in Isaiah 61: "The spirit of God is upon me to preach to the poor!"
Me: Awesome!

The reason for the title is that people say "yes" to most things I ask.

Me: Where can I get some clean water?
Cook: Yes

Me: Can I drink this water?
Anton: Yes
Me: Really? Are you sure?
Anton: No

So anyway, I am having a good time so far. Yesterday i was mainly resting, but today I am going to visit one of the school churches, and getting a sim card for my phone.

I will get back on later in the week, and hopefully not be so clueless.

Justin

Netherlands: 1, USA: 0

So I am in the Amsterdam airport right now, and I can say it is approximately 5000 (five thousand) times better then any in the US. They have free showers. I'm not sure what time it is in the US, but I am wide awake with my *gasp* 2 HOURS OF SLEEP I got on the flight here.

Thankfully I had an empty seat next to me, but it was just too small for me to comfortably fetal position in. After hours of trying to get comfortable and looking at the amazing inventions of today in Skymall I finally got in a nice comfortable position... then the guy behind me turned on his 5000 watt overhead light and made me blind and unable to sleep. After another couple hours I found out that if I laid on the floor and put the tray tables down, it would block the light. I was so comfortable.

Then right when I fell asleep, a stewardess in a really bad mood kicked me and said (not lovingly): "Sweety, if you lay down there I am going to have to be cleaning up brains off of the floor."

I had no idea what she meant by that, but I assumed it meant she didn't want me laying down there. I sleepily said "Ok, I'm getting up..." To which she replied...

"Get up."

No confusion there... except that I had previously informed her of my intentions of following her command.

Me: "Ok, I got it" *waves for her to leave*

Mean Woman: "I'm not moving till you get up!"

Now here is the direction I wanted to make this conversation go:

Me: "Then you are going to get tired of standing." *falls back asleep for the remaining 4 hours of flight, wakes up refreshed*

This is how it really went:

Me: "*miscellaneous groans of annoyance* Uh... gar... yeah... hold... ughhh... (continues babbling and trying to get up through the small space in the chair) there you go." *Watches old movies for the rest of the trip, peeing every ten minutes because CamelBack is so big.*


I don't know why I shared that with you.

5 hours till I leave for entebbe!

Blog creation: Epic Fail

So when my Mom (or "Rebecca" as some insist on calling her) told me I should start a blog to chronicle my trip to Sudan, I thought to myself "Of course, I am going to create the most ballin ("Ballin" is the modern equivelent of "Peachy Keen" for you dinosaurs) blog. I pictured having a witty title that perfectly captures why I am in Sudan at the same time as making you giggle and say "Oh, that witty guy!", a modern ish color scheme that makes you feel like you are up to date with technology (you aren't), and a good picture of me.



I have none of those.



I'm sorry, I only thought of two title for this, one of which was: "The pimple on the face of Sudan." Unfortunately I don't like the imagery which that paints in my head, nor the comparison of me to a swollen puss filled protrusion. So I settled on the one I have (look up!). Get it? =D No? Shoot...


I also could not settle on any colors I wanted besides purple... But purple is the favorite color of 50% of the girls I have asked (one being my mom, one being Alex)



Anyway... Since my creativity is somewhere else today, I'll leave you with this picture of all my clothes for three monthes in Sudan:





<---- Rebecca's legs


<---- Clothes




<---- Cat Pet, under the bed stabbing my toes with her claws


I am leaving tomorrow at 12:30!