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…

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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??

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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*

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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.















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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.


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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.

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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.

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I am learning to cook on charcoal stoves. Ballin.



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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*

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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...

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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)

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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....


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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.


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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.

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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.


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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.

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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.

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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: .........

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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

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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.

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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)

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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.
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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