Independence Day of Statehood

In the entire history of the country of South Sudan, I have only ever missed one Independence Day Celebration in Mundri, not including the original day of Independence, but only the celebrations on the anniversary. I think that this qualifies me to tell how South Sudanese people in Mundri celebrate their Day of Statehood (an alternate translation of يوم الاستقلال, because it's always good to switch things up once in a while). Of course, you could also say that I’ve only ever celebrated 67% of all celebrations or that I have missed a full 30% of celebrations, but still, in my life as an American, I’m pretty sure my percentage is worse than that. So—behold ME!—an expert. Read and learn, my friends, from my superior knowledge.

Soldiers, school kids, flag=Independence

Here is a brief schedule of events:

1.     Military marches in with great fanfare, songs, and some dancing (Note: these guys sing GOOD, and I would be more patriotic if our military people did more singing and dancing, especially during their morning group-run.)

2.     School children march in with great fanfare, songs, and some dancing.

3.     Some more marching formations happen on the soccer field.

Mundri 2 Primary School girls shake it.

4.     Eventually everyone ends up sitting or standing under the mango trees while people go to the front to speechify.

5.     There is a speech announcing the coming speeches and song and dance numbers.

6.     The person doing the opening prayer is introduced.

7.     Person precedes prayer by small sermon (small means it only last half an hour).

8.     Prayer happens.

9.     National Anthem is sung. Many people do not know it. Hey—it’s a new country!

10.  Announcer comes back and announces next speech/event.

11.  Speech/event happens.

12.  Announcer

13.  Speech/event

14.  Annoucer

     This photo is a HUGE accomplishment
for me: Noha finally let me hold 
him without screaming
in terror at my horrifying whiteness--
An Independence Day Miracle!

15.  Speech/event

16.  Repeat steps 11-15 until you are just about to go home because-hey! home is right behind you anyway…and then convince yourself that you should stick it out because you are one of the only (or in fact the only) shiny white person there whose absence might possibly be noticed.

17.  Maintain a look of interest and concentration on your face as you gaze upon the passionate speecher, even if you are trying to plan out how you will go eat lunch with your friend AND make brownies in the coal oven to give to another friend AND make it to the dance party later).

18.  After an hour of words that you no longer have the brain willpower to pay attention to (which doesn’t matter since your face froze into a look of concentrated contemplation about 2 hours ago and will stay like that for another 45 minutes at least), concluding with “So I don’t really have much to say, so I’ll stop here,” everyone BREAKS FOR LUNCH!

19.  Go to lunch with friends.

20.  Free time until 4:00 when the DANCE PARTY STARTS

21.  From 4:00-sunset (approximately 7:30) groups form according to tribe/clan all over the soccer field where people dance their own style or jump from group to group dancing them all (I prefer to dance them all). The Moru group is the biggest (of course) and consequently the hardest to break into. Also, be aware: many drunk men and lots of knives and bows and arrows and stuff to watch out for. Favorite instruments: cow horn trumpets and cow hide drums.

Cow horns and drums, and the guy bending over is
playing the drums, but when he got kicked out
of the band for being drunk, he pulled that knife, attached
to him by the blue rope, and the police had to come to
escort him away from the area.

The sun got in my way for this shot, but also there
was so much dust being kicked up from the dancers
that you can't get a clear shot anyway.

My friends who invited me to lunch have a pet deer
that they found in the jungle and adopted.

In the back right-hand side you can see one of our
2 riot police that were there "just in case."
This is a lazy sneaky photo I took from my seat,
so it is bad, but the point is:
Mundri has riot police, ya'll!

So, the dance party is fun. It feels very “African,” which is a description that I hesitate to use because Africa is a continent made up of a surprising number of unique cultures and communities. I say surprising because I think it is to people who are still under the impression that Africa is a country. But in this case, having a dance party to celebrate Day of Statehood fits the stereotype of singing, dancing Africans. And the Moru people from all the clans and tribes know how to shake it. And one small white girl knows how to make a fool of herself without shame by joining in.

Here is where I uploaded a video 2x on the odds that at least one of them will work. It's still a long shot, but let's see what happens...

And now I must, I MUST say something else. There is no one in the world who knows how to really celebrate Independence Day like the Indonesian people. Yes, I’m sure it’s fun to cook out on the grill and eat til you’re sick, but really, that’s what Americans do at all of their holiday parties (I’m not saying I’m not OK with that, I’m just saying it’s not very creative). Indonesians plan their parties by neighborhood. Everyone gathers on the nearest badminton court or whatever open space you can find if you are on the most populated island in the world (i.e. Java, home to 100,000,000+ people, same size and shape as TN which is home to a mere 5,000,000 people—for reference). There one and all play ridiculous games designed to make everyone look like an idiot. The chubby lady who owns the local warung (small shop) wins the sack race. The RT (elected village leader) is the fastest at eating his krupuk off the string hanging from the clothesline with his hands tied behind his back. All the men and boys join in to climb the greasy bamboo pole to rip down the prices and throw them into the adoring crowd at the bottom. And of course, children run around eating too much candy and having the best time of their lives, which is the goal of children everywhere on every holiday. I’ve been in many countries and seen many Day of Statehood celebrations, but none of them have anything on Indonesia. I really think that Indonesians should travel around the world and do workshops on the proper way to celebrate Independence. It’s the least they can do for less advanced nations.

Dirgahayu Indonesia!

Below are a bunch of photos I got off the internet as examples of Indonesia's Awesome Celebrations because it has been a long time since I've been there for one.

The prizes are at the top!

Can only get there through team work.

And determination

And I have never been at a celebration that had a bike on the top,
so this must be a fancy neighborhood.

Eat krupuk off a string!

And now, more proof that Indonesia is the greatest country on the face of the earth with some original photos taken by people I actually know (my parents, 2 of my 5 blog readers):

We have fire engines that look like this!

And check out this cute foto of my dad
hanging out with friends by a cool tree.
Indonesia=Awesome
My Dad=Awesome

Wait, sorry, this just in… Indonesia and South Sudan are exactly the same:

Except Indonesia kind of enforces those helmet laws…

In conclusion, Everywhere is Awesome. I love Everywhere. Everywhere is my favorite.

Natural Remedies for Common Ailments (Unsolicited Free Medical Advice)

Introduction: This blog is usually an in depth look at complex aspects of human nature, specifically the complex aspects of me, my friends, my acquaintances, and people I make snap-judgements about based on how I'm feeling that day and what they are wearing and if they are standing in my way as I try to walk through the airport. But today this just became a helpful blog about natural remedies for common ailments in the modern age.  This is important because I know you guys aren't all eating organic vegetables that you grow yourself (though I am) and you're probably knowingly and unknowingly ingesting chemicals through pills and various other substances that surround you in your life (I'm ingesting lots of diesel fumes because I'm in Khartoum right now). Before reading this post, I'm sure that you never thought there was another way to deal with the pain of headaches and stomachaches that didn't involve chemicals in the forms of complicated medicines that will inevitably cause you to grow an extra elbow on your chin or cause some other horrible deformity, but, thanks to me and my complex human nature, you will have a completely natural, completely fool-proof, completely free (100% guarantee or your money back) method for dealing with pain in either your head or your stomach.



Disclaimer: It has been said that I have the nutritional instincts of a 6 year old…or anyway I just made that up. But I think it's true, as I believe a breakfast of Haribo Smurf Gummies is perfectly acceptable, and sometimes I just have chips and coke for dinner. But it is always diet coke and children shouldn’t drink diet drinks, so you see—I have a dash of 30 year old instincts in there too.

Despite what you my think about my nutritional instincts, I’m going to impart some very important medical advice to you right now. First of all, as I said before, pills and drugs are overrated. There is almost always a natural way to solve all of your aches and pains. According to the Facebook newsfeed, one primary way to make sure that you remain disease-free and perfectly beautiful at all times is by using various kinds of expensive oils. I also have friends who swear by the power of Massage and/or Acupuncture (yes, I grew up in Asia). And, of course, as I told you before, the South Sudanese are firm believers in the healing powers of lemons.

Personally, I think most sicknesses are basically all in your head, and you just need to rise above the pain and stop being a whiner, but here are a couple of my favorite handy remedies to help you rise above two specific frequently occurring common ailments involving nothing more than a device (previously charged by electricity) that allows one to listen to music and the ability to download songs from the internet legally or “illegally,” depending on your preference and location (also, it’s best to plan ahead and download these musics when you have electricity):

• To cure a headache, listen the Ramones. Anything by the Ramones will help you feel better, but if you are not familiar with their work, try “Bonzo Goes to Bitberg” or “I Wanna Be Sedated.” “Rockaway Beach” or “Judy is a Punk” can also be good choices.

• And for stomachaches, you can’t go wrong with a little Rachmaninov, specifically “Piano Concerto No. 3 – Allegro Ma Non Tanto.” Since that lasts more than 15 minutes, if your stomachache is not better by the end, you probably have appendicitis and that really does need surgery, so in that case, don’t try to rise above it with the power of your mind, unless your mind has the ability to perform surgery on yourself. Then go right ahead.

Rachmaninov has a headache because the
Ramones didn't exist when this photo was taken (probably).
Also, imagine Rach in tight jeans, a leather jacket,
and a crop top with longer hair--he could TOTALLY be a Ramone.

These methods have been tested multiple times, only on humans (don’t worry, PETA), and they have 100% success rate for all test subjects. Just try it once and you will be hooked for life. Money-back guarantee! Unless you bought the music, and then no…but really you should already own music by the Ramones and Rachmaninov, so--you're welcome.

FREE MEDICAL ADVICE!

Again, you’re welcome, Readers (i.e. Mom, stop taking all those headache pills. I know you will love the Ramones).

This:  

+

This:

=

Dr. Me

It's legit.

Traveling to Tunisia (Alliterations Are Awesome And Adorable)

I'm way more excited than I look here about
sneaking into this still-in-use amphitheater

 I recently returned from a lovely trip to Tunisia with my adorable (as she would say) friend Debbie. That makes her sound like she is stuck up or something, but she just actually uses the word “adorable” a lot because she is adorable. We had fun exploring the ruins of Carthage, sneaking into private beaches and amphitheaters and historical sites without paying, climbing up all the stairs at an old fort, trying out various methods of public transportation, and laying around on beaches in and out of the water. We also ate lots of good food, drank lots of good beverages, and wore…swimsuits... Yes, we did, Mom, and not burkinis (though there were a few ladies who were wearing them--but don't worry: this blog contains no people only wearing bathing costumes). It’s totally OK because all the other touriners were wearing their swimsuits too. ‘Touriner’ is a word coined by Debbie (she’s adorable AND a genius), which means ‘one who is both a tourist and a foreigner.’ It is a useful word because one can be a tourist and not a foreigner, as my family is when we go to such places as ‘The Grand Canyon’ or ‘Niagra Falls’ or ‘Wal-Mart.’ And you can also be a foreigner and not a tourist, as I am when I live in South Sudan or Sudan or when I visit Uganda or Indonesia or a plethora of other places where I have lived and/or worked and/or transited. And the point is that when we were in Tunisia, we were in touriner places and we fit in with the other touriners, but when we went to places without many touriners, we dressed appropriately modestly and were usually often more modestly attired than many of the natives.

We snuck in here too!
We are so sneaky.

In conclusion, we had a really great time and interspersed between photos of our journey, I’m including some entertaining conversations I had with various men of a certain age who responded in the same way, regardless of whether I was attired in touriner clothing or arm-and-butt-and-leg-covering garments.

We did not sneak in here

Taxi driver: “You know about Mississippi?”

Me: I know about it.

TD: It’s the most beautiful place. I saw it on TV. It’s so natural.

Looking cute in Carthage (almost all of the photos here
are from Debbie's camera, as my phone was stolen after we left Carthage).

Guy in hotel: You are British?

Me: No.

GiH: American?

Me: Yup.

GiH: Oh. I thought that. Your English is good. It’s like native.

Me: Thanks.

An important photo of me fixing my hair in Carthage.
Thanks, Debs.

Guy guessing our nationality: Russian? Belgian? Swedish? Norwegian? Danish? Dutch? German? Ukrainian? French? Spanish? English? Turkish? Italian?

Me: Keep guessing…

A classic 'touriner' shot

Debbie's classic 'touriner'  shot--we learned everything we know
from watching the touriners while we ate pistachio ice cream cones.

A different taxi driver: Where are you from?

Me: America.

ADTD: But you speak Arabic? You are not the original American. Are you the original American?

The last photo from my phone uploaded to my computer before the theft.
The streets were lined with chairs ready for after-dark Ramadan revelry.

Struggling pick-up artist on the street as we passed: Your eyes is…your eyes…your eyes is…is…

Fun with Debbie's camera timer

We actually got worse at using that feature

Beware: lots of selfies of us coming up (though is it a selfie if it's of both of us? Marian and I call those 'long-arm shots' as a reference to how one must hold the camera and the fact that she takes these photos with her long arms better than I take it with my stumpy ones).

Oh look at my hair like Jesus!

I was not wanting to selfie here, but Debbie made me.
Amanda is cranky when she's hungry.
That is only water in the background, Mom.

Hey-I got a new phone and took a photo of us on our last day
in our favorite haram hotel, seller of food and beverages
during Ramadan. Note: this photo was taken AFTER Ramadan.

And now some photos of the fort in Sousse:

Forts are ALWAYS cool

The view of Sousse from the fort tower.

We climbed every stair.

I posted this on FB already, but I'm lazy and posting 3-in-1 photos is easier
than loading 3 more photos. We sat in the tower a long time and talked until
a few other touriners realized that there was something else to do in
Sousse besides buy t-shirts with camels on them.

Get ready: a truly great photo of Carthage taken by Debbie is about to be seen by you---

Beautiful. You know you all want to go to Tunisia now.
You should.