A scene from last week. John and I were jogging at the UN after work. I am a way, way, way slower runner than John is, so when we run together, I can’t talk. I just try to move my feet as quick as he does and keep breathing. I think John kinda likes this because it means that (1) he feels like Flash Gordon and (2) he can talk about whatever he wants without interruption. So on this hot, dusty Juba day we were running and John was telling me about helping Sudanese orphans (yes, really, I am married to a crazy Flash Gordon/Mother Teresa hybrid). Then, he remembered something: J: Oh hey, I forgot to tell you the best news of today that’s NOT about helping people.
S: Mergh? (Gasping for breath)
J: I saw an ice cream shop on the Hai Cinema road.
S: BLERGHAT?!?!
J: Yeah! And it’s within walking distance of the compound!
S: WHAGHA?
J: We’ll have to try it sometime.
S: (Stops to permit speech.) We’ll have to try it sometime? WHAT!?! We’ve been running for 30 minutes and you are just telling me this NOW? Are you sure? Can we go there NOW?
J: I know, awesome, right?
S: Like ICE CREAM? Not like a faulty refrigerator that accidentally froze milk? Not like a store that sells ice and a store that sells cream? Real ICE CREAM?
Yes, friends, my mind was officially blown at the prospect that I could soon eat a dessert I didn’t have to make from scratch with sketchy ingredients in a could-explode-at-any-moment oven in a dirty, shared kitchen. So the next day when John came into my office with a grave expression and announced, “I have bad news,” I knew exactly what was coming. The ice cream shop is not what it had appeared to be. It’s just a regular old crappy Juba store with a sadly deceptive sign. Sigh.
But hope is not lost! I have heard rumors that somewhere in Juba an enterprising expatriate is making frozen yogurt… and we will find him. Believe me, we’ll find him.
-Stephanie
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