"Let them eat cake" - mud cakes, that is.

In his March 20th blog "Let Them Eat Cake," Nicholas Kristof writes of the possibility of a future column emphasizing how the recession is hitting poverty stricken countries like Haiti and the Dominican Republic harder than developed countries in the West. Kristof writes,

I’m sure plenty of people shrug: So what? We have problems at home. We can’t be expected to look after everybody. Let’s address our own needs first before we worry about Haitians….

So what do you think the best answer to that view is? Or do you agree with it?

After a Reason party featuring a panel on immigration last week, my friend and I discussed the situation in Haiti over sushi, and I had to admit that, as someone who has traveled back and forth from Haiti several times to work with NGO Three Angels Children's Relief, I respond to questions like Kristof's with more emotion than knowledge. Playing aggressively with my chopsticks and fidgeting with the table cloth while I spewed forth stories of orphans, sexually trafficked teens and hungry families I had come to know and love, I admitted that I didn't feel like someone qualified to speak to an issue that hits so close to home.

However, as I Googled news on Haiti this morning while pondering Kristof's question, I felt strongly that the question of "worrying about Haitians" is one that, at the very least, must be asked.

It is a question that many are, indeed, asking. Kristof's blog is especially timely as 30,299 Haitians were served deporation papers this past week, despite protests and The House Judiciary Committee's subcommittee on immigration, citizenship, refugees, border security and international law considering drafting a bill granting Temporary Protected Status to thousands of Haitians in the United States.

It strikes me that while Antoinette's sentiments were toward her own people, the debate over Haiti's surrounds a people that are not legally part of the U.S. Regardless, feedback on Kristof's blog speaks to the need for the U.S. to climb out of their bubble and connect with those around us:

Ultimately, we’re all connected - our environment, our health, our safety, and our prosperity. There are many examples under each of these “headings” where an issue or crisis doesn’t respect geographic boundaries. -Arlene

As I read, I thought about a certain day in July of '07 in Haiti driving down Delmas, the main drag in Port-au-Prince. Stuck in traffic and sitting in a van full of old clothes we were trying to get rid of, a few of us decided to hand them to the children begging outside of our windows. They took them, yelling, jumping and begging for more.

It didn't stop there. More children came: yelling for food, banging on the van windows, shoving skinny hands out to us. I had been hungry before I saw them. Afterward, my appetite had gone. I felt like a privileged American who knew nothing about what life in the real world felt like. These children put faces and hands to Haiti's hunger and devastation, making me face up to issues like the mud crisis.

It took me a few hours to get beyond my emotion and realize that my not eating would do nothing for the Haitian people except for making me grumpy with the orphans I was actually helping to feed. As dinner hit my stomach, an online conversation with my family at home helped me to realize that my privilege does make me responsible to help the poor and needy. And it is that conversation has stayed with me.

Perhaps, like Kristof, what we need is to be willing to ask the hard questions and to ask them not with irrational emotion or a mind only for economics but with perspective for what we have. And when we ask them, we must keep in mind that we are responsible for what we have been given.

DC doesn't love fro yo as much as I do.

How is there only one frozen yogurt chain in DC?

This question has been plaguing me since I moved here. I am an avid consumer of good frozen yogurt and back in Southern California, I have numerous options: Yogurtland, Beach Berries, Pinkberry, Berry Cool, Red Mango … at any of these places I can indulge in my fill of tart frozen yogurt and fresh fruit toppings. When I’m at Biola, it’s a common occurrence to make a late run to Berry Cool before it closes at midnight, just to enjoy the conversation of a friend or to regain my sanity after hours of attempted studying.

In DC there is Tangy Sweet. That’s it. Rachelle and I tried it out over the weekend, and it wasn’t bad by any means, but the plain frozen yogurt was a little too sweet, and the fruit tasted like it had been packaged in syrup. And it was beyond strange eating frozen yogurt indoors to avoid the risk of frostbite. And it was expensive. What ever happened to the 30 cents an ounce joint? Yes, I know I’m a bit of a frozen yogurt snob, but I grew up alongside Golden Spoon … which probably doesn’t mean anything to most people in DC.

It makes sense that frozen yogurt would be more popular in Southern California -- our coldest winter morning is a balmy day in DC -- but I didn’t imagine that my favorite dessert would be this scarce. My sentiments might be comparable to the melancholy echoed in all the Southerners over the dearth of real sweet tea. Or perhaps the desperation experienced by many of us from California to find authentic Mexican food. I’m sure that every person here has his or her particular food of interest that is currently not being satiated. I don’t think I ever understood before now how much food plays into a person’s culture, as well as how drastically different regional cultures are within the United States.

It would be so easy to spend my time here in DC complaining about the few food items that I’m "dying" without. But the truth is that as much as I miss frozen yogurt, real Mexican food and In N Out, it doesn’t at all overcome my excitement to sample bits and pieces of the other diverse cultures at hand here. I am still surprised when I see three Ethiopian restaurants on the same block here and all of the Mexican restaurants that also serve Salvadorian food. Back home I don’t have the option of eating Portuguese food at Nando’s Peri-Peri or trying ethnic food from a country I’ve never even heard of. DC also saved me from making a horrendous judgment about Thai food. My only experience with it in California had been unpleasant, but eating at the Old Siam in Eastern Market and Kanlaya in Chinatown convinced me that Thai has to be one of my favorite types of food. I’m vulnerable to colorful, spicy, flavorful food, and Thai food has completely stolen my heart and my taste buds.

All to say, DC is a melting pot – and an amazingly delicious one at that – and I plan on taking advantage of new experiences. A few favorite items might have been overlooked out here, but I can go a few months without good fro yo. Besides, frozen yogurt is so much more complete after a day at the beach. Until then, I plan on trying the best ethnic foods that DC has to offer, or at least as many as I can in the next few months … especially the ones that are nice to the good ol’ wallet.

Earbuddies: A quest for travel time entertainment

One of the first things we were told by our community life directors when we arrived in DC was to never, under any circumstances, plug our iPods into our ears when traveling around the city - mainly when walking. Public transportation is the heart and soul of Washington, D.C. and I for one was not going to violate some golden rule and put myself in danger.

So I took this advice to heart, and although it leaves me a bit bored when I'm walking back from Union Station by myself, I am finding that personal headphones aren't even necessary when traveling by Metro or bus. Why?

People here have no concept of volume control on their personal music-playing devices. It’s the highest volume or nothing.

I am genuinely concerned about the eardrums of many of my fellow travelers, but their bad decisions are benefiting me. I was sitting on the bus coming home the other night, and sitting about two rows behind me was a teen girl with earbuds plugged into her head. The sound was a little distorted, but the entire way home, I enjoyed listening to Rihanna belting about "Umbrella"s and how she just got out of "Rehab." Unfortunately, the girl got off the bus before me - I wanted to scream: "Please, don't stop the music!"

But really, that girl will have more hearing loss than she realizes. Who knows, she could have "tough ears" or something, but is that really worth the risk? On the other hand, her future loss provides me with in the moment entertainment - you can't beat that.

It was Bon Jovi on the Metro. This guy was sitting directly next to me, and I could hear those rockin’ melodies as clearly as if the earbuds were in my own ears. Really spices up those Metro rides. Add in the flipbook-styled ads on the walls of the Metro tunnels, and the average traveler, like myself, has more entertainment between Gallery Place-Chinatown and Judiciary Square than they had ever imagined.

It’s his life. It’s now or never. He’s not going to live forever, so why preserve his hearing, right?

This problem has even followed me back to the apartments. I was in the library transcripting an interview for a profile I was writing and a fellow student was sitting down the table from me, audibly bopping to some Coldplay. He can viva su vida this way or however he so chooses, as long as he always plays music that awesome.

So consider this my thank you note/apology to all you headphone-wearing, iPod-playing, music-obsessive, volume-blasting, “I-can’t-sit-for-10-minutes-without-music” fiends out there:

I appreciate you. You provide me with entertainment on my short rides at no detriment to my own personal safety or to my future hearing abilities. Please continue to allow your sweet tunes to spill out from your earbuds and into the world around you. It gives me great pleasure while ensuring that I never have to carry my iPod around.

But I’m sorry that I’m so selfish and I take pleasure in your failings and future health risks.

And if you so happen to be traveling with me anytime in the near future, feel free to ignore me and turn up the volume. Give me some Beatles or Journey and you’ll have a happy girl.

Imagine all the people living with steadily decreasing hearing abilities. I wonder if I could work out some sort of system where I put in requests and donate a couple nickels toward their future medical bills? That's a very governmental, wise, unbiased agreement, I think?

Don’t stop believin’.

Polarization in D.C.

Sometimes everything in Washington feels polarized. One day it's 15 degress, the next it's 75.
One night we're in a glitzy hotel Dr. Barry Corey and the author of "Unchristian," the next we're serving soup at Food and Friends. And, of course, it would seem that the greatest polarization is that of how people view the Obama administration versus how they feel about Bush's.

A reporter down the hall in my newsroom was having a rather loud phone conversation on Tuesday night.

"It's all Bush's fault and that's the case" he said, in his usual high-pitched Irish accent. "What? there are still people in your newsroom that are positive? No one, and I mean no one, here likes him anymore."

It was his accent that made me start out laughing, but I began to think a little more seriously as the conversation continued, and I realized that he was illustrating for me what I have been learning in class about the market dictating journalism.

"Hits seem to go up when I'm bashing Bush, but of course he's not there to bash anymore," he said.

As I thought about how much commonality most people seem to find in Bush-bashing, I thought about a conversation I listened to on Saturday as I walked with a group to the archives.

Someone mentioned how hard it would be to find a t-shirt for Bush in this town.

He kept going, "could you even find a bush fan in this town?"

Two people piped up: "we are."

"I really liked him," someone else said.

"You're idiots," my roommate sneered.

The same people with such polarized views about our presidents were soon ooh-ing and aaah-ing over the same Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence and Constitution that have brought us all to where we are, and give us the freedom to polarize ourselves if we should wish to do so.

I caught polarization in myself this week. With Obama out of town, I walked around with a bit of a rain cloud over my head. I hated feeling like there was no chance of spotting him anywhere during my day.

I don't remember even thinking about Bush when I visited D.C. five years ago.

Even our weekly dinners at school, where we gather and eat in the same room, feel polarized at times. This week, we were on pins and needles waiting to hear about the stimulus package.

"Hello Great Depression number two" said one friend, when we talked about what would happen if it did not pass.

"I don't want it to" said his roommate, sitting beside him.

They left together to watch a movie, and I thought about Saturday again.

That's the beauty of living in America. Here, in the Capitol city, we can be as separate as we wish to, and yet, somehow, we all end up coming together.

Christ in the face of How Washington Loves Obama

In a city that trumpets change at every turn, billboard and subway advertisement, a call has rung out for honest coverage of the now idolized Obama administration.

Things felt so one sided that Time Magazine felt the need to featured this article.

The March for Life was here in DC a few weeks ago. I missed it because I was working at a soup kitchen outside of central DC.

On my way home from the kitchen, a little boy walking past me in Union Station yelled "Vote for life not Obama!" I watched a few heads turn. Feeling ashamed of the image he was portraying, I couldn't help but want to quiet him. I wanted everyone around him to know that not all Christians polarize political issues like that. I wanted to say that Jesus wasn't just a moralistic code, that he didn't have a political party. I wanted to tell the little boy not to make a sensitive situation more sensitive.

Along the 7 block walk home, my friends and I discussed the need for caution as those representing Christ in a place where people have fallen in love with a man that has given them hope, promised them newness of life and provided them what they believe to be concrete evidence he can pull it off.

A fellow WJCer mentioned that what that little boy yelled was morality, rather than Jesus. Jesus was concious of his culture while preaching truth that, in itself, appeared as foolishness "to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God" (1 Corinthians 1:18 NASB).

If one is to ever have a voice in a city fallen head over heels with a president that has taken a strong stance on issues such as abortion, there is a need for speech "with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person" (Colossians 4:6 NASB).

*Picture taken by Sarah Breen

The Sacrificial Daschle

Really how hard is it to turn in your taxes?

For two of Obama's cabinet nominees to withdraw over tax reasons - this is not a good way to start off the presidency. It makes me question what kind of people Obama is choosing to put into official positions. These people were going to be helping run our country, but they weren't honest in their own dealings with the government - something as basic as paying taxes. I understand wanting to save money, but these two probably make more than I will ever make in my whole entire life. I don't think they exactly need money.

However, the whole scandal did restore my faith in the American government a bit. Despite the fact that these two officials were dishonest with their money, at least they owned up to the fact that they had been dishonest. If they can't be honest about their finances, at least they were willing to be honest about their dishonesty in front of the entire country. And world.

This gives me hope. Perhaps people think that the new administration needs to start off with a clean slate. No drama, no scandal.

Of course Obama is frustrated.

“And so I’m frustrated with myself, with our team,” he told NBC, “but ultimately my job is to get this thing back on track because what we need to focus on is a deteriorating economy and getting people back to work.”

But maybe he should be considering the fact that these people wanted him to succeed so much that they embarrassed themselves and took a major hit in their political career so he would make a real difference.

Now, that could be considered a sacrifice.

Inauguration is for Stories

Our WJC Director Terry Mattingly welcomed us to what he called "a city of stories" at the beginning of Saturday night's orientation events. He warned that we would be tempted to believe that all the stories in DC can be found on Capitol Hill or in the business district, to be discovered somewhere between perfect ties and glamorous nights out. Warning turned to exhortation as he told us of the stories that exist in the edge of crowds and in the less fortunate places of this city. Those stories are just as important.

My group left at about 7 a.m. hoping to see the country’s biggest story up close and personal. That hope starting waning at about 8 o’clock on D Street, when I stood squished somewhere between a van and a sedan that had turned off their engines.

Two hours later, we left the middle of a stationary line to thaw out with a cup of coffee at the Hard Rock Cafe. Cold and full of lost hope, I asked the gentleman beside me where he was from. "New Hampshire," he told me, "and my friend is from South Carolina." I nodded. "Are you disappointed you didn't get in after traveling so far?" I asked. His answer changed my day. "It's ok. We're here," he said. "People ask me why I'm here, and I say 'because it's here. This is history. I'm here for it.'"

He left me with warm regards, making room at the counter for two Canadian women. I asked them why they were here. They said that they hadn’t been alive for historical inaugurations in America’s past, and wanted to come for this one because, “this is huge for our generation,” they said.

The Hard Rock Cafe started closing, much to the protests of the Canadians, who quickly recovered and said they would watch "in a bar somewhere." As we all left they wished us well and smiled - regardless of having traveled this far only to end up watching Obama's moment on TV.

Around 10:30 we wound up packed into the National Press Building food court with what must have been at least 200 African Americans. The girl behind me said she arrived on a train from New York last night, but didn't seem upset at being stuck in a food court any more than my new friends at Hard Rock were at being holed up in a bar. As shots of Obama began coming up on the screen, the crowd around me roared, cried, and chanted

O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma! Yes we did!

Tears rolled down the faces around me as Obama spoke of history, freedom and America’s long road to equality. The big story today may have taken place at the Capitol building, but I looked back across the food court after Obama’s speech, and saw the stories that put him where he is today. Just behind me a white woman and black man stood together holding twin babies. They were crying, laughing and kissing the babies. I watched as the man looked up and pointed towards the sky, mouthing a thank you to God.

In that moment I realized it didn't matter where one flew in from, or how long one had sat on a train to end up watching a TV screen, it was the stories of the people here, coupled with the stories of those who had fought for their freedom, that gave them the emotion and joy to make today an experience that was anything but disappointing.