Progeny to a nation of opportunities and facilities that would be the stuff of miracles in a worse-heeled country, the ignorant, gluttonous exploitation and thanklessness so ubiquitous between the white picket fences of the middle-class American breed happy, smiling Frankenstein monsters of political leaders too plastic and unacquainted with critical issues like poverty, illiteracy, and corruption. That breach between quandary and captain remains inaccessible if the Babel of dissimilarity obstructs resolution from being reached. To remedy social ills, a leader must speak the language of the crisis. He cannot expect to understand an issue having only observed it from the comfort of a white picket fence. The parallelism of sympathy is required. Though too few from the bottom are able to persevere to positions of power, 2013 Malian Presidential candidate Yeah Samake, a man born and raised in poverty, has come forward to offer change for his country through education—change made valid through the success he has already achieved.       

After my interview with Yeah Samake. I'm on the left, Yeah is in the middle, and Michael Devonas (founder of the BYU chapter of Empower Mali) is on the right. It was such a wonderful experience being able to meet and talk with him! He's a wonderful man, an incredible leader, and an inspiration to us all!

Raised in Ouélessébougou, a town he would later be elected the mayor of, Yeah was no stranger to the hunger that accompanied the brutal penury he and his family were subject to. “Some nights, my mother would come and hear us sobbing in bed, and she would tie our stomachs so that they would shrink to reduce the pain of our hunger.” Though he had never been to school, Yeah’s father had a dream that each member of his family would receive an education: He had a vision that only through education we could break the cycle of poverty, so he sent all of his children to school. In our community that was unheard of… the people of the community warned him, they said, "If you send all of your children to school, your family will go hungry." He was so determined that, when he was asked, he said, “My family will go hungry, but my family will not know the darkness of illiteracy.”
Despite being obliged to surrender such basic necessities as food, Yeah believes every sacrifice one can make for education to be advantageous.
"We paid an enormous price to be there. Like I said, we had to forego the daily meal to be there. We had to give the pain, the hunger, to go to school, but every sacrifice that you can make for education is good… It gives you freedoms that you have never had. Freedom to provide for your family. Freedom to get yourself trained. Freedoms that cross incredible boundaries. Together, we can break that chain [of poverty]. We have the power to go out and be better citizens—to have hope that tomorrow will be a better day than today."
After receiving his Bachelor’s degree in Bamako, Yeah traveled to the United States to obtain a Master’s degree in Public Policy at Brigham Young University.
“I had numerous experiences at BYU that helped build a foundation of leadership… The rigorous training at BYU through this program has truly helped me better understand how we can make the right decision for the right cost. Whether it is the current value or the future value of any decision, it is very important for a leader to have this background. There are also immeasurable, intangible qualities of a leader that you don’t learn from schools, like integrity, like help and service, but even then I feel that BYU truly promoted, instilled, and augmented my sense of service for others. As we know, BYU’s model is: 'Enter to learn, go forth to serve. So, it has served me to serve others."
Through the Kennedy Center for International Studies, Yeah was able to obtain an internship at the United Nations, where he first discovered he wanted to serve in a nonprofit organization. It was out of this desire that sprung the Daily Dose Foundation, which became Mali Rising, finally growing into the Empower Mali Foundation. Overall, Yeah has built no fewer than fifteen schools:"These schools are innovative. They're cost effective and environmentally friendly... But the [bottom] line is that every community that we approach, they pay 20% of the cost, the government provides the teachers so we build this incredible partnership that is unique where the government provides the teachers and the villagers provide the land… Empower Mali raises the money… the remaining 80%. Once we build the school, it becomes immediately self-sustaining. We don’t go back and put money into any of our schools. The villagers, once we are done, they keep the schools, and we come back to check how the schools are functioning. That’s how we are transforming lives, helping children in Mali."
After completing his formal education, Yeah viewed the corruption of his hometown’s government with new eyes. He now had new ideas, new knowledge, and a new vision—and felt as though he had the obligation to make them reality. He ran for the position of mayor of Ouélessébougou, winning by a landslide on the platform of transparency and honesty. He promised tribe leaders he would not pocket a single tax dollar, but would consult the tribe leaders as to where the tax money would be applied based on what deficiencies existed in each chief’s community. Not only did he make good on his promise, winning the trust and support of the citizens of Ouélessébougou, he completely transformed the town’s economy, improving employment rate and increasing the rate of citizens who paid their taxes from 10% to 68% in a single year. His success attracted the attention of American sponsors and national Malian leadership and both began to pour money into Ouélessébougou, making it possible for the once deteriorating town to become a model community, complete with modern public schools, a state of the art hospital, as well as other superior civic, educational, and medical amenities. 
He was then approached by the Malian President’s entourage as a potential candidate in the upcoming elections. Yeah was motivated to revolutionize Mali the same way he revolutionized Ouélessébougou. Before the 2012 elections, however, mutinying soldiers distraught with the government’s handling of the Tuareg rebel situation overthrew the government in a military coup. Though he was deeply disappointed, Yeah continued to tirelessly struggle for peace and progress. After great effort and an interim government, Mali is now ready for democratic presidential elections—and Yeah is eager to lead the country into a golden age of a better education system, medical programs, and an improved economy. Yeah is also an inspiration for all those who wish to get more involved, especially students, and he offers this advice:
"You cannot do it alone. I cannot do this alone. It takes people to believe that change is possible. You know, a Harvard professor said, 'How do you measure the worth of your life? It’s not in terms of things you accumulate, but in terms of the impact you made on the lives of others. That’s how you measure the worth of your life.' We cannot self-pity and believe that we’re too small to do anything, that we’re too alone to do anything. We need to get started. We need to get involved. The greatest happiness, the greatest joy, does not come from the things we have, but from the service we render to others… However big the challenge is, let’s get to work. Most people can make a big difference. With an organization like Empower, all you need to do is ask the members of it. You will be directed to do small things that will not take your focus away from you education, but it your spare time you can use it to get people involved, to inspire other students. That’s where it starts. You cannot wait until you’re city councilman to do things in your city. You can start now, as a student. Not only will you help others, but you will be the first recipient of the benefits of your service. It’s a training program for leadership skills. So, while doing so, you will build personality for yourself while you’re making an impact on the lives of others. Today, you don’t need to travel to New York to raise money in New York. We are in the age of technology, where we can do a lot of things… You are special because you believe and can make a difference. You can look into the eyes of the children in Africa without even traveling, saying, 'We can provide education for this girl, or for this boy.' You are doing it from here. Tell others about it. Most people want to help but they have no idea where to start. One day at a time. One evening at a time. One meeting at a time. You can encourage each other, you can inspire each other."

Edinburgh and St. Andrews, Scotland

The first four days in Scotland have been incredible.

Paige, Natalie, Hannah, Nathan, and I arrived a day before the rest of the group, catching a ride on a double-decker bus from the airport and spending the night in a seedy, but overwhelmingly hip hostel called the High Street Hostel on a side road called Blackfriars. Nearly everyone had piercings, weird, shaved heads, or long, scraggly beards. We slept in a smelly, cramped room with sixteen other men and women, all speaking different languages from all over the world. Even though I didn’t relish the idea of sleeping just a couple feet away from strange men, we’ve made it a point to experience everything we can on this trip. That night, we were joined by Becca and we wandered around the city until dark, eating dinner at an upscale pub called Tiles. Though it wasn’t authentic Scottish cuisine (which saddened me to no end), it was still delicious.
 The next day we were joined by a few more members of the group, and spent the day wandering around the city. Edinburgh (pronounced: edden-BRO) is perhaps one of the most beautiful cities on earth. It’s multi-layered, winding, stone-stacked and rain-stained, an organic marriage of the modern and the ancient.

On a single street, you’ll pass dozens of tourist shops, touting all things plaid, diners serving haggis, neeps, and tatties—neeps and tatties are mashed turnips and potatoes; haggis is ground sheep intestines and oatmeal—all of which are surprisingly delicious, and various hole-in-the-wall cafes and bistros. We wandered into St. Mary’s, praying in the beautiful, vaulted cathedral after mass. That night (on recommendation from Professor Duerden, our Shakespeare professor), a small, brave group of us went to the Beltane Fire Festival up on Calton Hill. It was a huge pagan celebration heralding the arrival of summer. There was a procession of people playing drums and painted like demons, dancing with fire up the ruins on a hill, and lots and lots of men and women painted entirely red, dancing around bonfires, wearing nothing but tiny loincloths. It was an interesting experience observing such an ancient ritual. It was so packed we could barely move, but, because it was freezing, we didn’t mind too much. It was definitely an interesting cultural experience!

The next morning, we visited Edinburgh Castle. It overlooks the city like a monolith, the temperature dropping significantly at the top. The castle had a chapel, a cemetery for the royal dogs, cannons, prisons and dungeons, and a great hall. Hannah assisted a Scottish man in a kilt with a demonstration in how to fold a kilt (he called her “UTAH”, because that’s what she said after he asked her where she was from, after answering “’MURICA.”). He also sang “Oklahoma!” to me, which was fantastic. It was amazing to think of everything that occurred at the castle and everyone who once lived there.
Later that day, we hiked up to Arthur’s Seat. Arthur’s Seat is a mini-mountain on the edge of Edinburgh, covered in the greenest of grass. Hiking to the top, you really feel like you are in the presence of the ancients. You can see the sea from the top. It was extremely windy and, as we balanced at the peak, we were constantly reminded of our own mortality. We were able to view the entire city.

That night, a group of us went on a haunted tour of the city. Our tour guide was imperiously tall, was clad in a black cloak, and creeped around like a graceful velociraptor. He also whipped Nathan with a black whip (don’t worry, he didn’t draw blood). After leading us around, tell us stories of historical tortures and hangings, he took us four stories underground into the vaults, where he told us true ghost stories of recent sightings that happened in the catacombs. Pat’s young daughters were perhaps the only people who weren’t scared.

This morning, we took a train and then a coach (bus) to the coastal, college town of St. Andrews (pronounced: suh-TAN-drews), where we met the essayist Chris Arthur. After walking to an ancient cemetery, we hiked to the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen. It was wild and melancholy, covered in rocks, shells, barnacles, and white and green sea glass. As we sat upon the shore, he lectured us on the process of writing an essay and signed our books. The wind nipped our faces and fingertips, the gulls cried, and we felt fearless and unified with nature as we leapt like mountain goats from rock to rock, and climbed the giant formation called Rock and Spindle, which inspired Arthur to write an essay. As we combed the coast for precious fossils of sea life and death, I thought about man’s pointless efforts to improve on nature. How more perfect could the jagged ridges of a shell, the multi-hued stripes of a stone, the rhythmic, moon-driven tide, the lonely cry of a gull be? I was, in that moment, absolutely convinced that everything made by the finger of God should remain untouched by the finger of man. We rode the train home and I sat by a elderly Scottish man who carefully propped the pages of his newspaper away from me so he could be sure that I couldn’t read over his shoulder, which was fine with me because I was able to get caught up on my journal on the two-hour ride home. Later tonight, we went to see a play called “The Sash”, which was apparently a social commentary. I wouldn’t know because I fell asleep in the first three minutes and woke up to everyone applauding in the end. The only thing I can tell you about it is that the actors’ accents were so thick, you could hardly understand a word they were saying. Then, a few of us went and had ice cream at a place on the corner called After’s, which was sweet, satisfying, but made us freezing on the walk home.

Tomorrow, we have to wake up at eight to catch the coach to Loch Lomond. Edinburgh has been absolutely incredible and we’ve loved every minute of it.

Cheers!

Favorite Things Friday

I've decided to start what I hope will be a tradition... posting about one of my favorite things every Friday. Good things are meant to be shared, so let the sharing begin!

As it is only two days before I fly to the UK, I'm feeling a little sentimental as I think about my family. Since I decided to come back to BYU immediately after I return, it will have been approximately 350, 633 minutes since my little sisters tugged on my shirt and asked me to have a sleepover with them. 350, 633 minutes since my little brothers and I read The Hobbit aloud to each other, each of us trying to make our Gollum voice creepier than the others.  350, 633 minutes since I had a picnic in our backyard teepee, or nuzzled my grizzly, graying poodle, Beau, or simply laid on my own trampoline while I listened to the sweet disharmony of grasshopper violins, hummingbird harps, and frog bassoons. My eyes will have blinked 5, 259, 495 times. My heart will have beaten 26, 297, 475 times. I will have lost 204, 535, 800 skin cells (that's about eight layers of skin). These facts are utterly useless, but they expose how jam-packed, how deliberate, how meaningful every moment is in our lives. Even when stationary, our lives are a blur.

Because I have my family on my mind, I can't help but think about the song my dad would sing to me and my older sister when we were little; he now sings it to my two younger sisters. It's the kind of song that makes you feel safe and warm and perfectly nestled in a bear-like father's hug. Enjoy the song, but be warned-- you may feel the sudden urge to go call your dad and tell him that you love him.

On Schoolmageddon and Schrödinger's Cat

End of school-years always make me a little melancholy. Am I relieved that the grindstone will shortly be removed from my nose? Oh, absolutely. When examining the wall where you've progressively recorded your height over the years, marking the great, oblivious achievement of your own cell growth and regeneration, you never wish to return to that smaller world of your 3'7" self. But the reason why we even keep those reminders of how once we were less is the same reason why I want to snatch these last few precious days and just hold on to them for a little while. That short distance of two inches between two black lines on a blank, plaster wall signifies a year. And a year is just so much. This year was just so much.

You'd think that after two years at college, I'd finally "get it down" (whatever "it" is... still haven't figured it out...). But life is leveled to make you never feel like a pro. If you feel like a pro, you're probably doing something terribly wrong and will want to check up on that. That's kind of the beauty of proactive living, though. If you're progressing then you should never be bored.

A week from this moment, I will be on a rickety plane over the blue Atlantic, finally on my way to the land of lochs and haggis. All I can think about is that long walk from Edinburgh to London. I will pick up one hideously clunky, hiking boot-shod foot and place it in front of another, and do it again, and again, and keep doing it until I've lost count and all the steps blend together in a sea of bleak, heath-coated moors. I'll probably go mad.

If I don't, though, I hope some sort of transcendence happens. I hope that somewhere along the trail, at some point in those hundreds of miles, I'll find the chain that's been dangling in the dark and snap on that light bulb that's been gathering dust somewhere out in land of destiny. Destiny is probably the wrong word, though, because I'm a humanist... Prospect? Potential? Schrödinger's cat? All I know is that everything I used to be and will be and am are somehow rolled into one and instead of viewing myself as a series of timely marks, I'll finally see the eternalness of my being. "Am" is not linear. But being flat, second-by-second people, we have to add a "was" and a "will be" to wrap our mortal minds around it. Perhaps it's heretical to marry the principles of divine nature and quantum mechanics, but I'm hoping for a moment in the journey where I can stand in the middle and see both the future and the past, smudge those two inches marked on the wall (such a small measurement  for something so immeasurable), and feel the same cells I've always been split and multiply into something I've never been before. It's always been me. But it's never been this. 

Maybe it really will be just a hike across the United Kingdom. But nothing is ever just a space between two black lines on a plaster wall.

Damsels in Denial

As LDS women, we are in a crisis… an identity crisis.

Too often in our race to the happily-ever-after finish line, we jump that chasm between Young Womanhood medallions and temple marriage without ever really examining its depth. Perhaps too much of our worth is derived from Facebook relationship statuses and ring fingers. As little girls, we are submerged in vibrant, melodious romps through fairytale kingdoms and magical forests, we are indoctrinated by plotlines with outcomes dependent upon a princely savior, and we are bludgeoned with piano lessons and casserole recipes for the deliberate purpose of transforming us into human dowries.

I hold romances partially responsible. Few women can resist the lure of being swept off their feet by a handsome hero, every trouble eliminated at the prospect of being valued by an individual other than oneself. Is it really such a surprise that some of the most poorly written texts ever to be published have somehow evolved into national bestsellers due to their seductively liberating and reality-averting material? Even in renowned, well-written literature with “independent” and “feisty” heroines such as Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice, the leading ladies are reduced to roles in which the resolutions to their own stories depend upon another character, namely the love interest.

Another culprit is the dark side of Mormon culture. Separate from the gospel, the stagnation that accompanies the locus of our population breeds social norms we feel obligated to comply to. We’ve breathed life into and given flesh to this idea of success and self-actualization through a young marriage after a rapid courtship, fueled by hormone-induced domestic yearnings and the narrow interpretation of a rather ambiguous and wide-ranging commandment: multiply and replenish the earth. How shameful that, in our haste to comply with the norm (to feel like good Mormons, of course) we lose sight of our potential within. There is not a cell in my body that believes our Heavenly Father would have blessed us with so many talents, prospects, capabilities, ideas, and interests if He did not intend for us to spend a significant amount of time exploring and developing them all.

Too often, we are told to get an education or some sort of basic training “just in case” we are, by some frightful, husband-disengaging circumstance, called upon to provide for our families. Can’t we see how damaging this kind of mentality is? Don’t we see how puny our subsistence must be if that is the only reason we would choose to educate ourselves? No, no, and no again! We deserve to be educated, not because we might end up old spinsters, not because we might need to someday provide for our families, and not even because we are women, but because we are human beings… and for that simple reason alone, we cannot justify an existence without it. We must learn for ourselves and through ourselves and to ourselves and by ourselves, and not for any other person. We must seek after all the education we can in order to become like our Heavenly Father.

That gap between life roles that so many young women are too eager to jump expands with education. It colors with exposure. It develops texture with experience. It deepens with wisdom and life lessons learned. How sad that so many girls blindly leap without daring to explore the jungle of possibilities beneath. Life is so very vast—we must not cheat ourselves out of a world rich with adventure because we are afraid of being alone.

Being alone is essential to knowing oneself and forming an identity. True personal identity is constructed totally independent of others; attempting to form your own identity around another human being is like trying to build a sand castle that partially resides on the back of a turtle. Being alone can be scary, though, and is often looked down upon in our society as being undesirable. It takes a lot of bravery to forge your own path, build your own future, and form your own identity independent of others. So many women in our church sidestep this refining process because it seems so much easier to be with someone else. The other person becomes the savior from the misty, vague lands of the unknown. In reality, the knight in shining armor does not save the damsel in distress from a fearsome dragon, but rather a damsel in denial from cutting her own path in a boundless and unfamiliar world. Yet, what a monarch is the woman who brings herself happiness with her own presence, her own choices, her own skin! We emphasize self-love, but we must also make ourselves into something we would love. To achieve the kind of self-respect that comes with contentment of only God’s and one’s own approval of self is a rare and priceless triumph! Let every human being seek for that level of satisfaction in their own value.

It must be understood that identities are not formed in relationships—identities are fused in relationships. Whatever is built between two people will be ripped apart if the relationship does not last. It is for this reason that women must realize how they jeopardize their sense of self when they seek to fill the holes within themselves with another person. Holes of hurt, doubt, fear, dissatisfaction, brokenness, and unhappiness can only truly be filled by the one who retains them… using another person as a band-aid may mask the pain for a short time, but in the long-term impedes any true healing from occurring. Too frequently do women use relationships with men as masks to disguise the sometimes painful tasks, problems, and questions that lurk internally.

I hope I have not misrepresented the divine roles of wifedom and motherhood in my promotion for identity and emotional independence. I believe that to be a wife and mother, and to belong to a family, are the greatest things one can do upon the earth and in the eternities. Yet, they must be entered into for the right reasons, and they are not the only great things we can and must do. We only have one life to live—why rush it?

Not as women, but as human beings, we must learn to forge our own identities that we can love and be proud of. We must cease to be in denial and face ourselves and our futures with bravery and hope. We must learn to heal our own wounds. We must learn to fix our own problems. We must learn to save ourselves. We must become the heroes of our own stories.

On Squash and Self-Belief

Mondays can be murderous, Tuesday turbulent, Wednesdays warped and winding, Thursdays thick with thwarting thorns, Fridays freaking fearsome, Saturdays sickening, but Sundays... Sundays are serene. After a long week of projects, presentations, confusion, frustration, thwarted plans, lost money, failed job opportunities, and the general wear-and-tear that accompanies any sort of big-girl decision making, having a day to reflect and ponder can be some of the best balm.

 

Yesterday, I sat down with my mom on the phone, going over the finances for my upcoming trip abroad. After reviewing every avenue of possible funding, taking into account the failures of the week, I saw this big, gaping hole of invisible money staring back at me. I had no idea where it was going to come from, and neither did my mom.

 

"Mom!" I said, beginning to freak out in true Morgan fashion. "How could you put down hundreds of non-refundable dollars down on this trip when you don't even know if it's going to work out? I don't know how I can get this chunk of money!"

 

"Me either," she replied, infinitely calmer than she should be when so much of the green stuff is involved. "But, what I do know is that you prayed about this trip and you felt like it was important in your life for you to go. That's good enough for me. I have all the faith in the world that, if you feel like you need to do this, you will absolutely make it happen. These hundreds of dollars we've already spent are nothing if it teaches you how much confidence I have in you. Don't doubt yourself."

 

I was absolutely floored. I couldn't tell if my mom was crazy or the absolute best mom in the entire world. Today, I've had time to reflect on the importance of what she taught me. I thought of a quote I saw the other day:

 

"If it's important to you, you'll find a way. If not, you'll find an excuse."

 

In our world today, there are so many amazing success stories of people overcoming insurmountable odds... people who accomplish things that no one ever thought possible. I believe that the one thing that divides the winners from the losers is the belief that they can win. Really realizing that today has been so healing. So good. It made the trials and the doubts and the frustrations absolutely worth it. I believed that we are allowed to be totally thrashed by life in order for us to be smoothed over with new, fresh perspectives and confidence in ourselves.

 

Confession: I love squash. That stuff is medicine to a battered belly. So, to go along with that bit of soul-healing, here's my recipe for a soup that softens a rough week and fills the stomach with warm, buttery goodness.

 

Vegan, Low-Cal Butternut-Squash Soup

 

For the vegetable broth, you'll need:

• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 onions chopped into large chunks
• 2 stalks of celery, chopped
• 2 shallots, chopped into large chunks
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• a couple pinches/sprigs of thyme
• 1.5 teaspons of fine-grain sea salt
• 8 cups of water

For the soup, you'll need:

• 1 teaspoon olive oil
• .5 cup chopped onion
• sage
• salt
• ground black pepper
• 3 cups of vegetable broth
• 1 medium to large butternut-squash

First, heat the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large pot over high heat. Saute the vegetables and thyme until soft and browned, then add salt and water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and let it simmer for around 45 minutes. Strain. All you need for this recipe is 3 cups, so put in a bowl and freeze for later use!

 

During the last fifteen minutes of letting your broth simmer, take your butternut-squash and puncture it all over with a knife. There are many ways to get it soft (like boiling, broiling, roasting, etc.). I like my food to be made as quickly as possible, so I just throw the squash in the microwave for 7-15 minutes. Be careful... it comes out very hot! Peel and cut into large chunks. Your broth should be ready, so as the three cups of vegetable broth are still simmering, dump your chunks of soft squash into the pot.

 

 

Puree the broth and squash together with a hand-held emulsion blender, leaving soft chunks if you prefer a little texture, or blending it all the way if you like it creamy. If you don't have an emulsion blender, you can use a food processor before you put the squash in the broth. Add thyme, black pepper, and salt to your taste. I like to start out with a teaspoon of each, but I always end up dumping in quite a lot, so I just keep adding and tasting until I'm satisfied.

 

 

 
My favorite side to go with this delicious soup are chopped and sauteed Brussels sprouts and portabello mushrooms with black pepper and a little garlic.
 

 
 
This meal is perfect for chilly nights or when you need a pick me up. It's delectably guiltless, so it's okay to eat your feelings. Best part about it? Somehow, it's even more scrumptious the next day.
 

 

Happy eating!