January or Bust: The Hidden Values Within Our Goal-Oriented Mindsets

For many of us, January offers a fresh start. It’s a month to plan, set personal goals, improve our habits, or take up that new 10-step program. One of my colleague’s goals is to “optimize sleep” this year, while another is taking on a 52-book challenge. Whether you’re the type of person who delves head long into setting goals, or prefers to avoid it, the “rationally ordered methods for making human activity more efficient” (a concept dubbed “Technique”), is so pervasive in our culture that it affects each of us personally, often in ways that we don’t realize. 

Jacques Ellul was a 20th century French philosopher and theologian who wrote extensively on “technique.” Ellul pointed out that while technique’s rigor, applied to science and engineering, made possible the rapid advancement of technology, it has also permeated and shaped our society: our culture, education, how we make friends, how we think about ourselves, and how we measure our success or even our life’s meaning. Consider our daily checklists and routines, productivity apps, social media, 5-steps programs, life-hacking, algorithms that search for the perfect partner, the corporate latter, or annual goal setting - these technical methods offer efficient, linear, and easier shortcuts to living.  

Take a moment to think about the analogies we use to describe ourselves. How often do you think, “I need to unplug”, “recharge”, or “reboot.” It’s “nose to the grindstone” again. “I wish I could slow down”, “get into a routine”, and “increase my bandwidth?” We are using technological metaphors to describe ourselves. Yet, in this thoughtful podcast I came across, two professors point out that Jesus described people using natural metaphors, such as sheep, flowers, seeds, branches, and sparrows, with two notable exceptions that were meant to reprove the religious elite of their technique-encumbered practices [1]. What's more, Jesus and his father were professional carpenters who quite literally would have used the grindstone to sharpen their tools on a regular basis. The Greek word used to describe Jesus’ profession is “tekton”, a craftsman, which is related to our word for technologist [2]. He was a maker, surely employing various techniques to shape the world around him to create technology. Jesus employed technique, but it is not how he described himself.

I humbly admit that I tend to view myself as a machine. I am the recipient of inputs that are external to me, and which I often wish I had more control over: be it my diet, calendar, exercise, a clean house, or the vast resources and information available to me. Then there is me, the (hopefully) well-oiled machine, whose job is to make something meaningful - to achieve the goals set before me. The more efficient I am at managing the inputs, the more productive my output. Like dominoes, it's a matter of arranging all the pieces and setting them into motion.   

 

 

This realization challenged me. What am I saying about myself when I use tech-centered metaphors? How do I embrace a more human, more natural, and, for the Christians in the crowd, a more biblical approach to setting measurable goals? How do we employ technique, rather than be consumed by it? When I read Psalm 1, the analogy of a tree planted by streams of water resonates more deeply, more holistically with me than that of a machine.

“Blessed is the one whose delight is in the law of the Lord… That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, whose leaf does not whither – whatever they do prospers."

A sketch of Psalm 1 from my journal (no judging, I'm an engineer)

The metaphor of a tree has several values that are distinct from that of a machine. Here are a few that I can spot, but I encourage you to think of others.

Independent vs. Interdependent 

A machine is independent, so long as its inputs are adequately controlled within what engineers refer to as "the control volume." People and resources become cogs in the system. I am the focal point and success depends on me. But a tree is interdependent and is only as healthy as its environment. When we are overwhelmed or unproductive, the machine in us pushes harder, relying on our own strength, and "rests" only to recalibrate ourselves or fix others. "If only [insert change], then I would [insert outcome]." When what we really need is to be deeply rooted in our relationships, present to our surroundings, and connected to God. This rooted-ness re-orients our priorities and inspires our creative and mundane work.

 

The next time you think “I don’t have enough bandwidth," recognize that this metaphor suggests you are a machine that should increase its bandwidth, or exercise more control over its inputs. Instead, if we say, “I need to root myself deeper in good soil,” immediately we are challenged to consider the health of our ecosystem and our connection to it.

Goals vs Fruit

The machine follows a linear process that churns out predictable results, or in this case, goals. On the other hand, fruit is the byproduct of a dynamic growth-oriented process. As such, we don’t know the exact quality, quantity, shape, or size of the fruit. Nevertheless, we can (and should!) envision, with hopeful anticipation, what the fruit of our lives may look and taste like. We can even ask ourselves what steps should we take to nourish that fruit and measure that progress. The subtle shift is from being goal-centric to growth-centric, from achieving to becoming, and from prescribing to nourishing.

Routines vs Rhythms

 

The machine, along with everything that interacts with it, follows routines, and deviations from its prescription cause chaos. But a productive tree gracefully accepts the rhythms of life, be it rain, sun, or perhaps a bit of pruning. It is agile, robust, open to interruption, and thankful in the midst of change. Rhythm allows room for grace and growth, in a way that rote routine cannot.

 

Take for example, my two toddlers, who on several occasions have interrupted my focused work time by spilling their milk on the living room rug in the midst of a heated argument over a toy. My concentration is broken, our household rules have been crossed, and I feel my blood begin to boil. In that moment, I am tempted to enforce the rules with a heavy hand, reinforcing our family's prescribed routines and rules, akin to a programmer debugging an algorithm. 

 

But what I’ve found, after many unsuccessful attempts, is that the application of the law, and more generally, technique-based discipline, is a temporary and incomplete remedy. Rather, the example I set is far more important than the fix I employ. The outcome of parenting my children, and indeed my life’s work, is not determined so much by the techniques I employ, but by the source (the "vine" as Jesus says about himself in Matthew 15:5), that I am drawing from.

By responding to my children with affection and grace, I lay the groundwork for heart and character transformation [3]. This is real fruit that is much sweeter than any behavior modification, which even a machine can be programmed to mimic. On my better days, I recognize the rhythm of the moment, and participate in my calling to be a parent for 5-minutes before calmly resuming work. I gently and firmly restore order (often through a practical technique like the “1, 2, 3 Method”), but more importantly, I help restore a right understanding and right relationship between God, myself, and my children.

Product vs Process

 

The tree is a vessel, a steward of things already valuable. Phloem and xylem are critical to distributing valuable nutrients and water to and from the soil, and chlorophyll for converting sunlight into a usable form of energy. Even the tree's detritus is valuable to its surroundings. Like a tree, our work is a process of transforming value from one form to another, whereas technique emphasizes our output, especially anything new and revolutionary, over the input or the process. How does this relate to goals? I don’t think our goals necessarily need to be revolutionary in order to be valuable, and the means can be just as important as the end. In this broader context, there is great value in even our most ordinary everyday work.

Here’s to a fruitful 2023!
 

Fake Advertising

While visiting my old stomping grounds in rural upstate New York this Christmas, I had the chance to catch up with some old friends who, despite their opportunities to leave, chose to remain in our hometown. The area is struggling economically and suffering from the opioid endemic. The nearest town of about 30,000 doesn’t offer all the glamour and diversity that larger, up and coming cities afford. Yet, my friends are deeply rooted in the community, and committed to making a difference. They are teaching in schools where the senior class is 40 students or less, converting their barn into a local CrossFit so people can work out in the cold wintry months, preaching sermons on loving those outside their comfort zone, providing rehab classes for drug addicts, building friendships with the small contingent of Muslims at the local Islamic society, and renovating old industrial buildings into coffee shops. 

On the flip side, I came across this article in the airport as I was departing NY. The article describes a couple paid $200k per year to “travel” (“advertise”, really). As they confess, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Chasing the next expense-free trip ad contract, they’ve lost the ability to travel authentically - as a means of curiosity, education, and service - while maintaining the mirage that the nomadic life is the norm, the new American dream. This is treacherous, as it turns people into anxious consumers. After all, what are they really advertising: a vacation destination or a way of life that can only be lived vicariously through Instagram?

Almost all of us have experienced that the more we attach ourselves to social media, the more prone we become to comparing ourselves to others. Social media, when used to promulgate a virtual lifestyle, is a breeding ground for FOMO.

Admittedly, I sometimes will seek out the next travel opportunity partly due to a fear of missing out. But when I think back to my friends in NY, I am challenged to step back and think about the roots I am growing in the community around me. One could say that a town, or even a life, is only as glamorous as the community and commitments that knit and bind it together. Ultimately, what the world needs, what we need, is to resist the sway of social media and FOMO, and be true to our own calling.

AGOA or NOGOA

In an effort to foster local textile manufacturing, Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania have committed to phasing out the importation of Second-Hand Clothes (SHC) from the United States by 2019, despite the United States’ looming threat to reconsider the East African Community (EAC) members’ eligibility for duty-free access to the American market under the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA). The move has sparked widespread debate, as the ban would directly affect governments, businesses, and the poor, in East Africa and the US alike. As an American who is deeply passionate about understanding and tackling the roots of global poverty, this issue challenges me to wrestle with all sorts of practical and ideological questions... 

Is America’s aid policy hampering African development? 

Is it fair for the EAC to be removed from AGOA?

What is AGOA anyhow, and is it any good? 

And of course, is it morally dubious to sell used clothes to Africans?

Where do we take our stance? 

The Ethics of Selling Second-Hand-Clothes

What may surprise many, including myself, is that our donated clothes are sold for profit to the EAC, and around the world, for that matter. While seemingly incredulous at first, freely donating clothes would undercut local textiles even more. An illuminating study by CUTS International reports, “the cotton produced in Africa (EAC) is spun and woven in Asia, converted into apparels and shipped to the USA and EU to be worn for 2-3 years and shipped back to Africa (EAC) as used clothing, to clothe up to 70% of the African population.” The demand for local fabric in the EAC is low precisely because the “fabric market is choked by SHC, which has led to the closure of several [at least six] textile mills” in Kenya and Uganda. 

As development leaders will point out (i.e. Paul Polak), donations and government subsidies undercut local manufacturing and prevent the economic forces of supply and demand from shaping new markets.

Furthermore, American’s typically perceive used clothes as worn, tattered, and out of date, especially the ones donated to Africa. But that isn’t always the case. At the marketplaces where I lived in Rwanda, the used clothes were of surprisingly good quality and I would shop there. I even brought the clothes back to the States and wore them without anyone noticing (or at least saying anything)! There is significantly more overlap between the used and new clothes markets in East Africa than in America.

AGOA and United States Aid

AGOA is a piece of US legislation first signed into law by President Clinton in 2000. At it’s core, the AGOA initiative is designed to increase Africa’s access to the US market by providing duty-free entry to the US, with a provision specifically encouraging “textiles and apparel” exports from developing countries in Africa to the US. In light of this, shouldn’t a ban, or the tariffs recently imposed by the EAC, be promoted under AGOA? Increasing prices on second-hand clothes would foster African textile mills, build local economies, and encourage EAC exports of textiles and apparel to the US, a primary objective of AGOA. However, in response to Rwanda's recent tariff hike on SHC from $0.20/kg to $2.50/kg, the US is reconsidering Rwanda's eligibility for AGOA membership.

There is a not-so-subtle conflict of interest written into the eligibility criteria for countries participating under AGOA. The criteria state that beneficiaries must “promote the development of private enterprise” within their country and work toward “the elimination of barriers to United States trade and investment”. The exportation of SHC from the US is aligned with America’s trade interests but at odds with the development of private textile enterprises in the EAC. It is by the latter criterion that President Trump may choose to disqualify Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania from AGOA. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time the US has enacted aid programs encumbered by self-interest. Bill Clinton’s trade policy forced Haiti to drop its tariffs on US rice exports, resulting in the obliteration of Haitian rice farming, with a plus up for Arkansas’ rice farmers (Clinton apologized in 2010). Moreover, during the Cold War, as development economist Dambisa Moyo writes, aid was the tool of a political contest, given not by “how deserving a country might be… but rather the willingness of a desperately impoverished country to ally itself with one camp or another” (Dead Aid, p 14).

So which is it? Aid or trade? When the rubber meets the road, one criterion will take precedence over the other. The answer depends on the motives and priorities behind AGOA. Interestingly, the AGOA website never describes the program as “aid,” but rather as bilateral trade. However, its apparel provision is unequivocally focused on the growth of “lesser developed” countries, and the Seychelles was “graduated out of AGOA… due to the country gaining developed country status." AGOA seems to be trade, with a humanitarian "aid" mission. 

That said, the data highlights the United States’ obvious preference for African minerals and oil over textiles. The plots below depict the recent imports/exports from Nigeria and the DR Congo (major sources of oil and minerals), as well as the EAC. Remember, AGOA aims to increase Africa’s market access, or in other words, increase exports from Africa to the US. But the EAC consistently has a negative trade balance. Despite AGOA providing a provision specifically for African apparel, the US, in practice, prefers to foster oil and mineral exports from Africa. Personally, I think the EAC should be encouraged to produce a product worth exporting under AGOA. Furthermore, I am excited to see how the new “Made in Rwanda” initiative will encourage Rwandan creativity, design, and entrepreneurship, in markets beyond just textiles. 

On a philosophical note, I wrestle with whether it is beneficial to foster African exports, in light of globalization and industrialism? Take Nigeria for instance. As a result of AGOA, Nigeria’s economy is becoming more dependent on America’s demand, and the global supply, for oil. Similarly, the success of Rwandan coffee growers (currently an export under AGOA) hinges on our cravings for caffeine and the whims of the market. If (and that is an if) AGOA exists to satiate our culture of Hummers and Starbucks, at the expense of African jobs and creativity, at what point does our trade policy, and even our aid policy, become a form of economic colonialism? Furthermore, does a country’s participation in the global economic arena require its industrialization? When it came to the revival of villages in the face of industrialization, Gandhi wrote,

The revival of the village is possible only when it is no more exploited. Industrialization on a mass scale will necessarily lead to passive or active exploitation of the villagers as the problems of competition and marketing come in. Therefore we have to concentrate on the village being self-contained, manufacturing mainly for use. 

As Gandhi was extremely skeptical of industrialization (to put it lightly), due to its potential for worker exploitation, social stratification, and unsustainable urbanization, so must we be cognizant of policies that promote unsustainable socio-economic systems in Africa. 

Alternatives to banning Second-Hand-Clothes

Of course, a ban on used clothes could backfire on the EAC by removing the poor’s access to affordable clothes and putting local resellers at risk of closing. Last year, Zimbabwe reversed its ban on use clothes for the sake of the effected poor. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that the ban will help East African garment makers as Asian producers will provide stiff competition.

This article explains a few alternatives, including a ban on certain types of clothes, such as undergarments or high-quality used clothes, and a phased approach that would ease tensions with the US and allowing local industry to develop over time. 

For example, the US could negotiate with the EAC a price and/or tax increase on US clothes exports that is mutually beneficial. US businesses selling SHC could increase their prices and the the US government could place an export tax on SHC exports to the EAC, commensurate to the EAC’s import tax. The effect would be the same on EAC consumers and textile industries (an increase in the price of used clothes), but the extra revenue would be shared among the governments and US businesses.

In summary, I believe the US should retain Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania's membership under AGOA and work with East Africa to negotiate a phased or partial ban on SHC. Furthermore, the US should be more consistent in its application of AGOA, by encouraging African manufacturing and exports over US imports, and not preferring oil over textiles.

Of Dogs and Men

Today, Patti and I took a stroll around San Francisco's Union Square, without much of an agenda except to meet people and practice street photography. We ended up meeting Jay, and his dog, Pepper, on the side of a busy corner where we chatted over some Starbucks about his journey from Southern California to SF. A few blocks later we ran into Ari and his dog, Chico. Ari was a legit fellow - he was friendly, knew his scripture, and had a great smile. We talked for half an hour about how to clean shrimp and the value of generously celebrating the lives of those we love before they pass away. 
                  

Ari and his dog, Chico

Jay and his dog, Pepper

We prayed together before parting ways and Ari was very encouraged and spoke of God's favor resting on some people but not others because they've "been in a bad way", referring in part to himself. But now, he said, he hoped that would change. 

The beauty of carving out time in our lives to be spontaneous, or just having the mindfulness to set our own agendas aside for even a moment, is that it shifts the focus away from ourselves. And if we can step outside of ourselves and the walls that we have created (the comfortable house in the hills, shopping malls, holiday getaways, badge-only access to work), then we begin to connect with the needs, the beauty, and the unique stories of others.

It's not unlike hiking, where I often have to remind myself to look up from the roots on the trail in front of me in order to experience the people and places that surround me. 

As for these gents and their dogs, we didn't have a plan, we didn't hand out a meal, we didn't solve anyone's problems, but I think that's ok. Their stories are worth hearing, and that alone is reason enough to pause. 

And because Macy's was supporting dogs up for adoption through the SPCA, they had this pup on display in their window. Adopt a dog! :) 

Note: Out of respect, the individuals' names were changed and permission was asked to post photos online.

Happy Two-Month Anniversary!

Patti and I celebrating our two-month anniversary hours after my surgery.

Three days after returning home from our seven-week globetrotting honeymoon the right side of my neck is swollen like a softball, and I find myself, for the first time, lying in a hospital bed. An elusive infection in my lymph nodes has caused severe inflammation extending from my right ear down to my windpipe and from my cheek over to my shoulder. I'm barraged by daily blood tests, CT scans and ultrasounds, antibiotics that irritate my veins, IVs swapped every other day, and pain medication that makes me loopy and fatigued. Uncertain of the specific diagnosis, the conscious me sits on the sidelines of my own battlefield, watching patiently for the size of my neck to shrink or grow, tipping the scales in favor of my body or an unseen enemy. But one thing is certain: when reciting our vows, Patti and I never thought the "sickness" part of "in sickness and in health" would be played out so early in our marriage.

Sure, the circumstances seem pretty gloomy for a newlywed couple, but in some ways the hospital has been more restful than our honeymoon, gallivanting throughout Southeast Asia in search of beaches, diving, and cultural excursions. Compared to some of the AirBnBs we stayed at, the hospital is definitely cleaner, my sheets are changed daily, and there is hot water and a working thermostat, not to mention breakfast, lunch, and dinner are included! To our surprise, the service is actually on par with the resort we stayed at in the Maldives; the staff addresses me by name and knows I would prefer the honey-glazed chicken over the Asian cod. Dare I say, with my window view, I might even be getting a hospital tan.

Yet our "extended honeymoon" has a much more profound meaning to me in the sense that it has defined and shaped the beginnings of our marriage in a way that no resort or beach ever could. Despite the sleepless nights and my growing inability to perform daily tasks, like changing my gown or eating solid food, Patti has patiently been at my side, never complaining and never worrying. She's grown a sense for what I need, a glass of water or a blanket for my feet, before I even know I need it, and she cheerfully takes the initiative to help. Sometimes, she even sneaks into my hospital bed so we can play games and watch Netflix together, never mind the nurse saying something about a hospital policy and the bed's weight limit. Other times we just sit in silence, tapping away on our cell phones, contently side by side. She walks with me the same 4th floor figure-eight loop hallway to which I am restricted, over and over, until I reach my daily step goal. Suffice to say, I have grown to deeply appreciate and cherish my wife, just as she has grown to love and care for me, as a result of our unintentional honeymoon extension.

It is Friday afternoon, the day of our two-month anniversary, and my fifth day in the hospital. There are still no signs that the swelling is subsiding. The ENT surgeon walks into my room after viewing my CT scan from a half hour ago. The scan reveals a large abscess filled with liquefied tissue forming in my neck, which is preventing the antibiotics from reaching the bacteria. He wants to perform surgery immediately to drain the abscess. Waiting could risk the infection spreading to my heart or brain. Surgery poses its own risks of course. The carotid artery, windpipe, vocal chords, and a bundle of nerves are all near the abscess. This is our hardest moment, when uncertainties and realities begin to merge. And while the choice is clear, the repercussions are not. Tissues in hand, we go ahead with the surgery that evening. Before I'm put under, Patti and I read Psalm 138 together, finding comfort in the last verses:

"Your love, Lord, endures forever - do not abandon the works of your hands."       

- Psalm 138:8

A praise, a reassurance, and an imperative, all rolled up in one.

I woke up, slowly. Groggily, I recall Patti leaning over the gurney with a big grin. The surgery went well, the doctors were able to drain more than anticipated, and within hours my pain had nearly vanished. Now, as I finish writing this a week later, I am told I could be discharged within a day or two. The swelling has diminished but it will still take another couple of weeks of rest and antibiotics until the infection is completely cleared up. But alas, an end to our honeymoon is in sight.

This may sound strange to some, but I recall during my first week in the hospital, while resting with my eyes closed, a vision of a large wooden door, made from strong thick timbers, and built into a stone archway. I step back and look above the door to discover our names, "Kyle and Patti Gaiser" engraved in the mossy stone. The archway is built into an even thicker layer of rock, which is built into the side of a mountain. The image confers an overwhelming sense of encouragement and peace, affirming that through these events God is laying the groundwork for our marriage - a solid foundation, built on a rock that cannot be easily toppled.

Touring the Stagecoach 400

“Everybody goes armed here. If a man has no shirt to his back he will have his knife in his belt.”

 - Phocion Way, San Antonio to San Diego Mail Line Passenger, 1858 [http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=25066]

The Stagecoach 400 bikepacking route. The blue is the first 225 miles, the route for which I signed up to ride.

Times have certainly changed in the 157 years since Phocian Way passaged what is now known as the Great Southern Overland Stage Route, America’s first transcontinental mail service that stretched from San Francisco down to San Diego and across to San Antonio, New Orleans and ultimately the Atlantic Coast. In a four-day journey from April 11th to 14th, I toured a segment of this route, by mountain bike, with my friend Kyle Karlson - a 225-mile long journey from Idyllwild, CA to San Diego known as the Stagecoach 400 (the route continues back to Idyllwild for a nearly 400 mile loop). 

In Phocion’s time, a journey across the western frontier was riddled with danger. Each passenger that was to embark on a stagecoach through the Southern California desert was advised to,

“provide himself with a Sharp’s rifle, (not carbine,) with accoutrements and one hundred cartridges, a navy sized Colts revolver and two pounds of balls, a belt and holster, knife and sheath; a pair of thick boots and woolen pants; half a dozen pairs thick cotton socks; three under shirts, there brown linen do; three woolen over shirts, a wide awake hat, a cheap sack coat, a soldiers overcoat, one pair of blankets in summer and two in winter; a piece of India rubber cloth for blankets; a pair of gauntlets… and three or four towels. Such money as he takes should be in silver or small gold.” 

 - San Diego Herald, November 21, 1857  [http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=25066]

Hostile Indians and gold-hungry bandits were the least of our concern, and thankfully we did not need to pack thick boots and multiple towels for the ride. In fact, our personal sleeping gear - tent, quilt and mattress - weighed in at under six pounds. But I imagine that the desert, in its arid, dusty, and charming way, and the steep rocky canyons that we summited, have remained, for the most part, unchanged, unscathed by manifest destiny. Water, food, vigilant planning, and a foolhardy sense of adventure were all of the essence to us as it was to Phocion Way. And so it was that we began our ride: 21st century mountain bikers riding into a 19th century cowboy-western.

Day 1: Idyllwild to Ocotillo Wells - 75 miles, +2792 ft / -7881 ft, 13 hrs

Idyllwild, CA - start of the Stagecoach route

We began our trek around 7:30am in the quaint mountain town of Idyllwild at a brisk elevation of 5400 ft. It was a short uphill on road before we hit a long winding stretch of downhill on a dirt road with great views of the surrounding hills and desert valley below where we were headed. The dirt road gave way to single track and a fun rocky downhill on the Jim Truck Trail before meeting up with the road to Anza. Anza, located in the flat of the valley, was much hotter and we stopped at Sunshine Market for a water refill and Gatorade. We were going strong and making good time since everything up to this point had been down, but mentally we were prepared for what we had been told was one of the most tiring sections of the route.

Approaching Coyote Canyon, Anza-Borrego Desert

Coyote Canyon, Anza-Borrego Desert

We descended into Coyote Canyon, a dry sandy and exposed wash speckled with rocks, boulders, and a host of prickly plants (Ocotillos, chollas, creosote bushes, and prickly pear cactus) that makes up the northern section of the Anza Borrego Desert. The lizards and little critters scampering along on the sand were our only companions for this 22 mile trek. We deflated our tires down to 20-22 psi, which helped us float on the packed or unbroken sandy patches. Even then some sections were too loose for pedaling, forcing us to dismount and hike. And then, when I was least expecting it…

An oasis!

Literally, a stream in the desert! A natural spring surrounded by lush green plants, palm trees and willows, which our trail went straight through. Suddenly we had been transported to a jungle and I was biking through mud and water up to our wheel hubs. My socks and shoes were soaked and it felt great. This lasted for about a mile before we were back to the sandy grind.

By mile 56 we were back in civilization scarfing down burritos and slurping horchata in Borrego Springs while knocking loose the sand in our shoes. Twenty more miles of road with a tailwind in our favor sped us to the Leapin’ Lizard RV Park in Ocotillo Wells (elevation 150 ft), where we lodged in the comfort of our own rented RV unit, affectionately named, “Lucy.” Our host, Deborah, was as hospitable as a mother to her children, providing us with two jugs of cold distilled water and a sheet on which to place our bikes inside the RV. We settled in and then hobbled over to the “Iron Door,” a local bar highly recommended by, well, the locals of the area. It was a simple, dim-lit place with a pool table, a couple plain tables, a bar that served up microwaved hotdogs, bud and bud light, and thousands of dollars of decade-old one-dollar bills taped to the walls and ceilings, each with signatures and handwritten notes, both affectionate and vulgar, of Ocotillo’s passers-byes. Half a drink through our visit I was falling asleep and my knees were aching and stiff, so we retired to Lucy.

 

Our RV Rental unit, Lucy.

Day 2: Ocotillo Wells to Agua Caliente - 38 miles, +2421 ft / -1338 ft, 8 hrs

Our breakfast consisted of a freeze-dried blueberry granola (better than it sounds, actually), a cinnamon bun and hostess cupcakes. We soaked our shirts in water since the rising sun was already warm and left the Lucy RV at 8am. Today was another hot day in the desert as we passed through Fish Creek Wash. The name is deceiving; the “creek” dried up ages ago, but it used to drain water from the surrounding mountains to the Salton sea. Now it’s a barren sandy canyon that splits the mountains into two ranges, the Vallecito Mountains to the west and the Fish Creek Mountains to the east. Nevertheless, the canyon was beautiful.

Entrance to Fish Creek Wash

Biking the wash was strenuous but not as difficult as we’d anticipated. In fact, for the first few miles we were going the same speed as a caravan of off road trucks trailing behind us. After we passed the Fish Creek Campsite we were mostly on our own. We passed the Wind Caves and the Elephant Knees rock formations and met up with the road that took us to Agua Caliente where we relaxed in the hot springs and pitched our tents for the night.

Campsite at Agua Caliente

The sign reads "Airport ->" Yes, really.

Agua Caliente’s sole resupply store was run by a man named Mark. Mark was a very chill guy who’s been living in the desert for the past nine years. He took us to the back of the store where he lives and showed us his homemade hot tub, homemade laser and plans for making his own greenhouse for growing veggies.

Day 3: Agua Caliente to Oakzanita - 44 miles, +6153 ft / -3475 ft, 12 hrs

Oriflamme. It sounds like something out of Lord of the Rings and it sure felt like we were climbing up Mordor. The trail up Oriflamme Canyon is exposed and rugged and the grade actually peaks at 21.6%. We were already tired from the past two days of sand.

Oriflamme Canyon - the picture doesn't do it justice

It was hours of hike-a-bike. In the map below you can see the blue line is the old stagecoach route that was used to deliver mail to San Diego. Agua Caliente is close to Vallecito. We road the same route to El Puerto and Box Canyon but where the route takes a sharp right around Granite Mountain, we took a sharp left to Oriflamme (not labelled) and ended in the Cuyamaca mountain range (shown southwest of Box Canyon). In fact, back in the 1800s, for expedient mail delivery (i.e. 38 days from San Antonio to San Diego) stagecoaches would take the Oriflamme route - it was a shorter but much more difficult route to San Diego.

Southern Emigrant Trail: section of the stagecoach route connecting San Antonio and San Diego [http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=25066]

Plenty of water, snacks, and bluegrass music helped me get through Oriflamme. On the other side of the ridge we were welcomed by green grass and wildflowers - apparently wind and rain don’t prefer to venture past Oriflamme either. The climate and landscape changed dramatically from here on out. The temperature was more moderate and the trails were harder packed dirt with plenty of shade once we entered the Cleveland National Forrest. Along the ridge we could see miles and miles of rolling green hills.

Crossing the Pacific Crest Trail after reaching the top of Oriflamme

A view of the Cleveland National Forrest

We made it to Oakzanita about half an hour after nightfall. It was chilly and the dew was gathering on our packs rapidly so we hustled to pick out a campsite and hit the hot showers and the hot tub - yes, there was actually a hot tub. We were living in luxury. 

Day 4: Oakzanita to San Diego - 67 miles, +2724 ft / -6425 ft, 11 hrs

Having used up nearly all my food the previous day, Kyle and I were craving a hearty breakfast. We headed for Descanzo where I ate a breakfast burrito, hash browns, scrambled eggs, chips & salsa, and horchata at Veronica’s Kitchen. Ten miles later and we were in Alpine, back to commercial and residential life. I distinctly remember passing a man weedwacking his landscaped lawn. He was taming nature. The desert had tamed us.

Second brunch: duck and chicken tacos.

We ate again at Alpine Brewery and completely stuffed ourselves. Once I was able to mount the bike again we continued. The rest of the journey was a cycle of paved road, dirt road, single track, repeat, until we reach San Diego where we awkwardly passed hoards of joggers through a large downtown park. It was nightfall by the time we reached Coronado Island - mile 225 - I had arrived!

Gaiser or Geyser? Yes!

We're writing you from Jackson Hole, Wyoming! It's been a few days and we have quite a bit to share with you, starting with Wednesday's long trip through South Dakota and Wyoming.

Wednesday morning we woke up alive but looking as if we'd acquired the chicken pox. The night before we'd pulled into our campground in Kennebec, SD and were welcomed by mosquitoes and deer flies. Not to mention one of my tent poles was broken. Needless to say setting up the tent was a feet, but we survived!

Wednesday was packed! First, the Badlands, then Mt. Rushmore, then Devils Tower, and finally historic Sheridan. Oh, but not to leave out Wall Drug - a random tourist trap store along the highway that started sensational billboard advertisements 300 miles before the exit. That night we stayed at a comfy KOA Kabin and met our neighboring campers, Bruce and Dee Laporte from Watertown, NY! They were wonderful company and invited us to join them for elk sausage with grilled peppers and homemade cucumber salad. A first for both us and hopefully not the last.

Thursday! Kyle's Dodge Stratus made it up and over the Bighorn mountain range, which was a relief! Then onward to Yellowstone, where we spent the day watching old faithful, and many other bubbling beauties named after Kyle's family. The other impressive sites were the Great Geyser, Cascade canyon falls, and tons of bison that didn't seem to care about breaking traffic laws. The night was bone chilling cold and we heard coyotes in the night, but thankfully no bears.

Friday we journeyed to the Grand Tetons, a breathtaking experience that surpassed both of our expectations. We took pictures of old Mormon settlements and then went separate ways to spend the evening writing, praying and listening to music on Jenny Lake with the sun setting beyond the

Tetons. We happened upon a nice couple that was retracing the route Louis and Clark took on their journey west - a 10,000 mile, 3 month journey by boat that began in Pittsburgh and will end in Oregon. Friday evening we checked out downtown Jackson square where we discovered two fantastic micro-brews: Moose Drool and Snake River.

And that brings us to today! The highlight today was by far an 8.6 mile hike called Cascade Canyon. It was by far one of the best trails that we've ever hiked, with stunning views of the Teton divide, a meandering river, a bull moose, wildflowers, boulders, and wooded forests.

Tomorrow morning is our last day in the Tetons. In the afternoon we head to Salt Lake City where we get to stay in a real bed in a real hotel room!!! Until then, watch out for those bison and practice drawing your bear spray from your holster.

It was the dry season and everything was covered in dust - the seat I was sitting in, the bus window I was looking out of, the air outside. And there, on the dirt covered ground of a Malawian bus station stood a mother with her two children. All their belongings were wrapped in a single bed sheet. What voyage lay ahead of them, what dangers, what uncertainties? What circumstances drove this family to pack up and move?

Sometimes journeys are planned and expected, sometimes they are simply necessary, and sometimes they are forced upon us. As I pack for California, for grad school, I think of this unknown family making their way to a new destination. My souvenirs from Rwanda take up just as much space as all their belongings.

Photo Albums and Movie about Rwanda

Hi everyone!

I've posted links to my Rwanda photo albums as well as a video that I made to say "Thank You" to all those who financially supported my school and church in Rwanda.

The video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IUZG3mODLw

The first half of the video is about my school and the second half is about my church, and all that your support provided for both of them.

Thank you!!

Sell Everything

Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
- Mark 10:21

Difficult words.

This morning's sermon was based on this passage, and it reminded me of an old bucket list I had started in high school and happened upon the other day when cleaning my room. On that list, scribbled with my messy high school penmanship, was written, "live poor." Depending on whose standards you use, you could say I accomplished this when I was living in Rwanda: lacking clean water, electricity, food variety, and common accessories or luxuries. In fact, many people naturally compliment and even admire my work or any other volunteer's work based upon this reason alone. "It must have been difficult."

Today the two most provoking words in this verse, sell everything, took on a different spin for me. I did not sell everything. I sacrificed time, energy, even money for the poor, but the whole time that I was "living poor" I had another home awaiting my return, a room with a bed, a closet full of clothes, belongings gathering dust, a budget for travel and another for resettling back in America. In my attempts to live like the locals and understand life from their perspective, I soon realized that I would only be able to view from a distance. Even if they were my neighbors, even if I lived life with them day in and day out, I could never fully grasp what it was like not to have the money to pay for a bus fare or watch your kids go hungry, the fear of not having anything to fall back on, the emptiness of losing your family to war and genocide, the lack of opportunity to go to school or use your degree after you've earned it.

I wonder if this is why Jesus says to sell everything: not just because a rich man cannot serve two masters, but because he knows that as long as we have another option to fall back on, we aren't fully trusting him. And as long as we aren't fully trusting him, we will never be able to fully understand and experience life. Perhaps this is Jesus' definition of "faith." Faith is not so much about belief, but more to do with trusting Him because we choose to abandon all other options in pursuit of Christ. Just as I could sell everything in order to truly understand what it means to "live poor", Christ calls us to abandon all other options to living our life and follow him in order to truly understand what it means to "live rich."

Lint

As I recall, one of my first surprises when returning stateside was lint. Yep, those little fuzzy balls that get stuck in your belly button or the stringy remnant of socks that stick between your toes, lint was one of the first wake up calls that I was indeed back in America, the land of washing machines and tumble dryers.

As I have come to realize, my experience with lint is a fitting analogy for what people usually define as "reverse culture shock." It's the little things that you don't expect, and it isn't about the American culture itself as it is about the effects of our culture on our lifestyle. So, coming back to America isn't so much about culture shock to me as it is about lifestyle readjustment.

For example, hot showers, driving a car, using a washing machine, the attitudes of people, the way Americans think and interact with each other - these are aspects of our culture to which I adjusted rather quickly and soon accepted as normal because it is what I've grown up with. However, while taking a shower every morning feels completely normal, I am surprised and even appalled by how much perfectly clean water I use - and waste. As a conservative estimate, the amount of water I used to shower this morning (assuming 6 liters per minute for a very low flow showerhead) was about the equivalent of five day's worth of water for bathing, drinking, washing dishes, and cooking in Rwanda. Factor in the water pouring from our faucets, flushing our toilets, and flowing in our dish washers and washing machines and you'll have an idea of how big of an adjustment this is to me.

Another readjustment is how having a car at my disposal increases how sedentary I am. The most I need to walk anymore is from the house to the car and from the car to the store. Before, I was used to walking everywhere, even kilometers, to run an errand. It seems so crystal clear to me why Americans are overweight, why we are prone to more diseases, why we make exercise a sport. I'm recalling Back to the Future III right now, where Doc , in 1885, is laughed at for saying that people in the future "run for fun." At first I enjoyed the freedom of having a car again, but now I'm starting to feel the urge to walk or bike places. I just can't stand taking a car everywhere.

As the honeymoon phase of being back in America settles, I'm starting to see these differences and wrestle with the changes in lifestyle. I'll try to post more "lint" ideas as they come, and I would like to hear what you think of the differences and how we should respond to these differences, if at all.

Closer to the Kingdom

Before I left for Rwanda, almost 15 months ago, I remember talking with a close friend, John Varga, about cultures and Christianity. He offered a thoughtful question to think about when traveling: "How is this culture closer to the kingdom of God?" I've dwelled a lot on this question, I took it with me to Rwanda, and throughout the year I wrote down a list of how Rwandans are closer to the vision that God has for a transformed Christian life, society, and church. On the other hand, I also jotted down how I think they could improve, usually on the days that I came home frustrated or tired of being "culturally sensitive." Of course, it goes without saying that these are also generalizations that don't apply to everyone in Rwanda, but they make for good starting points...

***Closer to the Kingdom***

1. Resourcefulness. Everything is fixed or reused for something else. Hardly anything is thrown away. Rwandans recycle rubber tires to resole shoes. Plastic bags are banned. I could probably fit all of my 14 months worth of trash in 4 garbage bags, and that's from my more "western" lifestyle.
2. Friendship. Focus on friendship and the healthy/good obligations that come with it. Friendships are not about convenience like they often are in America.
3. Focus on the present, not the past or future. They live more "in the moment," so they're more flexible and don't get stressed out easily.
4. Community oriented "Umudugudu" (translates to "Village"). Not only is it fun to say, but it's extremely effective. Each umudugudu is made of about 50 families. It's the smallest unit of societal/governmental structure. They meet every month or so, usually under a tree, and talk about the issues and needs in their community and help each other out. Every few years they vote for new leaders by going to a field and standing behind their candidate of choice. This ties in nicely to Wendell Berry's idea of "community" as opposed to the widening separation of "public" and "private" life in America (see his essay titled, "Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community").
5. Responsibility. Students say that they have a responsibility to help disabled classmates. That is, they feel an obligation to step up and help, where without their help the disabled person would not be able to attend school. The responsibility was NOT the school's. The only thing the school does is to ensure that a student is available to help: like retrieving water for a girl who's missing a foot and on crutches. There's good and bad to this system, but I admire the hard work and community responsibility rather compared to a complicated school/budget/taxes/bureaucratic program.
6. Reconciliation oriented: Gacaca courts (village courts where they dealt with genocide crimes that occurred locally and with the intention to restore peace and cooperation). Openness to state wrongdoings or disagreements with others in meetings.
7. Generous: It wasn't uncommon for a cyclist to offer me a free 6km bike ride home on the back of his bike, and truckers always refused money when I hitchhiked. As I made friends with one particular shop owner, he would always be so glad to see me that he would give me free candy or bottled water.
8. Energy. Rwanda's focusing on sustainable and renewable energy (geothermal, methane and hydroelectric projects).
9. Healthier, more natural diet without a lot of (bad) fat, sugar, and salt. As long as they stay clear of the sugar cane, African's teeth are usually spectacular. Same can be said for their eyes. Maybe cuz they don't have TV or light in the nights; the need for glasses is smaller.

***Possible Improvements***

1. Organization and communication. Do I need to elaborate? Poor organization leads to poor efficiency and lots of delays (lots). Poor communication leads to mistakes and wasted time, energy, and money.
2. Stereotypes. Their stereotypes of Americans/whites. The word "Umuzungu" translates as "white man" and "rich man." They believe America and Americans hold the key to their success and America is an easy life, with money growing on trees.
3. Saving money. When people were surprised that I could travel so much yet I owned the cheapest cell phone I told them it's because I would rather save my money and use it for traveling. Many people are used to just getting by, so when they get a surplus of cash, it's easy for them to just spend it on the cell phone with a camera, music player and internet. Of course, the added status symbol is an extra incentive.
4. Status Lifestyles. Alcohol and food is also a status symbol. Stereotypically, poor men drink water while rich men drink alcohol and are fat. To be rich and important tends to imply a riskier lifestyle.
5. Waste disposal: no garbage, littering, especially as more packaged products are being introduced. Human waste is all underground, not good for water table and not used for things like biomass to electricity. Also, many Rwandans don't compost their leftovers. We had a compost pile, but we never used it for fertilizer.
6. Amusement and Water Parks. Hello? Anyone heard of splash lagoon or a lazy river? Yeah, I could've used some of that for hot boring days.
7. Think! Critical and independent thinking is not always encouraged. Rote memorization and obedience to hierarchy is the norm. Historically, this limits productivity and business entrepreneurship and increases the chance of poor governance and blind acceptance (groundwork for the genocide).
8. Globalization. According to the book "Ishmael," Rwanda is a Leaver society becoming more and more like the Takers. The director of Environment and Water repeatedly told me over a drink that, "this world is ours!!" Every bit of land is farmed, threatening population, diversity of crops, and deforestation. As the number of tea and coffee farmers increases, they are transitioning from subsistent local crops to a fluctuating global market economy, which also lowers the value of their crops and increases foreign dependence.
9. Libraries. Few (or no?) public libraries outside of Kigali. Why not open the school libraries to communities?

I don't think the lists are complete and I don't claim that they're completely accurate or even biblical, but that's why I'm posting them here - to wrestle with these ideas and to hear your opinions too! Now that I'm back in America I am reminding myself that the experience is only half over...