10 + 1

One of my student's responses to the question on an evaluation form:
"On a scale of 0-10, what would you rate as the overall quality of your teacher trainer?"

I just finished teaching my last class in Rwanda, and although I would like to say that I am completely relieved, I am partly sad that this time has come to an end as well. This past year, specifically in regards to work, hasn't been an easy one. There were definitely times when I had wondered whether or not what I was doing had any impact, if I got through to my students at all - intellectually, emotionally, whatever. I'm sure it's safe to say that there are some students that simply won't miss me as much as others, some that didn't feel like they gained anything during my time as their teacher, but that's to be expected. On the flip side, there are definitely some that I know will miss me, because they have said so. I know that sounds a bit vain, but as someone who expresses and receives love through words of affirmation, I thrive on positive feedback. Luckily for me, in the past few days, I've received a lot of goodbye emails full of thank-yous and words of encouragement, all which validate my time spent here in Rwanda. I want to add some of the quotes from my students that make me smile, so I hope you don't mind this little love-fest that's about to happen! I  would like to thank you very much many many thanks. I learned more from you, not only in English, your behavior  and how you teach us it was good. You helped me in whatever you did, I didn't know to write, to speak in English before but now I can speak and write  at least  2 sentences. All of this are came from you. - Uwamahoro Marie Chantal   You are lovely, hard working, and your legacy in GR is unforgettable. We learned much from you. Keep it up! Greet your friends and family on my behalf. I wish you all the best:"a good job, means of continuing your studies, a good husband and happy family, etc" Whenever you feel like you want to come back to Rwanda, don't mind where to stay because my house will always be open for you. God bless you and keep you close to him. - Isingizwe Josiane   If it was possible, I could say "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE!" Jocelyn, I cannot forget your inspiring smile and motivation which increased in many of GR scholars courage and passion to success. I will always remember you through the photos we took at Musanze, and near Ruhondo lake during the summit. May the Almighty God always be with you! - Habamenshi Darius Jocelyn, you have been the person I never met here. I really appreciate your patience and simplicity. Your time spent on our English class is very significant for me, it has been helpful, I learned a lot from you. I wish you all the best in your future. May God bless you. Thank you so much. Will miss you. - Mukeshimana Beata Hi excellent teacher! Even if I say goodbye I am very sad but nothing to do because it is the time to go back to your place and I think you are going to continue to the other job, so, let me say good luck in your new job and we will still remember your hard work in GR family. - Muyenshaka Jean Pierre

Today, we had a gate sale.

A few weeks ago, Margie, roommate, colleague, and friend, told me about The Reverse 100 Thing Challenge, which, as the name implies, is a challenge to get rid of 100 items by December 15th. When she told me about this, I thought it would be great to partake in, especially since she too was joining in the challenge. So, after just a few days, we had gathered a few things...and then a few more...until we had about 150 items.

Instead of giving everything away like the challenge said, we had the idea of holding a gate sale. I personally don't believe in handouts, and honestly, it was very likely that our donated clothes would've just ended up being turned around and sold for profit anyway. So, offering our items for a significantly reduced price seemed like the best way for a win-win situation.

Early in the morning, around 7:30, we began setting up our goods outside our gate. Unfortunately, in the chaos of things I was unable to get a picture, but I'm sure you can imagine the scene caused by 2 foreigners and their guard setting up a mini-market in front of their house. About 2 hours later, every piece of clothing, down to the last pair of socks, was gone.

However, those 2 hours were not without drama. One woman tried to walk off with an armful of clothing without first paying for it. A huge commotion ensued in which the woman, our guard, and 2 bystanders were yelling at each other. Margie and I tried in vain to make peace, but everyone ignored us and continued raising their voices instead. In the end, the woman walked off, clothing in hand, without having given us any money. I still don't know what happened.

Another incident, towards the end, had equally as much drama as the first. This time, a man who was wearing a necklace and a shirt that I was selling, simply waved to me, smiling, as he walked off with my stuff, despite my requests for payment. The crowd just watched as he left, doing nothing to stop him or intervene. When I gave my guard the look of, "What are you going to do about that?", my guard just gave me a grin and shrugged.

After Margie and I closed our gate, counted our "profit," and had a chance to think about what happened out there, we realized there were many items that were "sold" that we had no recollection of selling. Things like a bottle of lotion, a power strip, some books, and a jar, to name a few, did not get paid for. In the midst of the chaos, drama, and commotion, we were robbed - not once, not twice, but multiple times. As Margie and I discussed this situation, there was one thing we simply could not understand: Why would anyone steal something that we were already selling for such a reasonable price? I could understand if our items were very expensive, but we did not quote a price of anything more than $1.50. Furthermore, more often than not, we conceded to what the buyer offered, which was usually somewhere between 20 and 50 cents for one article of clothing. Was it because they needed those items so badly and simply did not have the means to pay for it? Or, was it because we were foreigners? Because they assumed we were rich and would be fine if we didn't receive payment for something?

It's going to take a few days to process all the events of today, and to answer the questions that are swimming around in my head. But, there's one thing I know for sure, and that is while in the end this gate sale was probably somewhat of a win-win situation, it is never going to happen again.

So, like I said before: Today, we had a gate sale. 

there comes a time

jaded.
done in.
exhausted.
fatigued.
weary.
drained.
burnt out.

So many words to describe the way that I have been feeling lately. I have to admit that I've been trying to deny the fact that I really might indeed be burnt out. When I first felt this - this feeling of absolute tiredness - I attributed it to a lack of sleep (and, honestly, to being under-stimulated). However, after forcing myself to get 8+ hours of sleep a few nights in a row and experiencing no positive changes, I finally admitted defeat to one of the most common syndromes in my line of work.

It's funny how you just can't snap out of being burnt out (maybe you can but I haven't found the answer yet). I wonder if we were created to reach this point so that we would finally stop to take care of ourselves. Granted, sometimes it's not possible to stop and treat yourself to a day off, or to find a place of refuge and solitude in which to recuperate and recharge, but most of the time, it is. Unfortunately, sometimes, even when we do take time to refuel, it doesn't stop the inevitable from happening.

Needless to say, I am counting down the days (31 to be exact) when I will be back home. I know that being "home" might not be much different from being here, after all, I will still have the responsibilities and demands of life. But, perhaps the cure for being burnt out is more of a shift in mentality than anything else. This isn't to say that fatigue and exhaustion doesn't affect a person physically, because we all know that it does, but home is home because we choose it to be, and that is attributed to a mentality. Everything that is associated with "home" - comfort, safety, shelter, love - are things that we create to be truths in our mind just as much as they are truths in the physical sense.

I am now realizing that one of the most effective ways to prevent against being burnt out (regardless of where you are) is to be in community. When I lived in China for two years, I took community for granted because we were sent out by my organization in groups. Up until about 2 months ago, I also took community for granted here in Rwanda. It was only after my best friend left that I understood the importance of community - the life that it breathes, the comfort and shelter that it offers - a home away from home. This, of course, isn't to say that having community makes you immune to exhaustion and burn out, but it really does help slow down the process and provide a safe space for if and when it does happen.

I guess all this is to say that my views of being independent have changed. I used to think I could do everything on my own - and even wanted to do everything on my own. Maybe I'm finally growing up, but life really is better when you have others to share it with.

Pottery Class in Kigali

For those of you who know me, you know that I love my arts & crafts.

Unfortunately, one of the hardest things about being overseas for an extended period of time is the inability to find an outlet for my creativity when I'm feeling antsy, or stressed, or downright bored. Though I have seriously considered it, it's a bit impractical to lug my sewing machine and my XL moving box filled with scrapbooking/card making/all craft related materials across the Atlantic (I do, however, have my eyes set on a mini-sewing machine that may alleviate this problem for any future overseas living). In the past 10 months, I've tried to make do with what I have - I've shredded up t-shirts to try some up-cycling projects, invaded a friend's house to use her sewing machine to make tote bags, tried to get into patterning since it only requires a pen and paper, and in my desperation one evening, super-glued some fabric scraps to a beer bottle to beautify our makeshift candle holder. Believe it or not, those things haven't quite hit the spot.

So, you can imagine my utter joy when I found out that Kigali was starting a Traditional Pottery Class! 5,000RWF (about 8USD) got you a morning of unlimited pottery making in a small group environment and a trainer to assist in learning the trade. And, the best part of it? The proceeds are going towards helping the Cooperative Moderne de Poterie purchase a glazing kiln, in hopes that it will help increase sales and production. I don't know about you, but spending money that has a "good cause" attached to it always makes it easier to justify my expenditures (especially when those expenditures really shouldn't be there in the first place). I, of course, signed up for the first session available.

Needless to say, the experience was quite enjoyable. And therapeutic! There's nothing like getting your hands dirty working with clay that has been brought from a local river, sitting in a secluded area of the city surrounded by hills and pastures full of goats and cows, and doing something that requires some level of creativity! I still haven't retrieved my pot, vase, bowl, and candle holder from the two sessions that I have attended, but I'm excited to bring them back to the house so they can be utilized for the purpose they were created for! I can't say that this pottery class has completely filled the void that has been a result of months and months of mediocre crafting opportunities, but its a great start and I'll take what I can get. Until I arrive back in the US (in only 5 weeks!), I don't have any other other choice but to be content with what is available to me and to keep updating my list of project ideas!

"This thing Jesus called the kingdom of God is emerging across the globe in the most unexpected places, a gentle whisper amid the chaos. Little people with big dreams are re-imagining the world. Little movements of communities of ordinary radicals are committed to doing small things with great love."  (Shane Claiborne, Irresistible Revolution)

some days are harder than others

 As I stood in a bucket the other day, trying to collect the flow of dirty water from my shower to later use for flushing the toilets, I thought to myself, "Some days are harder than others."

A few days earlier, prior to this shower incident, we had been pretty lucky. We had running water almost every day for about 3 weeks, and even started to take it for granted. For those of you who have never lived in a place where running water is unreliable, you can't possibly know the feeling of anticipation every time you turn a faucet to check for water. Unfortunately, these days we've been in a dry spell of sorts - it's been excessively hot with no rain in sight, and it's affected our water situation a great deal. Sometimes, we can go a few days without water. Luckily, we have a small tank outside of our house that has been filled up in anticipation for times like this, but with 4 girls living in a house, water can become scarce quickly, despite the reserve.

When I lived in Uganda, I had wrote a post questioning our idea of luxury. In this post, I made a list of things that we so often take for granted in North America. It's funny how quickly we can adjust to our surroundings. At the time of that post, we had not had water for 9 days. Here, 3 days without water results in a slight panic attack, and leaves me wondering how our house in Uganda managed without water for the time that it did.
                               
So, like I said earlier, some days are harder than others. Some days you come home to find strange men on your compound, building bricks, without your knowledge or approval. Some days you want to lash out at everyone in sight because you are tired of the incessant stares and mutterings about the "muzungu" (Swahili for a white person, foreigner, etc.).  Some days you want to cry because you have had a child throw a rock at you. Some days you just want to go home because you don't feel like you belong.

As painful and frustrating as some of these experiences living here have been, there are some days that are easier than others too. Every day I am taken aback by the beauty of nature around me; the hills, the trees, the sky. Other days, I am greeted, "Good Morning!" (without malice) by a group or children, or some man helps me flag down a moto. Or, more recently, I am gifted cassava by my guard that he's grown from his land. These are the good days. These are the days that cancel out those other, not so welcoming, not so enjoyable, days. These are the days that make living here worthwhile.


I know my dreams of "fitting in" and being welcomed into a completely different culture are lofty, but I feel strongly that a place does exist where I would be accepted, despite the color of my skin or my ethnicity. In America, the struggle for equality was a long and drawn out one, but as much progress as we have made as a country, I wonder if we are just better at hiding our thoughts and opinions about "the other," whoever they may be.

There are too many barriers that keep people from accepting each other, whether it be race, gender, or status. We can fool ourselves and say that those things don't exist, that those things don't matter to us, but unfortunately, for many, they do. We've lived so long under these perceptions and stereotypes of people that we haven't even met, or haven't tried to know, that we don't know what to do when we encounter these situations. As cliche as it sounds, I want to see these barriers broken. I want to see people working together, hand in hand, despite their differences, for a common goal, for a common purpose, for the common good. Perhaps then, and only then, will we be able to see change happen the way that we've always envisioned it.  

Homecoming Thoughts from Afar

Photography by Mehves Konuk

I received a confirmation for my flight back home to America yesterday.

December still feels a long way away, but I am excited to return home (if only for a while) to reconnect with friends, family, and to simply enjoy the things I've missed while being overseas.

This morning I got a link for a blog post about the unavoidable question from friends and family of, "So, what did you accomplish, really?" upon arriving home from working overseas. The title of the post intrigued me, especially as I have already begun mentally preparing for my transition out of East Africa. Reading the post got me thinking about the first time I travled abroad for work, back in 2008, when my journey of international development really began. I remember going with such lofty expectations of the things I would be able to accomplish there, the lives that I could change, the impact I could make. Well, when the end of the year came, I was disheartened by the fact that I had not really met any of my goals - at least to the extent that I had hoped for. So what did I do? I decided to stay another year, hoping that an additional 12 months of overseas work would create some of the "success stories" that I so longed to bring home.

Needless to say, at the end of yet another year, there were no huge success stories, no life-changing events, no big accomplishments, that I was able to claim responsibility for. Did this mean that no good came out of my time spent abroad? No. Did this mean that lives were not impacted and changed from the interactions that we had? No. Did this mean I had wasted two years of my life? No.

What it did mean, however, and what it exposed, is that so often we get caught up in the big accomplishments that we fail to see the little accomplishments that actually do occur. The small, seemingly incidental, yet influential moments that are just the beginnings, or middles, of what is yet to come. If we - religious or not - live life believing that everything has a purpose, that everything that happens is meant to happen, then we cannot reject the "small" impacts that eventually culminate into the final product. If everything is connected, and every experience helps shape someone - or something - then everything we do indeed has meaning and contributes to ultimate change.

I have been working in East Africa for the past 15 months. As my time draws nearer to its end, I find myself involuntarily reflecting on all of the people and "things" that I have been a part of. The part of me that seeks achievement and longs for recognition searches high and low for anything that I can bring back home to talk about. After all, no one really wants to hear about the struggles and hardships of the year. Few people want to hear about the trial and error (especially the error) of activities and projects conducted. Yet, these are the very things from which change occurs. These are the very things from which we learn, and grow - the process - that ultimately helps reach the goals that we have set for others and ourselves. So why is it that we don't work harder to bring to light these parts of our work experience, regardless of where we work and what we do? Why is it that no one ever asks about the process, yet are so interested in knowing the outcome?

I cannot answer these questions in full. So, in the meantime, I can work to change my personal expectations and perspective about the work I do overseas. After my initial "unsuccessful" years abroad, I realized, and really learned to understand (perhaps even a little too late) that change is indeed a process. And, if we are unwilling to focus on and invest in the process, then we really shouldn't expect to get the results that we are looking for. Homecoming may always continue to be associated with an overwhelming number of questions about our activities and accomplishments, but we will always have the choice to fight the need for recognition, and to shed light on the journey and process, even if the results don't scream success.

"The Clarity Paradox"

We've all heard of the saying that "less is more." Personally, I've never really bought into the idea or experienced the "more" part of this saying (after all, "less" is generally, well, just..."less"), until today, after stumbling on an article called The Disciplined Pursuit of Less. In this article, the author, McKeown, talks about the idea of success, and the reasons why some find success while others simply don't. He attributes success (or lack of success) to something he calls "The Clarity Paradox," which, in a nutshell, claims that "success is a catalyst for failure." McKeown explains the paradox like this:

1. When we really have clarity of purpose, it leads to success.
2. When we have success, it leads to more options and opportunities.
3. When we have increased options and opportunities, it leads to diffused efforts.
4. Diffused efforts undermine the very clarity that led to our success in the first place.

After reading this, I have to admit that I see his logic. So many people (and organizations) reach a certain level of success, and find themselves with opportunities and options that they never had before; kind of like a kid in a candy store with too much money to spend. Unfortunately, what happens every now and then is that we spread themselves too thin (and sometimes make bad investments) in attempts to run after new opportunities.This, of course, is not to say that opportunities are a bad thing - we just need to make our decisions wisely and carefully to mitigate any negative outcomes. 

At this point, you may be asking yourself how one can maintain success without falling into the "Clarity Paradox." Luckily, McKeown gives three suggestions for his audience: 

1. Use more extreme criteria.
2. Ask: "What is essential?" and eliminate the rest.
3. Beware of the endowment effect.

If you want in-depth explanations of those suggestions, I encourage you to read McKeown's article, after all, they are his ideas, and they are conveyed much more clearly in his own words. In the end, if you remember nothing else, remember this: we need to stive to adopt a "disciplined pursuit of less" by "purposefully, deliberately, and strategically eliminating the nonessentials." I know this may seem like common knowledge to many of you, but the way I see it, this is pretty good advice not only for success in our careers, but for success in all aspects of our lives as well. 

Akagera

Kigali's Abandoned Amusement Park

The best thing about traveling to a new place is finding the city's best hidden secrets. These hidden secrets can take on many forms; a hole in the wall restaurant, an awesome market or shopping area, a breathtaking view. However, in all my years of traveling, the one thing that I never expected was to find an abandoned amusement park. I wish I could say that I had indeed "stumbled upon" this phenomena by accident, but in reality, I only found this place because of my determination to find out if the surrounding rumors had any truth to them.

So, early Saturday morning, after having enjoyed a lovely breakfast, Deke and I set out to solve this mystery for ourselves, once and for all. It took a while of searching and a few wrong turns, but finally, we found ourselves standing in front of about a dozen red bumper cars, overgrown with weeds, dust and cobwebs - the usual result of neglect. We turned the corner and found even more abandoned parts; unicorns (for a carousel perhaps?), dolphins that twirled, water boats for the nearby lake, and even an indecently exposed mermaid. Needless to say, this expedition was pretty creepy but pretty awesome all at the same time, and made for a pretty exciting Saturday morning!

Rwanda's Museum of Natural History

Today, Deke and I decided to visit the "Museum of Natural History," located right in Kigali, not far from the town center. It never really occurred to us that the museum was something we wanted to visit, but it seemed like a good idea given the fact that we didn't have much to do today. For the equivalent of about 10USD (half price with a student ID or proof of residency!), we were able to get 30 minute's worth of entertainment at the museum. I wouldn't say that it was worth my money, but I did get a few laughs in, so that's always a win in my book! So, before you continue further to the "tour", you should disregard any preconceived notions you may have regarding the words "natural history" and "museum" - unfortunately, museums here are just not the same as they are at home. With this in mind, sit back, relax, and enjoy your visit! 

This exhibit, entitled "Akagera," depicts the wildlife found in Rwanda's safari park.
(notice the diversity of animals that share the same habitat; yes, including the river otter on the right)

 

 

 

 

 

 

An array of of artifacts, starring the miniature-sized wooly mammoth.

The dinosaur exhibit (not plastic toys).

The vast variety of East African animals (again, not plastic toys).

Two hippos in battle, with a giraffe overlooking the scene.

Two cubs play as the nearby male watches protectively over his pride.

A mountain gorilla protected inside a glass case.
(notice the authentic elephant skull in the background that has no protection)

Authentic alligator hide, laying on a tile floor, exposed, with no covering.

I hope you enjoyed getting a small taste of Rwanda's Museum of Natural History. If you're ever in-country, I hope you find your way to Kigali and take a look for yourself! I promise it will be worth it, one way or another.

follow the yellow brick road

Street signs (like the one above) have been popping up all over Kigali over the past week and a half. In case you didn't know, street signs are a completely foreign concept here. Sure, there are signs that indicate the general location of different offices or restaurants, but the signs that we rely on so heavily in America simply don't exist here. I'm still trying to figure out what all the letters and numbers mean (K for Kigali, N for...?), but I think eventually I'll understand it. In the meantime, they mean absolutely nothing to me!

I myself am really hoping that these signs will make giving and following directions easier because, as you can imagine, giving directions in a country with no street signs is quite a challenge. Recently, I was invited to a friend's going away party. I had never been to her house, even though it a 10 minute walk from where I live. You'll see after reading her "directions" how creative you need to get when trying to direct people to new places. However, as complicated as it looks, her directions were quite useful. More useful than these street signs, at least! Do the directions to her house make any sense to you?

"To get to our house, drive on the main Nyamirambo road, pass through Biryogo (the busy colorful Mosque area where the road splits and comes back together), continue up the hill, pass the Kobil station on the left, pass the Merez Station/Spectra Bar on the right, and then you will go over two speed bumps. Just after the second speed bump, turn left at the corner with the big SP sign and Inyange milk billboard. (Moto drivers will know this corner as "ERP" in the French pronunciation, "ay air pay.") You will now be on a semi-dirt road. Continue on this road for less than a minute and take the SECOND road on the right. It is uphill and very bumpy. After this turn, take the road that immediately forks left. Continue until the end of this road, for about a minute, when you will come to a big antenna on your right and you will be forced to turn left and downhill. Our house is the second on the right and is the biggest and brightest house in the area. It has a bluish-green gate."

adventures in the pursuit of...tea.

Last weekend Deke and I tried to go to the Sorwathe Tea Factory, which is located about 2 hours outside of Kigali. We thought it would be a neat thing to see - the whole tea making process, that is, and so we decided to make the trek out there. Never having been there before, neither of us really knew what to expect. We hopped on Deke's motorcycle, drove for about an hour, and then finally saw the sign that pointed us towards our destination. Seeing that it was 19km away from the main road, we were a little hesitant. Furthermore, we didn't know if the facilities would be open on a Sunday. We approached a group of moto drivers and asked whether or not they knew anything about the tea factory. In their broken English, they assured us that it was open every day, and urged us to continue following the path. 19km of unpaved, rocky road later, we found out that the Sorwathe Tea Factory was in fact not open. Had this have been the only obstacle during our travels, there would be no story to tell. Fortunately for all you blog readers out there, there is a story to tell.

Well, like I said, we hopped on the motorcycle early Sunday morning and began making our way to the Tea Factory. All was well, even when we discovered that the 19km from the main road to the factory was unpaved. The drive was quite peaceful - the road was tucked away into the recesses of the city, and there was tea growing to the left and right of us the minute we left the main road. The scenery really was quite amazing.

Every now and then, there were Sorwathe Tea Factory signs counting down the number of kilometers left to go. This was, at times, helpful because it offered a sense of perspective. However, if I am to be honest, it was just downright frustrating, since each kilometer felt like an eternity, due to the speed we were traveling (slightly faster than a snail). In my opinion, the only good that these signs offered us was the knowledge of the exact number of kilometers we had traveled before getting a flat tire. Yep. A flat. The back wheel decided it was time for it to retire after kilometer # 17.

Now, if we were anywhere else - I take that back - if we were in Kigali when this happened, it wouldn't have been a very big deal. Remember how I was describing the peacefulness of the drive? Well, driving in a quiet, secluded area is nice when everything is peachy; it's not really nice when you need to find a mechanic or other vehicle-related supplies (like gas).

Not knowing which way would be best to go, Deke started rolling his bike up the hill. I walked on ahead, in hopes that we would find something - or someone - that could help us. Soon, we had a little entourage, children who had found us in our predicament. In my broken Kinyarwanda, I explained to the children that we had a problem, and asked them where we could find a tire. They, unfortunately, pointed up the hill. Deke, with no other choice, kept pushing his bike. A few minutes later, some older men were walking down the hill. One stopped, probably out of curiosity of why a muzungo (foreigner) was pushing a moto up the hill. Again, I explained in my broken Kinyarwanda, that we had a problem, and asked him where we could find a tire.  

Surprisingly, he left his friends and started walking up the hill with us, in the complete opposite direction from which he was originally heading. He then escorted us to a street that had a few stores and about a dozen or so people. Leaving us behind, he ran to an alimentation and proceeded to try to locate someone who could help us. Soon, of course, a crowd appeared, as the situation became quite the source of entertainment. Ten minutes later, a man, whom I assume was a mechanic, appeared with some tools in hand. Together with man #1, they pried off the tire from the rim, and discovered the source of the problem: the inner tube was punctured and could not be repaired. After a series of phone calls and some heavy duty brainstorming, man #1 took off with the damaged inner tube to find a replacement.

Knowing that there was really nothing located nearby, and that it could take an hour for the man to return, Deke and I made ourselves comfortable. So, what does one do for one hour in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by locals of all ages? Make the most of the situation! In my case, making the most out of the situation meant teaching the kids how to make paper airplanes. And then having paper airplane contests. Priceless.

About 45 minutes later, sooner than expected, the man returned with a new inner tube! He and the mechanic swiftly replaced the tube, pumped some air into it with a bicycle pump (I kid you not. You can kind of see it in the picture below), and off Deke and I went, completing the last 2km to our destination.

When Deke and I eventually made it to the Sorwathe, it was closed. All that work for nothing! In retrospect, we could have saved ourselves a lot of time, money, and headache, had we not chosen to visit the tea factory that day. But then again, we would have missed out on encountering this group of individuals that will forever be engraved in my heart. I don't know about you, but I do not know many people who would go out of their way to help two strangers in need.

birthday wishes!

I was out of town for the past few days, and when I returned, I had a birthday package waiting for me from my parents! When living abroad, packages literally are the highlight of the day (and maybe event the week), and so naturally, I was very excited to open it. 

The handmade birthday card and the smiley-face balloon are pretty awesome, huh? Yep, I thought so too when I saw them. To make things better, at the bottom of the box, I found a Chinese red envelope! For those of you who are Chinese or are familiar with Chinese traditions, you know that a red envelope is a very good thing, because a red envelope is always meant for gifting money...                         

...or so I thought. I opened my envelope excitedly, thinking about the endless possibilities one could do with some extra cash, but instead of finding money, I found a card with a Bible verse on it.  Needless to say, slightly disappointing. Oh well. At least it was a good verse: The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs and will strengthen your fame. Isaiah 58:11. Perhaps I'll have better luck with the red envelope next year.  =)

Anyway, with a box full of delightful treats from America, I couldn't be happier! Thanks mom and dad for thinking about me!

red light, green light, 1, 2, 3.

Remember that game we used to play as children? The one where one person went to one side of the room, or the field (or whatever the space was), and everyone else lined up on the other side? And the point was to run towards the person on the other side while he or she yelled out "red light, green light, 1, 2..." and you had to freeze after "3"? And whoever got to the other side first would be the winner? Remember?

Well, I do. And that's how I've been feeling lately - like I'm playing that childhood game, fluctuating between the frenzied combination of running and stopping, trying desperately to hear the cries of "red light, green light..." so that I can once again run because I am tired of waiting.

Let me explain.  Our American culture has trained us to always go, go, go. To always be on the move, to rush things that shouldn't be rushed, to strive for instant gratification. When was the last time we stopped to observe life around us? When was the last time we sat in silence, and tried to hear the soft whisperings of our heart? When was the last time we embraced the beauty of nothingness and just savored the moment? If we are honest with ourselves, it's probably been a long time. And why? Because most of us have this innate craving to fill quietness with noise, to overcome stillness with action, to replace patience with productivity.

Lately, I have felt the monotony of life creep in ever so slowly. I am in a bit of a lull in my work, and I have to admit that it is making me extremely restless in all areas of my life. When I explained my woes to a good friend of mine, she reminded me to enjoy the present for what it is, and to find relaxation within it. So, starting today, I am trying to take her words to heart and internalize the idea of just "being," whatever that may mean.

Our childhood games teach us to wait in anticipation for the next big move in our lives. Rarely are we encouraged by our culture to stop and smell the roses (minus a few greeting cards here and there). We need to learn to appreciate the time in between the "red light, green lights," even if it requires every ounce of our bodies to fight against the temptation to fill quietness with noise, or to overcome stillness with action. It's not always easy to relish the moments of stillness in our lives, but in doing so, we can regain the energy and focus needed to run when the time is right again.

surely we can change

I was walking to work today, with ipod in hand, and a song came up in my shuffle. It was David Crowder's Surely We Can Change. The lyrics, which I guess I've never paid attention to, suddenly hit me, and it reminded me of the convictions I had when I first felt called to pursue a career in the field of international development. Even the most committed of us need a reminder every now and then to keep us motivated, and personally, this reminder couldn't have come at a better time. So, here they are lyrics - I hope they give you a bit of inspiration today:  

And the problem is this
We were bought with a kiss
But the cheek still turned
Even when it wasn’t hit

And I don’t know
What to do with a love like that
And I don’t know
How to be a love like that

When all the love in the world
Is right here among us
And hatred too
And so we must choose
What our hands will do

Where there is pain
Let there be grace
Where there is suffering
Bring serenity
For those afraid
Help them be brave
Where there is misery
Bring expectancy
And surely we can change
Surely we can change
Something

Oh, the world’s about to change
The whole world’s about to change

the path to success

 

One cannot argue that the definition of success has evolved over the past few decades. In fact, it has evolved so much that "success" is really what you make of it. Before, success and the "American Dream" was mostly about the ability to provide for your family; now, for many, success is security, or following your dream, or being debt-free, or mastering a new language, or...the list goes on. Whether you are in your teens, twenties, or thirties, you have an idea of what success means to you, even if you don't have all the details hammered out. Obviously, success is defined differently by all age groups, social groups, and by generations; in the end, we all want success, whatever our definition.

Today I stumbled upon a HBR article called The Best Path to Success is Your Own. I was drawn to it because of its title, in all of its simplicity and truth. Of course the best path to success is your own! We all value different things, and so one's idea of success may not be another person's idea of success. That's why we are encouraged to follow our own hearts, not the hearts of others. I found this paragraph from the article pretty brilliant: 

"Hence many are taking either route [corporate or entrepreneurial], for different reasons — to follow their passion, to prove themselves, to serve others, to gain recognition. Not everyone is a conformist who joins a big firm. Not all Zuckerberg wannabes are following their bliss. It's not the choice of workplace that matters most. It's why we make it, and what we do with it." (emphasis mine)

Yesterday I called home because of Mother's Day. It also happened to be my brother's graduation, so the whole family was together to celebrate both occasions. In the 11 minutes 23 seconds-long conversation (in which I spoke to all 4 members of the family + my sister's fiance), the eternal question of, "When are you coming home"? came up more than I can count. I have to admit that this question often frustrates me. I know that people ask me to come home because they miss me, but do they know and realize that I also miss them? Do they know that it's not always easy being thousands of miles away from home, but I continue in this line of work because this is the path to my success?

If we follow the path that belongs to someone else, no matter how "successful" it is, we will never experience the kind of success that was meant for us. For my father, perhaps his success is in immigrating to America, learning the English language, and being the boss of a successful company that he created despite all the hardships he faced. For my mother, perhaps her success is in raising three children with unrelenting love and attention. But these are not my successes. Even if I achieved all this, I would not feel success.

The path to success is our own. While it can be shaped by others, it cannot be dictated by others. We must discover it, and take it upon ourselves to choose it as our path. Some days we will walk, some days we will run, and some days, even, we may get lost and have to retrace our steps. However we move towards success, in the end, the only thing that matters is that the path to success is our own - this, we must not forget.