Backpacks Are For Travel, Not School

This is for no one but myself. There are some things I need to think through and sometimes writing helps me do that. I rarely do it, because I'm an engineer and, frankly, numbers are my thing. Letters, words, they always seem so grey (gray?) to me. Maybe that's why I feel like I need them right now. If you'd like to read my thoughts, please do.

This world, this country, this election, there's nothing clear cut to me. I'm a middle-class, Christian, well-schooled, white male living in one of the most progressive cities in the country. Notice I didn't say educated. I have a fair number of family and friends living the vast red sea making up the majority of land in the country. The way I see it, land is red and population is blue. The Electoral College sees red and blue states, but a county map shows something else entirely.

Tuesday night, I felt confused. When I saw Florida going red, I thought it was only delaying the inevitable. Facebook had already informed me Hillary was going to win. Sure, I had watched the news and read BBC. They didn't seem to lead me in a different direction. It was a weird feeling wanting states to turn blue. My voting record will show I rarely vote for the eventual winner. (Hint: I voted for Bill Bryant, Rob McKenna, and Dino Rossi in the last three WA Governor races.)

I took a long time trying to decide who to vote for, as I hope everyone did. At the end of the day, social, fiscal, healthcare, education, foreign policy, immigration, etc. didn't really matter because I didn't want President-Elect Trump to be the face of our country. I believe he fear-mongered. He also spoke words I found disgusting and was accused of unspeakable acts. Yes, I understand the word accused. But someone doesn't have to be proven guilty in a courtroom for me to develop an opinion. The volume was enough for me.

Briefly, while voting issues are at hand, no issue is more important to me than education. There is nothing I'd rather pay taxes for. Having a strong education system is vital to the future of our country and it must include technical programs. I believe this, teachers and farmers are the backbone of our country. Without them, we'd all be less intelligent and hungry.

Early Tuesday morning, I finally completed my ballot and dropped it off. Tuesday night I was in a house surrounded, to my knowledge, of pro-Clinton and/or anti-Trump voters. There was a vast range of emotions from people as the evening wore on and the unanticipated turned to inevitable. Red caught blue in Pennsylvania and that was that. Like the Dow Futures, our mood plummeted amid the unkown of what comes next. There were people who needed to be alone, those that needed to be with people, and those who were just confused. How did more typical republican voters not have their decision swayed? How did more democrats not turn out. How did half of our country not vote with the oppressed and marginalized in mind?

Social media and geography create bubbles. To anybody believing the entire west coast is a blue, liberal, weed-smoking happy place and we should secede from the union, know that eastern half of Washington, Oregon, and California (the land I mentioned earlier) are not. In fact, they talk about seceding from us (at least Washington and Oregon) just as much. The fact of the matter is, we need each other.

Late Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning I started seeing the statuses. Statuses full of fear. People who are scared. Friends who are afraid for what their lives will look like with President-Elect Trump in office. Friends that are women. Friends that are gay. Friends that are minorities. I was at a large presentation that morning, and one of the speakers mentioned he turned the TV off the night before when his kids asked if they were going to have to move. He's Pakistani-American. I wanted to cry. I've tried to understand, and I want to understand, but I can't. My demographic categories will never let me fully comprehend what circumstances you have, and will, have to endure. Please don't let that stop you from telling me. This is an open invite to inform me. And I will do better to reach out.

At some point, the sadness I was feeling turned back to confusion, due to the number of times I saw some form of the following statement: "I didn't realize half of our country was racist/sexist/homophobic. I'm embarrassed of our country." Sixty million citizens exercising their right to vote instantly turned from friends and family to white-supremacists. I had hoped the moods would rebound similar to how stocks around the world had throughout the day Tuesday. They didn't, and they haven't. The pain and fear people are feeling is real.

Back to the bubble I mentioned earlier. I'm not from small-town USA. I do have friends and family that are. I have friends and family that voted for President-Elect Trump. Yes, some of those that voted for President-Elect Trump are the worst kind of people. Those that think they are better than others because of their skin color, their religion, and/or their gender. Please know, some, I pray most, are not. They are people that are also afraid. Afraid because industry, and in turn jobs, are leaving their small towns. A friend of mine recently posted this article, which articulates this mindset far better than I can. Please read it. While you're at it, read the article he links to near the end about society's uncomfortable questions. If you didn't read the article, that's okay. This is the number one point I took away from it:

Call it selfish, but when people believe they won't be able to pay their mortgage or feed their kids, they vote for who they believe is their best bet. At some point in time, rural went red and urban went blue.
Sure, there are other factors involved in this whole ordeal. I'm not going there. I don't want to get into an argument about fiscal impacts and social rights. If you want to have a conversation about policy, I'd be happy to do so privately. I do want people to know and understand there is almost always more to the story.

Violence is not okay. Hate is not okay. Isolation of ideas is not okay. The only way for our country to come together is to listen and to love. To be quick to hug and slow to judge. To those who vast a vote for President-Elect Trump because you were able to look past the hateful rhetoric, stand up for those around you that are afraid and fear what happens next. Make sure President-Elect Trump is fully aware you will not stand for oppression. As white males, we should all take this responsibility on. While we are not guilty for the sins of past generations, we must be proactive in remedying the wounds which remain.

I was in a lot of locker rooms growing up. I was the president of my fraternity in college. I've heard more sexist, racist, and homophobic remarks than I care to admit. I've said some of them. Men, boys, say some really stupid shit when they believe they are alone and it's what their compatriots want to hear. I do not excuse any of the words President-Elect Trump said. I don't not excuse any of the thoughtless words I've said in the past. And I do not excuse the many words which you have all said at some point to belittle someone. It might not have been about their race, or their gender, or their sexual orientation, but the single worst trait I've observed about humans is our ability to prop ourselves up at someone else's expense. They're tall, they're fat, they have a gap in their teeth, they have acne, they're socially awkward, they're a prude, they're a frat boy, they're a nerd, they're a jock, they're slow, they're poor, they're rich. Those are the worst of what I've heard. Most of them sound mundane and, relatively, they are. But they still hurt. We can all do better.

There is a song I had been listening to a fair amount prior to the election and has pretty much been on repeat since. Eric Church, Kill A Word.

This morning, I rode the bus to work and saw the start of a beautiful sunrise. When I turned right out of the elevator into my office, I stopped. I stared. Mt Rainier was out in all of her glory with an explosion of red, yellow and orange emanating over the mountains. I walk into our conference room, understandably coined the "Rainier Room," and continued to stare. In that moment, I remembered there is far more beauty in this world, in our country, if we take the time to observe it. Despite our differences, we have more in common than we may ever realize.

Dear God, my prayer is this. Heal the hurting and piece back together the broken. Lift up those who are down and push the most unexpected voices to sing out for the marginalize and the oppressed. Open the ears of all and allow them to listen and hear the ways in which all people are hurting. Make all of our similarities stand out and show us how to love one another, while also letting people know that having differences is okay. It's part of what makes our country amazing. Kill a word. "Turn 'lies' and 'hate' to 'love' and 'truth'" -Amen.

I used "President-Elect Trump" and "our country" multiple times and very deliberately. This is OUR country. And regardless of who you cast your vote for, we must rally together to push our country forward. Hear me. This is not an endorsement of hate. It is the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise, for a man recently fairly elected to our highest office of government. Hear me again. I will not stand for hate. If you need a voice, let me know how I can help.

God bless.

Well, I've been back home in the US for almost 2 weeks now and it has been over 3 weeks since my last narrative blog entry. Time to fill everyone in on the project status when we left and how things are going back in the Northwest.

First, the project. Unfortunately we did not get to see as much get completed as hoped. That said, I was still happy with the overall progress on site, as we knew that the original schedule would be the best case scenario. The roof of the registration/waiting area is on, the front rafters of the main clinic are set, and the final beam was being prepped on our last day. Hopefully it is rather smooth sailing from that point. The Wednesday before we left we started placing roof sheets, and it started raining. More so pouring. Needless to say it was an adventurous drive back down the hill, sliding into the ditch a handful of time.

To make sure the weather and roads didn't have any impact on us making our flight, we spent the last weekend in Blantyre. This also let us do some last minute curio shopping and start our transition back to the US. On the 22nd we flew out off Blantyre. We had a 5 hour layover in Johannesburg before continuing on to London. It was the best plane sleep I have ever gotten. Six to seven hours right in the middle of the flight made the ride seem much shorter. We arrived at Heathrow just after 5am and took the tube into the city. We wandered around Hyde Park before finding some breakfast and finally spending our last hour or so lost in the department store/mall/museum/maze that is Harrods. The ride back to the airport was adventurous to say the least. We ended up in the wrong terminal, took a connector train, only to find out it wouldn't connect us to the right terminal, returned to the first terminal, took a bus, and arrived at our gate with 5 minutes to spare. Thankfully security was a breeze. After a small delay, we had an uneventful 9 hour flight back to Seattle. After just over 36 hours of travel, I was back in the beautiful Northwest. And yes, it was raining.

The quick summary of being home. My mom picked me up and we went straight to the Northlake Tav for my dad's company party. People seemed shocked that I would do such a thing after the much travelling. Three words, pizza and beer. The two weeks since have been a blur. The night I got back, I found out my grandpa, my mom's dad, was in the hospital. The next day was Christmas Eve, and that evening my other grandpa also had a brief stay at the hospital. Thankfully he was back at home for Christmas, which we spent at my grandparents. This year my grandma's brother, who lives in Japan, was able to visit with his wife, daughter, and two granddaughters. It had been ten years since his last visit so it was great to see all of them. Friday was spent catching up with friends. Saturday morning I went to my sister's new house to help with some remodel work. When I got there I found out that Grandpa Chub had passed away. Sunday was spent watching the Hawks and doing some more work at Keri's. Monday was spent back at Keri's before a quick trip to my aunt's and then a family dinner in Seattle, when I found out my cousin and his wife are expecting. Finally on Tuesday I spent the day at home, doing nothing. Since then I've celebrated NYE with a good group of fraternity brothers, hiked twice, watched a whole bunch of football, and caught up with more friends. Thankfully I still have another week before I start work to settle in and get fully unpacked. Actually, not thankfully, because I was supposed to be in Canada skiing. Oh well.

Losing my Grandpa still hasn't fully hit me. He was one of the most strong-willed people I have ever known and ever will know. He loved the outdoors. He hunted. His name came from fishing. I say his name, and not nickname, because I seldom heard him referred to as anything other than Chub. He worked harvest this past fall at 80. He loved the Seahawks from the beginning, long before it was cool. He said "Hey, kid" in a way only he could. He loved his animals. He loved his daughters. He loved his grandkids and great-grandchildren. And he was loved by them and many more. We shared an unspoken bond through football. At the end of a trip my mom and I took to see him in Arizona, he mentioned that we should have shot his pistol. This summer, when I wrote him for his birthday from Malawi, I said that hopefully next spring we could make that happen. It looks like it will have to happen in memory of him instead. Rest in peace Grandpa Chub. I love you and will always think of you whenever I watch the 'Hawks or spend time in the great outdoors.

By far, the most common question I have gotten is "How does it feel to be back?" With all that has been packed into the last two weeks, it still hasn't sunk in that I'm back for good. It's not just that I'm back in the States, it's that I start a career job next week for the first time in my life. Overall, I'm ready and excited, to a point. Sure I would love to just travel the world forever, and somehow I plan to find a way to do it here and there, but I spent a lot of time and energy, and money, earning two clean pieces of paper that say I learned something. It is time to see how much of it was practical.

Now the weather just needs to get better and dump a bunch of snow up in the mountains. Than it will definitely be good to be home.

Cheers!

For the last 5 plus months, I have been living in Malawi, halfway around the world from the Pacific Northwest that I call home. Many of you reading this now have probably read about my time here at some point. If you have, you know that my blog posts have been mostly narratives of my journey and adventures, not deep, insightful, politically-leaning, current event-charged posts. That's not to say I haven't been following, or at least attempting to follow, current world events. Frankly, it has been hard not to. When you work with an NGO, the majority of expats tend to be well read. They also tend to have differing opinions than mine. It makes for interesting conversations. We had conversations about the pros and cons of continuing to search for Malaysia Airlines 370. Dinner conversation included the difference between containment and treatment of Ebola. Not only did I receive a crash course into the world of public health, I had, and listened to, more discussions regarding world events than usual. Observing current events from an outside perspective has been a unique experience. I wasn't constantly bombarded by media, yet I tried to read and keep up as much as possible.

Guys and gals, I'm tired.

I'm tired of white privilege
I'm tired of male privilege
I'm tired of guilt
I'm tired of middle/upper-class, straight, white, males pretending like there aren't problems
I'm tired of identifying people by sex, race, sexual orientation, and profession
I'm tired of judging others
I'm tired of everyone pretending they don't do the same
I'm tired of people dying
I'm tired of misuse of police power
I'm tired of the rare instance seeming the norm
I'm tired of not knowing if it actually is the norm
I'm tired of not complying
I'm tired of jumping to conclusions
I'm tired of guilty until proven innocent
I'm tired of not indicting
I'm tired of irresponsible protests
I'm tired of people thinking Africa is a country
I'm tired of the west seemingly not caring about Ebola anymore
I'm tired of the their ignorance when they did
I'm tired of boys raping women
I'm tired of calling rape sexual assault
I'm tired of boys harassing women
I'm tired of boys giving inappropriate attention to women
I'm tired of girls dressing for attention and being confused when they get it
I'm tired of women not feeling safe
I'm tired of porn
I'm tired of fraternities endorsing a culture of rape
I'm tired of the negative aspects of fraternities being picked apart
I'm tired of a poor journalistic effort taking the focus off of the major issue of rape on college campuses
I'm tired of fraternities not better emphasizing community involvement
I'm tired of sororities not getting a share of the blame
I'm tired of being told paying for dinner and opening doors is sexist
I'm tired of women expecting men to provide
I'm tired of men feeling they must provide for women
I'm tired of republicans
I'm tired of democrats
I'm tired of trying to be a moderate
I'm tired of a potential Bush v Clinton 2016
I'm tired of failing to compromise
I'm tired of $15 minimum wages
I'm tired of kids not working
I'm tired of the shrinking middle-class
I'm tired of people telling others who they can marry
I'm tired of private businesses not being able to refuse service for religious purposes
I'm tired of abortion
I'm tired of preaching abstinence to the masses
I'm tired of national debt
I'm tired of overspending
I'm tired not funding education reform
I'm tired of calls for smaller class sizes
I'm tired of not paying teachers more
I'm tired of not buying new books and supplies
I'm tired of school shootings
I'm tired of kids not feeling safe
I'm tired of ISIS and Boko Haram and the Taliban
I'm tired of Islam being misused for terror
I'm tired of people removing God from the conversation
I'm tired of atheists pushing their beliefs into schools
I'm tired of the either/or when it comes to God and evolution
I'm tired of religion causing wars
I'm tired of Christianity being a culture thing and not a soul thing
I'm tired of the Church seeming to care more about preventing love than providing it
I'm tired of Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian
I'm tired of a lack of personal responsibility
I'm tired of not seeing love

I'm tired of it all. We seem to be moving farther and farther apart from each other, when we need to be moving closer together. We have decided everybody must clearly step to one side of the line or the other. But if you do, those already there do their best to suck you further and further from the line, further polarizing the issue. I don't expect many to agree with my opinions, heck, they don't agree with themselves. Being upper middle-class, white, straight, Christian, and male makes me, well, I don't know. Privileged, inherently ignorant, conservative, part of the problem. That is what I hear from the media. I can't be proud of my social class. I can't be proud to be white. I can't be proud to be straight. I can't be proud to be Christian. I can't be proud to be male. If I am, well, I'm an ass. Because to be proud of any of those traits is to be use the definition of proud synonymous with arrogant, pompous, and conceited, not the proud associated with the pleasure of one's qualities. Not being able to be proud is because I already have white privilege.

I get that. I'm okay with that. I don't need to stand up for my rights because I already have more opportunities than the vast majority of citizens in the same country. What I am not okay with, is using white privilege to fuel white guilt. Feel free to insert male, upper-class, straight, or Christian for white. Action due to guilt is no better than inaction due to ignorance. Action due to guilt is not action of love, it is action in search a reward. I do not feel guilty for white privilege because there is nothing I could have done to avoid inheriting it. I cannot atone for the sins of past generations which created a broken and unjust social and economic system. What I can do is admit white privilege exists and acknowledge I have been a benefactor of the system. Doing so does not diminish my accomplishments. It does not lessen the amount of hard work that I have poured into my education and life passions. What it does is recognize that the system is broken. That to give my life different inherited circumstances, but the same amount of work and effort, would change the outcome. I can also be an ally. To be honest, I don't know what that looks like. But I know it starts with love.

In 1992, after the LA riots, Garth Brooks released "We Shall be Free" and though we have made progress since then, it still rings true today. This fall he released "People Loving People", the action required to see the world described his song from 22 years ago.

With only two weeks or so left in Malawi, Marco and I decided to take one last adventure. With a group of friends from Lilongwe, as well as some new friends, we headed to the lake for the weekend. We rented a staffed house and all we had to do was show up with food and drinks. No cooking or cleaning necessary. Luckily, those driving down from Lilongwe took care of the food, transporting it from Neno was going to be near impossible. For someone that normally finds myself very involved in planning weekends like this, either by necessity or choice, it was a nice change to just be along for the ride. I brought clothes and cash and basically just asked how much I owed, and paid.

After 6 hours of travel from Neno, we were the first to arrive, just before dark. We started on the stocked fridge and the relaxing began. A weekend full of friends, food, the beach, a book, sunshine and a brilliant full moon. One last quick getaway to explore this beautiful corner of the world. I wish I would have had the time to explore more of this lovely country. It would have been great to make it up north to Nkata Bay, or Livingstonia, or Nyika Plateau, or to see the game reserves in Liwonde or Majete. But it didn't happen, and that's okay with me. Because the adventures I did take led me to see some amazing places and meet some even more amazing people.

Out on the project site, we are just waiting on the roof sheets to arrive so that it can be installed. Electrical work has begun and plastering of the interior and exterior is ongoing.

Cheers!

Thanksgiving!
Yes, the great American holiday of family, friends, food, and football. For the first time in my life, I was without the first of those. Combined with a lack of family and temperatures into the 90s, not to mention having to work, Thanksgiving day itself was a bit different, to say the least. None the less, we enjoyed a great meal. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, candied carrots, white beans with kale (okay, something similar to kale), salad, and cranberry sauce was shared with six or seven of us. Combined with an always entertaining game of Cards Against Humanity, it would have been a satisfactory celebration for Neno. It was only Thanksgiving round one.

Round two happened on Saturday. I've never seen so little kitchen space utilized so efficiently to produce such an elaborate spread of food. Three kinds of poultry, turkey, guinea fowl, and chicken. Steak. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Roasted sweet potatoes. Dressing. Ginger mashed pumpkin. Gravy. Cranberry sauce. Homemade challah bread. And now for the twist. Seasoned ground beef. Refried beans. Mexican rice. Homemade salsa and guac. Sour cream. Chipati (very similar to large flour tortillas). Yes, I basically just described a burrito that puts Chipotle to shame. Oh yeah, and dessert. Apple pie. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin roll. Honey cinnamon ice cream. While the meal on Thursday was delicious and filling, Saturday fully induced the Thanksgiving-famous food coma.

My cooking and baking for the meal started Friday night. My original plan was to make a pumpkin cheesecake, along with pumpkin pie and the ice cream. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication in my grocery order, so there as 9oz. of cream cheese on its way back to Neno, instead of 900grams. Change of plans. Pumpkin roll with cream cheese frosting instead. While I was waiting for the cream cheese and evaporated milk, for the pie, I got to work. With beans on the stove, I baked the cake part of the roll. While that was in the oven, I made powdered sugar. For those curious, you blend regular granulated sugar. Once the cake was done, I rolled it up in a towel and put it in the fridge. Next, I made the pie crust. When I finished that, the other items I needed had arrived, so I whipped up the pie filling and slid it into the oven. With that baking, I blended the frosting together. Out of the fridge came the roll. Laying flat, I generously applied the frosting, rolled it back up, and placed it back in the fridge. The last piece of the puzzle for the night was the ice cream. With the beans now done, I placed them aside and heated the milk (made from powder) and added honey, sugar, half the cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. With egg yolks already set out, I went through the process of slowly heating them in order to get custard, and not scrambled eggs and milk. Lastly I added the remaining cinnamon and a bit of ginger, before straining into a shallow dish. At this point it went into the fridge to cool. As I pulled the pie out of the oven, my time in the kitchen was done for the night. Pumpkin pie, done. Pumpkin roll, done. Ice cream, ready to churn.

First thing Saturday morning, I pulled the frozen ice cream maker from the freezer and churned the ice cream. Returning it to the baking dish and placing it in the freezer once it was done. Besides stirring the ice cream from time to time, to help it freeze better, I was done with the desserts. For the rest of the morning, I watched, smelled, and listened, as Marco turned our kitchen into a Mexican restaurant. Originally, the plan was to eat around 4 or 5, but as we realized that wasn't going to happen, we helped ourselves to a "sampling" for lunch. It confirmed it, my plate would be made up mostly of a giant burrito, with small sides of typical Turkey Day foods.

Around 4:30 we went over to the house that was hosting dinner. At this point the guinea fowl was still alive. I helped here and there for a bit, but mostly just tried to stay out of the way. Finally, as the last thing to cook, I fried the chipati that Marco had been rolling out. About halfway through, Joe took over. It was at this point I found out I had been making tortillas, using only a thin layer of oil. With joe at the helm, each piece was dropped into ¼ in plus of oil, truly frying it, and hence, chipati. With every pot and pan in the kitchen used, most twice, all possible serving dishes in use, and an overused oven, which at one point had bread, steak, and chicken cooking at once, now only baking apple pie, it was 8 o'clock. Time to eat!! Well, after we explained the smorgasbord of food sprawled out on the table to the Malawians.

As I slowly sank backwards and began to slouch in my chair, the sure onset of food coma, I felt a small grin slide onto my face. Pure satisfaction. The only unfortunate thing was that I didn't have a comfy couch to sink into while semi-consciously watching football. A few hours of relaxing and chatting later, room for dessert had magically appeared in my stomach. Between the pumpkin roll frosting, the buttery-goodness of the apple pie, and the richness of the ice cream, I didn't even get to the pumpkin pie. All in all, I am positive I consumed more butter in one night then I had since I arrived in Neno. The latest says it's healthy for you, right?

Oh. And the best part. There were plenty of leftovers for dinner on Sunday!

Thanksgiving is a strange holiday. With the story we are all taught about its beginnings a sham, and it now serving as the official beginning of the overly commercial, month-long, Christmas shopping spree, the basic premise is easy to forget. Thanks. This year, I am thankful for all of the new people I have met since July. For everybody that worked together to bring an odd American tradition to rural Malawi. For the opportunities that I have had this year to travel the world and gain perspective on the battle for social justice and equality. For supportive family and friends. For this crazy ride we call life and all the ups and downs, failures and triumphs, good and bad along the way.

Cheers!