A new year. A new life. Oh, how much has changed in the past few years...
I've always been quite the introspective thinker. And during this time of the year brings in an even deeper, renewed sense of introspection. However, for the first new years in a long time, I feel peacefully content with life (despite societal labels that would say otherwise). It feels great...
...because I am extremely grateful. For what I already have. It's been almost two years since I first stepped foot on African soil, independently for the first time, as a somewhat curious, nervous, and frightful young man. Unsure of what was to come. Unconfident of not having a status label attached to my name. Unstable because I had no income. But grateful because I can smile at the journey that changed that once frightful and nervous young man.
I'm grateful for the lessons in life taught me to by the children, the adults, and my new friends - teachers of the world. Because of you, I care no longer about new clothes but new friendships. No longer about small but big talk. And it's no longer about "what you do" but instead, "what's your story?"
A friend recently asked, "What did you learn from your journey abroad?"
I think ultimately...I learned what it meant to be human. A global citizen. That we shouldn't place judgments on anyone until we've met them. That certain stereotypes are mere illusions built up by media and "fake news." I remember arriving and strolling around Cairo during Ramadan with 7 million people lining the streets after Iftar. To be honest, perhaps I'd seen one too many movies, being surrounded by hijabs and the Arabic language were a bit of a shock. But as soon as I met and interacted with the people - all stereotypes were immediately shattered. I met a guy named Mohamed, who graciously took me around the city and unwillingly let me pay for our meals. He said something that will stick me with for the rest of my life:
"My dream is to see the world. But unfortunately, I cannot because of where I am from. That's why I try to meet travelers here in Egypt, so I can bring the world to me. See..I can still see the world."
The palpable sense of optimism was emotionally riveting, especially coming from a place torn by violence in the recent past and now feared by the outside world due to surrounding events. Another friend that housed me in Indonesia had similar words in that he "wished he could travel" but due to the nature of his country's passport, it's extremely difficult. I had no words to say but just immense gratitude towards his kind will.
"We are happy because the most important things to us are family and religion."
These were the words spoken to me by the Zambians in the rural village of Munenga, where I stayed for 5 weeks. It amazed me to see laughter and smiles from all corners in a village that was deemed "poor" by western standards. They danced. They sang. They greeted each other "Mwabuka Buti" (good morning) every morning. So...what was their secret? Family and religion.
And then there was the Egyptian kid who gave up his seat for a clearly lost soul on a train bound for Luxor. I had bought the wrong ticket, but the family gave me their ticket as they exited the next stop just in case I'd need it. My heart melted as the kid waved good-bye to a new stranger...a new friend he had just met.
And who could forget the Indonesian boy from Lake Toba, who mildly resembled an Asian Elvis for whatever reason I had at that moment? I was flustered and stranded on the top of the mountain during a thunderstorm, shivering from the cold as I was drenched in water, while leaning against my Honda motorbike next to side of their house for shelter. He opened the door and led me into his home. His mom served me tea, which immediately brought some level of heat back into my body. My iPhone was also dead, drenched from the rain. How stupid was I to not shelter my phone? In a sudden "ah hah" moment, I remembered the "magic rice" trick for dead phones. Luckily, he had rice and offered me a bagful, which must have been a lot for them. Though I spoke no Indonesian, I could muster up smiles and clasped my hands for gratitude. We exchanged laughs due to our inabilities to communicate, but love and gratitude are universal. As the rains died down, I thanked them wholeheartedly for their kindness, and sped back down towards town...knowing I'd probably never see them again.
I must have bad luck with the rain because the same thing happened in Ninh Binh, Vietnam. This time, I was on a bicycle, and there was no shelter to be found except under a small tree. A local Vietnamese couple spotted me, helpless and shivering under the malnourished tree, and ushered me to come in. I did and subsequently enjoyed a hot, Vietnamese lunch along with a few shots of a locally distilled alcoholic beverage. No language but again...communication was universal.
From the pouring rain into big-hearted hospitality - thank you!
Countless stories of immense kindness cannot be counted with the fingers on my hands. I was just in awe of how kind and helpful people were. I was a stranger but brought in as family. I don't think the same could be said back home in the West. I thought to myself, "If there was a man stuck in the rain outside on his bicycle, would I invite him inside my home for a meal?" I was ashamed to say that it's not in our culture to do that...but I'm hoping I have a different answer now.
The world is not so dangerous at all. In fact, the opposite is true. The stories of true global citizens are endless. These experiences taught me to be more open and kind. From a scared, risk-averse, and nervous young man sprouted a more mature, confident, and kind person. These are the lessons I will take to my grave. Thank you, teachers of the world. Thank you.