Sho's Africa Post

Friends Plus Teresa During Fantasy Football Season,

            Unless you lost Internet over the past four months and/or were incarcerated in one of those prisons where you can’t speak to anyone, text anyone, or deal drugs you all know I graduated from grad school in June. This Labor day while I basked in the Tahoe sun and listened to patrons discuss their serendipitous, $100,000 radical inclusion Burning Man vacation I came to the realization that this was the first time in my adult life where, for the most part, I didn’t miss being a student.   The one thing I missed out on was having the chance to research the unknown parts in some of my passions.  For me, I’ve always loved traveling but have never ventured over to Africa.

            If you pick up a Jared Diamond book you’ll discover that the continent of Africa is the domicile to 25% of the languages spoken on this earth, the birthplace of some of the world’s best coffee, and home to ten out of twelve of the fastest growing economies.  So why has this entire continent, with so many diverse and vibrant cultures, been relegated to a monolithic idea of an area perpetually engulfed with massive poverty, stagnant growth, and a forever war torn area?

            There’s no arguing that a large part of Africa has suffered through decades of mismanagement aid projects, self induced massive inflation, and brutally corrupt leaders. But if you’re looking for a blog post feigning some kind of insight into the depths of despair third world patrons go through on a daily basis, this isn’t one of them. Instead, I traveled to Uganda, Tanzania, and Kenya to gain a better understanding of the rapid industrial expansion Africa is experiencing.

            My first stop was Uganda.  My mother always said there are two distinct parameters to evaluate the greatness of a nation. How many Bollywood movies they watch and how much their citizens want to give back to their country.  Uganda didn’t disappoint in either measurement. For starters, it was a joy to meet so many citizens sharing the same joy brought on by international films filled with long drawn out musicals with the archaic plot line of whether the man from the poor family gets the girl from the super rich family (Spoiler: He gets the girl). But beyond our Bollywood bonding, I was amazed by how the big cities of Uganda had a United Nations vibe where immigrants from Canada, South Africa, and parts of Europe all called this East Africa nation their home.

            Their reason? One fellow who I sat next to on the airplane, who we’ll call “Annoying”, stated that he moved from Toronto to Kampala, Uganda because he could make a direct impact immediately, but also because he didn’t have to do it at a break neck pace. Mr. Annoying, along with citizens from England and South Africa, flocked to Uganda because they could start small business like a Mexican restaurant or a bakery because capital was cheap, but they didn’t have to work the strenuous 15-hour days a western entrepreneur had to if he/she had to start a business in North America. 

            In my next stops in Tanzania and Kenya I once again ran into numerous former Western citizens up rooting their life because they feel Africa is the next economic frontier. An ex-Wall Street banker I met at a bar in Nairobi, Kenya explained his passion for investing and seeing companies grow. He felt that with anyone with a large amount of capital should come to Africa for its low barrier to start a business and cheap cost of labor (he was, though, disappointed by the difficulty of getting cocaine). By no means are foreign investments a rarity these days. In the March 2^nd, 2013 edition of The Economist recent data shows that in the past five years, no other continent has received as much foreign direct investment as Africa. Furthermore, over 5,000 citizens from all over the world have come to Africa in the past decade to start a business.

            But, make no mistake; local citizens have been the main fuel that has spurred this break-neck financial expansion occurring in East Africa. Over the past three years, Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania have grown at an average rate of 5% and roughly 90% of that growth has come from domestic citizens. On each of my stops I attended an entrepreneur and venture capital conference. As a Silicon Valley native, I was expecting these conferences to be comprised of Tyrion Lannister size hipster male tech workers presenting software and apps to mask their poor self esteem, third grade level social skills, and the fact that the only girl they’ve seen naked was when they walked in on their mom during one winter break in college.

This was far from the case.  I had the pleasure of meeting countless individuals working on issues such as water rights, female access to education, and improving quality products for farmers.  Many people were baffled that so much money in America was being thrown into technology companies. I met a man, in Zanzibar, Tanzania, who was setting up an easier way for motorcycle drivers to lease their bikes for much cheaper.  In many parts of Africa most people get around on the backs of motorcycles (an experience that makes you fear for you life, but is incredibly cheap and efficient). He said, “I am amazed at the talent that in the American tech community. They have the ability to solve some of the biggest problems, but many choose to focus on trivial matters that have a minute impact on the world. I think this is a wasted opportunity. It’s my privilege to create a business that can help so many people in my country, and that’s the only way I look at my business.  Many people all around the world wish they had the same community and resources that reside in Silicon Valley.”

            While the inner nerd in me was mesmerized by the economic transformation occurring in Africa, the time I spent on checking out the sites in East Africa was just as mind blowing. This blog post is already too long to go into detail about the amazing environmental landscape I had the privilege to see, but if one is looking for natural forestry and aquatic beauty then they should consider a trip to Africa. There are no words that can explain the awesomeness of a safari (or as I like to call it a “Shofari”). The people who you meet that are committed to protecting the wildlife are heroes.   Sitting down over tea with Safari guides, who have been giving tours for over thirty years, was just as interesting as seeing that one wild animal holding Barack Obama’s birth certificate.  Having the opportunity to raft the Nile over one weekend was a dream I had since I was in third grade.  Even as the number one Tahoe fan, I had never seen a body of water so pristine and blue.

            And just like every country in the world, besides China, people will blow you away with their kindness.  Regardless, of economic stature, the people I met in all three countries I visited were honored to have visitors. To the fault of my own, I ended up in the tourist’s nightmare where I was alone at night walking back to my hotel. Not once did I ever feel threatened and not once did a person ever ask for money after helping with directions.  Many justified their philanthropic gesture by explained they were happy to have people visit and taking money was thug-life behavior deterring future tourists. In the over thirty countries I’ve visited I’ve never encountered this kind of benevolent behavior.        

            Perhaps the most surprising fact was the agony that I thought many Africans experienced was never apparent.  They never felt sorry for themselves for living through a brutal dictatorship, like many had in Uganda. Nor did the citizens of Tanzania want any sympathy from the outside world over the countless times large multinational oil companies pillaged their resources and left them with less then their fair share.  I had the opportunity to attend a number of culture shows and art exhibits. The people of East Africa were proud of their heritage and culture and were incredibly enthusiastic about sharing it with strangers.

            I can say I met over two hundred people on this trip. The only time I met so many people in such a short amount of time when I was a volunteer in Las Vegas on The President’s 2012 re-election campaign. If you gave me an assignment asking me to give you a list of the different thing these two groups wanted in life I would fail. These were people just like you and me (but taller, better skin, and probably better basketball players). Whether it was my driver or the police officer I had to bribe, all of them had the same “American” dream of sending their kids to college, having a safe environment for their family, and having the desire to leave this earth a better place than why they arrived.

            If you don’t believe me, that’s fine, I get it. For far too long we in the Western world have only been given images of Africa in despair and not of rapid development.  But if you have time and money, be a student and take some time to learn about an area in the world that should be getting far more attention and respect that it has in the past.

Unconditional Inevitability

                Unconditional love is a rare and precious thing.  It can be found in only a few different places in life, a significant other, a parent, a child, etc., and most people are lucky to find it once or twice.  However, there is one exception to that rule, and that is the relationships that we share with our pets.  Whether it’s a dog, a cat, a horse, or something else, a human’s bond with their pet can be one of the most treasured connections that we are capable of experiencing.

                Not everyone has shared that connection; some people aren’t used to having pets.  Others simply don’t maintain that close of a relationship with their animals, instead choosing to view the situation as a necessity when the animal provides some sort of service, such as transportation or security.  Some people only keep porcelain pets (not that that means they don’t love them just as much as if they were, say, NOT made of porcelain). 

                For me, as most of you know, having a pet has always been something of a focal point in my life.  I grew up with multiple dogs and a couple cats.  Then I worked at an animal shelter for years.  Nowadays, while I may occasionally steal some affection from my parent’s dog, Sammy; or my roommate’s cat, Biscuit, I primarily get my fix for unconditional love from my dog, Levi.

                If you don’t know Levi, he’s a boxer and bullmastiff mix.  I got him from the SPCA, where he was a “frequent flyer”, meaning that he was returned to us time and time again due to the bad habit of jumping fences and never staying in one place for too long.  That habit didn’t change much when I got him.  It took years of chasing him down the street, tricking and trapping him, getting help from my roommates, (and one time even enticing him back in to the house with a trail of bacon that I HAD been cooking for myself) in order to break that habit and get him to stay home.

                Despite his natural wanderlust, Levi is quite the homebody.  He’s always loved to sleep on couches or beds, and it’s rare that he lets me out of his sight when around the house, following me from room to room.  He is always there to comfort me when I’m feeling down, to annoy me when I’m frustrated, and to share in my excitement when something goes right for me.  And isn’t that ultimately what real love is?  To be so in tune with the person or animal that you love that you not only feel what they feel, but you either amplify it or you change it for the better?

                However, nothing can last forever.  Levi is a large-ish dog (70+ lbs.), and even though I never knew him as a puppy, and all we can do is guess at his age, best guesses put him right around 10 years old.  Now for a dog his size, 10 is on the distant side of middle-aged.  Most dogs his size usually live to be 12 or 13. 

                I mention this because his age is beginning to become a worry for me.  He limps when he walks; he struggles to get on the couches and beds that he loves so much.  A few minutes of play with younger dogs will nearly incapacitate him for a week.  He has fatty tumors growing all over his body, and he sometimes has trouble swallowing.   He’s getting old.

                He still looks at me with absolute adoration in his eyes, but now those eyes are clouding up with cataracts.  He still likes to cuddle on the bed, but now he can only lay on a certain hip, the other one hurts him too much to lay on it for more than a minute or two.  He still begs for food, but he can’t raise his front paw as he used to in order to give that classic begging pose.

                Having worked at the SPCA for as long as I did, I have had to assist with euthanasia multiple times.  Sometimes the animal was sick or old and in pain, and someone had to be there to do the deed.  That someone was frequently me during my time there.  I became somewhat accustomed to it, even with dogs or cats that I had grown attached to.   Still, it was never easy; it was an emotional hurdle every time.  (Side note: In my last two years there, I would sing “If I Could” by Jack Johnson to the animals while I held them.  It seemed to help calm them, and it certainly helped me.)

                However, this one, this one will be harder.  Levi has been my best friend for years now.  When I’m depressed he can tell, and he makes sure that he’s touching me whenever he can be; whether that means that he is laying on my feet while I sit on the couch, or pressed up against my side while I lie in bed.  When I’m happy, he tries his best to lick my face, even though I won’t let him.  When I’m confused, he sits and watches me as I talk to him.  I pour my heart out to him, and he listens, he’ll just sit there for hours and calmly watch me as I talk my way through my dilemma. 

                It’s because of the love in his eyes as he watches me; it’s because of the emotional warmth he gives me while pressed up against my side in bed; it’s because of his determination to congratulate me the only way he knows how, even though I won’t let him.  It’s because of all of this and more that I’m not sure I’ll be able to face that day that I know is coming.  I’m worried that it will be too soon.  And I’m worried that it will be too much.  I’ve had that unconditional love for years now, and I’m not sure what I’ll do when it’s gone. 

                Still, someday, everything goes.  It’s inevitability.  So I implore you, if you have that connection with a person, or with a pet, cherish it.  Make sure they know it.  Return that love with every fiber of your being, because ultimately love is the best way that we can improve the world around us.  

"X" Marks the Understanding

“I didn’t come down here to change any of y’alls minds about anything; I come down here to ease my own mind about everything.  It works every time.” – Todd Snider

Todd Snider has a point that he makes repeatedly in his new book, “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like: Mostly True Tall Tales”.  The point is that a good song writer writes their songs and their stories for themselves, not for the audience.  They write the songs as a cathartic act, an act of breaking themselves open to draw out the poison and whatever else may be in there. 

                I feel like his point applies not only to song writers but to artists of any type really.  To make art, the best art, you have to delve in to yourself.  Your soul is your paintbrush and the world is your canvas.  The best art is made from raw emotion.  It isn’t made with the audience in mind; it’s done for the sake of the artist and no one else.  It’s an act that is private and meant to be whispered in the dark.

                At least, at the point of creation, that’s what it is.  But the catharsis wouldn’t be complete if the artist didn’t then share that private, secret piece of his/her soul.  While art is meant to be created in private, it’s also meant to be shared with the world at large.  By doing this, the artist can find at least a moment’s peace; a respite from the voices in their head or the emotions stampeding through their heart. 

                I believe that what we’re all ultimately looking for is for someone who can understand us.  Perhaps that is even more true for artists.  We can’t comprehend the emotions inside us or the complex thoughts spinning through our imaginations, and so we ask for help to understand them.  Maybe if I can get this thought on paper or find just the right brushstroke to convey this feeling, then maybe someone out there will understand what it is that I feel.  If they can understand what I feel, then maybe they’ll be able to understand me as well. 

                We’re all seeking that companionship.  The world that we live in can be a scary place, but the worlds that live inside us can be a thousand times more confusing and frightening.  At times we feel things so strongly that we think our hearts may burst out of our chests, then at other times we want nothing more than to collapse in on ourselves, as if there were a blackhole inside us, pulling everything inward. 

These feelings and these thoughts can be terrifying.  Our feeling can overpower us, and in our inability to understand our own souls, we desperately search for those out there that may be able to understand us better than we understand ourselves.  All art is born out of confusion and a need for understanding.  We put our questions down in song, in writing, in pictures or sculptures.  We hold our art out in front of us like a Help Wanted sign, hoping that someone will be able to save us. 

It’s a compulsion, this need to be understood and to understand.  Some lucky few find that person that can understand them; sometimes that person is their friend, maybe family, perhaps a lover (hopefully not all three).  But from what I’ve seen, most people never quite find that level of understanding that they’re seeking.  They may get close, but it always manages to stay just slightly out of reach. 

I mention all of this for a reason.  I’ve been writing a lot lately.  Most of it is incomplete, fragmented thoughts and emotions jotted down, scrawled on the back of a receipt stuffed in my pocket or typed on five pages only to be buried beneath dozens of other incomplete thoughts.  Yet I still find myself writing them.  The problem is, that I’m afraid.  I’m afraid to share the most personal thoughts in my head.

I’m not sure why.  There isn’t anything particularly scary about them, it’s just that they’re so deeply personal and so immensely confusing.  I don’t understand them, yet I feel like I should.  I don’t like that sense of bewilderment that comes with them.  I know that I need to get the thoughts out there, in to the world so that maybe someone can understand.  But that means giving up control, and that is not my strong suit. 

That being said, I am going to make an effort to post some of my more personal work.  I certainly wouldn’t call any of it art just yet, but maybe someday, if I break down my own resolve enough, maybe someday someone will consider it as such. 

It’s hard to relinquish that control, to admit that I couldn’t find the answers by myself.  But maybe that’s what art really is, the act of breaking open your heart again and again, just to show the world what’s inside.  So, be prepared, I’m going to be trying something new here, after all, what have I got to lose?

“If everything goes particularly well this evening, we can all expect a ninety minute distraction from our impending doom.” – Todd Snider

The Climb

                “Whatever it takes to finish things, finish. You will learn more from a glorious failure than you ever will from something you never finished.” – Neil Gaiman

                Throughout life we are challenged; hourly, daily, weekly, monthly.  We are challenged professionally, personally, morally, spiritually, romantically, physically, emotionally, and any other –ally that you can think of.  For some of us the challenges come more frequently than for others.  Sometimes these difficulties come in waves, we feel as if we’re overwhelmed and drowning until we eventually manage to break through the wall of water and enjoy a peaceful respite on the other side, no matter how brief.

               

                Some of us seek out challenges.  I’m one of those people.  I don’t think I’ve always been this way; I used to be happy to float along in a sea of mediocrity.  But at some point in life I developed a love for competition, whether I’m competing against other people, or just striving against myself. 

                I want to be challenged, in every aspect of my life.  If I’m not challenged professionally (scholastically when I was still in school), then I get bored, which leads to aggravation, and that’s a slippery slope.  The same thing could be said for my love life, or my hobbies, even my imagination.  I want my beliefs and my thoughts to be challenged on a daily basis.  I want people to prove me wrong, I need my theories torn apart, I crave to be knocked down again and again.

                I seek all of this out not because I’m a masochist, though it may sound that way, but because every time I’m proven wrong, or someone points out a gaping hole in my thought process, I get stronger.  I never want to be the best, not at anything ever, not unless I feel like I’ve earned it.  I want my life to be a constant climb.  I never want to reach the top of the mountain, because if I do, it means that I have nowhere further to go.  And as Helen Keller once said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

                At times in my life I have gotten complacent, as I’ve written about in past blogs.  When that happens, I get angry with myself.  I feel like I’ve let myself down to some extent.  But let’s face it, I can’t be constantly looking to better myself in every aspect of life at the same time.  It’s too much, I have to let some things slide at times.  The trick is not to let them slide out of reach.

                This is the part where all of you come in.  If you notice me letting something slide, if I seem to be growing complacent, feel free to give me a little slap and tell me to get my shit together.  As much as I love the challenge of taking on everything totally and completely alone, I could, at times, use a bit of help. 

                This goes for all of us by the way.  Life is a series of challenges, you may seek some out, others will hit you when you least expect it.  But if you ever need help, don’t be afraid to ask.  Likewise, if you notice that someone you care about, or even a total stranger needs a hand, don’t hesitate to extend yours.  Maybe you’ll find something you never expected to find in the process.

                Folk Singer Ellis Paul once wrote, “Ah, but who needs perfection?  I like the tension when there’s room for doubt.”  I couldn’t agree more.  Perfection is boring, give me tension, give me a challenge, make me work for it, and I’ll appreciate it that much more. 

The Biggest Little Culture

                Take a moment and think of East 4^th street.

                If you’re from Reno, then chances are I could guess what thoughts just went through your head; thoughts of homeless shelters, drugs, and prostitutes (or to put it more poetically, homeless hookers on heroine).

                That’s what East 4^th street in Reno has made us think of for years, even generations.  So what are the odds that we could change that image?  What would it take for the people of Reno and our future generations to have a more positive image in their minds when they think of that neighborhood?  How can the image of that neighborhood be revitalized?  The answer, in short, is You.

                The question on the minds of a group of business owners along East 4^th street and the surrounding areas is, “How do we get You to come down here?”  Some of the businesses are old standbys, ones that have been there for decades, while others are only a month or two old.  Under the Rose Brewery is one of those newer businesses.  It’s built inside the old Nevada Welding Works building.

                The back part of the building, which was originally a welding and iron working shop, is large and open.  The sides of the room are lined with brewery equipment that is constantly operating, creating new batches of their delicious beer.  The front part of the building is a bar, with the usual bar games of darts, foosball, and ping pong, but also the unusual fixture of a bocce ball court set up along one side of the room.  Try to name another bar where you can drink a quality craft beer while enjoying an indoor game of bocce ball.

                Scattered throughout the neighborhood is a nightclub, another brewery (built INSIDE the old SPCA building.  For those of you that spent time with me there during my four years of working for the shelter, it’s pretty awesome to see.).  There’s Louis’ Basque Corner, over a dozen artist studios, The Reno Bike Project, a handful of eclectic shops, and other unique businesses. 

                But still, despite some new businesses moving in, a huge number of the buildings in the neighborhood are sitting empty.  I won’t lie to you; the majority of the neighborhood does still feel somewhat destitute.  That’s where we come in…

                This neighborhood is full of nothing but local business, and every single one is just as creative and unique as the next.  This neighborhood is only the latest one to join in the movement of revitalizing Reno’s culture.  Before now there has been the Riverwalk, Midtown, and a handful of others.  So far, those other neighborhoods have been successful.  But none of them have had to fight against the stigma that comes along with East 4^th street. 

                Nonetheless, Reno’s cultural footprint is changing.  We’re abandoning the old stereotype of Vegas’ dirty, little sibling.  We’re leaving behind the thought of old, smoke filled casinos and a different vice around every corner.  Instead, throughout town, individual neighborhoods are sprouting up, filled with local craft breweries, unique restaurants, and shops, the like of which you won’t find anywhere else. 

                Reno is developing in to something new altogether.  It’s somehow maintaining its small town persona while managing to grow in size.  It’s almost as if Reno is striving to become the southernmost point of the cultural behemoth that is the Pacific North West. 

                The district of East 4^th street is simply the newest area to step up to the plate and help Reno change its image.  But it’s also the neighborhood that has faced the largest challenge in doing so thus far.  So I implore you to go out, meet the owners of these new and old businesses, and spread the word.  Get out and see what Reno is becoming, and see what you can do to help it. 

                Every day that passes, Reno is more and more in the national spotlight.  With tourism growing, large businesses from across the country flocking here (come on Tesla, you know you want to build in Reno), and local businesses booming, we are growing in to something different and something new right before the world’s eyes.

                So help me leave behind the tired old facade of the Divorce Capitol of the World, and let’s shape this town in to what WE want it to be.  If we want the world to view us differently, we need to do so first.