Happy Thanksgiving from Dubai!

I thought I’d quickly interrupt my “A Tale of Four Cities” series to wish everyone reading a very Happy Thanksgiving from Dubai! I haven’t posted yet on Dubai, I know, as I’ve gotten bogged down by graduate school applications and a (thankfully) increasing research load here in the Middle East. That means that for those of you back in the States today was a day for relaxing, cooking, spending time with family, watching football, and, of course, eating, for me it was another work day. I spent the day at the Big 5 Construction Exhibition meeting some wonderful people (including a fellow American) and making contacts for future meetings while taking in the scope of construction products available on the market.

But though I spent my day busy at work, it didn’t mean I was unable to enjoy the spirit of Thanksgiving. Unfortunately there is a rather small American expat population in Dubai so Thanksgiving festivities are few and far between and, like most things in this city, rather expensive. However I did get to spend the day with some new friends, Marina, Armen, and Abiola, before heading to a British restaurant for turkey and football (not the American kind) before capping of the night with a pumpkin spice latte (no pumpkin pie and a nice way to ward off the tryptophan-induced coma) and a little “Black Friday” shopping at the Dubai Mall. Though it wasn’t what I’m used to—no nice family meal, Cowboys and Lions games, or settling in to watch a movie with the family afterward—I could still appreciate the spirit of the holiday as much, if not more, than usual. If you will indulge me now to read further, I will share some of the things which, upon reflection, I am very grateful for and tell a story or two to illustrate.

I will start first with the one that will either make you feel warm and fuzzy inside or roll your eyes depending on your personality. I am very thankful to have and know all of you—my friends and family. You continue to provide me support and encouragement in all that I do whether studying my ass off at Harvey Mudd, navigating the brush of the California wilderness, venturing into rural Africa to learn about engineering in the village, or leaving home for a year to study sustainable design on my own. No matter where I am or what I do, you give me confidence and make sure I am thinking straight, especially when I get too stressed out or spread out to manage everything easily. I know I have often called on you to assist me, and hope that I have always been able to provide the same in return. I know that I can trust each of you and value greatly the knowledge that if I ever fell into real trouble, I would have an army willing to help me quickly. Though I know I don’t call some of you as much as I ought to just to say hello or see how things are, it is not out of neglect or a lack of caring—my thoughts often turn to my friends, just not when it is typically convenient to call (such as midnight, between classes, or when I’m halfway around the world). I hope you will forgive me for this negligence and understand that I will try harder in the future (thought it’s not yet the time for resolutions!). But for being such an important part of my life, I am thankful to my friends and family and hope that we have many more happy times together when next we meet.

I would be remiss if I didn’t express my thankfulness for the opportunities I have been given. I have been incredible fortunate in the past year to conclude a fellowship at a company I loved, CTG Energetics, doing work I enjoyed, be accepted to several of the top sustainable design graduate programs in the nation, travel to Africa to continue a project for which I developed a passion the previous year, and embark on a year-long sustainability sojourn. I suppose some would say I’ve been rather blessed or lucky. For five years I listened to my umpiring boss, now a great friend, preach that luck was what happened when timing meets preparation. I suppose then that I can say thanks for being lucky—I did my part in preparing through hard work and perseverance, and I can only be thankful that the timing worked out in my favor. It has been an incredible yet fast-paced year full of change and excitement, and as I sit here now I can be thankful for the many chances I’ve had to enjoy life and explore this year.

Through these adventures, I have been fortunate to have some great experiences which have shown me other things for which I should be thankful. Those of you who followed my trip to Kenya prior to departing for the Watson Fellowship either from my stories on returning or through our blog may have already heard the following story, but I’d like to relate it in my own words as it was perhaps the moment that impressed on me most just how fortunate we in America are to have the resources we are. Many of you will know that the purpose of the trip to Kenya was to help install solar power for a secondary school in Ngomano, Kenya, to provide better lighting to the classrooms and a new electric water pump for the well. I traveled with three other students from Harvey Mudd, our professor, Peter Saeta, and his family for six weeks—a duration which, according to our preparation at Mudd, should have been more than sufficient for accomplishing all we desired and having a bit of fun on safari too. Well, despite our preparation, on the first day in the village we learned just how different “engineering in the village” can be. The old pump, which we had tried to extract from the well, suddenly broke free from our rig and crashed to the bottom of a 100 m hole.

Imagine our surprise and disappointment—day one and we were already a step behind! And we had expected that to be the easy part of the project! The next four weeks were spend designing and redesigning devices to extract the pump and associated piping from the well. Each week was filled with small victories and defeats as we alternately lodged and dislodged various devices from the well in our removal attempts. Finally, with little over a week left, we succeeded in removing the pump and pipe using our “Rocket of Reclamation,” a Frankenstein device made of old metal scraps and pipe expertly welded together by a local blacksmith. Here I want to pause and say how much this made me appreciate the access to tools, machines, and other conveniences we have in the U.S. Had we undertaken this endeavor in the States, we never would have run across this challenge. Pump extraction is accomplished using industry tools, not a tripod made of three old pipes and some locally-made rope from which dangled a chain and pulley system. Even had the pipe fallen, tools are readily available to help remove it. While such tools exist in Kenya too, their expense and scarcity prohibited their use for us.

With little over a week left before our departure, the team and I worked feverishly to accomplish all that we desired. Splitting our efforts, some laid wire and installed lights for the classrooms while the rest put pipe after pipe down the well with the new pump attached. Soon, we had water flowing from the well powered by the sun—a joyous event that coincided with my 22^nd birthday. About the same time, there came a day when the lights in the classrooms had all been installed, three or four bulbs to a room representing a total of 39-52 W of lighting power, and we were finally able to throw the switch on them. That night, as we took our dinner in the staff lounge downhill from the classes, we beheld a sight previously unknown to the Clay School. As the sun set, a soft glow emerged from the windows of the rooms. The previous lights cast only weak rays on the books of the students trying to study late into the evening. Now, beams of light emanated from the windows of all four rooms so brightly that they were clearly visible to us down below. Principal Peter came in beaming from ear to ear to thank us and proudly proclaim that the Clay School looked like a miniature city and that all of the neighbors in the surrounding hills would be asking what city that was that had been built across the way. He invited us up to the school to see the lights at the hour when the parents arrived to pick up their children; an invitation which we graciously accepted.

At the appointed hour, we headed across the football pitch guided by the light of our labor. We arrived at the classrooms just ahead of the parents so as to be in place in the rooms when they came through the gate. At 9 pm, they began entering the classroom, slowly crossing the threshold beholding the scene with wide eyes, mouths agape, and a sense of wonderment on their faces. Many were rendered speechless on first entering and all we could do was stand, smile, and watch. It was not long, however, before the silence was broken by shouts of joy, singing, dancing, and several weeping for joy, their eyes filled with tears of hope for the students who know could study later in the evening. Many words were said which, though in Kamba, a language I have not yet learned, I am sure were of praise, thanks, and hope. Each circled around us and thanked us with words, hugs, and handshakes, many smiling from ear to ear, others weeping. Soon the teachers and students joined in the celebration and we too danced to the best of our ability. When finally the crowd dispersed for their homes and we headed back across the dark pitch to our accommodations, all we could do was smile humbly and reflect on what we had just witnessed.

The remainder of our time we were constantly thanked and praised by the teachers and parents despite the failures (of which there were several) that occurred over the next few days. Joyous exchanges, dancing, and singing occurred several more times in recognition both of our efforts and those of the students—the school had just taken many academic awards at the district awards ceremony. At these events, we saw that all were inspired with the hope that our lights might help ensure the continued success of the school. Such a simple thing—four light bulbs in a classroom—here had inspired in the parents renewed hope that their students may study harder, learn more, and perform better on their exams so as to have a brighter future. I’m sure that everyone reading this is guilty of leaving four lights on in your home unnecessarily at some point, perhaps even now. Yet it is strange perhaps to think that just that which we take for granted could mean to gifted students in rural Africa a better chance at advancing their education and escaping the poverty which consumes their region. That is what we saw. And for the teachers, the light was an affirmation of our support for their efforts. Ngomano is far from their homes, yet they remain out of dedication for their students. This showed our support for their efforts and reminded them that others, too, care about the education of their students and were willing to do all we could to help. Reflecting on these experiences has made me thankful for those things which we take for granted too often in the U.S. Clean water, plentiful electrical power, access to higher education, and, in short, security of the basic necessities of life and above such that we have the luxury to think about helping a village in Ngomano are things that we should stop to realize are not available to all in this world and are worth being grateful for.

As I moved on to China, I found another which I take for granted for which I should be more thankful. In conversations with my new Chinese friends, I was often told how envious they were that I should be from America where I had the freedom to vote, participate in government, and comment openly on the parts of society which I found lacking or in need of change. They also envied that I could travel where I pleased and experience the world—for many Chinese, visas to other nations are difficult to obtain, especially to the U.S. Though I’m sure you’ve all read in the papers about censorship in China and oppression of social movements and reform, it is hard to glean from the papers the true nature of it. While I cannot say to have been personally affected by this omnipresent hand of the government during my stay (save for having to use circuitous routes to access Facebook and Blogspot), in every conversation with a Chinese national I heard an earnest desire for the ability to speak more freely about politics and social issues. They wanted to be able to say what they were thinking without having to look over their shoulder to see who might be listening.

I often criticize political pundits on TV whether they be on Fox News or CNN simply because I’m not a fan of giving an hour of television for someone to stand on a soapbox and shout their opinions at me. I often find them disrespectful to politicians and segments of the public and dislike how they feed on the emotions of their viewers to incite action. Yet at the same time, these talking heads represent the freedoms for which we should be thankful. In the Western world (Europe and the U.S.), we are afforded the opportunity to speak our minds openly, participate in government, and criticize that with which we find fault whether on TV, online, in our daily conversations, or in whatever other forum we choose. There is no worry about who may be listening—it does not matter as we are all able to express ourselves. Imagine trying to put Bill O’Reilly or Wolf Blitzer on TV in China. Do you think O’Reilly would make it through his opening monologue before he was shut down and jailed? Probably not. Though we have a love-hate relationship with these pundits (love one and hate the other based on who you vote for!), they represent that for which we in America should all pause and give thanks. Now I’m not advocating for each of my American readers to flip on Sean Hannity or Larry King in honor of the holiday, but it is important to pause and recall just what their presence indicates. It is easy to get bogged down in criticism of the government and forget that though at the moment things may be imperfect, we can at least express that without worrying about disappearing—not all in this world can say the same.

One more note on China: many of the basic provisions I mentioned being thankful for based on my experience in Kenya are also lacking in China too. Go to a rural street and you will find people in want of food living seven to a room in an unsafe house. Cross the Huangpu River clutching your bottle of water and understand from the brownish, foul-smelling water below the importance of clean water. Watch the sun set through the brown haze of Beijing and appreciate clean air. These are all experiences the Watson Fellowship has so far afforded me for which I should be thankful. I should also add that I am grateful for my continued good health and that of my family and friends which has allowed me to take this trip comforted by the knowledge of their safety and my own.

Well, there you have it—my list and stories of things for which I am thankful. Though I didn’t have a traditional Thanksgiving, it almost seems that being in a foreign country and having been outside the US now for almost 6 months (except for 8 days in July) has given me a different perspective on the things for which I am grateful. There’s an old cliché that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and in some ways living outside of the US in such vastly different cultures allows you to experience the luxury of knowing what it is like when something is gone while still harboring the comforting knowledge that it awaits you at home. I think that is an experience everyone should have—get out of the U.S. and out of your comfort zone to experience a different way of life. Spend time in a rural village, talk to people in a society lacking certain freedoms, and observe the environmental degradation of a rapidly developing nation and you will come to appreciate much more about what you left behind.