my $0.29

As I watch with horror the violence that is rooted in a history of apartheid and systems of oppression unfolding in Palestine and Israel, I am reminded of our capacity to oppress ourselves and one another as a people. It is disheartening and whatever of my heart is left, I send to those whose lives have been derailed by this turmoil. I do not have much to say on that particular instance of human violence because there is little my voice can add amongst the many voices commenting on the events. Instead, I draw my reflections to an instance of human violence that I know and understand a bit more intimately: white supremacist capitalistic patriarchy! 

In my last blog post, I retired the persona of Tumisang Ramarea, but as I am learning, the voice of Tumisang Ramarea cannot be easily silenced--even by myself. And so I find myself here again: using my lived experiences to attempt to make sense of the world and hopefully inspire more of us to reflect more upon these matters. I am a firm believer that as capable of violence as we are, we are also deeply capable of love. (By love, I mean something beyond the toxic joke the systems of oppression under which we live has led us to believe in and crave.) I am convinced that it is in understanding our deep capacity for both violence and love, that we can be empowered to choose the more nourishing and enriching option: love. 

Instead of defining exactly what I mean by "White Supremacist Capitalistic Patriarchy" as my academic training beacons me to, I will leave that as an assignment for the reader. There are resources out there, including writings by renowned author and love prophet bell hooks, that can elucidate the idea. In place of a definition, I will give examples of where white supremacist capitalistic patriarchy has shown up in my lived experiences. And my experiences are not even exceptional.

It is in the legacies of colonialism and slavery that are the backdrop of life in my community of upbringing and community of education, respectively. The colorism that subjected me to abusive comments about my sun-tanned black complexion in my youth, the maladaptive behaviors emulating what "real men" are supposed to be that have contributed to the oppression of the women in my life, and the deep rooted shame from being excluded by my designated low socioeconomic class, are just a few examples. There are even more ways in which this violence has shown up for others because of their gender, their religious faith tradition, their ethnicity, their vocation, and more. 

One question that I struggle to reconcile is if the systems of oppression that are the building blocks of white supremacist capitalistic patriarchy appear to oppress everyone---even those in positions of relative power and privilege---why then do they persist? One of the wise people I know recently explained it to me in a simple and retrospectively obvious way: "The oppressors are willing to oppress themselves in order to oppress others." Since I can only ever accurately reflect on my own actions and motivations, it got me wondering in what ways I was oppressing myself to "stay ahead" under this system. Dear reader, how are you complicit in the upholding of this oppressive orchestra? 

Of course I recognize that I write this from a point of many privileges and comforts. After all I am a college educated straight man from an elite university working (happily) in the heart of the Silicon Valley. Although my blackness, my Africanness, and my economic origins might render me a victim of the oppression, in some key areas I am a beneficiary of the oppression. Yet herein lies the core of the issue: I do not delight in this oppression because a deep conviction of mine is the principle and the philosophy of Ubuntu. (Ubuntu simply means I am because you are --- a person is a person because of the full presence of other persons.) The idea that our destiny and success is tied to our collective well-being. 

The question now becomes; how do we transcend this white supremacist capitalistic patriarchy when we are so well adapted to it? The simple answer---but not easy---is we stop trying to use the tools of the problem to build a solution. I hope you will join me on this journey of exploration to think through these questions. Feel free to send me a message to share your thoughts. On my next post, I will reflect a bit more on the philosophy of Ubuntu: its origins, how it has been choked by the systems of oppression, and how we can resuscitate it in the hopes of a life beyond white supremacist capitalistic patriarchy. 

You are poetry
Every breath you breathe is art
All your wildest dreams, already are

"You Are Light" by Thomas Bergersen and Felicia Farerre plays as I begin to write this blog post. This will most likely be the last regularly posted article as I retire from my public life. This is one of my favorite songs of all time. It has carried me through many a season. Whenever I have felt lost and untethered, it has always helped me recenter. It has always reminded me of the light and beauty within me. I was not always aware of this light and beauty. But gliding on a mokoro a few weeks ago on the Okavango Delta, witnessing one of the most beautiful sights ever, I realized that my own beauty was reflected back to me. This blog, this website, and my online presence, have in some sense been a part of a lifetime of feeling the need to prove and explain myself. My recent trip to my home of origin revealed to me that I had outgrown my public persona. 

In my healing work, I have come to learn that this desire to over-explain is rooted in the shame of growing up as the second youngest child in a family of limited means in a village in a so-called third country. Granted my village was quite privileged and my country considered the shining star of everything in Africa, that did not stop me from feeling othered. Thankfully, I was academically gifted: a tool I have leveraged to prove that I too could be and do anything I wanted. What an inspiration my life has been. I have worked hard  to transcend the circumstances of my birth and have been endowed with opportunities beyond my imagination. I have not been shy to share these wins and shout them from rooftops. I have shared my life openly in an attempt to prove, mostly to myself, that I was exceptional. 

But being in my hometown recently and realizing I was not as famous as I used to be was a sobering experience. I was not expecting to be sad about not being recognizable to every third person at the mall. So you can imagine the disappointment. But on the other side of that disappointment I realized that it was a blessing: I finally saw how much my perception of the legend of me has imprisoned my life. I also saw the ways in which I have been slowly breaking free of this. Finally admitting that it was not my true desire to be the president of Botswana a few years ago was one such step I took towards liberating myself. Today I admit that it is not my desire to be known at scale. Instead I want to be known intimately. This D-list celebrity persona is incompatible with that desire. 

Being known intimately and witnessing others just as closely means I will be learning to live life not for the Instagram stories and the blog posts. It means living in the here and the now. Not stuck in some nostalgia of places past or anxious of unknown futures. Being known intimately means witnessing myself unpack my suitcase and use the hotel drawers. It means life updates the normal way: over phone calls, letters, and good old visits. It means finally making time to invest in my dear friends. So while I hang my digital pen, it means now I am learning to cold call my friends just to check on them. If you are my friend, please cold call me. This scheduling calls life is not working. I might finally learn to dance and to skate, but will definitely be reading more. 

To everyone who has followed my online journey, I want to thank you so much for keeping up with me. While I think this persona has been ridiculous, I also know that he has been an inspiration. Thank you for encouraging me to tell my story and at times for believing in me so much that it propelled me over the valley of despair. To those who love my writing style, I promise this is not the last you will enjoy my words. I have a book in the works and imagine I will write more over time. I will be keeping my Facebook page, so you can also expect to see my writings on issues I care about out there. While they won't be the same autobiographical and introspective pieces, I promise they will still be worthwhile reads. As Star Sky by Two Steps From Hell plays, I can only say goodbye world and hello self.  

Turn that page for me
I cannot embrace the touch that you give
I cannot find solace in your words
I cannot deliver you your love
Or caress your soul

One of the joys of my life has been the gathering of Afro diasporic folk in the San Francisco Bay Area, which has come to be affectionately known as Continental Dinner. The name was suggested by an old friend and was a play on continental breakfast. If you asked me where the story of continental dinners originated, I could not point to a specific moment in time. It draws inspiration from sharing a plate of food with my little brother and our cousins in Kanye as a young boy. It is fueled by grilled goat on a rooftop with one of my boys in San Jose about 4 years ago. Then nearly catches flight with the parties that almost carried a sub-community through the pandemic on Middlefield Street in Palo Alto. But where it really became an institution was this past New Year's Eve when a dinner for a fellow Motswana visiting the Bay turned into a community fiesta. 

I still remember at my farewell dinner in August, right before leaving for Los Angeles, when a few folks decided they were going to keep the dinners going. Most of the dinners up until that point had been hosted by me or with my input. But learning that the dinners  would outlive me was the greatest honor of my life. I would say it was my legacy, but the dinners were not my idea. They were a product of so many visionaries and dreamers. I call them—us, I suppose—nation builders. I was especially happy the dinner was becoming community owned. One of the reasons the earlier version of this community that we tried building in Palo Alto crashed and burned so hard, with so many broken hearts and trauma to last generations, was ego. There were some big egos and narcissistic tendencies where some people felt they were the bloodline of community. I have succeeded in helping foster a community of the people for the people by the people.

The drama notwithstanding, one of the things I learned from that failed version of community building was how logistically easy it was to put the dinners together. The biggest expense was meat because the rest of the food just came from my pantry. Libations were supplied by the community and the vibes were often, as they say, immaculate! The Bay Area continental dinners are continuing strong and the responsibility to host rotates among volunteers from within the community. Some choose to cook, others opt to cater extensively, or as simply as pizza. But the important thing is the community gets together. The Los Angeles chapter is also off to a promising start. It is not yet at a point where it is community owned but it is getting there. I hear the Houston chapter just had its pre-launch trial dinner.  

The continental dinner is more than just food, drinks, and community. It is a nation building exercise. We are the modern day Pan Africanists. The word Pan Africanist is a loaded term and can mean so many things, but I use it here to mean we are are nurturing community for the advancement of Afro diasporic individuals. Today we are starting small and the main benefit is kinship. But as we move and spread this humble idea to other cities, we are growing our community and influence. As we grow our community and advance as individuals, we collectively benefit from that access. One day in the not so distant future, the continental dinner will be a source of business opportunities, professional advancement, and strong community of supporters for our creative endeavors. Not just for our own little exclusive community, but—I hope—for black people everywhere. 

We are a diverse bunch. We come from affluence and we come from humble backgrounds. Our African ancestry varies from as recently as "just moved here a week ago" to those whose ancestors had to transcend the inhumanity of the white supremacist's violence. We are tech innovators, creatives, and everything imaginable. We drink $5 wine from the corner store and fancy bottles of cognac that are above my pay bracket. We jam to hip hop, afro beats, amapiano, and all the soulful music with rhythm. We are young and we are growing. So much beauty with our diversity, we are limitless!

Recognizing that in our daily lives we live in community with non-black folks, we are a very welcoming space. All allies are welcome, so long as they understand that the continental dinner is a sacred space intended to center and prioritize the advancement of the Afro diaspora: African, African-American, Afro-Latinx, and any other variant of Afro-X. We are building borderless nations. Beyond our national identities based on countries that were drawn by white colonialists at the Berlin conference, we are planting the seeds for a black nation spread across the globe. A black community that is internally consistent and transcends sexism, classism, ableism, ageism, and all the isms. I am sure it will not be a simple endeavor, but I am grateful to be a part of this. 

There is a superstition that every 7 years the general trajectory of our lives change. The first 7 years of my life I was completing my orientation for life on earth, the next 7 years I was getting the basic skills I would need for life as a student, then the third 7 year period was about my preparation for my life abroad, and the 4th 7 year period was about adjusting to life abroad. If that superstition has any validity, my recent 28th birthday marked the beginning of my 5th septennial. As the "master of my fate: captain of my soul", this septennial is about laying the foundations for a balanced professional career and my own family. Knowing how sometimes I procrastinate on new journeys, the universe threw me 3 curve balls over the past few months to kickstart this chapter: lost a romantic relationship, moved to a new city, and had material changes in my work life. In this post I will ramble incoherently on these catalysts for the new chapter. 

When I was younger, I was anxious in my attachment style. I was in love with the idea of love and thought each of my love interests should stay in my life forever. But as I have grown relatively more secure, I have come to learn that people, romantic partners included, are "not to be possessed but simply to be experienced". This most recent relationship was in a lot of ways my first relationship with true love. (Love as I came to learn in bell hooks' All About Love: New Visions is, "the mutual commitment to the spiritual advancement of one another.") In it, I felt supported to be my truest and best self, and I am told I did my part as well. Even when the commitment to each other's spiritual growth meant going our separate ways, I left infinitely a better man than when I went in. As I have been grieving the end of this relationship and healing my heart, I know the relationship and life skills I picked from experiencing this wonderful human have set me up well for the future. If I could go back and redo everything, I would change nothing. 

When I graduated from undergrad and my friends dispersed across the US and the world, I vowed to leave the Bay Area as soon as I graduated from my masters program. But then the pandemic happened, I delayed my graduation, found love, and found work in the Bay Area. So I stayed even after graduation. My company was among the companies that decided to turn fully remote and as such there was no requirement for me to stay in the Bay. When my lease expired, I moved down south to Los Angeles. Finally, it feels like I have left the shadows of Stanford. I am still settling in and finding my footing, but so far it seems I am going to have a great time. I am most excited about getting more involved in my creative pursuits: my art, my poetry, and by extension, my rap. I already have a community of creatives in Inglewood that I am excited to keep working with. This coming week I will finally start my dance classes because no more will I be told I dance like my father. Above all, I am glad my community building exercise is continuing here too. Moving is certainly an adjustment, but in all, this next chapter of Rama the skating rapper is promising. 

The final set of changes are on the work front. I am working on new projects that are outside of my comfort zone and that require the learning of new domain knowledge. I am a bit nervous and also excited because if I can successfully master this new knowledge, the dividends for my career in the short and long term would be invaluable. It is at moments like this that I am grateful I chose to build my career as a specialized generalist. I approach my work and my career as a generalist--with a core set of specialized skills, but adaptable to changing environments and applications. I am really excited for the next year in my job. I feel more convinced of my professional objective: to help people and organizations make higher quality decisions. I am thankful to grow in a team of so many talented and supported individuals--both past and present. Here is to learning. 

As I close this incoherent ramble of the transitions from the 4th septennial to the 5th one, I think of the recent San Francisco half marathon I completed. Like most things in my life, I signed up for it on a whim. But in the many weeks leading up to the race, I enjoyed the discipline of training for it--even though I was inconsistent at times. During the day, I had hoped to finish the 13.1 mile (21 km) race in 2 hours 30 minutes, but took 15 minutes longer. I took longer because in the last few miles of the race I got cramps which limited my race. But I pushed myself to the end of the finish line. As I finished the race I remembered Paul's writing, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." It was true of the marathon, of my relationship, of my time in the Bay, and of the previous chapter of my work. The new road will have its challenges, but I am confident it will be a joyful adventure!

As I celebrate the passage of time, the new wrinkles, and the one white hair that is going strong, I was inspired to reflect on 28 lessons that I have learned in the time I have been on this earth. I listed them out on a note document on my phone and was going to share them before realizing there was really one key thing I had learned in life: Things will be fine and I will be okay. With this knowledge, I feel empowered to love even with the guarantee of loss, to dream even with the guarantee of failure, and to live even with the guarantee of death. 

I choose to love with all of my heart and all of my being even though I know my loved ones will some day leave. I have lost loved ones to death, to dementia, and to good old paths diverging. In all of those cases, I have rarely, if at all, ever wished I had loved less. Because when I think back to the love shared and the memories of the timeless experiences, I am usually more glad for the majority of those. Yes, the ending memories are usually unpleasant, but I rarely have to endure the grief of it alone. Because of loving as purely as I know how, there is usually a fair amount of people loving me as purely as they know how, and their companionship always gets me to the other side of grief--if ever there is another side to grief. Though not perfectly (and not easily by any means), things usually end up fine and I am usually okay. 

My ambition knows no bounds: from my professional pursuits to my desire to cultivate joy and peace for my soul. I always aspire for the impossible. Often times I fail. I do not always get the program I want. But somewhere in there, the failures usually prepare me for a different opportunity at another time if I persist. I am not always the model human I want to be. But knowing I did the best I could at the time given what I knew and valued, grants me the compassion to forgive myself and hold myself accountable the next time. Usually the next time I make new mistakes and we call that success. Even if it takes detours and failures, the dreams always see the light of day. And so things end up fine and I usually end up okay. 

Death is perhaps the biggest unknown in my life. Without the ability to comprehend it, I have always been afraid of it. But as I have grown older and more comfortable in the knowledge that any day for any reason my life could end, I have been liberated to experience the present life with more mindfulness. I chew my food slowly, taking in each flavor as though I would never have it again. I listen to the drum beats, piano strokes, and the vibrations of voices individually and together at the same time when I listen to music. Try Josh Groban's Awake or Sho Madjozi's Jamani or Thomas Bergersen's You Are Light or Jay-Z's History or Socca Moruakgomo's Lefatshe, and you might understand. I do not savor these sensory pleasures in the hope of transcending my mortality. Quite the opposite--I want for when my time comes to have very little regrets. To be at peace with the end. The world will continue to spin, maybe after some pause, and eventually for my loved ones things will be fine and they too will be okay because they would have felt intention when I had the world enough and time. 

So I could list 28 specific lessons, but they will all say the same thing: things will be fine and I will be okay. "Drinking water is important" ends up as "I will be okay because who does not know the healing powers of water?" "Life is better as a shared experience" ends up as "things will be fine because in community joy is amplified and where things detract from the joy, the community sees you through." "Kindness is a superpower" ends up as "I will be okay because even the most difficult of people can be disarmed with kindness". And so on and so forth...there are my 28 cents! Happy birthday Tu mi.

"I am the son of the Kgalagadi elephant
And the Mmakgodumo crocodile
Two worlds uninhabited, water and fire
I am from the space between black magic and the holy cross
The mountain and the cathedral are both shrines for my heart”
― excerpt from my poem, I Am...I Am From 

For most of my life, I have always straddled different worlds and realities. Each world and reality is a universe in its own right, and to hold multiple of those simultaneously makes me truly believe that we are divine beings. As my poem alludes, I was raised with the influences of Christianity and Sengwaketse Spirituality. I could quote Bible verses in my prayers to Jesus with the same ease with which I blew into the medicine man's bag of bones which allowed him to connect us to our ancestors. My home and school lives were another avenue where I had opposite realities. At school I was often considered the smartest and therefore at the top of the food chain. But at home, my family was at the bottom of the class structure. So I knew the privilege of being at the top and the frustration of being at the bottom. The ability to reconcile such disparate worlds is both a gift and a curse. 

As I approach another full revolution around the sun, I find myself reflective on the influences of Sengwaketse culture and Californian culture―San Francisco Bay Area culture to specific―on how I live my life. Each of these cultures are vast and no amount of words could capture that, so I will resort to a simple example to illustrate the struggle a bit. At my age in Sengwaketse culture,  there are expectations that I should be married or at least have children. But in the Bay Area, I am still considered relatively young for marriage and children―after all I am yet to start my billion dollar startup. To my people in my culture of origin, it is concerning that there are no signs of children in sight. To my people in my culture of refuge, the perceived seriousness with which I approach relationships is intense and suspicious. This is one curse of simultaneously living in two realities―the propensity to be partially understood. 

The other curse of living in two worlds is that one does not get to develop depth of experience in any one world. To the people who are well versed in one world, I appear like the outsider who lacks understanding of basic things. As I say at times, I am too Mongwaketse for California and too Californian for Gangwaketse. If I were to assume my traditional role as uncle and lead the marriage negotiations for any of my nephews, my limited experience with the details of the culture would render me incompetent. In my life here, my limited experience with the details of the culture often has jokes and references flying over my head. But even when there is a lot that I may not know of each sub-universe, I am content with what I know. I know enough to navigate those worlds with relative ease. 

The ease with which I am able to switch context between these worlds, is one of the gifts. I think it is what makes me empathetic―at least on the surface. When I am in California, I am able to relate to the norms, the values, and other artifacts of the culture. The same is true when I am in Southern Botswana. At a surface, this can make me come across as spineless and somewhat of a chameleon. But as the line from the poem reads, "I am from the space between black magic and the holy cross." My ability to relate with my Christian friends as easily as my ATR friends does not come from me belonging to both groups, but my belonging to a composite reality that is palatable for and reassuring to each group of people because they resonate with parts of my truth that reflect their world. So while I might appear shallow in not understanding the specifics of each culture, there is a depth hidden in plain sight. 

As I look to my birthday and continue to create a life that is abundant with joy and peace, I accept that "The mountain and the cathedral are both shrines for my heart." I accept that I will never fully know the mountain and the cathedral like someone who is dedicated to studying just one. But I will still do my best to understand both as best as I can given my limitations. So while I will never be fully versed in Sengwaketse culture or Californian black culture, I will never stop seeking to know both as much as I can. And maybe someday, I can lead a marriage negotiations delegation with the finest drip and when I do the song and dance to seek admission at my nephew's bride to be's house, I would do so with more than just the two step that my Bangwaketse have perfected. As for my marriage and children, Bangwaketse calm down, I am still a child. There are no timelines in my world for marriage and children. Everything happens in its own time.

"My heart...my heart...
Is the love of a widow
The holy cross on a mountain,
Black magic in a cathedral
Come rain or shine, I am water, I am fire
And I am from the elephant and the crocodile"
― excerpt from my poem, I Am...I Am From 

"When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world." ― Unknown Monk 1100 AD

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” ― Rumi

I have been incredibly lucky in my life―blessed even. I grew up in a village that taught me I was so intelligent, charismatic, and beautiful that I could be anything in the world, even president of Botswana. My family's lack of political and economic capital in our society was a source of shame for young me, so you can imagine how comforting it was to know that I was perceived to be president material. As I have been on my journey of unlearning and relearning, growth and healing, I have come to conclude that while that belief and dream has gotten me this far, it is not how I want to proceed. From my schools in Kanye, to my time as "an agent of change" at the United World College of Costa Rica, and being a "transformative leader" as a MasterCard Foundation Scholar at Stanford; I have always been made to believe that I should want to change the world. But with more self-awareness, I know my goals in life are far less grandiose. 

The belief that I am any more special than my counterparts who I grew up with because of the ease with which academic excellence came my way, is one that was easy to divorce from my self-perception. I have a few relative failures to thank for bringing my feet back to earth: getting an 84.97% instead of the 86.00% required for a Merit pass in my Junior Certificate of Education exams, and getting 47 points (3 A* 2 A 3B 1 C) instead of the 48 points (at least 6A/A*) in my General Certificate of Secondary Education exams―thereby missing Botswana's prestigious Top Achievers Scholarship. While humbling, these relative failures also helped me realize that it was never about having the highest grades. It was about persisting in the direction of my goals and dreams. So when I received a scholarship to attend UWC over city kids whose English accent was spotless, I knew it did not make me smarter than them. When I received the prestigious MasterCard Foundation Scholarship to attend Stanford, I knew there was an element of luck. 

Of course all these institutions that I am affiliated with―UWC, MasterCard Scholars Program, and Stanford―reinforced my community's hopes, which I had adopted as my own dream, that I was going to someday become the president. I know the presidency has always been a metaphor for a sense of duty towards a collective national identity. So I did not wait before seeking to fulfill that duty the best way I knew how―investing my efforts in improving the education experiences for students from backgrounds similar to mine back home, funding some small businesses from Kanye as a seed investor, and in general moving heaven and earth to enable the people from back home to get closer to whatever opportunities they were pursuing. With my inexperience, all but one of the businesses failed with no returns. But I am glad to have been a stepping stone, a catalyst for some people who pursued their dreams―the same way others were catalysts for me. I was going to do great things and be famous for it. 

But I do not want to be the president. I do not want to change the world or Botswana or Kanye or my family. I want to change me and live my best life. Do not get me wrong, I still have big dreams and ambitions, but they are at a micro level. To use a metaphor from my upcoming book, I am going to jump into the swimming pool with my clothes on and not care. It is time to be the child that these heavy expectations―and other life circumstances―prevented me from becoming. I am going to focus more on the simple things: deepening my spiritual wealth, cultivating mutually enriching community, engaging in intellectually stimulating and conscience reassuring work, and being a good steward for the material endowments bestowed upon me. 

I expect externally the changes will not appear too drastic. For one, I will continue to care about the quality education of and access to capital for historically marginalized people. Especially those who are black, are from low-income families, and are women. You probably will no longer be able to read about it on my platforms as I shy away from being publicly known and retreat to being intimately known. My upcoming book shares the story of my life up until recently―what I consider my public life. The next phase is more for me and those who have the courage to know me intimately. I will not erase my online accounts like a few years ago, and indeed you can expect me to post every now and then. As for my community, WhatsApp is where all the lit content will reside. 

To everyone who has believed in me and fueled the public persona who wanted to be president, thank you. I would not be at this place to even make this privileged choice. To those who have drawn inspiration from my journey, who might feel betrayed by this pronouncement, this is a reminder that your journey and your dreams are all that should guide where you point your feet. Wishing you all peace and fulfillment.

My spirit is grieving. I do not say it to solicit pity or sympathy. I merely say it as anything else I shout into this digital void - that those blessed enough to be in community with me can witness my truth. It is as dry a fact as if I were to say the sky is blue. The trigger of my current bout of grief is a death of someone unrelated to me, but close to someone who means the world to me. There is about twenty or so people in the whole wide world who I consider my closest friends and any loss they suffer shatters my heart as though we shared the same heart. My heart is no stranger to grief and perhaps that is the issue. This young man's life was cut short by poison. Was it jealousy or greed or just pure evil? Where is the justice in the world?

Today in the United States was the commemoration of Martin Luther King Jr, an advocate of justice. One of my favorite quotes by the Reverend Dr King is: "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." My spirit is grieving because there is so much injustice in life and in the world. I grieve the state of disconnect that we find ourselves in, forced by socioeconomic forces and systems to go into exile in the diaspora. Physically removed from my kinspeople that I could not share the burden of grief with my friend by helping collect firewood or digging up the grave or lending my voice in song at the night vigil. Where is the justice in a system where to have such a life of material comfort I have to be apart from loved ones? 

How sorrowful it is to live in a world where people are incentivized to make big sacrifices in order to fulfill the desires of their hearts? I still grieve the horrific murder of my uncle - Otlaadisa Ramotlhobogwa "Tlhobosi" Ramarea -  almost two decades ago, because a local politician desired victory in the general election and was convinced using his body parts in some ritual would guarantee his victory. His sacrifice was our loved one. I grieve that we had to 1 Kings 21:19 the politician and his accomplices, resulting in seemingly random suicides and accidental deaths of loved ones of everyone involved within 3 months of my uncle's closed casket funeral. Needless to say he lost the election. Was all that loss worth it in the end? Was justice served in the world of the supernatural? 

I have been robbed at knife point by strangers in broad daylight and chased with machetes by enraged blood relatives in the dead of night. Were they seeking to fulfill desires of their hearts? Or was it jealousy or greed or just pure evil? How does one poison or decapitate their own relative? What traumas drive these poison disseminating and axe wielding psychopaths? Where is justice for them in their dual roles as victims and perpetrators? My spirit also grieves the violence of the narcissists - oh the sweetness of their manipulative love, and the emptiness of its absence when one is fortunate enough to escape from their invisible grasp. Where is the justice for those perpetually feeling unworthy because of the poisonous words from unloving loved ones? 

Who is the perpetrator and who is the victim? I live in the Tenderloin, near downtown San Francisco. There are so many unhoused people here the first time I came I could not believe that there could be that much suffering in the west. After all the socioeconomic systems whose winds of "freedom" propelled me this way convince us that the west is paradise and we must aspire to it. I live a very comfortable life. Is this my justice for all the hardships of my childhood and family life growing up in a formerly colonized country? Or am I a perpetrator of injustice, a gentrifier, contributing to the escalating cost of living here that is leaving many more people unhoused as the city becomes too expensive for them to afford? 

There are at least five people in the whole wide world in all of the nearly three decades of my life who can say without thinking twice that I am definitely a perpetrator of injustice. I grieve that they are not wrong to say that. I grieve that I sometimes forget to be gentle with myself and remember I do not have the power of the world. If I did and allowed injustice to persist, then I would deserve to feel disappointed in my own role. I grieve the truth that we do not realize that collectively we have the power of the world and can, as Martin Luther King Jr hoped, bend the arc of the moral universe towards justice. My spirit is grieving. 

A week ago I touched down in Washington, D.C. on the very last flight I could take into the US before a newly announced travel ban for non-citizens to enter the US directly from Southern Africa took effect. I had visited Botswana for the first time in over two years because of the pandemic. Pre-pandemic, I used to make two trips a year to Botswana. Most people on flight ET 500 had made last minute reservations or changes to their reservations to be on that flight to avoid being closed out. I was fortunate enough to already hold a booking for that same flight. What are the chances that I will hold a reservation on the most sought after flight from the region? This was just one of numerous improbable incidents from my recent trip home. 

I landed in Gaborone on November 14th with an aggressive agenda that included driving over 1,600km (1,000 miles) over 2 days visiting loved ones in Lokgwabe and Ghanzi. To cover that much ground while having enough time to commune with loved ones meant part of the journey had to take place at night. I stepped on it like we do here in California, but forgot about the cows and wild animals on the highways in Botswana. I did not see the cow until it was right in front of me. Fortunately, the lane for incoming traffic was clear and I remembered a thing or two from The Art of Racing in the Rain. After quickly but tactfully maneuvering the car to the other lane at 140km/h (about 90mph), I smiled. If the other lane was not open the ending would have been tragically different. The smile was in gratitude that I did not kill myself or my sister and my niece - who were my travel companions - on my second day back in the country. The last car crash I was involved in - as a passenger - was also a day after landing in Botswana a few years back. 

The rest of the trip went by without incident. I went to Lokgwabe and Ghanzi, seeing loved ones and going to check on livestock at the cattle post (think ranch, but the grazing land is collectively owned). Upon my return to the Gaborone - Kanye area, I got another reminder of how lucky I am. My family and friends threw me a "surprise" graduation party. I have never doubted that I have a loving community, but it filled my heart with joy to see how loved ones from my different worlds in Botswana came together to coordinate such a great event. I have always believed that the apparent success in my path is our collective success because it demonstrates what we can achieve together. So while they planned the event to celebrate me, it was in fact all of us celebrating ourselves and what we accomplished. Even as I am enjoying my life in the diaspora, I am anchored by this love. How much luckier could I be? (Thank you to everyone who was involved in organizing this event, even those who were not able to make it.)

After the party I had to drive my mother and my sister's family back to their home in Gathwane. But first we had to make a stop on the way to pick up a kid - as in baby goat - and some chickens that I was gifted with at the graduation party. I received numerous invaluable gifts at my party including a cow. Feeling fatigued from all the driving, I asked my brother-in-law to drive my car and rode in another car with my brother. The front tyre on my car blew while we were on the highway leaving Kanye. Because my brother-in-law drives relatively slower than I, he was able to bring the car to a stop safely. What are the odds that the faster driving me would surrender the car shortly before the tyre gives? Thankfully everyone was unharmed and we successfully changed the wheel and were on our way soon after. 

My brother and I reached the farm from where we were picking the goat around dusk. As I picked up the kid, I forgot there was a short roof right above me. I stood up straight but bumped the back of my head on the iron sheet that was used as part of the roof. I don't know if my head bounced off the roof or I was trying to go down to avoid further collision, but at that point my head collided with the head of the little goat as it was trying to escape from my arms. Its sharp horn cut my eyebrow, barely a millimeter above where the bone began. Blood oozed out of the cut and I was thankful my thoughtful babe had encouraged me to always have some Kleenex when I traveled. I used it to soak up the blood. If the horn had cut a millimeter below, I would have lost my left eye. Whatever divine anointing covers me was strong that day.

Then a few days before my return to California, the omicron COVID-19 variant surfaced in Botswana and South Africa. Within a day, Europe closed its borders to non-citizen travelers from Southern Africa. I was worried the US would introduce a similar ban. Thankfully for me, the US was late in announcing their travel ban and they gave some lead time before they started enforcing it. My life is currently in California, so being locked out would have been tragic. I think it is interesting that the ban started the day after I arrived. But even more interesting is the fact that originally my trip was supposed to end on December 4th, but for a combination of factors I changed it to end on November 27th prior to leaving the US. How lucky am I? The Probabilist in me is intrigued by the perfect coincidences of scary situations and their associated fortunate outcomes. How can I not feel blessed and divinely protected? 

One of my sisters recently shared this photo in our family WhatsApp group. It was a timely photo because it arrived at a time when I was thinking a lot about my identity. I am at an identity crossroads of sorts, where I have to choose between the familiar comfort of who I have always been and who I want to be. At a surface level, the answer is easy - I should be who I want to be. But in reality it seems more complex. Judging by my little brother being a baby, I want to guess this photo is from 1999 and I was no more than 5 years old. Yet at 5, I had that same smile that never seems to leave my face - for better and for worse. Which makes me wonder, how much do we really change?

Through the many years of therapy in my early twenties, I have come to understand that my ever present smile is rooted in survival. Yet I wonder, did I learn that as I grew older or did 5 year old me also smile to survive. It would take a book to outline the ways in which my smile has assured my survival: from befriending child abductors in my village, to pacifying violent family members, and buying myself the time I needed to process through pieces of news that were so emotionally heavy it would overwhelm me if I confronted them right there and then. Yet this way of responding is inconsistent with the adult I want to be.  It might have helped me survive, but it clearly won't help me thrive and live my best life.

Don't get me wrong, I have made giant leaps of progress over the years. For starters, my people-pleasing tendencies have significantly reduced and I no longer shy away from conflict. I have been finding my voice and learning to use it. Yet as I have been reminded, we are communal beings and part of finding our voices include learning to make space to hear the voices of the people in our lives. This is where it gets complicated. I realize I still have a lot of work to do in finding that perfect balance between centering my voice and centering the voices of others. At the core of this part of the journey, is the conflicting values between the collectivistic philosophy of my upbringing and the individualistic one of the world in which I became an adult. 

I have always had a strong sense of self, but that self was deeply rooted in a collective consciousness. Perhaps I had learned this from my mother and the world around me. My mother was that person who would share our last bit of flour with our neighbors so they won't starve tonight even though she had no idea where our meal the next day would come from. Yet we were always fine. Of course I have learned the hard way that this way of self-sacrificing for the good of a community is not sustainable and in the long run not good for anyone. But the idea of being invested in the survival of your kin is one that resonates with my soul. So I continue to seek wisdom on how to be invested in the survival of my kin without excessive self-sacrifice. 

My impression of the ideal self in this world where I have become an adult, is a self that is rooted in an individualistic consciousness who happens to "care for others". It is a world where we have our volunteer experiences on our LinkedIn profiles - and I am guilty of this as well. It is a world where we tweet hashtags as forms of activism and use social media for virtue signaling so that we can be perceived in a certain way for our ultimate individual gain - even if that gain is feeling good about ourselves and the positive change we think we have in the world. But in all of this, we are the heroes of the stories. I refuse to be socialized into this way of being. Not that I think it is wrong, but just that it does not resonate with my spirit.

Clearly I cannot simply continue being who I was because I am in a different world that has different values and norms, but I don't yet know how to be who I want to be. So I smile because that is my loading animation for when my brain is processing information about itself but can't make sense of it in the moment yet. A brief survey of friends who have known me from across different points in my life has revealed that this is not new behavior, but it has different interpretations in the different cultures I have called home. So perhaps the title of this piece is as misguided and hard to follow as the article itself. 

At least the picture of 5 year old me is comforting. I was a beautiful baby and am now an even more gorgeous adult, indicating that I consistently get better with time. So as much as I wrestle with these questions and character limitations, I have hope that in time I will be the man I aspire to be. Until then, I will continue to extend myself the same compassion I have learned to show and continue learning to allow others to help me carry the burden too. After all, my sense of self is rooted and will always be rooted in a collectivistic consciousness. 

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror or in a photograph and stand in awe at all the ways you have grown? I am unsure if it is the golden hue of the sun reflected on my very fine skin or the classic joyful Tumisang Ramarea half smile, but something about this photo reminds me of all the ways I am blessed. Of course, blessed with my mother's good looks but blessed in so many other ways. For those who are curious, my skincare routine comprises primarily of water. You would be surprised what good hydration can do for your skin. I guess it reinforces the idea that the magic to life is hidden in the simple things. This post is a public testimony of the things I am grateful for in this season of my life. 

First I am grateful for myself. It is no secret that I am my number one fan - perhaps a bit too much. I am grateful for my unyielding and determined spirit. Without which I could not have endured the misfortune and hardship I have encountered thus far in life or pursued the challenging opportunities I have been granted. Those who are familiar with the highlights of my story might believe - as my story is often misrepresented - that I am a genius miracle worker who turns everything he touches into gold. But for every achievement of mine that is celebrated, there is about 9 or so failures that could have discouraged me or held me back. But my determined spirit has always understood that life is not a sprint, it is a marathon. So when I fall short of my aspirations, it has been easy to forgive myself and try again. May my cup never run dry of this persistence because it is what reassures me that at any given point in time, on average, I am doing the best I can to live my best life. 

Secondly I am grateful for love. There is an abundance of love in my life and for that my soul is nourished. From my family, friends, well-wishers, and my babe, I feel enveloped by this unbreakable force of love. As I have been learning recently the greater the love the greater the grief. Over the past few months I have lost so many people who were close to my heart and the grief is unquantifiable. As I work through that, I realize it is a reflection of the depth of the love that existed. As such it has inspired me to love my loved ones as best as I know how today because tomorrow is not always guaranteed. I know as I settle into my new life I have not been as reachable as usual, but I am working to find my new rhythm that I may continue to bask in the love today and independent of hope. I suspect to love purely is to love without hope, which is to love people as they are today and as much as possible independent of all their potential future selves. I am grateful to be loved and to love. 

Two months ago I started my career at Krikey as an Associate Product Manager and I can say without an ounce of doubt that I have my dream job. I am grateful to work on such a diverse team full of talented, supportive, and caring individuals. I am grateful to do work that challenges me to continue learning, that allows me to collaborate continuously, and to share my creative genius. When I was younger I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. At first I gave the obvious choices - in part because that was all I knew - but then started thinking I was going to be a political leader. Now in my slightly grown state, I realize I am happiest when doing work that feeds my curiosity, inspires my creativity, allows me to be excellent, and reinforces my belief in ubuntu. I am grateful to start my career with my dream job. 

One of the biggest questions my spirit wrestles with is that of home. A preliminary answer I have is home ought to be a sanctuary, a place of peace and rejuvenation. It is where I can let all my defenses down and simply be. In my life I have found many homes - some in physical places and others in people. In this chapter of my life, my spirit felt it was time to find a physical home that can be that sanctuary and place of peace. So I moved into my first solo apartment, and I now live in a big city for the first time in my life. The village boy is now a city man. With an exception, I have had many great housemates across my lifetime but my introverted self felt it was time for a living situation that best nurtured my spirit - to live alone but with community nearby. 

Although my life is not without its troubles, I have so much to be grateful for. In fact it is these few blessings that remind me to hold on and keep pushing towards the life I aspire to live. I am not there yet, but I will enjoy every intermediate point towards that asymptote. I will enjoy Saturday morning walks in nature, weekend brunches with $20 mimosa pitchers, and community dinners with goat stew. I will enjoy beautiful music even though I cannot dance yet, and read books on Saturday afternoons. I will enjoy the thrill of driving on the fast lane on the freeway and the serenity of a sunset over the waves by the ocean. Tomorrow is not promised, but today I will live, I will laugh, and I will love. I hope you too remember to live your life as best as you know how. 

It feels surreal that I have finally put down my pen - I am done with school forever. I have vague memories of when I started this journey more than twenty years ago at Mafhikana Primary School in my home village of Kanye in the southern part of Botswana. I remember we were queued up and divided up into classes. The first person was in class A, second class B, third class C, and fourth class D, and it repeated until everyone was in a class. The very randomness that marked the start of my academic journey has been a significant part of it and over the last few years, has been a focus of my studies as I sought to understand how people can make optimal decisions under uncertainty.  As I celebrate all that I have achieved these past two decades, I want to take this opportunity to thank a few of the many seemingly random individuals who have played a significant role in this journey. 

My first thanks goes out to my family. I am especially grateful to my mother, sis Mos, for waking up earlier than she needed to for over 12 years in order to make sure when I woke up I had warm water ready so I could get ready for school. Warm water which she provided whether we had firewood or not, come rain or shine. My family had a tough life, but my mother shielded me from most of it so I could focus my attention on school. I grieve and lament that she is unable to celebrate this moment with me. I would also like to recognize my brother Donald, who volunteered his time and effort to teach me how to read, write, and count before I started school since my family could not afford to send me to school. He taught me more than I needed to know and that has made all the difference. Yes I am academically gifted, but my brother also gave me a head start - an advantage that has stayed with me for most of my academic career. More generally, I want to thank my siblings for their support and sacrifices in funding my extra-curricular activities, especially when they did not believe in them or see my vision. 

Next, I want to recognize a few of my primary school teachers. As it will become apparent as this note unfolds, I have been blessed with many great teachers along my path. The first I want to recognize is my standard 2 teacher Mma Loeto, who convinced me that my intelligence was in the top 1% of the student she had ever taught - and my class was the last she taught before her retirement due to old age. She nicknamed me "Sparks" because she said I had the makings of a blaze if I continued to apply myself. At the time I did not understand her words, but as I look back I am grateful she did and even more grateful that my classmates adopted it as my nickname for a few years. I thank Mma Kefetoge, Mma Komanyane, Mma Stegling, Mma Gaowele, Mma Rauwe (Philip Moshote Memorial), and Mma Nkgelepang. The faith you placed in me by appointing me to student leadership positions and nominating me to represent my school at various events and competitions reinforced my belief that even someone from my background could shine. 

Mookami Junior Secondary School is the place where the legend and the myth of Tumisang Ramarea was born. In primary school it was a well accepted fact that I was a smart genius but at Mookami I was revered. Even I was inspired by my story. When a teacher like Mr Batlhophi who has been teaching for a considerable amount of time is reminded of some of the greatest students he has ever known, the likes of Tumisang Madigele, it is hard to not be moved. The teachers at Mookami, including those who did not teach me, celebrated me but had high expectations of me. They did not let me off easily when I veered off the path. I cannot tell you the number of times my buttocks have received the cane only because I was not being Tumisang Ramarea enough. As a result of that encouragement, I scooped almost all the awards at each year's prize giving ceremonies. I was even awarded as the most well behaved student in my class. I remember my sister was shocked, but that is a story for another day. 

There are too many people I am grateful for from Mookami but for now I want to mention a few. First my teachers Mma Tshwenyego, Mma Ndori (formerly Matthys), Mr Lewanika, Mr Mogobe, Mr Sekgwama (and family), Mrs Mopedi, Mrs Oraletse,, Mr Hule, Mr Khumalo, Mma Mabote, Mma Dintweng, Mma Simane, Mma Phirinyane, Mr Mminakgomo, Mr Batlhophi, Mma Nyepetsi, and Mr Botuwe. Thank you for pushing me to the be the very best of me that I could be, in and outside the classroom. I also want to recognize the following teachers who did not teach me but were invested in my success: Mr Keitebetse, Mma Hule, Mr Dinake, Mma Letsatle, Mma Ntlhayakgosi, Mr Alfred, Mr Dinake, Mrs Lelliot, and Mr Shabani. One of my favorite things about Mookami is how the non-teaching staff were as invested. I want to thank the kitchen staff for always letting me get away with an extra slice of bread and Mr Bogatsu for allowing me to spend more time at the computer lab than I was entitled to. 

Compared to Mookami, Seepapitso was a downgrade. My initial assessment of it was that the students lacked discipline and the teachers lacked motivation. Those who are close to me will tell you that I did not want to go to that school. I had big dreams of studying abroad and a school that ranks in the bottom 5 in the whole country was not the place to achieve those dreams - or so I thought. Doomed by my family's limited means, I was unable to go to a better school elsewhere. But by some random streak of luck, the teachers assigned to my class were some of the best at their subjects. Even when most teachers were out in the streets exercising their civic duty and right to protest for better working conditions, all but one of my teachers chose to stay and continue teaching. Yes I am grateful to my teachers for staying, but I am more grateful to them for buying into my dream and going out of their way to help me realize it. Especially for holding me to a high standard because they understood that to succeed on the path I desired out of Seepapitso would take a miracle and a half. Even the school head, deputy school head, and a few heads of house bought into my dream and gave me any resource my study group needed to succeed. 

I want to thank Mr Kelobang for encouraging my curiosity and entertaining my questions, no matter how dumb they might have sounded. He reinforced the idea that just because I am smart does not mean I can not fail to understand. I am grateful to Mr Zeriua for allowing me to use the internet to get answers to questions he could not answer. It erased the expectation that my teachers should know everything, but allowed me to see them as individuals who are there to show me the way. The acquisition and application of the knowledge was up to me. I thank Mma Zeriua for instilling in me the habit of reinforcing my strengths through consistent and focused practice, and challenging myself further by inspiring me to pick up Additional Mathematics with only a few months left before the final exam. I am grateful to Mr Guga for welcoming me into his class so late in the program and not holding me to a lesser standard just because I joined late. 

I thank Mr Ntsowe for teaching me to be proud of my roots and culture, especially the language. Mma Dinku brought the study of literature into my life and helped my soul see beauty in the world around me. Mma Lekwape taught me the value of self-respect and her support for my goals went beyond the classroom. In 2012 I won a national essay contest because she believed in me, even though I had only found out about it the night before the deadline. I am still amazed at how she took me to the city once to submit a scholarship application at her own expense. Mr Pine and Mr Leepile taught me to be a man. Mma Kutoro and Mr Modisagaarekwe were the anchors to many of my extra curricular activities. They were instrumental in instilling a desire to be of service to the world. I also want to thank Mma Modisane, Mma Kabalanyane, Mr Moffatt, Mr Tsae, Mr Molebatsi, Mr Tlole, Mma Harrison, Mma Basele, Mma Mokwadi, and Mma Modisa.

After Seepapitso I went to the United World College of Costa Rica. I want to thank the UWC Botswana National Committee for believing in me and moving heaven and earth in the ways that they did in order to send me to Costa Rica. I want to recognize Mogamisi Nkate, William Scheffers, Thebe Modikwa, Tidimalo Moseki, Brandon Bakwena, and Neo Modisi, among many others from and affiliated with the committee, who made this possible. I am grateful to the then UWC Costa Rica Admissions Director John Carpenter for taking a bet on me and making it possible for me to attend UWC. UWC was not an experience for the faint hearted, and yet I would not change anything about my experience. I believe it transformed me in the ways that it needed to, blessed me with a few lifelong friends, and opened additional opportunities for me. 

The first teacher I want to express my gratitude to is Heidi Achong. Due to visa challenges, a few of us arrived a month late to school. Heidi did not just inform us of what we had missed, she set extra classes to help us catch up. She was committed to our success and continually encouraged us. I was happiest in Heidi's class learning Economics. Next I want to recognize Nat Taylor, who welcomed me into her Psychology class after I decided Biology was not for me. She entertained my foolishness in her classroom and together we started a few impactful projects outside the classroom. She taught me that I do not need to convince a whole nation to effect change, I just need at least one other person who is as committed as I am and the rest will take care of itself. 

I want to thank Jay Terwilliger for being my number one cheerleader. He liked and commented on every single entry on my online portfolio, the predecessor to my personal website. Jay taught me to document my goals and work towards achieving those goals. He convinced me that by sharing these goals and progress with others who are invested in my success, I can create an accountability mechanism and a supportive network. Along similar lines, I want to thank Brian Wright for inspiring my current journaling practice. Although Brian was my TOK teacher, it is outside of TOK that he had the most impact on me. At every community meeting or presentation, I would always observe him taking notes in a notebook before making an intelligent comment or asking a well-thought out comment. He taught me the value of pausing to process information before reacting to it. I am now on my 20th journal since leaving UWC a little over 6 years ago. 

Matt Spall bought me my first Moleskine journal - which I earned by writing a mediocre sonnet about Rio Celeste. While he was an excellent English teacher, I am most grateful to him for introducing me to the outdoors. On a few occasions, while those of us who could not afford to return home for the holidays were on the verge of boredom, he would lead a hike up to the windmills on the mountains around Santa Ana.  I would not consider myself much of a hiker but I do spend a substantial amount of time outdoors thanks in part to his influence. Matt reinforced the idea that one of the ways we commune with one another is through sharing our favorite activities. Rodney Olguin taught me Mathematics but I am most grateful to him for sharing whatever wisdom he had gathered over the years. My other Math teacher, Russ Steponic, taught me the importance of holding on to one's faith even as others might not understand why they would believe in it. He played a big part in my acceptance of my true faith tradition. 

I want to thank Paula Moran for holding me to a high standard and encouraging me to push myself in learning Spanish. I had two amazing Physics teachers, the cool Lizzle the Fizzle aka Liz Drotos and the no-nonsense Sandrita aka Sandra Morales. The both of them expected a lot from me and that allowed me to thrive. I am especially grateful to Sandrita for modeling to me what it means to know your worth and stand up for oneself where that worth is not being appreciated. She is one of the best teachers I have ever had - and I have had many great teachers. I want to thank Mr A aka Alfredo Antillon for teaching me not to take life too seriously and try to enjoy music along the way. When I grow up I want to be like Mr A! I also wish to extend my gratitude to Rene Sandoval for his lessons on leadership and encouragement to live with integrity. 

I want to thank Juan Diego Martinez Fuentes for instilling in me a sense of responsibility and discipline over simple every day tasks. It is in that where I have found the joy of life. I also want to thank JD's family for their love and affection, it has carried me throughout my UWC days. My gratitude also goes to Ingrid Davalos for letting me soar, and making sure my last minute decision to apply to Stanford is executed well. I want to thank Renata Villers for helping me realize my brilliance and overcome my self-doubt in deciding which universities to apply to. While I ended up not getting into Harvard, working with her as part of my Harvard application helped me realize the ways in which I was underselling myself. I want to recognize Ivannia Brenes Flores and Maritza Araya for teaching me through our interactions in Zumba class to dance to my own rhythm - even if I am the only one who can hear the melody. 

Marianela Ramirez, through championing the work of the Giámala Foundation, inspired me to be passionate about the causes that are close to my heart, remembering that consistency trumps once-off brilliance. Don Eduardo's prayers and sermons fortified my spirit while Rafa's jokes refreshed my soul. The tias and tios with their abundant love saw me through. I especially want to give a shoutout to tia Rosibel Naranjo Monge who always knew how to make my special rice and eggs meal because of my dietary restrictions. How can I forget tio Gerardo, tia Patricia and tia Ivannia Duran for always letting me have just a little bit extra food. I am also grateful for the other tia Patricia and her friend for always sharing their stories and allowing me the opportunity to improve upon my Spanish. To tio Raul, I send my thanks for modeling generosity and love. The tios and tias were the backbone of my UWC experience, and without them I could not be where I am today. 

At Stanford I have had access to exceptional educators many of whom have had a formative influence in the trajectory of my life. The first person I want to recognize is my Pre-Major Advisor John Mallet for taking us to fancy dinners on Stanford's dime and pushing us to make the most of all the opportunities available to us at the university. He would be proud to know that I have done exactly that in the six years that I have spent on the farm. Among those opportunities, I spent my first summer in Sri Lanka learning from Dr Ewen Wang, Dr Suzanne Gaulocher, and Sachi Oshima. They reinforced my commitment to use my talents and interests towards collaboratively building more resilient communities. Professor Pam Hinds challenged me to think about how we can organize for good and Professor Tim Weiss took me under his wing to explore the ways in which entrepreneurship might be one way we might organize for good. Tim encouraged me to lean into my curiosity without being stuck by the lack of answers to the questions my soul wrestled with. That has made all the difference. 

I want to thank Professor Mark Capelli for teaching me that Engineering is not just a professional path, but a way of thinking and problem solving. Then Professor Nick Bambos went a step further by emphasizing that modeling and control of engineering systems is an art. Seeing engineering through these two lenses is what put and sustained me on the path I took. A path I would pick again in a heart beat if I was given a do over. I want to recognize Professors Anat Admati, Sharad Goel, Jonathan Taylor, John Taylor, Edison Tse, Chris Markler, and Ramesh Johari for teaching me the importance of dedicating time to asking the right questions. When you have the right question, you have already solved half the problem. In finding the perfect solution, I thank Ali Rosenthal, David Hornik, and Patricia Nakache for teaching me to use an iterative and data-driven approach to ensure I learn quickly and cheaply.  I do not have enough words to thank Professor John Lord, but one of the many lessons I have learned from him is the importance of starting with the basics and building up complexity once the foundation is firm. 

Professors Mykel Kochenderfer, Elisabeth Pate-Cornell, and my advisor Ross Shachter taught me to reason about uncertainty with ease across different application areas. Professor Ashish Goel reinforced the lesson that my talents, no matter how humble, can make a difference through the COVID-19 class and subsequent directed research project. Professors Robert McGinn and Dale Nesbitt pushed me to examine the ethical implications of my decisions and work for today and always. As I am venturing off into the world, I feel empowered to make decisions about right and wrong at the very least. I thank Professor Matt Vassar for teaching me to communicate effectively. What good is my brilliance if I cannot communicate it to others? I also want to thank Professors Blake Johnson, Markus Pelger, Bob Sutton, Itai Ashlagi, Tom Kosnik, Sam Chiu, Robert Lemke Oliver, Lexing Ying, and Peter Diao, among many educators who have taught me in my time at Stanford.

While at Stanford, I began to actively interrogate and understand my African and Black identities. I want to thank Jan Barker-Alexander for helping me realize there was not just one way to be black and connecting me to resources that allowed me to safely interrogate my multi-faceted identity. I also want to thank Dr Laura Hubbard for teaching me that family is connected regardless of proximity, and home is where we land to replenish our fuel but also from where we launch as we soar to greatness. I want to thank Shelley Byron who, through many walks around the dried-up Lake Lagunita and  a drive in an old car in Botswana, listened to my stories and connected me to opportunities that helped me grow. This is an understatement of my gratitude for Shelley but it will do for now. 

I also thank Sephorah Green and Karen Cooper for always moving heaven and earth to make sure I pursued all kinds of opportunities. I cannot even count the number of countries I have been able to visit in the last six years thanks to them. Nothing teaches you about the world and about yourself as travel does. I want to thank all my Resident Fellows, including Janet Carlson, Tim Burke, Steve Stedman, and Corinne Thomas, for creating residential environments where I could thrive. I want to thank the dining staff at Arrillaga Dining for always looking out, for knowing when to give me a word of encouragement when my spirits seemed a bit low. It is those random acts of love and kindness of strangers that make a difference. 

Having thanked my educators, I proceed to thank my friends, collaborators, and colleagues who made a difference along my journey. I want to once again say that I have been blessed beyond imagination when it comes to the people whose love and kindness I have known the warmth of. As such this is not meant to be an exhaustive list but to mention just a few individuals without whose presence all my academic achievements would not be possible. As I look back I am pleased that I have evolved from being competitive to collaborative. This is because I evolved from being arrogant about my intelligence to being confident about it. My being smart and the ways in which I am smart do not make me better than anyone, nor worse.

In my younger years I was always the number one student by the metric of grades. It was a source of pride and I often used it to try and convince my relatives to give me money. Despite being the undisputed overall number one student in my schools, a few competitors-would-be-friends always kept me on my toes because I knew if I slacked then they would gladly take the honors. I want to recognize Boineelo Mokopane, Pego Modise, Larona Baruti, Ophaketse Gaemengwe, Michael Mosweu, Alebakwe Kgabanyane, Gotla Motlogi, Kenamile Rabasimane, Tumelo Tshekoetsile, Lwaone Modisa, Lorraine Ketshabile, Wedu Malensi, Lame Rancholo, Naledi Kgosi, Batho Madigele, Atlang Lekoto, Maxwell Leboro, Taolo Ntloedibe, Kutlo Bolelang, Phatsimo Mhateng, Maatla Leburu, Koone Mahalelo, Mopati Wabobi, and a few others. 

In senior secondary school I started to transition away from viewing these individuals as competitors and worked with a few of them in various study groups. I also want to recognize the following individuals not mentioned above who also were positive influences on my studies: Ame Mosope, Phemelo Lejone, Kgomotso Kereng, Masego Gopane, Galaletsang Nageng, Ketshephile Gothata, Moabi Otukile, Matshidiso Kabelo, Kefentse Ntlotlang, Koketso Marumo, Cindy Kgaodi, Kebaabetswe Mere. In UWC I had a few collaborators who I believe had the most impact in my studies that I want to recognize: Nishmed Cota, Kris Peev, Ramesh Gore, Andualem Urgessa Kelbessa, and Tiwalade Dairo. 

I want to thank the following collaborators from my Stanford years from inspiring me and allowing me to shine: Elliot Helms, Matthew Mogensen, Claire Wilson, Jackson Eilers, Virgil Smith, Alice Kate Cummings, Dr Dare Ladejobi, Yuko Ono, Moratwa Chamme, Alison Logia, Thomas Nguyen, Michael Fisher, Neha Kumar, Suchana Costa, Zahra Hejrati, Aisha Sharif, Maya Thompson, and Joshua Hanson. I also want to thank my favorite collaborator of all time and one of my best friends Madison Coots, without whom I cannot imagine my graduate studies. I want to thank all my friends and all my well-wishers for their consistency over the years and their prayers. 

I especially want to recognize Lutfe Rahman, Chisomo Billy, Eric Musyoka, Phile Shongwe, Mostakim Habib, Lesego Mahatlane, Maria Awan, Bob Beth, Patty Beth, Owen Modeste, Sheetal Ramsurrun, Jalang Conteh, Emang Rabogadi, Ellie Koepplinger, Fabiha Fairooz, Eyasu Kebede, Jacob Randolph, Navya Konda, Aviva Meyers, Mansi Jain, Alexis Dowdell, Annalee Monroe, Vimbai Anda, Amber Lewis, Ciera Ybarra, Rhodalene Benjamin-Addy, Deborah Gordon, Pastor Paul Dreessen, Ms Dina Dreesen and Godiraone Legakabe. Last but not least, I want to thank my love, Dionne, for her support over the last few months as I crawled towards the finish line amidst a global pandemic and other hardships.

So, in as much as I am proud of myself for the blood, sweat, and tears I have given to this journey, it is very clear that it has taken a village. Thank you everyone, we did it! This is where I get off the academics train but I can promise you I will never stop learning. I look forward to starting a new adventure in a month as an Associate Product Manager at Krikey. That will be a new season in my life! As such the next few weeks will be dedicated to closing out this concluding chapter of my life and resting in anticipation of the next one. While my next chapter will not be characterized by the frequent updates as this concluding one, I promise I will stay in touch. To formal school, it has been a pleasure!

Once again, I find myself thinking about beginnings and endings. There are many beginnings: a new year is upon us, I am finally - 8 years later - getting my driving license, I have a new housemate, my host country - USA - is about to inaugurate a new president in two days, and this year's Valentine's Day will be more than just loving myself. There are endings too: I am a few months from graduating from Stanford with my second - and I pray final - degree, I am about to wrap up my 5 years of therapy, and this past weekend my extended family lost yet another matriarch. As I have recently discovered, I struggle through endings because I often fail to let go and allow transitions to take place. 

The ending of my therapy journey in particular is an important one because seeking therapy is one of the best decisions of my life. In 2016, I had the foresight to exploit the privileged position I had as a result of my affiliation with both Stanford and the MasterCard Foundation. I pulled a few strings and was connected with a black therapist who has been nothing but amazing. I was having a difficult time adjusting to life in the US, especially given my mother's illness. I felt guilty about "chasing the American dream" when my sisters had the burden of caring for my mother by themselves - making huge personal sacrifices in the process. In all these years of therapy, I have had the space to unpack hurts and traumas that younger versions of me had buried deep in the subconscious mind. 

It was a slow process that at times felt pointless. I mean think about all the work we have done on grief alone - anticipatory and otherwise. One would imagine that when loved ones pass away, all that work will shield us from that pain and loss. But no! Each loved one who passes away breaks the heart as though it has never known pain before. For all the different kinds of hurts we worked on, I realize the point was not to make sure I never feel them again. Instead it was to equip me with the necessary tools to be able to weather whatever storms I might encounter. One of those tools have been to allow others to be there for me.

The traumas I experienced in childhood, including those that I did not recognize until more recently in my adult years, planted seeds of fear in me. I was afraid that if I relied on others to support me, they would let me down as some had before. This was at odds with the communal being I am at my core. Therapy allowed me to begin conversations with perpetrators of my traumas and those that were complicit in my pain. These conversations revealed a scary truth: more often than not people hurt others not from malicious intent, but the ignorant failure to interrogate their actions. This scary truth allowed me to see the ways in which I was very similar to these people, whom I blamed - rightfully so - for my emotional scars.

It was not hard to forgive them once I realized the ways in which we were similar. I then switched my focus to "unlearning" these toxic traits I inherited in our patriarchal society. I imagined that at the end of that process I would be the perfect person, inspiring love and peace in every interaction. In the past year I learned it is an unattainable goal because some of the hurt and conflict in society stems from misperceptions caused by incomplete healing. While I cannot prevent the incomplete healing of others to misperceive my actions, I can still use all I have learned to be and do better. Especially since the principles I aspire to live by are for myself and not for others. I have nothing to prove to anyone, except in the ways they hold me accountable to my own standards. 

As I wrap up therapy, I am confident it has given me the tools to succeed. It has allowed me to unpack emotional wounds from over the years, understand them, and make peace with them. I do not say heal them because healing is a lifelong journey. For as long as I live, I will always be in a state of healing. I am especially confident because I am blessed to have about twenty five individuals on three continents who I consider my close friends. The fact that when our matriarch rested two days ago I was able to reach out to them and ask them to keep my family in their thoughts and meditations shows I am learning to let others be there for me again. From this I  know I will be fine. In the same way I go for regular medical check-ups and dental care, I imagine a mental health check-up will be a part of the intentional life I plan on living. But for now I will be letting go of this chapter and allow the transition to happen. 

In the first article of this series on unlearning toxic masculinity, I shared briefly on how I became aware of the toxicity of my masculinity only in recent years. It baffles me how I could be oblivious to my toxic masculinity, while I have spent most of my life trying not to be like the toxic males I saw around me. But if you look closely, it makes sense why I missed it. My toxicity stems directly from that active desire to be different from the model of masculinity that I saw most frequently when growing up. I realize so far in this series I have not defined what I mean by toxic masculinity. It is such a loaded term that I think it is important to define how I am using it. To me, toxic masculinity is any behaviors by male individuals that are motivated by a desire to conform (or not) to societal prescriptions of what it means to be a man, that often result in violence against and oppression of other individuals, especially individuals belonging to historically marginalized gender groups such as women. For an alternative definition, you might find this article helpful. 

The toxicity I witnessed as a young boy in the world around me was mostly of males trying to conform to societal prescriptions of what it means to be a man. Aggression, physical violence, and the muting of emotions are just some of the examples. Something in little me - perhaps the fact that I was raised by a council of women who have had to play both duties prescribed for men and for women out of necessity - felt that this was deeply unjust. How could it be that women did so much more compared to the men, but yet the men were treated like the gods of the skies and the earth? So I rejected this model of masculinity for myself - well if we ignore the little bit of fighting I did in primary school. I denounced anything that resembled overt male violence. I refrained from playing football - soccer for my American friends - because I did not want to be associated with such vile behavior as cat-calling girls as they passed by. But in this rejection of masculinity, I nurtured a different kind of toxicity - a silencing of my truths that misguided and ultimately proved violent against the women in my life.

Two important interactions over the past few months awakened me to this truth. The first interaction was a new friendship in which I felt emotionally safe. I have been blessed with the privilege to have quite a few friends with whom I feel emotionally safe. But that emotional safety has often been built over time. So here I was in a new friendship and already feeling safe. The freedom to share my truths, including about things that are not so colorful, felt so good. It felt so good that when my therapist invited me to reflect on behaviors that might have helped me survive rough patches in the past but were not necessarily conducive for me to thrive in my adulthood, I knew hiding my truth was one that had to go. I wanted to cultivate emotional safety in my relationships. The second interaction was an unfortunate loss of a few friendships over a mismatch of expectations. One of the contributing factors to that expectations mismatch was that I kept some of my truths to myself in those friendships, and did not correct false assumptions that might have been made. 

Both of those interactions affirmed the importance of living truthfully. It is not enough to know my truth, I have to ensure that the people I have relationships with - especially relationships that are considered close - also know my truth. In part for the selfish reason that when I share my truth with my friends and family, I feel seen and nothing beats being witnessed. But also because it is a lot of work to reconcile misconceptions and truths. It would be irresponsible for me to continue living untruthfully - even if it is lying by omission. As I continue my journey to unlearn toxic masculinity, one area I can start at is to live truthfully more broadly. 

I ought to stop hiding material truths from others, such as the fact that despite my engagement in christian rituals, especially music, as a means of connecting to the memories of my departed relatives who were christian, I, myself, am not one. I believe in and subscribe to the spiritual practices of my ancestors, which thanks to the violence of the colonialism project was dismissed as evil and devil worship. One of my acquaintances, Sena Voncujovi, has an article that beautifully recounts how the various African spiritual practices became demonized. I will not hide the fact that while there are some behaviors that society prescribes for men that I reject, there are some that resonate with my truth. As I continue to unlearn, it is clear that a large part of this will be to interrogate and define the difference between those behaviors that I will reject and those that resonate with my truth. 

That is the latest insight on my own journey. If I completely reject (or completely accept) society's prescribed male behaviors, I will be outsourcing my thinking. My friend Avthar has a good article why people should not outsource their thinking. If you draw any inspiration from my journey, I hope you do not outsource your thinking to my article. For me one of the remedies is to live more truthfully, but that might not be the case for you. By silencing my truth in order to rebel against societal prescriptions of what it means to be a man, I was doing an injustice to myself and to the people around me. The journey is far from over, but I am proud of the man I am choosing to be. I am embracing my truths, including my masculinity. 

In 2018 I first realized that the excess of male privilege that I carry has blinded me to the ways in which my everyday existence can perpetuate untold harms against non-men. Up until that point, I naively believed I was a good person and all my actions were at the very least not bad. What entitlement!! I wish I could say that as I write this, more than 2 years later, I have washed myself of toxic masculinity and unlearned everything. But I am nowhere near. 

The best I can say is I am well along in gaining awareness. I suppose with awareness, there is hope that someday I can do the unlearning. I share this reflection not to claim to be any better or to have found the secrets to this detoxification process, but with the hope that my journey might inspire more brothers - and quite frankly, everyone else too - to reflect on their own role in sustaining the patriarchy. This is one of those processes that we cannot outsource to others. We have to bear the discomfort ourselves. So I do not promise any answers, just the hope of inspiration through questions. 

The first question is: who do you need for this journey? The little progress I have been able to make is because I had myself, supportive friends, and the wisdom of adult mentors. I know it is strange to refer explicitly to myself as one of the people I need for this journey. But without personal conviction regarding the necessity of the journey, I would not have had the courage to start or the resilience to persist through the discomfort. I guess this is a good place to add that I am a very stubborn individual, so I will most likely not do anything I do not believe in. 

The second set of companions are supportive friends. If you have read my controversial blog post about my friendship philosophy, I am referring to Tier 1 friends here. Tier 1 friendships are those characterized by reciprocity, the mutual commitment towards the growth one another, and security. Since my friends are mostly women, I had to be careful not to overburden and overwhelm them with my journey. Emotional safety is very important in this journey for both myself and my friends. So I shared this journey with those Tier 1 friends who had the emotional and mental bandwidth to support me in the ways I needed. Supportive friends are excellent sources of information, especially with respect to one's blind spots - and I have many of those. They also make excellent accountability partners. So whenever I revert back to toxic patterns, they call me out and keep me in check. 

I have had three sources of adult wisdom throughout this journey. I am fortunate that at the onset of this journey, I was already in therapy. My therapist has and continues to provide a space where I can interrogate my masculinity in a safe space. The safety of that space, I realize, is rooted in the fact that my humanity precedes my manhood. It is impressive what a change of perspective can do. In approaching the session as me the person, instead of me the man, I am able to connect more deeply with the values I hold true - including transforming our society to work for all people irrespective of gender identity and sex - instead of being defensive. I have also been blessed with mentors, especially Tim, who have challenged me in dialogue and through reading recommendations. My family has provided the third source of adult wisdom, because their lives contextualize my journey in deeply helpful ways. 

The second question is: how do you go about the journey? To be honest, I do not think there is one way to go about this journey. I started by consulting my journals and my friends for the different ways through which my male entitlement manifested. The first way was the direct violation of other people's boundaries. An example of this was my persistence in the pursuit of a romantic interest when they had clearly communicated their disinterest. I took it as them playing hard to get, and my persistence as proof of my "undying love". The second - which might not be different from the first - was my neglect of responsibilities to others. The way this shows up most frequently in my life is my failure to communicate certain truths to people in my life. I think we have a responsibility to not withhold material information from others, since allowing them to make decisions on incomplete information is harmful.

The next step for me was to attempt to uncover the motivations for these actions and inactions. What a whirlwind this step is! The patriarchy is a complex superstructure. All I will say here is this step is never ending because each time you find the root of some behavior, there are more roots for that root. I had to learn to be patient and to be compassionate towards myself. With this seemingly endless loop of roots and causes, there comes many contradictions. Contradictions in both the internal world and the external world. So patience and kindness do come in handy. This is the step where I believe I am. I am in the middle of understanding my motivations for behaving in certain ways, and experimenting with potential alternative behaviors. I cannot thank my support system enough for standing by me through this. 

I have gained some insights from this journey. The first is that interpersonal boundaries are complex things to navigate. I think it would be easy if boundaries were constant and they were verbally stated. Unfortunately, our boundaries are as dynamic as we are and an overwhelming majority of them are enforced through non-verbal communication cues. I have also discovered that having lived in different countries, the transmission and reception of non-verbal communication cues is not always the same. It goes without saying that boundaries should be respected always, irrespective of whether or not the transmission and reception of information regarding boundaries is smooth. So while I am trying to figure out how to effectively transmit and receive non-verbal boundary information, I have one of two approaches I am presently using: ask if I feel strongly enough, and otherwise do nothing. 

These interim approaches do not come without issues. For one, they are neither sustainable across time nor scalable to all situations and people. But I imagine they should suffice until I figure out some stable process. If only there was some algorithm for navigating these issues. One of the negative externalities of this approach has been that I give the perception that I am passive in my relationships - and perhaps I am. As I said, it is not a painless journey. I hope this is a worthwhile price to pay. I hope it will lead me to some clear path to unlearn all that I need to unlearn, while honoring the human in me's recovery from past traumas. A big question that I cannot seem to answer is: how do I reconcile my detoxification journey, my stubbornness and commitment to my life plan, and my desire for an enduring companionship with a woman? Clearly this is going to require some sacrifice. 

There is a lot I still need to learn and figure out, but at least I have some awareness and that is empowering. I am also grateful for my personal conviction and desire to change. There is a saying that I often encounter, "Men are trash!" While I stand behind it and its intention of calling out our violence as men, I hope we - men and anyone else for that matter - remember that some trash can be recycled or turned into compost. I think it is this sliver of hope that allows me to accept that I am trash without falling into indifference. It is this idea that trash can be repurposed and transformed into something with utility, that gives me courage that we can unlearn and be decent human beings. I am thankful to all who walk this journey with me. 

There are many ways one can write my biography. It can be written as a rags to (the path to) riches story, or as the story of a boy with nine lives, and many other interpretations. One of the other interpretations is as a tension between the private and the public. A central conflict in the story of my life has been around what I choose to share, with whom I share it, through what platform, and for what reason. Since I was a young boy, I have always loved to talk openly and freely about anything to anyone. By age 5, I was known in the family as Radio Botswana. At the time, my family knew never to say anything in my presence that they did not want repeated elsewhere. Of course, after the age of 5, I grew into a man who understood that it was not my place to tell other people's stories. But as far as my own stories have gone, for the most part, I have had no fear sharing them. It goes without saying that I did not always share them as truthfully as possible. Instead, I curated them based on several factors. As I strive to live more honestly with myself and the world around me, I find myself having to interrogate this tension between the private and the public. 

The first significant example of me curating the story of my life came from 2005 and 2006 when I lived in Gaborone with my brother and his wife. I had begged them to let me move in with them after visiting them during my school holidays and discovering that not every member of my family lived in poverty. I cannot emphasize enough the contempt young me held for my family's socioeconomic background, especially after the death of my father. I remember I felt like I was born into the wrong family. I hoped that someday the police would come to my house and tell me that they had come to pick me up to correct a baby mix-up they discovered. I imagined my real family would be extraordinarily well-off, and I would have enough school shirts to last every day of the week without having to rewash my school uniform every other day. You can imagine how sad I felt each time someone said I resembled any of my family members. When I moved to the city, I lied to everyone at school and the kids in our neighborhood that my brother was my father. The 17 year age difference between my brother and I made it believable. It was already enough that I was from the village and did not exactly fit in. I did not want them to know I came from a no-income family too. It was a simple lie, but one that would prevent me from seeking the help I needed when life at my brother's proved worse than I would have liked. As I mentioned in my TED talk, the challenges I faced there were instrumental in the person I have become. But was the cost worth it?

Over the past decade of my life, I have learned a lot about myself. One of the things I have discovered is that I am an extroverted introvert. However, I have lived most of my life, pretending to be a complete extrovert. I built an identity around being the so-called "smartest kid in Kanye," whatever that meant. I grew up being teased by the boys in my village for hanging out with girls instead of doing boy things like play soccer or sit by the road catcalling girls as they passed by. I did not know it at the time, but I found refuge in my friendships with girls because my femininity was nearly as strong as my masculinity, if not more. So they enabled an environment where I could exist as I am. While I could not return their insults out of fear that they would beat me up - and they could - I took great pleasure in outperforming them in my academics. I signed up for Debate, Maths and Science Club, and represented my school at subject fairs to flex my intellectual muscle. My teachers loved me, and so I was always under the spotlight. Each week that I was celebrated at the school assembly, it was irrelevant whether my family was poor or I was man enough. For as long as everyone was talking about my achievements, I could breathe. It is from this that I developed the habit of sharing my successes.

My family - like any Kanye family would - did not approve of this habit of broadcasting my achievements. They saw it as an invitation for the wrath of those who might be jealous. But how could I stop when there was a growing number of students who looked up to me? Yes, I am a rebel in a lot of ways, but this was not one of them. Coming from a place that is known for its witchcraft, it would be naïve of me to claim that I was never scared of the possibility of being bewitched. After all, it would not be the first time, according to family legend. But the idea of inspiring others to dream that a nobody like me from a written-off school like Seepapitso Senior can go from the then dusty streets of Kanye to the valleys of Costa Rica to attend a prestigious school like the United World College propelled me to keep sharing my moves with everyone. I know of at least four people who have been inspired by my story, who have persisted in the pursuit of their dreams, and I know without a doubt that they will continue to make this world of ours just a tiny bit better. My rationale was if eventually the herbs of the few who might be jealous overpower the divine protections of all that I find holy, I can rest in peace knowing that my light has ignited the light in others. How else would I have accomplished that if I kept my wins and losses private?

It was not until Stanford that the tension between the private and the public became pronounced. If my family thought I shared too much, you could imagine how worse my sharing appeared on this side. My impression of the culture here in the Silicon Valley is that people do not share any and everything. With words like networking and personal-brand being used on a daily, people curate digital platforms that highlight and showcase their best sides. In some sense, we all do that. On another extreme, I have always perceived the culture back home to be a sharing culture. You only need to ride in a combi - especially in a village such as where I grew up - to know that people do not think twice before disclosing their frustrations at their partner's side partner to total strangers. It is somewhat cathartic - to be able to release those thoughts to strangers, you hope never to meet again. Although in reality you will meet them again, chances are they will not bring it up. It was after getting here that I started to question the content I put out into the world. In part, because Stanford also gave me the vocabulary and frameworks to critically examine my behaviors. I realized that I have walked around the world all my life with a strong belief that I was a good person, and almost all my actions were proper. But the truth was more complicated than that and was part of the motivation for leaving mainstream social media in 2018. If I was not as good as I thought, with what authority could I continue inspiring others from backgrounds such as mine that they too could live their wildest dreams?

In 2018 I was awakened to the truth that while my femininity was more nourished than in the average male, my masculinity was still as toxic. I am proud to say that since then, I have been successful in identifying most of the toxic traits and their sources, and that is the first step to detoxifying my masculinity. It is still a long way to go until near-full detoxification, but thanks in part to the patience and courage of my friends, I know I will get there. But will I wait until then before returning to sharing my wins and losses with the world again? Am I even listening to myself? The four people I know to have inspired were inspired because they had access to my journey. They know that before getting scholarships to UWC Costa Rica and Stanford, I failed to get the Top Achievers Scholarship from the Botswana Government, and every other scholarship I applied for. So when they faced the mountain of rejection that they did - and I had it easy compared to some of them - they knew it was still possible to win even after so many losses, so they continued. It is this idea that moves me to continue sharing the ups and downs of my journey. If I have learned anything over the past decade, it is that humans are complicated. As I continue to navigate my shadows, I realize that as bad as my time in Gaborone was, my brother and sister-in-law were also doing the best they could. As hurtful as the abuse from the boys I grew up with was, they too thought they were good people, and their actions were right.

If, in sharing my story, I inspire one more person to pause and interrogate the impact of their actions on those around them, then this would be a win. The win - I think - is not necessarily in the change of the behavior itself, but just in the active reflection about the act. After all, the new behavior might itself be worse than the previous one. Perhaps what has become the highest upside from all the public sharing I do, is the accountability network it has produced. I have published a lot of content around the aspirations I have for the kind of person I want to be, and it is easy to spot whenever I do something inconsistent with those. Coming from a communal culture, I need that public accountability. I am also fortunate to have friends who are courageous to call me out when I do or write problematic things. If all things were private, then how would they know all the ways I need to be put in check? I want to conclude by saying while I seem to imply where I come from we share things publicly, also remember that we believe kgomo ga e nke e nnyela boloko jotlhe (Translation: A cow never releases all of its dung). 

The transition from fast to slow - as my friend BP describes life under quarantine - has given me a lot of time to think about a lot of things. One of them is the subject of marriage. Which should not come as a surprise given my cultural background, the fact that I can almost smell 30, and the constant inquiries into my marital status. My last reflection on what I want in romantic interactions was retrospective. But as a Mongwaketse man in my mid twenties, I ought to think about what I want in these matters prospectively. Of course this post builds on the insights from the last one, but I write it thinking forward and based on the direction I hope to take my life over the next decade. I have a feeling I am going to get in trouble for publishing this post, but I guess the man I aspire to be is one who does not fear his truth. The choice of photograph accompanying this post should be interpreted purely as a stylistic choice for my blog and nothing more. I went through numerous photos of my friends who might not mind me using their pictures for such a post, but I decided to go with this because it is a perfect metaphor for my view of marriage. My view on marriage is perfectly captured by Kahlil Gibran's poem, On Marriage. So without further ado, what qualities would I find in a woman I would not think twice before marrying?

She must be an African woman. I use the term African woman to mean someone with immediate African ancestry - meaning one or both of their parents must be African by birth -and who has spent at least two of their formative years in a country in Africa. I consider the range between 12 and 18 years old to be formative. I realize now that even the term African is too broad considering that I am referring primarily to Sub-Saharan Africa. The African ancestry and culture is to minimize the inevitable cultural conflict. (Of course Africa has a rich diversity of cultures that it would be foolish to hope for cultural compatibility, which is why I hope for cultural empathy instead). The residency requirement is to ideally eliminate friction caused by my planned future investment of personal resources - primarily time and money - on various work on the continent. A woman who has lived in Africa - I imagine - can understand why I would commit to contributing towards Africa's ongoing growth and path towards economic sustainability. 

I also want a beautiful woman because I am not trying to have ugly babies. I want to be the ugliest member of my family. A special friend of mine reminded me recently that beauty is subjective. While I agree with her, there are some objective parts to it. (The next comments are not intended to objectify women but merely to state my preferences for beauty. Any harm from such an interpretation is deeply regretted). My beautiful woman should be within 0.1 m (10 cm) of my height in either direction, have visible ears, a nose that is at least as well-shaped as mine, a smile I find cute (with near-even teeth), feet that are nowhere as bad as the feet in my family (feet that can wear sandals with a smile), a chest in the BC range, and a proportionally matching figure. (In Botswana terms, the figure should be "from North of Dibete"). Of course these are not items on a checklist and I can think of examples of women I find attractive who do not fulfill all of these idealized beauty standards. It would be interesting to reflect at another time on where I get these standards from. 

My perfect wife should have something going for her in life. As the eligible bachelor from Kanye that I am, I have received a few marriage proposals and the value proposition is often that the women are "subservient" and would "support my dreams". If I made decisions based on my ego alone, I would marry them on the spot. However, the idea of a subservient wife whose main hustle is to support my dreams does not sit well with me. I am not comfortable with the possibility that when I die, someone will have to "restart" their life over. I have seen my mother's life as my father's widow, and I could never rest in peace knowing I brought that onto someone's daughter. I am not looking for a housewife. (There is nothing wrong with housewives, but they are not for me). It is necessary for my wife to have a career of her own. She needs not be financially independent, but she must pursue work that she finds meaningful. Although, of course, our combined financial position should be sustainable. 

She must share the sentiments of Kahlil Gibran's poem: that we ought to cultivate and nourish our individuality within our togetherness. She needs to have a life of her own outside of the relationship; have individual interests and friends. Of course we will have shared interests and friends, but it matters to me that we preserve our individuality. Having previously considered converting to both Christianity and Islam in the name of love, I realize one of my vices is codependency. Therefore, I do not desire to be with a woman who would enable the kind of environment that will feed that trait. The other reason I want someone who is open to this together but apart view of marriage is because I do not want to compromise on the setup of my bedroom. Therefore, my wife and I should maintain separate bedrooms. We will take turns visiting one another, but we would both have the liberty and privilege to maintain our bedrooms as we please. If not for the environmental impact, I would even propose separate houses. Think of how cool it would be to ask your wife, "My place or yours?"

Even cooler would be a relationship full of banter and wit. I want a woman with sufficient breadth of knowledge and command of the spoken word that our conversations would never feel long enough. Someone who is well read, from whom I can always learn. An individual who keeps up with current affairs, such that debates on the issue of the day are not uncommon at the breakfast table. I know I said I want a beautiful woman because I do not want ugly babies, but that would not be the worst thing in the world. The worst would be my mother's children lacking the ability to help our children with their homework. She does not need to be an expert at everything, but she needs to be able to understand our kids' homework material enough to explain it to them. Imagine the horror of my wife unable to explain the mechanics of the Pythagoras' Theorem or how seasons work to our child! 

All these are simple requirements. One might wonder, therefore, why I am still unmarried. After all, I personally know many women who easily meet all of these requirements. The reason is there is a sixth requirement: I must meet all of my perfect wife's requirements for her perfect husband. If she has to be so perfect for me, then why should she have to settle for a man with uncombed hair when she prefers a man with combed and tidy hair? If she wants a man who can teach her kids to azonto and vosho, why must she be stuck with me who cannot dance to save my life? Maybe she is like women on the internet, she wants a man over 6 feet tall and I am a humble 5'8. I know some people are eyeing me for marriage, but before they ask if they meet my criteria, they ought to ask if I meet theirs. One cannot and should not say I meet their criteria if they have not developed it out. It would be fun when I eventually get married, to revisit this post and see by how much theoretical ideas and reality differ. 

Those who know me can attest to my association of sickness with the threat of death. It is therefore not surprising that the growing number of COVID-19 cases in my county is forcing me to ask the question: "What if the end of the road is in sight for me?" Despite my obsessive conclusion that I am dying each time I feel just a bit sick, I would like to believe that I do not fear my own death. The only deaths I fear are those of the ones I love, because when they are gone I have to learn to live with their absence. But when I am gone, at least I think, I do not need to make any adjustment as I will be no more. The only part of my death that breaks my heart is its impact on those I love. The challenge, therefore, is to prepare them for that possibility. This is why each time I am sick I remind them of my mortality, even though they do not like that conversation. But more than that, I have to ensure that my dependents will be fine beyond my passing. As I sit here in my house under a "shelter-in" order from the Santa Clara County and the State of California, I want to reflect on my life up to this point and what I would think if that was all there was to it. I will give it away, all things considered I think I have led a great life. Yes, I am probably biased, but I think I am content with how my life has turned out thus far. 

I am content because I have had the privilege of love. I know I am notorious for whining about not having enough romantic love in my life, but in all honesty even that is not true. It is just my ungrateful, attention seeking, and dramatic self at his finest. I have met amazing women since my first dating experience in 2004 who have taught me a lot about myself, about people, and most importantly about life. A majority of them have supported my journey through life, from offering words of encouragement when I faced imminent failure to buying me ties for my interviews. Even greater than romantic love, is the abundant love from my friends, my family, and other well-wishers. Everything I am, everything I have accomplished, is completely because of all of that love. Of course I can never possibly express gratitude for it all, but my gratitude wall lists some  of the people who have poured love into my life. It is not by any means an exhaustive list. There is nothing better than being loved - and I have had braai in Botswana. Well except, perhaps, loving! I am a son, a brother, an uncle, a nephew, a friend, and a potential husband. All roles that allow me to pour love into others. There is no greater feeling than to support the journey of another, to witness it from the front seat, and watch their growth over time. I am grateful to everyone who has loved me, who loves me, who I have loved, and who I love. Because of you, if my life ended today, I would go with a rich soul. 

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows"

- Psalm 23:5

Despite being born and raised in a family of humble means, Modimo Mothatayotlhe Mmopi Wa Dilo Tsotlhe Rara Wa Masomosomo has poured countless and immeasurable blessings into my life. The best of those blessings, I now realize, was my confidence. I am reminded now of a time in 2001, I was in standard/grade 1 at the time, and there was a sponsored walk at my primary school only for students in the 5th to the 7th standards. Everyone else was to stay home. I heard that instruction loud and clear, and yet instead of sleeping in on that Friday morning, I insisted that my family prepare me for school. I did not have a cent to buy snacks or anything along the walk, but one of the teachers - Mrs Motswagae - gave me P2.50 and offered to give me a ride whenever I felt tired. I suspect that interaction is what instilled in me the belief that there is enough kindness and generosity in the world that nothing was out of reach for me. All I had to do was rise up early and show up. The second best of those blessings is failure. I recount now my scholarship application for some universities in South Africa in 2012. My teacher and mother, Mma Lekwape, had encouraged me to apply and even drove me to Gaborone to drop off the application forms. I remember being stuck in traffic and praying that we get there before the 5pm deadline. We were able to submit, but my application was unsuccessful. I have had many other failures - perhaps I should create a section to celebrate my failures if I live long enough - but all of them have taught me that failure is not the end of the world. If anything, it is a reminder to keep showing up because at some point there is bound to be success. 

One must wonder if I have any regrets up to this point in my life. I could be wrong, but I think I have no regrets. At first I was going to say I feel like I have not been the best steward of my blessings. But that is mostly because I was recently rejected from a summer internship that I really wanted to do - a Quantitative Analyst internship with JP Morgan. So there is availability bias because I can think of all the ways I failed to perform in that process. But one of the gifts I have gained in this life is the ability to show kindness and compassion to myself. Yes, there is a lot I can do in strengthening my technical skills, especially given my non-traditional profile for the kind of roles I am hoping to break into. But I know that each of the experiences that I have chosen over the traditional paths have either brought me intense fulfillment or it was the best choice I could make at the time given the unique circumstances of my life. It is from that knowledge, that I am able to say if I go today, I have no regrets. Another possible candidates of a moment in my life that I can say I regret was getting involved with some women - at separates points in my life - but even then, I walked out of those experiences with lessons that have made me a better person than I was beforehand. There is always something we can do differently, but we should also be kind enough to ourselves to remember that we are doing the best we can as imperfect beings on our journey through life. 

If this COVID-19 outbreak would be the end of me, I will go back to Modimo Mothatayotlhe Mmopi Wa Dilo Tsotlhe Rara Wa Masomosomo with a content soul. But I hope it will not be the end of me. There is still a lot of love I can receive, and a lot of love I can give. More than that, I have been blessed beyond measure - my cup overflows - and would love to multiply the value of those blessings. The world is not yet where I want for it to be, there is still work to be done. So I hope that I have at least 5 more decades before I have to return to Badimo ba ga Ramarea boo Kgakgathiba barwa Matlotla. In those 5 decades, I hope to help make the world more just, sustainable and empowering for historically marginalized populations. I suppose this quarantine might just be the opportunity to recharge and to practice those technical skills so that when we return I can try again. I have failed a lot to know that it is not about the 99 failures, but the 1 success. Wishing everyone health and peace as we navigate this health crisis. 

I choose to accompany this page with this photo. It was taken sometime in June 2019 on our way to some graduation festivities. In that moment, I was happy. Surrounded by 3 of my best friends. I have a number of best friends. Although when I use the title best friend in the every day, I am referring to Urmi. To me, a best friend is an individual who has demonstrated over time that they are committed to helping me advance my spiritual fulfillment. It is an individual who has invited me along their own journey of life. These are friendships that are characterized by reciprocity, security, and love. Best friends are what I think of as my Tier 1 friends, in my controversial Tiered Friendship System. My Tier 2 friendships, where the majority of my friends are, are characterized by reciprocity and love. Last but not least, the Tier 3 friendships (also known as acquaintances), is characterized by reciprocity. Although these are discrete categories, all of my friendships can be mapped onto a continuous spectrum between these 3. With this in mind, it is important to note that over time anyone can move up or down the tiered system, although it is really hard to move down. My motivation for this post is to explain my philosophy towards friendship, following complaints from different people about my level of engagement with them.

To understand why I have this friendship system, you have to understand the context of where I grew up and my personality. I come from a village where I was celebrated for my good manners, my smart brains, and kindness towards everyone. My good manners and kindness are all a direct result of my mother's influence. For this reason, I have always attracted people wherever I went. Those who know me will also know that I am a curious person. The kindness I extend to others and the curiosity I have about them and their lives, has always proven to be a recipe for building a foundation for friendship. A consequence of this, is I have ended up with a lot of friends. In fact, I even claim - and you can verify from anyone from Kanye - to have reached celebrity status in my hometown. The irony of it is I am an introverted individual. Extroverted introvert, but introvert nonetheless. The privilege to travel and live in many places within my native Botswana and the world at large, has compounded my friendships. Having an ever growing number of friendships with interesting people - and all of my friends are really cool people - comes with the challenge of ensuring quality of the friendships. The Tiered Friendship System stems from the desire to maintain all my ever growing number of friendships while also cultivating a smaller subset I can count on at any time and all the time. Starting with Tier 3, I will explain all of the different tiers and what they are all about. 

Acquaintances are valuable. They are those friendly strangers with whom you can exchange favors and useful information. A key characteristic of these types of friendships is reciprocity. Tier 3 friends are those people you meet at conferences and share abstracts about what you are working on and interested in. They are those classmates you have taken the same classes with and have occasionally helped each other with assignments and projects. They are the people you have sat next to on flights and talked with to pass time. Essentially, you know a bullet list of their interests and lives that when you come across a scholarship opportunity or business incubation opportunity you think aligns with their interests, you will forward it to them. They are the people whose fundraisers you will donate $50 to aid them provide hearing aids to hearing impaired children in Central America or donate $10 to their favorite non-profit responding to the earthquake in Nepal. You do all this with the hope that if the roles were reversed, they would do the same. I am grateful to my Tier 3 friends, for all the ways they continue to enrich my life. In 2014 when my best friend Batho Madigele passed away, MHSRIP, the power of Tier 3 friends was shown to me when I raised $3,000 in 5 hours to buy a last minute flight to go and attend his funeral. It is for this reason that I take my responsibilities towards my Tier 3 friends seriously. 

The next level up, we have Tier 2 friends, where a large majority of my friends friends are. The distinguishing characteristic is there is love added. Love is a complicated phenomena, but if I must define it simply it is an intentional commitment to the growth of one and another. So in addition to forwarding relevant opportunities to someone, I am also more likely to follow through and support, to the extent possible, their applications towards those opportunities. These are the people I am more likely to check in about once a year or two, to see how their journeys of life are unfolding. If there are any goals they have shared with me, to see how far along they are towards those. They are people who I will send my application essays to for feedback. The people who I would lend money to, if my finances permitted and it advanced their goals and objectives. 

Tier 1 friends are Tier 2 friends plus the added element of security. By security I mean they have proven to be dependable. They show up when I need them, they respect the confidentiality of the details I share with them, and they do not judge me (too much). These are the people with whom I can be a rough draft of myself. The ones who are in my life for the long run. The people I would probably consider donating one of my kidneys for. (The weaker one, but still a kidney). Unlike love and reciprocity, security is not something within my control. It is a function of the dynamic between me and the friend. It is an earned privilege that the both of us have to actively work for. With this in mind, it is important to explain that I do not unilaterally promote or demote people between Tier 2 and Tier 1. They come in and out based primarily on our efforts. The movement between Tiers 2 and 3 is very much unilateral. 

Having explained the tiered system, to me friendship has little to do with how often we keep in touch.Rather it is based on the degrees to which reciprocity, security, and love are found in our relationship. I understand that being one of my friends can sometimes feel like you are in a competition with many others. Perhaps from seeing social media posts or photos of time I spend with others. But be reminded each of my friendships exists for a reason and is valued equally. The depth, and frequency of friendship interactions is a function of friendship tier, our respective schedules, our leisure preferences, and geographical location. However, a reduction or an increase in friendship interaction is not an indicator of a change in one's tier. I want to expand a bit on the respective schedules bit because it is what most people often find weird. I am a very busy person who likes using planners to keep track of his limited time. As such it is not uncommon for me to ask my friends to make appointments (in advance) to hang out, grab a meal, or jump on a call. Of course, to the extent that it is feasible, I always make time when and if emergencies arise. My assumption is also that this scheduling also helps my friends too, since I imagine them to be busy individuals too. 

That is my friendship philosophy in a nutshell. So, shall we be friends? 

I love this photo of mine from July 2014. I was a Master of Ceremony at a birthday party of someone who at the time was one of my dearest friends. I felt fresh! I almost always do. But of course with the benefit of hindsight, I can see how wrong I was. How could I have thought wearing sunglasses at night was cool? I can understand having them on the head at night as I do now, but to wear them? Back then I braided my hair. How can a sane man torture himself by braiding short hair? Even child birth cannot be as painful! Do not get me started on my fashion choices. But in my defense, my fashion choices were partly influenced by circumstance. That jacket was a  hand-me-down from my brother and it was my only jacket. So I could not do any better. Although I will admit with the shirt I could have done better, especially since I bought it that same day. Then, I thought bigger was better. My fashion choices are better now, but nowhere near where I aspire for them to reach. Too bad you might never get to see that since this is most likely my final entry on this blog. As I look back in tears and in joy, I think my life can be described as love and resistance. I write this post grieving the unexpected (and yet unsurprising) ending of a friendship. But as with the items described from this photo, nothing is meant to shine forever. 

I respect people who live their truth. Who pursue paths in life that bring them peace. They inspire me, because I have a lot of growth I need to do in the area of speaking my truth. So while I grieve for myself, I am happy for my friend for realizing that being friends with me was taking away from their peace and making the right choice to cut me loose. Of course I would have preferred my friend to shine a light on my potential blind spots and guide me towards the "right" path. But it is not their job to fix me. It is not their job to cure me of whatever toxicity I might have. It is not their job to help me unlearn all the harmful and maladaptive socializations I have. It is not. Except I wish it was. What is the point of a friendship if it does not make you better? If it does not push you closer towards "better" versions of yourself? Perhaps it is for the best. In learning to speak my truth to myself and to others, I have to start by admitting that I desire a deep companionship in my friendships. The kind of companionship where I can trust that one holds my best interests at heart. One does not show they hold your best interests only through standing by you at your high points, but by offering you constructive and hopefully actionable critique when they feel you are roaming in the troughs of life. I do not only hope for this, but I expect it from everyone who calls themselves my friend. Otherwise, we are both better off without each other's friendship. 

This week I have had three opportunities to look back at my life as a whole. First in recovery from the end of the friendship, I looked back at my relationships with female homo sapien sapiens over my life course. Then in a conversation with an acquaintance who was curious to capture the story of my professional triumphs in a format that can be shared with kids. Finally, this evening a conversation with a new friend took me through my familial relationships over the past 2 decades. In all of those reflections there was always love, and where I lacked love, I had resistance. Lovelessness is a feature of our world that I wish we never had to deal with. It is the root cause of injustice in all its forms: from the rich oppressing the poor, to the masculine oppressing the feminine. Where we find lovelessness, we ought to put up a resistance against it. Especially in ourselves, and in those we call friends. Because resistance is one of the languages of love, it is one of the ways to love, and it is love itself. When we put a resistance against that what we find unwelcome in ourselves, say fashion choices for example, we open the path to the possibility of reaching our fashion aspirations. When our friend buys a baggy shirt and we resist by offering them advice to buy a slim fit shirt instead - as my sister often does to me - we save them the embarrassment of terrible old photos in future days. It is not our job. It is our privilege. When someone gives you the front row seat to their life, shows you the unedited version of who they are, that is a privilege!

You, the reader of this article, should consider yourself blessed to have this window into my life. Of course this is edited and polished, but even the edited and polished insight into my world is a privilege. Now I want to encourage you to pause and reflect on all the privilege your friends afford you. Do you recognize how lucky you are that they trust you enough to share with you their most vulnerable moments? Do you? I hope you recognize you have a responsibility to keep that bond sacred. And if you cannot, do not lie to yourself and do not lie to them. Forfeit that privilege immediately. Do not wait for months, do not wait for years. They will respect you for living your truth. For pursuing paths in life that bring you peace. They will be inspired by you. And while they will grieve for themselves, they will be happy for you because you cut away that what was taking away from your peace. Maybe this will not be my final blog post after all. 

If you follow me, my writings, or my legend, you know I seem to be obsessed with new beginnings. I love setting new goals and striving to reach them. Of course the journey of life is never linear. For this reason, I often find myself having to reset and restart on the journey. Perhaps after a setback or some apparently unexplainable loss of motivation. Those of you who have the privilege to follow my WhatsApp status can attest to my brief reflections on starting over, turning a new leaf, or closing a door. This is one such post. Today I went hiking with two of my friends at the Foothills Park here in Palo Alto. The last time I went there was in the summer, when the temperatures were nice and toasty. Informed by that memory, I chose to wear shorts and my Stanford Engineering shirt that I have modified into a muscle top. That was a bad decision. We are in the middle of winter and out there in the wilderness, deep under tree cover, I nearly froze to death. I was saved by my friend's cardigan - which was so becoming on me that I received compliments that I looked like a cool grandma - and an occasional ray of sun. We did the best we could even under those freezing conditions: dancing when we could, pausing to admire the beauty that surrounded us, and having mini photo shoots as we went. So do not imagine we were miserable in that cold. Even so, nothing could beat the joy in our hearts when we found a clearing with an abundance of sun and warmth. We deviated from our path to this one. It was beautiful. I think of it as a perfect metaphor to describe this quarter that is drawing to a close. 

In September when I started the academic year, I was filled with hope and fresh energy for this next chapter: graduate school. I did not underestimate that it would be an adjustment, but I felt this was going to be the time to shine. The time to invest in my professional advancement. I felt I had enough progress in the other 3 priority areas. Then out of nowhere came the storm. I learned that I was "trending" on social media because an individual had decided to soil my name and broadcast uninformed accusations about me. Accusations of alleged events that this person only knows of secondhand. Accusations that go against the principles of the person I aspire to be. Accusations that undermine the journey I have been on since the summer of 2018 to unlearn the toxic elements of my socialization as a straight male in a patriarchal world. I would be lying if I claim those accusations did not get to me. The worst part was I could not clear my name. I am not claiming that I have never engaged in behavior that might warrant these kinds of accusations, in fact my resolution to detoxify my masculinity was born when I learned that an interaction with a friend had caused her some discomfort. Instead, I was frustrated that the world would never hear my side of the story. More so since my efforts to use institutional structures to report this defamation did not lead anywhere, as the person was said to be mentally unwell. But I was not surprised. Trying to move on with my life after this was hard.

New beginnings are meant to be inspiring, full of green grass and flowers blossoming everywhere. But with this one, I had to balance my new responsibilities as a Teaching Assistant in a big class and my school coursework with dealing with this crazy issue. (I have debated my use of the word crazy here, and have decided to stick with it). It is insane how with social media, anyone can write anything and it can destroy a reputation. Even with the knowledge that this person was struggling mentally, each time I walked into the African community I could not help but imagine people wondered if there was some truth to the allegations. I know I would have wondered. In all, the person wrote about me over a span of a few days and was done. But I had to deal with the aftermath of that for long after. I am still dealing with the aftermath even now. The first way this got to me was the realization of how unimportant it is to care about what people think of you. I think since I knew I wanted to be "important", I have always curated my public image. But to see how it could just be tainted with a few characters, it made me wonder if any of these principles I aspire to build my life on mean anything. If they matter at all. I mean this individual was never my friend, so she did not know me at all. Yet she could take some hearsay and just like that taint this image that I was building. What was the point? This quarter has been hard because of this, but I am grateful to the people in my corner and my therapist for all they do to keep me going.

In total, I violated 8 out of the 12 guiding principles of my current Life Plan. From the least consequential one of skipping my journaling sessions to the destructive ones of not getting sufficient rest to imprudent cash flow management. My priorities in this period were misaligned and I had to put a pause on my job search because there was just too much on my plate to handle. It was a dark time. It was cold, like earlier on that hike. But I did the best I could. Thanks primarily to my friend MC, I was able to keep my head above water in my classes. I was not performing at my best, but at least I was afloat. But I also made terrible choices, and am grateful to my friend ND for never sugar coating when I mess up. I have watched more television this past quarter than I have in all of the 4 years I was at Stanford. Ellen Pompeo made $20 million per season of those episodes on which I have wasted my life. Imagine! Just because somebody who does not matter wrote things that are not even true, and I throw away my life like that? In the time I wasted hiding behind my television, I could have killed it in my classes, secured my job for next summer, and made progress on Project X. But here we are, writing this blog post. 

If I have learned anything from this experience, is that these principles that I have elected to base my life on are for me. They are not for you, and not for the world. I cannot control what the world thinks of me, and I should not try to, but what I think of me matters a whole lot more. This enlightenment is like that moment earlier on the hike when we came to a spot with abundant warmth and sunshine. Clarity! I am blessed with opportunities that many can only dream of, and I would never forgive myself if I keep wasting them like this. Primarily because of MC, I have done fairly well in my classes this quarter. But the Ramarea standard of excellence does not do "fairly well", we do "above and beyond". I am grateful that I have taken the time to define those 12 principles on which to govern my Life Plan. As ND said, the only way to show I have learned something is to do better. I should not be violating any of the 12 principles. I plan to spend the 3 weeks of this break repairing the damage of the past 10 weeks: get a job for the summer, catch up on journaling, and work on Project X. 

It is after midnight as I lie in bed to write this. I am not sleepy because I slept for quite a bit this afternoon, as my body continues to battle a cold. While I am not completely out of the woods yet, I do feel like this is a new beginning. My republic has held its general elections and Masisi has been elected to office. I am hopeful that this is a new dawn for my country. With the legitimacy of an election, now he can focus on leading the nation instead of dealing with the drama of his predecessor, the guy with long name that I am lazy to type. Focus! I look back at the past few years and realize I have been on auto-pilot. There has just been a lot of never ending drama in my life, and that has derailed my focused ambition. I am even surprised I graduated from Stanford on time, and convinced them to admit me for graduate school. Most of the drama has come from struggles around my mother's illness, but I realize now that it is time to let her go. Going through life without a zest for it is no way to live. In an attempt to honor my mother's generosity, I have spent the past few years living for others - just as my mother had done for us. It is noble to lead a life that is centered around serving others, but we ought to remember that we cannot pour out of empty tea pots. But as this new day begins, I sense a renewal of sorts. As this illness leaves my body, may it take with it this timidity that has characterized my life in recent years.

It would be wrong of me to claim that this is the beginning of this process. It is in fact the tail end of it. It started last December when I deleted my social media accounts. I started to use social media extensively in 2012, around the time my mother fell ill and was taken away. Prior to that I cared not for it. Do not get me wrong, I enjoyed the attention I got in my village as the smart kid of the time. But it was a popularity that I did not have to manage actively. But in 2012 somehow, perhaps as a means of coping with my mother's illness, I focused a significant amount of energy on building this online persona of who I was. I gave life to the myth of Tumisang Ramarea. But last year as I reflected on how life was going, I was confronted with the reality that the whole social media influencer thing was not for me. First of all it was just too much work to maintain the social media accounts. Secondly, I felt they were taking away from my ability to enjoy the simple things that matter to me, like reading a book, for example. Last month, after 9 months, I relapsed and opened a Facebook account. I was back for about 3 weeks before I decided to delete it again. While it was hard to see the benefit of being back on it after 9 months of a Facebook-free life, the real catalyst that convinced me to stay gone from Facebook was the realization that public opinion of me is none of my business. There was an individual who had written some disturbing accusations against me on their Facebook account. At first I was really hurt by these claims, and even reached out to university resources to intervene. But there was nothing the university could do because of this individual's documented mental health struggles. I realized then that the true madness was me trying to curate what information about me is out there on the internet. 

With the exception of this platform, I have decided to discontinue trying to shape public opinion about me. This platform is slightly different in that it is an online portfolio of my work and interests, with a few of my thoughts in my two blogs that are infrequent at best. It is less about shaping public opinion of me and more about creating some place where my loved ones can come to one day - hopefully in at least 60 years - when I am gone. Specifically, I have discontinued the use of WhatsApp stories. While it was a smaller audience, it was basically a continuation of the myth of Tumisang Ramarea from Facebook. I recognize that there were people who found my daily posts inspiring and at times entertaining. However, I felt whatever good it was doing for them was less than the cost to me. I cannot afford to continue as a WhatsApp influencer. I need to focus my energy on developing my skills as the aspiring data scientist I am and on getting to know this other fine auntie in my life. I need to focus my energy on being the best uncle I can be to my nephews and nieces, who are now navigating the complexities of their teen years. I ought to focus on being a supportive sibling to my other siblings as they deal with the loss of our mother in their unique ways. But of all these things, focusing on developing my technical skills as an upcoming data scientist and getting to know this baby girl are paramount. I ought to take a chance on life. It is what my mother would have wanted. 

I am currently enrolled in 3 classes that are really great starting points for my journey as a data scientist: MS&E 226 (Fundamentals of Data Science: Prediction, Inference, Causality), MS&E 252 (Decision Analysis I), and CS 238 (Decision Making under Uncertainty). Since tonight enrollment opened for winter quarter opened, I also enrolled in classes for  next quarter. They will also add greatly to my toolkit and experience: MS&E 135 (Networks), MS&E 250A (Engineering Risk Analysis), and MS&E 355 (Influence Diagrams and Probabilistic Networks). In addition to these, I have decided that I will sharpen my skills in R, MATLAB, Python, Java, and C++ between now and March 2020. Then in Spring I want to devote time to adding Julia to my skillset. I am in the process of securing a data science internship for Summer 2020. I am done grieving for my mother's life. It is time I live mine. I am grateful for all the people who have been there for me all along as I have tried to make sense of this loss. It is because of you that I start this new era with a Stanford degree in the bag, another one in the works, and a great social network that will carry me through any of life's challenges. This is for you, but this is also for my resilient spirit that even at its lowest of lows, has not given up. 

First of all, my official relationship status is single and I am not available. Although if I were to cross paths with someone and we kicked it off, I would not be entirely opposed to trying something. Perhaps because of my Engineering training, I have come to believe in data driven decision making. I have combed through my relationships between 2004 and 2019, my crushes between 2001 and 2019, and everything in between to try and understand my romantic relationships and interactions. Some useful questions to guide this brief reflection include: What kind of person am I naturally attracted to? What are the deal breakers for me? What are my opportunities for growth in this area? 

I have dated a diverse mix of women: introverts and extroverts, aspiring engineers and "slay queens", and a number of other differences. I have been attracted to women for different reasons. For some  it was their unearthly beauty, for others it was for their unparalleled wit, and a select few it was their unshakeable confidence. As I have come to realize, often with the beautiful and the witty, I tend to focus more on how we would look as a couple to some external observers. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but some of my miserable relationships, including the most recent ones, were characterized by this. With the witty and the confident, my focus is often on how I feel around and with them. Women who have fallen in this category for me, were often women I would not credibly describe as pretty. But their confidence was enough to persuade me to believe they are beautiful. Even now in hindsight, I would still describe them as not pretty, but beautiful nonetheless. A constant internal battle I have to win when it comes to matters of romance, is to prioritize my joy over my ego. My ego often leads me to the pretty and witty categories, because it feels as though a man as handsome as I am should be with a drop-dead-gorgeous woman and a smarty pants like me should be with a genius. But my joy knows that I would be most fulfilled in a relationship with someone who is grounded in who they are, with whom I can engage in intellectually stimulating experiences, and with whom I can be comfortable to grow in their presence. 

Now on to the deal breakers. The biggest one is someone without an opinion on things, or without the confidence to defend their position. Some of the most unfulfilling relationships were where the women always deferred to my judgment on everything. From what we did with our spare time, to where our relationship went. In the beginning, as a man from a patriarchal society, my ego felt good that I was the "leader" of the "family". But after a few weeks it gets old because I have a finite number of interests. So pretty soon it becomes as though I am dating myself. I have always thrived in relationships where my partner was willing to bring ideas to the table, and challenge the ideas I brought if they were not interesting enough to her. Of course it was a bit uncomfortable to hear that my brilliant idea to go on a hike to collect mmupudu (some wild berry from home) was not all that great, but it afforded me the opportunity to learn about her and for us to practice our negotiation skills. If I wanted to date myself, I would not seek a relationship in the first place. The second deal breaker for me is distance. Here I am talking about both geographic distance and emotional distance. I have enough data points, to know that long distance relationships do not work for me. In particular, long distance at the beginning of a relationship, where there is ambiguity over the expected duration of that distance, and where there are no plans in place to bridge the distance in the interim, all do not work for me. The final deal breaker is with regards to my friends. Except for 5, all my close friends are women. This has been a source of contention in some of the data points, although rarely with my partners who were secure in their value proposition. I am willing to change things like my religious orientation, and my last name in the name of love, but my friends are to remain untouched. Of course, this is not to say a partner cannot express legitimate concern about specific interactions. But that it cannot be a concern that is not backed by specific evidence. 

The reason why I list my relationship status as single and not available, is because I hold the belief that there is still a lot of growth I have to do in this area. From a number of the data points, it is clear there is still a lot of past pain I need to work through. I think over the years, I have become really good at taking punches on a roll because I was of the opinion that life must go on. Yes, life must go on. But if we want it to be a full life, we must find the time to pause every once in a while and recover from the punches. With the professional aspect of my life being the largest source of uncertainty right now, I think now is the best time to recover from the punches of my romantic misadventures. The second, and equally important, point for growth is my ego. My ego always leads me to the wrong relationships. I need to stop thinking about the question of my prospective partner from the lens of what those who matter to me would think of such a relationship. Neither my family nor my friends will have to live with such a person. So the only consideration should be if such a person amplifies the joy in my life. No person, no matter how pretty or accomplished, is worth diminishing my joy. My third area of growth, is to accept that I am who I am and not try to be anyone else. Specifically, I should make peace with the fact that I am an old soul. Trying to keep up in this "speed-dating" world will only leave me unfulfilled and miserable. I am confident in my value proposition. In fact by participating in this "speed-dating" world that is unnatural to me, I am devaluing my value proposition. 

In conclusion, the evidence suggests that I am not fit to pursue a romantic relationship in the present phase in life. But it has also shed some insights into the general type of woman I should pursue when I eventually emerge from this phase. My friend describes my type of woman, as the queen bee type. To me a queen bee type of woman is one who is confident in themselves (Alternative Text: who knows she is the s**t), someone who has their own hustle, who is proximal to me, and whose pheromones sing a song my receptors can hear. And if the queen bee is a fine aunty (Alternative Text: really pretty woman), all the better!

Yesterday I came across a Facebook post from one of the people who I like to humor myself with having created an example for, on how it is possible to come from a low ranking school like Seepapitso Senior and study abroad without the assistance of the Government of Botswana. (Surprise: I have created a Facebook account after 9 months. I will probably write a reflection on that over the next month or so). Like me, he went from Seepapitso Senior to UWC Costa Rica and then to a college in the US. Given the similarity of our experiences, I felt qualified to comment on his post and hopefully share some wisdom. He had posted: 

"I have been reflecting on 21st birthday for a while and it so interesting to see bittersweet life seems to be. I spend a lot of time thinking of the people I used to know at some point in my life and how a lot of them have just gone up in smoke, people I miss from home, friends I haven't seen in ages- but sometimes I find myself missing my former self more than the people I was once close to. At times I think an abitious, happy, creative part of me is just drifting away and I want to do something about before get to see it all fade into the dark. But I also feel like the last 5 years of my life have been so wonderful, a testimony of dreams coming true. Anyone else ever feel that way or is it just me?"

My response was:

"I think I have felt similarly at certain points. Growing up in Kanye, from very humble beginnings, my ambition revolved around escaping my family's poverty and having a better standard of living. I wanted a life where I did not worry if I would have food to eat, but to debate which of the many options I wanted to have. Because we were socialized into believing education was the key to success, I put in all my energy into school. Since my family did not have access to electricity, I studied by candle light or with a paraffin lamp. Sometimes walking all the way from Thamatlhogo to Caltex to buy paraffin when there were supply issues. Because life was tough then, it is easy to see how then there was evidence of my ambition. In senior school, I went to school every single day to study with Akon Mopati Wabobi and my other friends. We went to a terrible school, under resourced, with teachers and students lacking in morale. So we had to work harder. So then it felt like I was more ambitious than I felt later, more ambitious than I feel now. Then of course all the hard work "paid off". I went to UWC Costa Rica, and to Stanford. But in these institutions I was relatively better off than I was before. I did not need to worry about whether I will have food or not, I had access to electricity and the internet, so studying was very easy. I also had the privilege to study alongside exceptional students, with driven instructors. It is not that I was any less ambitious, or that I worked any less. But because I had more resources at my disposal, how that looked was a bit different. Of course with an increased access to the internet, there are also new forms of leisure. So in that sense, the decreased creativity makes sense. You are passing your time in other ways. I am not saying those ways are better, just that they are different. (But of course my ambition has undergone various transformations over the years from just wanting to escape my family's poverty. After UWC Costa Rica and their social responsibility preach, Stanford's make an impact in the world, and MasterCard Foundation's give back, my ambition first evolved to want to do more for the world, especially in Botswana. But recently, it has evolved again as I recognized that before I can change the world, I have to take care of me. So it is back to seeking personal success as a means to reaching a position where i can begin to effect change in the world). Lastly, keeping a journal has helped me keep the creative side of me alive. But more than that, having a website where I share my creativity with the world has been motivation enough to keep that side of me alive. I hope my testimony helps you realize that perhaps the meaning of ambition, happiness, and creativity, has simply evolved with the transformation of your life circumstances. I also wish you all the best in cultivating creativity again. I will stop here before I write a Wikipedia article."

The more I think about it, the more I realize the truth in my response. In essence my motivation has gone from being entirely selfish to being unrealistically selfless, and is now trying to find some equilibrium somewhere between those two extremes. The younger me wanted to eat meat on most days, snack on fruits anytime, have his own bedroom, and have electricity. With the naivety of youth, I had some resentment towards my parents for not being wealthy. If education was the key to success, and hard work paid, then why were they poor. So my ambition then was simply and purely about saving myself. Not only did I work hard so I can escape poverty in a future time, I also occupied all my free time with extra-curricular activities so I minimized the time I spent at home. In fact, most of my childhood friends could not tell you where I lived because I hid my home life out shame. Over time, my consciousness awakened to the complex systems that create and sustain poverty. In the case of my parents, the social norms that boxed my father into being the sole provider of the family and my mother into being just a housewife are responsible for the poverty in which I grew up. 

My academic excellence and extensive extra curricular portfolio scored me a place at the United World College of Costa Rica. One of the values that were drilled down into heads and hearts was Social Responsibility. It is a value I found myself gravitating towards. In fact upon graduation, I was awarded the Social Responsibility Award. Then I was proud of the achievement, but today I find it amusing that being socially responsible is something that gets awarded. After UWC, I went to Stanford on a MasterCard Foundation Scholarship. This means I was bombarded with messages on how I was a transformative leader and was going to make an impact in the world. In fact, I internalized Jane Stanford's famous quote about how a Stanford education was given to me in the hopes that I will be of greater service to the public. But as I have made the most of the opportunities at my disposal to try and make an impact in the world, from California to Botswana to Sri Lanka and elsewhere, I have come to the sobering realization that while making an impact matters, we should not approach it as though we are an elite class that is better than those we seek to serve. The world does not need saving. It is from such a place, that I took an audit of where my life was headed: on autopilot on some transformative leadership and impact path. That audit revealed to me that before I can serve the world, I have to take care of me. 

What does it mean to take care of me? I want to have adequate nutrition and sufficient sleep, to have in spacious and love filled accommodations, and be financially secure. I am curious about technology and the ways in which it can help people organize more efficiently. I know that is a vague statement that can mean many things - and in fact it does mean many things. So the state of my ambition at the moment is to graduate from Stanford with my Masters, get a challenging and well paying job in the US for the 3 years of my OPT, and hope that when 2024 comes, I would have taken care of myself enough. At that point, the hope is, I will then cross the Atlantic in pursuit of community living. It is in community living that I hope I would be able to make an impact in the world, by playing my role alongside the many other members of that community that I dream to find.  

About a month ago, I walked across the stage at the Commencement Ceremony for the Management Science and Engineering department at Stanford to pick up my empty degree case. I owned the moment: paying attention to the way my feet kissed the earth in gratitude, while taking in the ululations of Mrs Chamme, and pausing at the end of the stage long enough for Owen and Amber to snap photos of me. Yes, deep down there was a part of me that knew the job was not done yet since I had one outstanding requirement. This morning I took my final exam to my final class of my undergraduate career at Stanford and with the results in, I can now properly celebrate a journey well traveled. The photo above is my cheat sheet that I used in the exam. Oh Physics! In my  earlier years, I excelled at Physics. But this class was painful, especially since it was accelerated. I will resist the urge to try and figure out what lessons I can extract from taking an accelerated class alongside my normal life - which is itself intense. Okay, one lesson: unless you use knowledge, you lose it. If I have learned anything from my last dance with Physics, is the need to keep revisiting areas of knowledge I anticipate needing to keep them at the tip of my brain. But this post is not about how to learn, it is about acknowledging that I have fulfilled all the requirements for my Bachelor of Science degree in Management Science and Engineering from Stanford University. This Zebra has earned its stripes!

I refer to myself as a zebra because that is the national animal of Botswana, my birthplace and ground zero for my journey. This is a celebration of the visionary leaders of my country who prioritized education and made it possible for a poor widow's son such as myself to have a fair shot at success. It is a celebration of the teachers, formal and informal such as my older brother Donald, who encouraged and cultivated my curiosity. Especially my teachers from Seepapitso Senior, who bought into my crazy dream that I was going to study abroad and went beyond the call of duty to get me there. I celebrate all the people in my village who used to inflate my ego, affirming both my beauty and my intelligence, thereby concluding that I was destined for prestigious institutions such as Oxford University. It is those affirmations that gave me the confidence to even begin to dream that there could be life beyond my village. I celebrate my friends who pushed me to do my very best. From those who, with their friendly competition, threatened to dethrone me as the best student in my school, and some argued in my village, such as Atlang, Batho, Maxwell, and Pego; to those who literally carried me across the finish line when failure threatened to kill my dreams such as Kago and Koketso. This is a celebration of those individuals who welcomed me and helped me adjust when I was struggling to adapt in Costa Rica, such as Chisomo, Wabei, and Kelebogile. It is a celebration of the best teacher one can ask for, Heidi, who reminded us that it was possible to go where we wanted to go. It is a celebration of Ingrid who helped me overcome the defeated confidence from my previous major failure and apply to Stanford even though I had neither the GPA nor the SAT scores for it. 

Stanford! First I am proud of myself for finishing my degree in 4 years despite all the curve balls that life threw at me. I started Stanford a little over 3 months after a non-consensual sexual encounter in Costa Rica, which at the time had turned my world upside down. At the same time, I was coming to terms with my mother's early onset dementia that was rapidly robbing her of her personhood. How was it that after everything Sis Mos has done for me so I can follow my ambition to Costa Rica and then to Stanford, she could not be well enough to witness and share in on these successes? Even right now as I write this, there is a bit of sadness that I cannot share this with her. But despite starting off Stanford on such a note, I rose more than I fell. I am particularly grateful to Jan, who connected me with my Head Doctor directly. So I did not have to deal with the Stanford system for accessing mental health services, which I have heard is frustrating if anything. I cannot imagine how I would have survived Stanford without my Head Doctor. She has helped me work through some difficult experiences, including some that occurred during my time here. I was also blessed with a support system here at Stanford and beyond. I want to recognize my MasterCard Foundation Scholars Community, my colleagues and friends from the Stanford Center for Professional Development, and my friends in the broader African community. Attempting to name all  the people who have carried me through Stanford is like trying to count the number of stars in a Kanye night sky. But I want to especially recognize my dear friend Annalee, who was the most understanding person when it came to my mother's illness. 

Stanford was not a walk in the park! It was hard. I even completely failed one class twice. (CS 103: Mathematical Foundations of Computing). But a lot of the failure I have experienced at Stanford has helped me refine what matters to me. It has served as a guardrail in moments when I was trying to follow the trends, and pointed me in a direction that was a bit closer to where my heart really wants to go. Even if you take a look at my resume at the moment, it is not that of a "typical" Stanford student. There are no internships from big tech, consulting companies, or investment banks. Not that there is anything wrong with those, and in fact I foresee myself passing through at least one of those industries in the near future. But that my curiosity drove me in other directions. I will always remain grateful to Stanford for providing endless opportunities to follow my curiosity to the ends of the world: from learning about community finance in the context of an emerging economy in Sri Lanka to working on research project to understand the birth of the technology entrepreneurship wave that is currently taking over East Africa. I have had mentors, such as Suzanne, Pam, and Tim, who have guided my reflections regarding the eternal internal battle between the deep yearning to be a useful instrument to the community that made me in its quest to transcend economic poverty and my own ambition for a comfortable life as a full time house husband. The one great take away from all of my successes and failures at Stanford, is a deep understanding that my intelligence is the slow kind. The kind that connects the dots over extended reflections instead of on-demand. Overall, I can say Stanford was a success because it left me with more questions than answers.

As I have alluded to on my Gratitude Wall, the story of Tumisang Ramarea is a celebration of community. We have completed one milestone. Next up, I am getting my Masters Degree from Stanford and then moving on from the academic life. I celebrate all of you, and I want to dedicate this graduation and degree to my mother, Sis Mos. Who woke up every morning for 12 years, including in the very dead of winter, to boil water outside for me, sometimes with dried cow dung because we did not have firewood. I guess I will never get used to life with her as a shadow of herself, but some might say, it shall be alright. 

Here are some photos from graduation!

His Excellency Dr. Mokgweetsi E. Masisi, the President of Botswana, was recently in the San Francisco Bay Area as part of his working trip to the United States. I had the distinct honor of meeting him on both days that he was in the area. The first was at the Meet & Greet he hosted in San Francisco to interact with Batswana in the area and the second was at Stanford during his visit at the invitation of Stanford SEED. In a thank-you letter I wrote to him, I likened his visit to the return of a parent from a farm during the harvest season. This was not just to butter him up because that letter also contained an ask, but because the updates he brought were as sweet as the watermelons and sweet reed a parent would bring from a farm during the harvest season. His visit has provided me with the opportunity to reflect on my evolving sense of patriotism. Having lived outside Botswana for 6 years in 3 countries (Costa Rica, Sri Lanka, and California), I have started to see myself as something of a global citizen. Yet everyone who has ever met me knows that I have aspirations to contribute to my country's development, even to the extent of proclaiming that I want to be president of Botswana someday. So how does President Masisi's visit help me resolve the internal tension between my patriotism and global citizenship?

In his remarks at the Meet & Greet, the president gave some updates on some of the things his administration is working on. My favorite was their efforts on simplifying and streamlining the change of land use process. This was music to my ears because one of my aspirations is to develop real estate in Botswana and partake in the promising tourism sector. This update means my next land purchase will be a farm with plans to convert it to mixed use. The president also talked of plans to introduce a Blue Card, a policy that allows people who for whatever reason have had to abandon their Botswana Citizenship to have some permanent residence in Botswana since they are finding it difficult to allow for dual citizenship. While I presently have no intentions of abandoning my Botswana Citizenship - because to be president you have to be a citizen- it is pleasing to know if in the unlikely turn of events I am forced by my global citizenship needs to abandon my Botswana citizenship, I can stay connected to my roots through this proposed Blue Card. This encourages me to continue with my plans of long-term investments in the country. Thirdly, I was pleased to learn that His Excellency sees investment in innovation, academia, technology, and entrepreneurship as essential to his vision for transitioning the nation towards a knowledge-based economy. I am fascinated by innovation and entrepreneurship in Africa because I see them as tools I can use to advance my purpose of helping enable the creation and sharing of African Stories. I am not naive to believe everything political leaders say, but this gives me hope that around the time I plan to return to the continent (~2024), Botswana might have joined Rwanda and Kenya as potential destinations.

Beyond just the president and his remarks, meeting Bay Area based Batswana who have been here for decades, was also inspiring. Some have been here for over 30 years and are married with kids. They still visit home as often as they can and they own property there. While I do not think I can happily reside in the US in the long term, their stories provided examples of how one can live outside Botswana and remain connected. The president's visit provided the opportunity to speak in Setswana and demonstrate respect to my elders the Tswana way, and this made me realize that wherever I end up living in the long term, my roots will always be in the land of the blue, black, and white. I will always remain connected and while I am increasingly doubtful I still want to be president someday, I hope our leaders will continue to work to create an enabling environment for us to contribute to the development efforts in our country. His Excellency and the First Lady both called me by name twice, I hope they remember that name because the name Tumisang Ramarea is not to be forgotten. World, wait and watch! 

Unleashed by Two Steps From Hell plays beautifully as I sit here at my desk to type this. I am unsure if I will finish this piece. I have drafted and deleted this piece many a time over the past week, both online and in my journal. I keep lying to myself that the reason why I cannot bring myself to write this piece is because making literary choices is difficult. For example, should I start this piece by describing my lengthy conversation with my friend MA in London from over the weekend and how it gave me a fresh perspective on how to look at the pursuit of romantic relationships? Or should I start with the joy I felt this afternoon when I received and read a letter from my friend LS in DC because it served as a reminder of how I am blessed with the greatest of friends? The truth of why I have struggled to write this piece is because deep down I know if I write it down, then it will be true. But this is a lie because truth exists independent of whether it is acknowledged or not. About 3 months ago, I embarked on a journey with another. It was promising, and was everything I had written in my journal a while back about my dream woman. Not in that it was perfect, but in that it was beautifully imperfect in as much as a journey can be. So beautiful I forgot I was supposed to be a paranoid optimist and just took a leap of faith. I am sure you have deduced by now that not all journeys have destinations. The end had come of out of nowhere and was earth shattering - or was it? The lies we tell ourselves...but this post is not about my failed romantic pursuit. It is a celebration of genuine friendship in my life. 

In my mother tongue, Setswana, we have a saying, "Montsamaisa bosigo ke mo leboga bo sele." It roughly translates to, "She who walks with me through the pitch dark of night, I thank when dawn breaks." Allow me to digress for a sentence or two on the difficulties of writing in English. This saying is gender neutral, but because English is so limited I am forced to choose a gender. I choose "she" because according to data, a friend of mine is 5  times more likely to be female than male. This post is to celebrate the friends who have carried me since the abrupt - but relatively expected - ending a week ago. Of course it would be false for me to claim that I am out of that darkness and dawn is breaking already, but my soul overflows with gratitude that I must share. To MC, for buying me tea and the numerous walks to lend me an ear that listens with sympathy. For the constant reminder that sometimes we live to fight another day, if we stay true to who we are. To NK, for making time to see me over dinner and for your gentle words of comfort. For the reminder that this is life and it is always worthwhile to take a chance on what sets one's heart on fire. To AM, for checking in to see how I was holding up and for taking the time to see me, despite being sick. For your witty metaphor about queen bees and flowers, that stroked my ego and added some units of joy to my heart. To EM, for reminding me that just because this was a one, doesn't mean I won't meet other ones. And of course for the whiskey and the turn up. To ND, for reminding me that just because the journey did not have a destination does not take away from the magic of what it was. For celebrating my bravery for taking a chance on love. To you all, I am thankful. What would I do without you all? 

Now to one of the stories I was thinking of opening with. Imagine a California Sunday afternoon in Spring - a nice sunny day out. I was taking the nice weather from the comfort of my room, seated on my beloved desk chair, talking on the phone with MA who is in London. If only I could have transferred this lovely weather over to her in the same way she transferred laughter my way. We were talking about how sad I was, and she paused before saying, "At least overall you are getting better at this - the quality of the person, the type of relationship, and the duration. are all improving." MA is the least metrics-driven person I know, so I found it hilarious how she made such a joke! As I laughed, I began to see the truth in what she said, but also the opportunity to reframe this heartbreak. Yep! You got it, Design Thinking! Although it was not her intention, her joke got me thinking about what if I think about each of my relationship attempts as iterations of the larger process of designing my Love Life. That reframing is powerful, because while I am still sad about the lost dreams, I am 4 times more grateful for all the lessons that this journey has brought. There is a lot to unpack from a relationship of 3 months, so it will be a while before I can have the full results and I doubt I would share them here anyway. But overall, there are insights for life, for love, and about me - my preferences, my strengths, my opportunities for growth, and my needs. This reframing just accepts the other's reasons for leaving, and goes on to work on mining the experience for key lessons. It also is inspiring, because the pessimism that usually follows a heartbreak is now gone. I know in time, when I have learned all I needed to learn from this iteration, and when the sadness had all died down, I will go for one more iteration. In fact I will go for one more iteration until I get it right. But as an engineer, I know that means I will be iterating until the end. Hopefully there will be more iterations within one journey than iterations of journeys. So thank you for this reframing, MA. 

I am even more grateful to my friends for reminding me of how far I have come, and of the standards I have set for myself. To UR, for predicting I was in danger of retriangulating and reminding me of why I detriangulated in the first place. To SR too, for being honest about your hopes that I will grow beyond looking for beauty, brains, confidence, and ambition. While you acknowledge the value of these, you urged me to also take my time to understand another's character before "taking a chance on love" as I call it. All great feedback, we will see how it plays out in the great reflection. My hope is that we are able to have a better strategy for the next iteration. Finally, to my twin RO, for everything! I am truly blessed beyond measure with good people who hold me securely, always. To the other, thank you for the journey and for helping me realize so much about myself. As I work on the opportunities for growth I have identified, I know future me, who will be so much better than past me, will be grateful to you for helping point him towards his best self. May you find what you seek, and may peace and joy be with you always. In Orbit by Thomas Bergersen plays as I finish, and I smile. What a perfect song to close this: "Cause we're in an orbit, fly across an emptiness of heartache...in this forsaken world, we only need one chance to shine. We live to find that light and in our fragile mind we completely lose our track of time." May we each find that light and may we never completely lose our track of time, because that is how we end up on journeys we are not meant to. Thank you all!

Time flies, doesn't it? Like how is it 10pm already? Wasn't I supposed to finish reading the Uber Case for my Organizational Change class before I went to bed? How is it Senior Spring already? Wasn't I supposed to have figured out what I want to do with my life to the finest detail by now? How am I almost 25? Didn't Brian Adams say I was going to be 18 'til I die? Everywhere I look time is flying. With my undergraduate education at Stanford drawing to a close soon, the anticipation of the eventual end of my mother's illness, and the end to this very day, I find myself thinking about the impermanence of life and everything in it. In the past this idea would have unsettled me. Today, I resonate with the following quote:

"O my soul, do not aspire to immortal life but exhaust the limits of the possible" - Pindar

At the core of this quote is an acceptance of the transient nature of life and everything in it. By not aspiring to immortal life, one accepts that we all have a finite time to live, a finite time to the day, and a finite time for particular experiences. After all we cannot add a day to our life, a minute to the day, nor a second to an experience. This acceptance is not cowardly by any means. By exhausting the limits of the possible, it is a resolve to make the most of every single second of that finite life, day, or experience. It is only when one has given the best that they can bow out with a smile and a grateful heart at the end of their finite time. It is my hope that I will carry this spirit in all the areas of my life. In academics, not to have all-nighters in a bid to extend the productive day, but to make the most of the day time. In my relationships and communities by giving them my best when I still can. In my professional aspirations by paving the path now when I still have resources to set myself up for a successful next chapter. 

With that, I believe I have exhausted the limits of the possible for the 9,119th day of my life. So I now take these bones back to their owners. Maybe tomorrow I will get another shot and I shall do my best with it. Impermanence is perhaps what makes this life so beautiful. It is the reason to have faith, to live with passion, and to love as much as possible. So as graduation approaches and my friends are about to disperse, or if I should wake up tomorrow to the news that Sis Mos has crossed River Jordan, I shall take solace in that however way I might feel will be impermanent. There is beauty in a sunset!

Updated on Day 9120: Sometimes I write things that shortly become relevant to me not too long after. In this case, less than a day after the brief reflection on impermanence. I would like to quote this New York Times article I have found helpful in situations when the impermanence of situations is revealed: 

"It’s about honoring what happened,” she said. “You met a person who awoke something in you. A fire ignited. The work is to be grateful. Grateful every day that someone crossed your path and left a mark on you."

Update on Day 9134: Today I felt ready to begin the process of letting go. So as I have come  to adapt one of the traditions around dealing with loss to death, I shaved my hair off. I love my hair a lot, the pain of letting my hair go is to remind me that it is okay to let things go. It is not fair, not desired, but it is okay and I should be at peace with it. I am enriched to have had this experience. As my girl Celine would say: 

" Fly, fly little wing

Fly where only angels sing

Fly away, the time is right

Go now, find the light"

Update on Day 9157: My hair is slowly growing back. Looking back, I am grateful to this ending because it opened my eyes to the ways in which I was not being consistent with my resolutions regarding how I am going to approach interpersonal relationships. Things can only go uphill from here. As the romance department is closed for repairs, I have spent a lot of time investing in my friendships. Especially here at Stanford, as we are about to graduate and they will disperse around the world. We cannot fight impermanence, but as Andrew Marvell said:

"Thus though we cannot make our sun stand still,

Yet we will make him run."

Update on Day 9203: Impermanence is such a beautiful concept! 83 days has passed, and the grieving process has concluded. The birth, death, and rebirth cycle continues. Who knows where the current adventures will take me. I have lived to fight another day, and it is another day. 

Update on Day 9344: As I begin to learn to love another again, I center the wisdom of my best friend, Urmi, who once shared with me that to truly love another is to do so without hope. I am jumping out again, and there is a possibility I will crash and burn. There is also a possibility that I will fall into something beautiful! But I am not conditioning my jumping on any outcome, positive or negative. This is the last update to this article. This madam is now being promoted to archived history from active history. 

A cloud of gray covers the sun outside the window here in Waverly, Iowa. Despite the picture forming in your mind at the moment from the gray clouds, I feel really blessed to have all the people in my life. Just this time away in Iowa from the busy California and all its stresses, is possible because of a generous invitation from my friends. On my way to here I had a 24 hour stopover in Minneapolis-St. Paul and spent all of it with my best friend. The friends I am visiting here are not on break, they have classes and work shifts to attend to - real responsibilities. I spend most of my days writing and reading. I spend a significant amount also on WhatsApp talking to friends since it is the only online channel I have to connect with my friends and family since I left mainstream social media 4 months ago. Yesterday while going through the stories of my friends, I got roped into a gratitude exercise where participants had to write something about one another. The exercise allowed me the opportunity to reflect on the significance of the presence of certain individuals in my life. It also gave me insight into what I mean to those close to me. I feel moved to share those reviews below and I will offer some closing reflections at the end of the post:

"Ramarea, you are one considerate, kind, smart and talented person I know. I appreciate how you easily connect with people and allow others to shine in your presence. I appreciate how you hold people accountable when it comes to their dreams (I'm out here working hard to ensure I achieve what I wrote in your journal). You're incredible and I'm forever grateful that our paths crossed when they did. You added an extra touch to my experience in Kigali and I could not have asked for anything better. May you never change, remain as grounded, and keep inspiring people."

"I never knew what a 'one of a kind' means until I met you. You have your own ways of doing and thinking about literally everything, confidently. And with that I find myself always striving to be and express me as I am. You have been with me through the toughest times even with out distance barrier and that is simply amazing. I have found a true friend in you. Hopefully the next time I see you, I would be visiting you instead."

"You are and I hope you will always be one of the realest people in my life. There in none like you my crazy friend, kana ke kgona go sa robala seboko seboko sa tlhogo ya gago se kelemile. Thank you for always picking me up when I'm down. I sometimes feel like you know me more than I know myself. Bathong, you can never go wrong with this guy in your life."

"Tumi! [X]'s godfather. When I count my blessings I count you twice! 16 years of friendship. You're such an influential person my friend. I cherish every moment spent with you, the laughter, fruitful conversations, everything. My maid of honor. I love you my friend."

"Tumisang Rams! Young but hei, you can learn a lot from him. My husband calls him first born, my kids call him big brother. I call him mentor, and good dance *laughing with tears emojis*"

"Tumi! I think it's funny how we don't remember how and when we became so close because you used to intimidate me so much. You are one of the few friends I have that I am certain will be around for the long run. I live for our heart to heart conversations. Thank you."

"Mmh! Where do we start with you Mr? We crossed paths in an amazing way: village girl and village boy who just got into the city and of course that made us click. You have been nothing but amazing. Funny how we are miles and miles away but I know that I can count on you whenever I need you. A true friend indeed, jolly guy, a guy that challenges me and makes me see things differently. [He] made me realize you can achieve all your dreams only if you put your mind to it. You don't have to have it all but if you want it so bad you will get it. Thank you man. I celebrate and appreciate you and wish all the best life could offer you."

"Tumi! SSSS wouldn't have been a great experience without you. You've always been my best friend le ha re sa bue every day. I value our friendship and your advice is always the best. Thank you for everything you have done for me. May God richly bless you with all your desires. I'm so proud of you."

"You're the first brother I've had outside my family. Only driven by the desire to succeed and change the future for yourself and your offsprings. We don't judge each other but when we disagree it almost seems like a volcanic eruption. The good thing is that never keeps us apart for long. We don't talk much these days but we both know it's because we are busy chasing our dreams <3" 

"My friend from goo lowe! Yes it has been a decade and a year since we met. I'm glad we were not only classmates but we turned out to be good friends. Thank you for always pushing me to put more effort on my studies. Thank you for sacrificing some of your weekends to help us with our studies. May God bless you abundantly G-Ram wa mrepa. Tsala e ko mahatshing a a tsididi. Monna go monate go tlotlela batho gore ke na le tsala e e tsenang kwa Stanford. I'm proud of you man. I love you brother! <3"

"Few people have the privilege of having such a supportive friend. I am beyond lucky and incredible fortunate to have you in my life. I couldn't have done [it] with without you. Thanks for the encouragement. You always make me feel special <3"

"Your work ethic and love for yourself and love for others is admirable. You are always the much needed individual to light up the room. Totally moved by your ability to lead and influence even from your silence. Can't wait to see you in another continent."

What an outpour of kindness! That my friends have such nice things to say about me is heartwarming, to say the least. It is also insightful to reflect on my impact on the world around me through their eyes. Some of the comments remind me that some aspects of my character that have become more pronounced recently as a result of the blessings that have continued to flow into my life, such as encouraging and supporting my people, have always been there. Others validate some of the changes that I have made in my life, such as choosing the "lead from the back" approach more often as it is more congruent with my personality and preferences. As you can imagine, all this investment that I do in my tribe is because others who consider me a part of their tribe have invested in me at some point. I remain grateful to all those who have, and continue to believe in me. Most of them may be found on my Gratitude Wall. My use of the word tribe in this paragraph is to mean all the people, from family to friends, colleagues to acquaintances, whose success matters to me. These comments reinvigorate my commitment to the advancement of my tribe. It is my hope that they too will pay it forward and invest in the advancement of their tribes until one day all of our tribes are advanced. There is enough advancement to go around for everyone. So I look outside the window, recall the two phone conversations from earlier in the day, one with my special friend in Cape Town and the other with my friend in London, and feel really blessed in life right now. May the river of blessings never run dry in my life and may it spill over to flood the rivers of blessings of my tribe!

It is old news now, but last week I got admitted into the coterm program here at Stanford, which allows me to concurrently pursue both my Bachelor of Science and Master of Science Degrees in Management Science and Engineering. I subsequently accepted that admission and will therefore be at Stanford one more year. This means I have achieved a major component of the Vision Board I posted about 6 months ago. As such I must update the Vision Board with new goals that replace that one. A consequence of this is I must extend the current "Strategic Plan" up to June 2020, when I am due to graduate from Stanford. In anticipation of the direction of the next Strategic Plan, I am renaming Academic Excellence to Professional Excellence. All other pillars remain the same. 

Personal Development

Since the last update on my goals, I have struggled to achieve the desired 7.5 hours of sleep every night. My current average is at around 6.5 hours a night. The result of this is I am less refreshed and therefore unable to give my 100% to everything I do. This is caused in part by overcommitting my time to various different activities that I care about. This is an area that I still have a lot of growing to do in, and I hope as I continue to think about the next Strategic Plan I will be able to come up with a framework to allow me to contribute to things that matter to me without stretching myself too thin. I am proud to share that I have eliminated the inefficiencies in my daytime schedule that were caused by social media by deleting my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts. While I now no longer have a way to find out where the coolest events are happening, the quality of my life has improved as I no longer waste time scrolling down feeds reading stuff that has negligible benefit to me. Since my departure from mainstream social media, I have taken to journaling more and regular correspondence with some few close friends as a way to share my points and opinions with humanity. In some ways, this website is also a substitute. 

Professional Excellence

Yesterday while in my Corporate Financial Management class, our instructor was talking about the importance of executive teams of companies to understand Finance, Operations, and Analytics. It was as if he gave me the words to describe what I was trying to achieve with my MS&E education. I want to have a thorough understanding of Finance, Operations, and Analytics, in order to help businesses and institutions optimize their services. The remainder of my time at Stanford will be dedicated to ensuring that I have a solid understanding of the different models in each of the 3 areas and sharpening my technical skills to implement those models across a wide range of contexts. Specifically, out of recognition of the increasing role of automation and simulation in the application of models in these areas, I want to ensure I have an above average understanding of AI/ML tools. As I continue to think about life beyond Stanford, I will be coming up with a criteria of potential career paths and organizations to join based on my ever evolving ideas of meaningful work and sustained passion for improving different systems to (hopefully) maximize the benefit to society. I plan on finishing strong from Stanford, setting myself up for a successful career that will eventually lead me back to working in emerging economies.  (I anticipate returning back to Stanford down the road for Business School, but maybe to diversify my networks I might just head to Harvard Business School or MIT Sloan).

Financial Sustainability

The worst investment decision I ever made was to delay exiting out of Diffusion Pharmaceuticals over 18 months ago when out greed, I had thought its stock price will keep rising. I ended up losing a significant amount of my (very small college-student) wealth. Following that, I refused to take that loss and held on to the stock even when it approached $0. This morning I woke up to the surprising news that for a short while it had spiked to levels that enabled me to exit out of that investment with a positive profit. I suppose these two weeks have been some of the luckiest two weeks of my life. In anticipation of a future life of stock picking, I plan to continue to learn the ins and outs of the stock market. So far my academic training is helping improve the quality of the bets I make, even though that is only part of the picture. I have been slacking off in as far as keeping track of my expenses goes. I need to return to increased vigilance and maintain a conservative attitude towards spending and lending. So far I have continued to have good cash flow management, although it can be improved.

Meaningful Communities

As I continue to root out the people I consider toxic in my life, I am learning of my own toxicity and shortcomings. In this final year of this chapter of my life, I hope to turn a lot of things around so that I walk into the next chapter a much better version of myself. I am starting by trying to understand the way past traumas shape my insecurities and how those, in turn, influence my present behaviors. While experience has taught me that unlearning toxic behaviors is difficult, in part because most are enabled by widely held social norms, having an awareness of these shortcomings improves the likelihood that I will unlearn and hopefully learn more constructive behaviors. In that regard, I also respect the people who will root me out of their lives. After all, we are all works in progress and sometimes we need to work on ourselves apart. Another motivator for this desire to work on understanding how my insecurities influence my behaviors, is that I anticipate romantic love will play a significant role in the chapter of my life after Stanford.

By writing these goals down and sharing them with the world, I hope it will keep me accountable to them. I also share these, and aspects of my life journey, because I believe life is an experience to be shared and witnessed. 

The seeds we plant, the dreams we nurture, and the promises we keep, all come together at some point. I am grateful to everyone who has been there for me along this journey since over 2 years ago when I committed in my journal that I am going to work towards earning a Masters Degree from Stanford University. I am also grateful to all those who will listen to the call of the universe to have their generosity fund this degree. Truly, the river of blessings never runs dry in my imperfect life. May it overflow and help fill the rivers of blessings in the lives of others. When I leave Stanford in September 2020, it shall be written: Tumisang Ramarea, Management Science and Engineering, BS '19, MS '20.

Update: Thanks to the generosity of Stanford School of Engineering donors, it was possible for the Office of the Dean of Engineering to award me a Coterm Fellowship, which covers half the cost. For the rest of the cost, I expect to work with one of my favorite professors here at Stanford as a Teaching Assistant. The combination of these two, mean I will have full funding for my Masters Degree. I have been blessed in life and look forward to continuing this cycle of generosity. Grateful! I am one of the most blessed people I know.

The new Academic Year is almost upon us here at Stanford. This will be my final year at Stanford, but also the last year of my current "Strategic Plan". The Strategic Plans are basically 5 year plans. Generally speaking these plans inform my medium term and short-term goal settings by providing some framework that is consistent with my values on which to base my actions. The current Strategic Plan rests on 4 Pillars: Personal Development, Academic Excellence, Financial Sustainability, and Meaningful Communities. 

Personal Development

One of my priorities for this coming academic year is sleep. To be able to give the world my best, I have to take care of my body. In addition to eating well and ensuring my life is moderately active, I will be ensuring I sleep on average for 7.5 hours every night. This is about an hour and half more than my average last year, which will require removing some inefficiencies in my daytime schedule. I hope to continue creating time to nurture my curiosity through reading books, watching documentaries, and listening to podcasts. As I move into my 11th journal since starting at Stanford, there is no doubt reflection and creativity will be a significant part of this coming year, especially as I draft the next Strategic Plan.

Academic Excellence

As I consider graduate school as an option, one of the critical components of Academic Excellence will be studying for and acing the GRE Exam. (I still hate standardized tests the same way I did when I took the SAT, but I do not make the rules). As I now have an accountability partner, my goal is to enforce a 24 hour homework policy: I will plan to read every homework assignment within 24 hours of its release, and plan to have it completed at least 24 hours before it is due. More specifically, my goal is to have 0 all-nighters this year, while maintaining my record from last year of no grade less than A-. I will make it my goal to use the resources that are at my disposal to aid my academic goals, such as office hours and review sessions before exams. 

Financial Sustainability

I recently completed a self-audit of my expenditures, investments, and income streams, and there is a lot of room for growth. My main goal in this area for this upcoming year is to cut back on my spending, especially on things that I know do not bring me value. I especially plan to say NO more often, as a significant portion of my spending has been on projects that I did not believe in, but for some reason did not want to let people down. 

Meaningful Communities

Towards the end of last year, certain circumstances led me to be intentional about the people I let into my life, and the communities to which I am an active member. At the core of this decision, is the realization that the wrong people can bring toxicity into my life, not that they are necessarily bad people, but that they have no part to play in my life. In a similar value, I seek to only be a part of those relationships and communities where I will be able to give my best self and contribute meaningfully to their growth. Also this year I am on a journey of love. That is exciting.