Raqs Baladi

On November 11, 2013, Super Typhoon Haiyan slammed into the Philippines causing massive loss of life and a trail of destruction in its wake. Battering the archipelago with wind gusts of up to 168 mph, it was the deadliest cyclone on record.  I, along with my expanding network of Fil-Am friends watched in horror as the island nation struggled to bury the dead and deliver food, water, and medicine to the suffering.

So I was encouraged with hope when I got a call from my veteran friend, Kim “Dancing Queen,” a self-proclaimed musical arts fanatic, foodie and lover of anything Asian, particularly Cantonese.

“Have you ever visited Medaterra in Woodley Park?”

“Afraid not. I normally stay close to downtown. I don’t venture that far north on Connecticut Ave.”

“Well can you please reach out to the owner, Angela? She wants to host a fundraiser for the Philippines typhoon relief, and I thought you would be the perfect choice to spearhead it.”

“I’m deeply honored that you would help out. I will contact her first thing.”

Angela was happy that I agreed to spearhead a fundraiser.  “Post an ad on Facebook. Let them know that 50% of proceeds of food and drink will be donated to AMCROSS.”

Angela and I also reached out to all the Filipino-American groups as well to a vast variety of meetups in the area, and we were delighted that over 100 people came to dine and donate money. By the end of the night, we had raised $1,200 for the American Red Cross, and Angela Aly was thrilled. “The event was enormous, and you executed like a champ.”

“My heartfelt thanks to you for offering your space and amazing specials. I appreciate Kim for reaching out to me and my gratitude for everyone who showed up and provided unconditional support.”

“Yes, the donations will help tremendously and we’ll keep praying for the victims for basic supplies, comfort, and healing.”

“Without a doubt. Say, so how’s your cafe doing? Do you get a lot of foot traffic at lunch and after work?”

“Some, but the young folks prefer to hang out on U St, H St, and 14th St nowadays.”

“Well, lemme see how I can help you. We’re pretty skilled at leveraging social media so we can place butts in seats for those strolling casually down Connecticut Ave.” 

The following week, I pitched camp at the Mediterranean bistro taking pictures of dishes and featuring them on the website.  In my free time, I would ride my pedicab through Woodley Park, picking up riders who didn’t want to walk the half-mile uphill from the Metro to the Smithsonian Zoo.  Connecticut Ave is lined with restaurants and sidewalk cafes and there was plenty of foot traffic after work and on weekends.

I also took the opportunity to visit neighboring restaurants in the rustic enclave including the Lebanese Taverna, Open City, and the Afghan Grill. Woodley Park was a small village bounded by Rock Creek Park and the zoo.  But it was an international hamlet with ethnic cuisines from all corners of the world.

The Lebanese Taverna serves classic, Mediterranean cuisine in a modern, contemporary setting.  In 1976, Tanios and Marie Abi-Najm boarded a cargo ship in the dead of night with their five children to escape the civil war in Lebanon.  After working at local restaurants for three years, they saved enough money to purchase the Athenian Taverna in the Westover neighborhood in Arlington, VA. They made a modification in the sign to read Lebanese Taverna and the rest is history.  Today, the business has bloomed to six restaurants, four cafes, and a market and deli.

The chicken shawarma was roasting on the pit with onions and cherry tomatoes embedded in between slices to give it a juicy flavor.  As the inverted cone of meat turned slowly on the rotisserie, the chef deftly sliced thin shavings from the outer layer to make the crowd favorite, doner kebab.

At the bar, a stylishly chic couple started off with the bread – a football-shaped pita of hot, chewy goodness which they dipped in hummus with the right amount of tahini and olive oil.

Then as an appetizer, they ordered shawarma sliders with hot slices of lamb stuffed inside a soft pillow of bread.

The entree was braised lamb shank with white wine, the tender chunks were falling off the bone.  They made room for dessert — baklava, phyllo dough stacked with honey, and pistachios to cap off a perfect meal.

I sat at the bar and ordered an Almaza, a mild and smooth Pilsner brewed and bottled in Lebanon.

[ Image: Screen Shot 2022-02-05 at 1.33.17 AM.png ]

Lebanese Taverna bar

I visited the manager, Charlie Ayoub. “What’s RUNINOut, and how do I know you’re some fly-by-night operation.”

“Well, we have hundreds of thousands of users in the D.C. area and we were just selected ‘Best of D.C.’ in the Readers’ poll.”

“How good are you with managing events?”

“Well, we just organized a fundraiser at Medaterra across the street and raised $1,200.”

“Alrighty, hot shot. Let’s see if you can arrange an Arabian nights themed party for us.”

I looked at Charlie wide-eyed and baffled. Did he want fire dancers, sword jugglers, snake handlers?  Perhaps I could ask some of the folks from the drum circle in Meridian Hill Park to participate.  We can set up henna art and have tarot card readings.  Maybe I’ll bring Apollo and have him fly to different customers and eat their pita bread dipped in olive oil.

“Oh certainly, Charlie, there’s no event no matter how wild or exotic that I can’t handle.”

“Super, traditional Arab folk music with Raqs Baladi please.”

I immediately called Sonia Herrero.

“Raqs Baladi—that’s Egyptian belly dancing,” she informed me with a chuckle.

“Well can you help out a hopeless fellow? I’ll let you take Georgia out for a hike.”

“Would love to, but I just started a new job at the Department of Education, so I can’t commit right now.” However, I would love to see Apollo.”

“Cool, let’s make a date to go biking, and he’ll tag along.”

“Nope, busy.”

“Well, we got the EU Embassy Run in May, and all the Embassies love to see Apollo.”

Next, I called Angela and briefed her on my meeting with Charlie. 

“Don’t stress out. I’ve got the perfect solution for you.” 

She wrote down a name and number on the back of the menu. “Asala, call her, see if she’s available.”

I dialed the number with trepidation. 

“Hello, who’s this?”

“Umm, this is Angela’s friend from the Medeterra. Do you know anything about an Arabian Nights performance at the Lebanese Taverna?”

“Wait, are you the fella riding the pedicab up and down H St during the summer Fest?

“Yes, the one with the squawking parrot that matches the color of your veil.”

“Certainly, I would be happy to dance at your event. As long as you’re able to make the arrangements behind the scenes.” 

Raqs Baladi is an Egyptian dance that originated several hundred years ago performed by ordinary countrymen and women during gatherings and celebrations. Women moved core body parts like the spine, abdomen, pelvis, and legs helping them to develop core strength and a healthy reproductive system. People were enthralled by seeing the women move their hips, so the dance took off, spreading all across the middle-east and into India.

Jennie “Asala El Masri” discovered belly dancing in 2003 after enduring a knee injury from high school sports.  Belly dancing served as an excellent therapy as she developed her core. Today she still loves sports but has found that dancing feeds her passion for movement and music.  Her performances remain in high demand, and she has performed for a wide range of venues including festivals and embassies.

It was definitely my responsibility to market the event to bring a decent turnout. Asala didn’t dance for free, and it was my job to bring in enough revenue to ensure her happiness. I, on the other hand, worked for a pat on the back and an open tab.  The golden Almaza pilsners were refreshing and crisp and they always paired nicely with shawarmas and doner kebobs — I ate like a sultan and drank like a commodore.

And when the lights dimmed, and the majestic mejance chimed, Asala emerged from behind the red curtains, moving deftly like an eloquent diva.  Her giant wings made for a truly dramatic entrance eliciting accolades from the enthralled guests. Each instrumental note hummed in unison with the elegant strides of her toned core and her undulating belly.

We continued every Thursday night in April, hoping the word would spread quickly and her magical allure would entire millenials in droves. Her costume was consistently glamorous and her choreography flawless. And with the succulent Lebanese cuisine and Charlie’s hospitality — I felt sure we had all the right components for a huge hit.

True to form, she readily got diners to rise on their feet and celebrate this ancient art form from Mesopotamia. And Asala interacted remarkably well, displaying her elegant smile and keeping the audience entertained and captivated with a sensation of enigma and glamour.

Perhaps there was no other night where her prowess was on display than on April 13.  If no courageous soul rose to the floor, Asala would pick an innocent victim. From the corner of her eye, she saw a nice gentleman smiling and seemingly enjoying himself.  So she went over to tie her veil around his head, only to notice that he was wearing a priest uniform. Charlie gasped. Asala glanced over and caught his expression and dreaded catching his wrath after the show.  Surprisingly, everyone else seemed to get a kick out the entrapment and many thought that she had planned it out from the beginning.

All the online reviews for the food, service and performance were glowing, but sadly, the attendance continued to be sparse.  Very few mainstream Washingtonians were fans of this exotic art or were willing to drive up to sleepy hollow to participate. Instead, they congregated at the more popular hub: H Street, 14th Street, Adams Morgan, and Dupont Circle at the hip hop lounges swaying to the familiar beat of go-go, funk and R&B.

My immediate reaction was to call Jackie Woodbury for another lifeline.  Maybe Wayne Manigo could infuse the show with light-hearted laughter.  We even discussed having Asala dance to classic rock — an idea that was immediately shot down by Charlie. But if we didn’t draw a large enough crowd, he would be scrap the rest of the shows.

President’s Bar Comics

Nicole Foster was the wet behind the ears Marketing Manager trying to drum up new clientele for the President’s Sports Bar at the Renaissance Hotel in the Penn Quarter.

So when I got a call from the Marriott, requesting our services, I wasn’t about to turn it down.

As I walked around the expansive lobby, I noticed how drab, gray, and uninviting it was.  The only customers I saw in the President’s Sports Bar were mindless tourists in tees and lobbyists in suits sealing deals over after-work cocktails.  There were pictures of Kennedy swinging a golf club in Hyannis Port and Reagan in Camp David with Prime Minister Thatcher.  There were no pictures of Nixon, but there sure was plenty inside Room 214 at the Watergate building where G. Gordon Liddy directed the infamous break-in of the DNC headquarters, erupting into a major political scandal.


The President’s Sports Bar

At the mahogany wooden bar, a power broker ordered a Watergate: Maker’s Mark, Grand Marnier, Myer’s Dark rum, sugar, bitters, pineapple, and ginger.  He’s trying his best to avoid the pitfalls that ensnarled Casino Jack Abramoff, owner of the infamous Signatures Restaurant down the road.  The diplomatic presence was so strong that at any moment I could imagine Kevin Spacey playing Congressman Frank Underwood emerging from the VIP dining room uttering his most fallacious quote “The road to power is paved with hypocrisy and casualties.”

“So what did you have in mind Nicole?”

“Well, we’re an old bureaucratic town rooted deep in tradition, so maybe target Young Gov Leaders or D.C. Young Republicans.”

“You’re kidding me. The Renaissance already has its unwavering patronage.  Let’s shoot for something totally radical and out of the blue”

I called my friend, Wayne Manigo, to see if he could arrange a standup show with the area’s best comedians.

“Why comedy?” Nicole asked puzzled and perturbed.

“Cuz people here are so uptight, they need to take the edge off.  And comedy relating to the vibrant restaurant industry and addressing the political environment is the perfect panacea for healing.”


Wayne Manigo

WayneManigo

“You know, living in D.C. is like being in a never-ending game of political chess, where every move is a debate and ‘compromise’ is that one piece you lost under the sofa. That’s why we’ve brought in comedy tonight – it’s like finding that lost chess piece, but instead of putting it back on the board, we throw it out the window and laugh about it!”

The audience chuckled, and Wayne continued, “And don’t worry, the only thing we’ll be staining at the Marriott tonight is your memory with good jokes. We’re keeping it clean – so clean, you could serve dinner on our punchlines and still pass a health inspection.”

“I kicked off the Comedy Writers Group in 2011, because let’s face it, a joke unshared is like a politician who doesn’t tweet – it just doesn’t make an impact. Comedy’s a team sport; without someone to laugh, a joke’s just a sentence with too much attitude.”

“The Fabulous Fat Doctor Blagmon held his comedy classes with us at Judy’s Bar & Restaurant. Fat Doctor Blagmon always said, ‘Write in your journal every day. Even if all you’ve got is ‘I’ve got nothing,’ scribble that down. It’s like a placeholder for your future genius – or your future grocery list. Either way, you’re winning.'”

“My idol, Richard Pryor, was a master at mixing comedy with tragedy. Kind of like a chef who mixes sweet and sour, except instead of a dish, you get a life story. And in my case, let’s just say my life’s recipe is one part comedy, two parts ‘Oops!’, and a sprinkle of ‘Did that really happen?’.”

“Back in the day, I was the go-to IT wizard at the SEC. You know, Securities and Exchange Commission, where the only securities I was exchanging were sleep for stress. My life was a series of night calls, like a superhero, except my superpower was rebooting routers at 3 AM. I got so good at navigating the dark, I thought about moonlighting as a burglar.

But, like any sensible person who finds themselves whispering sweet nothings to a modem at 2 in the morning, I had an epiphany. So, I quit, embracing freedom… a little too enthusiastically, it seems. Before I knew it, my new office had four wheels, and my home address was ‘various locations in Northern Virginia’.

Living out of my car, I became a nomad with a library card. Reston, Rockville, Falls Church – I was the only guy doing a library tour without a book signing. And let me tell you, nothing says ‘I’ve made it’ like waking up to a view of the Reston Public Library.

Visiting friends in D.C. became a special operation. My car tags expired, making my vehicle as welcome in the city as a skateboard in Congress. So, I’d park in another state and take the Metro in, like an international commuter.

And here’s a pro tip for you: the key to seamless urban camping is to never look like you’ve just rolled out of a tent. I mastered the art of looking casually homeless – it’s all about the ‘business casual’ homeless chic.

Falling down became my weekly exercise. It’s amazing how a public stumble turns you into a stand-up comedian. You learn to laugh it off, mostly to assure bystanders you haven’t broken anything expensive, like your pride.

Through it all, I found the secret to a stress-free life: inner peace, zen, and the unshakable belief that if I can handle a conference call while parked outside a Starbucks for free Wi-Fi, I can handle anything.

So, here’s to the journey from IT help desk to helping myself. Turns out, the biggest reboot I needed was for my own life. And maybe, just maybe, the real securities were the friends we made along the way. No? Just me? Alright then.”

Comedy:

“In my latest adventure, I’ve taken on the role of Comedy Entrepreneur, which is like being a regular entrepreneur but with better jokes and slightly worse financial planning. My mission? To turn D.C. into the comedy capital of the world. Move over, politics; it’s time for punchlines.

Our approach is simple but revolutionary. We target bars on their quietest nights, you know, when they’re just one sad song away from becoming a country music cliché. We walk in and say, ‘Hey, how would you like us to pack this place with laughter and customers? No, this isn’t a joke, but we do have plenty of those.’

We kicked things off at Recessions Bar, because what better place to start a comedy revolution than a spot named after economic downturns? Our concept is ‘Comedy x 10’ – featuring ten different comedians each week. By the end of the month, that’s 40 comedians, each with their unique brand of humor. That’s not just a comedy show; it’s a comedy marathon with a sprinter’s pace.

Think about it: where else can you hear 40 different takes on life, politics, and why pizza is the perfect breakfast food? Our shows offer a smorgasbord of perspectives, ensuring that if one joke doesn’t land for you, the next one might just be your new favorite.

This model doesn’t just breathe life into slow nights; it creates a vibrant, dynamic community hub. We’re not just filling seats; we’re creating an ecosystem where comedians thrive, bars flourish, and audiences get their weekly dose of serotonin. It’s a win-win-win, the trifecta of entrepreneurial success.

Our vision is to make D.C. not just the capital of the country, but the comedy capital as well. A place where laughter drowns out the noise of politics, if only for a night. So, if you’re looking for a revolution, join us. After all, in D.C., we’re used to uprisings – but this time, we’re rising up in laughter.”

Chef:

So did you know that I’m a part-time chef? Chefs Jared Thomas and his mentor Marianne from D.C. Central Kitchens trained me. They had a powerful way to inspire me and made me fall in love with cooking.  Chef Jared has also spoken to the Comedy Writers Group at Judy’s a few times, and he’s not only inspirational but funny.

In fact, he moved me to create a character called ‘Bottom Chef’ for a comedy contest at Hightopps Restaurant in Timonium, MD. My outfit is a chef’s jacket with a logo similar to the ‘Top Chef’ design. Here are some of my jokes:

I start my food prep each day with a ritual — raise my shot glass and yell “Bottoms Up!”

“My culinary education took place behind bars, in the unforgiving confines of a vegan prison. Ever been trapped in a relationship with a vegan? That’s freedom compared to vegan jail.”

“You don’t truly earn the title of ‘Bottom Chef’ until you’ve experienced the culinary depths of ‘Rock Bottom.’ My mentor? Chef Boy-R-Dee. His philosophy? A man, a plan, a can.”

“The city of Buffalo sued me for defamation of their wings.”

“In the heated world of culinary arts, Chef Gordon Ramsay isn’t the pioneer of kitchen meltdowns. I’ve been perfecting the art of the scream long before it was televised. ‘Threaten me with prison again, and it’s not the food that’ll get chopped.'”

“I once ascended to dubious fame as the face of Spam. Remember, Spam isn’t just for dinner; it’s a last resort. If the dog turns its nose up, you know it’s yours.”

“As ‘Bottom Chef,’ I’ve innovated the cooking process by pre-ruining your meal. Why wait? I’ll splatter the food directly into your toilet.”

“These days, my signature dishes are anything that can be drowned in hot sauce and red wine. It’s a delicate culinary balance—some for the pan, more for the chef.”

Amidst the trials of trying every new restaurant in town, I’ve realized perhaps my most needed culinary tool isn’t a spatula—it’s a personal trainer. As Orlando Darden playfully noted, “It might be time to cut back on the beer.” His comment, met with roaring laughter, reminded us all that the essence of good comedy, like good cooking, lies in its relatability and the joy it brings to those who partake in it.

The room was filled with laughter, and Nicole couldn’t help but enjoy the comic relief that Wayne was providing. She leaned back in her chair, more relaxed than before. Next was Leon Scott, a Comedian, Writer and Journalist for WUSA-9 CBS.


Leon Scott

Next was Leon Scott, a Comedian, Writer, and Journalist for WUSA-9 CBS.

“What’s going on? How’s everyone doing? Feel good, Well I feel great and lemme tell you why.  I got the best back-handed compliment I ever got in my life.  I was out and this tall woman walked up to me and said ‘You concentrated sexy.’ That’s like saying just add water and you become 6’5″. I’ve never felt that tall in my life.

My best friend Rome is 6’5″, and he always says things that takes being tall for granted. He would say ‘Man, being tall doesn’t help me meet women.’  And his voice is tall.

That’s a lie cuz I’ve never had a woman come up to me and say. ‘So I saw the top of your head from across the room.”

But being short hasn’t stopped me from going on TV. I just gotta sound tall. Speaking about news media, would like to introduce the next segment — Real Time with Bill Maher.

Dan Verkman

Hi, I’m Dan Verkman, but everyone tells me I look like Bill and they say it in a way like I’ve never heard it before.

“Do you know who you look like?” or “Anyone ever tell you who you look like?” Yeah only for the umpteenth time today. Now buzz off.

I do get a lot of people checking me out like I’m so kind of a weirdo. Unless they yell ‘Bill’, I’m never sure why they’re staring. Do I have a big booger in my nose, is my hair sticking up, is my fly down?

Doctor’s Office:

One time I was checking if for a doctor’s visit and I overheard an older married couple talking. “Hey, that guy looks like that comedian guy from TV,” the husband says. Then, a couple of minutes later you hear him say, “even acts like him too. A real jerk”

Then after filling out my paperwork and I sit down, he leans over to ask me. “Ever hear of a TV personality named Bill Maher?”

I looked at him like he was from outer space. “Who the hell is he?” Sometimes it’s smart to play dumb.

Supermarket:

Then there’s the moment I was going through the checkout counter at the supermarket, and the cashier says, “You know who you look like..?”

“Yes!” I responded hoping she won’t press me further.

“I’ve seen you in line before, you have a home in the DMV, don’t you..?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Well, who’s doing the cooking?”

“The writers,” I responded hoping she would realize that I was just pulling her leg.

“You’re gonna mention me on your show aren’t you?

“Only if you don’t charge me the county bag fee.”

“You kidding with the millions you have, you could buy the entire store.”

I can’t even walk down main street any city, without someone yelling from their car.

“Hey Bill, saw you on TV last night. Love your show.”

Speed Dating:

But I’m not complaining. Looking like Bill has gotten me a lot of perks. Went on a speed dating event the other night where I was told by 10 different girls “Did anyone ever tell you who you look like?”

One girl asked, “What do you do?”

“I make people laugh.”

“Are you a comedian?”

“No, I write code.”

Tattoo Bar:

Afterward, I went to the Tattoo Bar up the street and was approached by 3 hot chics who asked for a pic. The bar manager then said, “Name it, you got it.” Then a tough-looking dude approached and said “You really him? You look different on TV.”

Metro:

On the metro ride to a show one night, two Black guys approached and said “Anyone ever tell you, you look like Freddy Krueger?” I know Bill can be evil, but that’s pretty extreme.

After the show, two Black girls called out from an Audi.

“Bill Maher!”

“Yes, better than Freddy.”

“You wanna smoke a bowl with us?”

The audience clapped hands. Someone yelled “Bill has jungle fever you know. Play the role.”

Karaoke:

I sing karaoke, and sometimes I put my name in as Bill M. One girl thought I was Bill Murray and had me autograph her forearm.

One hot blonde came over and nearly sat on my lap and whispered “I know who you are.”

“How was she in bed?” someone chuckled.

Let’s just say, I played the role that night.

Art Show:

One time I was at an art show in Bethesda when I met Anne Currie from the Today show. And she asked what I was doing here.

In a somewhat inebriated state from all the free wine they were serving, I told her I was in town for the White House Correspondents Dinner. — I had just overheard it was the next day just a few minutes earlier.

I think she actually believed me cuz I can play the role of a journalist pretty convincingly.

House of Cards:

Did you know I auditioned for the journalist role on House of Cards? They had me read three roles, all political pundits. The first role was as a Glen Beck guy. Everybody auditioning was a real reporter. The guy who auditioned before me was Jamie McIntyre from CNN. He said to me while we were in the waiting room “You know, you look quite familiar.”

So now you can add a new title to my resume — Bill M. the actor.

The audience gave Dan a standing ovation. “You should write a book about this!” Wayne suggested. “It’ll be an N.Y. Times Bestseller”

At the end of the night, Nicole came over and gave me a pat on the shoulder. 

I turned around and said, “So comedy night was a smashing success. We were able to reach out to the young millennials who love to meet, laugh and drink. We should do a sequel.”

“Are you kidding me, some of these jokes were downright raunchy. Wayne was inspiring, but some of the standups really bombed it. And Dan may be Bill’s doppelganger, but I’m not interested in hearing about his sexcapades. Tonight, you’ve embarrassed the Marriott name. JW himself would turn over in his grave.”

Wayne shook his head and grimaced. “So I guess there won’t be a part deux.”

“Yup back to the ole drawing board,” I lamented.


9 Comics & a Monkey at the Renaissance Hotel Standup

Five Qualities of the Diaspora

There were two milestones I needed to achieve in order to complete my MBA — a new venture capstone project and a study abroad trip to compare and contrast cultures, business practices, and management styles.

In the spring semester of 2012, I enrolled in a six-week course entitled Engaging Diaspora Communities for International Business and Development. It was taught by Dr. Liesl Riddle, the associate dean of GW’s School of Business who has written extensively about diasporas and international entrepreneurship. 

The course studied the diaspora communities in the US and abroad and their motivations for sending remittances to their home countries to spur growth and prosperity. A vast majority of the diaspora who return to Ethiopia are starting businesses and creating jobs. The class culminated with a week-long trip to Ethiopia to take what we learned and apply it firsthand.

There are an estimated 2.5 million Ethiopians living outside of Ethiopia. Many of them live in Washington, DC, so this particular diaspora was the perfect one to focus on.

“I want you all to contemplate what you expect Ethiopia to be like, compared to what we observed once we are actually in the country,” said Dean Riddle.

The GWU MBA class departed from Dulles excited about the adventures ahead. When they arrived at Addis Ababa 14 hours later, they were sleep-deprived and jet-lagged but enlivened nonetheless. Situated in the Horn of Africa, Ethiopia is a rugged, landlocked country and the cradle of humanity where Homo Sapiens first walked on two legs.  It is the “Land of Origins”…of humanity, language, and of course one of life’s greatest pleasures – coffee arabica.

Since it was too early to check into our suites, Dean Riddle arranged for us to do some sightseeing. Our first stop was the Holy Trinity Cathedral, a product of the colonial period imbued with rich history and majestic architecture. 

Many tourists who visit Washington, DC yearn to visit the Smithsonian Natural History Museum to ogle at the Hope Diamond. Likewise, an obligatory stop in Addis Ababa is the National Museum of Ethiopia to admire the Lucy fossil.  She is 3.2 million years old, and the most famous early human ancestor because she walked upright. Unfortunately, the bones we saw were not the real Lucy, but plaster replicas. The original skeleton is displayed at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. Ironically, it was offered to the Smithsonian in D.C., but turned down due to a resolution that early human fossils should be stored in the country of origin and to make displays in other countries with fossil replicas. It’s like traveling 7,000 miles to meet a fairy tale luminary, only to find out she’s half the world away on a sabbatical. But real Lucy or not, we were ready to do some slumbering as we finally headed to the hotel.

On the way to the Ramada we were greeted by the impressive stone monument of the Lion of Judah roaring over the city, a crown jewel of the infamous Haile Selassie. 

Finally, at the lodge, I took a long shower and squeezed in a power nap, but by nightfall, we had to gather up for our first guest speaker – Addis Alemayehou, a serial entrepreneur who returned to his roots and has become a household name in Addis. He founded 251 Communications which has grown into one of the leading PR and communication firms in the country.  

“I started my entrepreneurship endeavor here when the war between Ethiopia and Eritrea was just coming to an end and the economy at the time was in shambles,” Addis said. “I lost my iPod and missed having my playlist with all my favorite songs, and realized that there were many people who also enjoyed Western music. So I started the first English Speaking FM Radio station in Addis. A good business is always one that finds a need in society and fills that void.”

“Are there lots of opportunities here for startups?” my classmate, Marilu Ortega asked.

“Business in Ethiopia flourishes out of sheer need. If you were to spend a week in this country, carrying a notepad and writing down everything you wished you had but didn’t, you would finish the week with at least 35 promising ideas.

“How is the labor market here?” Erin Dahan asked.

“Steadily improving every year. Wages are low and there’s lots of talent here.  Foreigners are investing and diasporans are returning and creating millions of jobs every year.”

The next day, we met one of those diasporans who had contributed enormously to the job market. Daniel Gad immigrated to the US after school in search of better career opportunities.  After serving as an executive for AT&T for 20 years and building a nest egg, he decided to return home. When he met with the Chamber of Commerce to see where he should invest, they steered him to the field of agriculture.  Daniel deep-dived in the industry and discovered that flowers are a multi-billion dollar export business. He then created a 28-hectare rose farm called Metrolux Flowers which he successfully exited.  He now manages and operates Omega Farms, a leading vegetable production farm that produces and sells high-value vegetables to the EU.  He is currently collaborating with PepsiCo on a partnership called EthioPEA aimed at chickpea production which would hire over 10,000 farmers. Daniel Gad is undoubted “mining gold from the dirt.”

* * *

One industry that is facing a difficult time getting diasporans to return is the medical field.

“There are more Ethiopian doctors working in Washington, DC than in Ethiopia,” said Dr. Asfaw Atnafu, a professor of radiology at Addis Ababa University and the Head of Telemedicine at the Black Lion Hospital

One issue that Dean Riddle taught us in class is the concept of “brain drain”. In Ethiopia, many students leave the country to study medicine, but the vast majority do not return. Dr. Atnafu who studied medicine abroad was given a very lucrative offer to practice medicine in the UK. It seemed obvious for him to accept it. But one day, his mentor saved a very well-known British official who was suffering from a severe brain injury. The surgery was such a success that he was interviewed by the BBC. They asked him why he was returning to his homeland. The doctor said that Ethiopia would be safer now because they would now have one neurosurgeon. That one sentence changed Dr. Atnafu’s perspective, so he decided also to return.

Ethiopia is one of the fastest-growing countries in Africa with more than 104 million people. The country has made significant health care gains lately, such as lowering infant mortality, but more work needs to be done — particularly in rural areas. Healthcare, something that many Americans take for granted is a precious resource in many Third World countries and needs to be drastically improved and will be key to boosting economic growth.

Black Lion Hospital

Dr. Atnafu was not focused as much on remittances as he was on the social and educational aspects that diasporans can have on Ethiopia. That was why he’s big on telemedicine. Much of the engagement he facilitated was through knowledge sharing and training conducted virtually. In addition to receiving input from diasporans abroad, the medical community in Ethiopia can contribute to the medical dialogue by sharing their own experiences.

I wish my former boss, Admiral Robinson had an opportunity to meet with Dr. Atnafu. As the Surgeon General, responsible for seeing healthcare for the Navy and Marine Corps throughout the world, he was a big proponent of telemedicine and would have loved sharing information with Ethiopia on how to make healthcare available to everyone.

* * *

We also met with Dan Rosenthal, the Commercial Officer at the U.S. Embassy. Ethiopia is a state-run economy and with the government overseeing the development, there is a lot of red tape.  Thankfully, the country is starting to privatize and is looking for foreign investors to improve the quality of life for Ethiopians.

“The five sectors that are the most important for the future are Telecommunication, Agriculture, Manufacturing, and Power.  These industries will create the maximum number of jobs leading the country to a dynamic future.”

“What are some of the major draws for international investors?” I asked.

“Duty-free imports of capital equipment, tax exemptions, cheap electricity, a thriving local airline with a large international footprint, and duty-free access to the US market through the African Growth and Opportunity Act. But probably the most attractive is low wages — the country wants to keep its wages low to attract investment for its manufacturing industry.”

“But low wages will barely lift workers out of poverty, and once workers gain skills, they will leave their jobs to seek higher-paying jobs, resulting in high attrition and higher training costs.”

The field trip wasn’t all meetings and business attire. We also went to enjoy the food and culture. And Dean Riddle recommended we visit the 2000 Habesha Cultural Restaurant. At first glance, the restaurant offering a buffet of traditional food and a stage show of dancing and singing looked like another tourist trap. But you cannot judge a venue by its clientele.

2000 Habesha Cultural Restaurant

We loaded up with large platters of injera and wot and sat up front to enjoy the festive performances.  The veggie-friendly dishes were anything but boring. The healthy portions included ruby beets, lentils, salad, carrots, green beans, and chickpeas and were flavored with garlic, paprika, and rosemary. After a few glasses of honey wine and bottles of St George beer, a couple of brave souls sauntered on stage and performed the Eskita (traditional dance moving the shoulders).

The next day, Dean Riddle and several of my classmates visited the Boston Day Spa nearby. They had a relaxing time to refresh and detox until one or two of them accidentally imbibed on the tap water that was served to them and immediately realized they weren’t in Boston USA. Ethiopia has made impressive progress over the past 10 years on improving water quality, but the water supply is still very contaminated and should not be drunk. Needless to say, a couple of them caught gastroenteritis and had to rest at the hotel to recuperate. 

At this trailblazing spa, we got to meet with Tadiwos Belete, a diasporan who trained as a hairstylist and attended cosmetology school in Boston. When the Derg regime overthrew the Ethiopian monarchy in 1974 and established a brutal dictatorship, Tadiwos, at the age of 15 decided to flee on his own to Sudan. There he was even paid by farmers to scare off birds feeding on crops. After a few years of roaming about, he applied for refugee status in the U.S. and moved to Boston where he worked odd jobs until he decided to become a hairstylist.

Boston Day Spa

After saving money, Tadiwos wanted to open up a salon in the city’s poshest neighborhood, but nobody wanted to rent to an unestablished immigrant.  He decided to reach out to the owner of a building on Newbury St by inviting him for dinner at a nearby Ethiopian restaurant to get acquainted. The owner was sold by his negotiating skills, and in 1998, Tadiwos opened up his first hair salon called Konjo (beautiful in Amharic).  

It wasn’t long before Tadiwos started to feel a longing to return to his homeland. He developed the idea of starting a luxury spa, hair salon, and hairdresser training school in Addis Ababa.  But he didn’t have the funding.  He asked nearly every customer who got a haircut from him to partner with him and invest in his country.  After asking nearly a thousand people, one Taiwanese woman reluctantly agreed to come in as a silent investor. Tadiwos built an office block on crumbling, dilapidated Africa St, where many had not dared to set foot. His relatives thought he was crazy, but he wouldn’t be deterred. 

Nine years later, business is through the roof, and his brilliant idea has spurred dozens of other spas to sprout all over the city. Tadiwos has also embarked on a development boom, opening up a restaurant and a wine bar downtown along with two luxury resorts a couple of hours from the hub. In all, he employs over 1,500 people spurring the economy. We had the opportunity to visit Tadiowos’ Kuriftu Resort, a 28-room tourist retreat in Bahir Dar, at the source of the Blue Nile river.  It’s an amazing place with great food, hookah, and a splendid lake where you can go on a relaxing boat ride. And like Boston Spa, they have a massage, steam, and sauna to top off a very relaxing retreat from the city. Just remember not to drink the water.

On the way back to the city, we stopped at the legendary Tiya Stelae, an archaeological site containing 36 enigmatic monuments. Each obelisk-shaped stone is engraved with primitive, clear images of swords, shapes, and figurines. To date, no one has been able to determine the age or the purpose of these carvings. One reason why they call Ethiopia a “Land of Mystery.”

legendary Tiya Stelae

Finally, we got to visit the Commodities Exchange, established just four years prior. The country’s two major goods exports are not surprisingly coffee (29%) and cut flowers (14%).

Ethiopia is also a land of rich opportunities for investors, from all over the world. That is why it is projected to be Africa’s fastest-growing economy, and perhaps one of the fastest globally. Labor is fairly inexpensive and highly skilled and the country has made huge investments in infrastructure and manufacturing. The government is making reforms to unleash the private sector and has wholeheartedly embraced the diaspora for impactful development projects. Returning diaspora also share invaluable skills, education, and experiences they acquired from the West. In order for the motherland to optimize development and job growth, she must continue to forge lasting, meaningful ties with this salient community, translating into sustained, measured growth in the years ahead.

But the road to investment is a rocky one. Diasporans are facing a huge information gap in the current market and steep odds that they will reach their lofty goals. That’s why it’s highly imperative that they conduct proper research and fully understand the industry and the market in which they are operating in.  They need to be savvy innovators and shrewd negotiators in a volatile and intransigent market.  What I found noteworthy was the resourcefulness and resilience of the diaspora community. Through grit and resilience, many persevered and ultimately made a significant difference for their country and citizens.

On the final day of our journey, I sat down with my friends to discuss what we learned. 

Rasheida Knight was really smitten with Addis Alemayehou. Addis has been able to achieve massive success because he was innovative.  Most people who lose an item of value like an iPod would regard it as a setback. Addis viewed it as an opportunity to fill a void. He reflected on how important his playlist of Western music was to him and realized that there were many Ethiopians that felt the same way. He conducted a target market analysis to understand the size and scope of the audience and researched what was needed to launch the first private English-speaking radio station, Afro-FM. He not only tried to understand how people work, but he also wanted to understand how things work. And in so doing, he documented everything. 

“If you were to spend a week in Ethiopia and write down everything you wished you had but didn’t, you would come up with tons of innovative ideas.”

Marilu Ortega enjoyed her time at the spa and was thus impressed with the innovativeness of Tadiwos Belete who thoroughly researched the local market and felt that a day spa business could thrive there. People thought he was crazy, but he understood the potential customer base and was confident that the salon would be a huge success.

But Tadiwos didn’t have the funds or resources to make all this happen. He was an effective negotiator beginning in his Boston, MA. days when he skillfully convinced a building owner to lease him space to open his first hair salon to when he convinced one of his customers to invest in his business venture abroad. Without his ability to listen, communicate and persuade, Boston Day Spa would never have been built. 

Tadiwos Belete

Erin Dahan was impressed with Tadiwos’ resourcefulness. At the age of 15 and living in a Sudanese refugee camp, he was able to survive and find a way to show his usefulness to farmers and work with the Catholic Church to immigrate to the U.S. He lived in Boston for 20 years and through resourcefulness and grit, managed to save money and learn an important skill that led him to build his luxury spa business franchise.

Brady Shannon also enjoyed hearing about the resourcefulness of Daniel Gad. After living in the U.S. for 20 years, he was shocked when the Chamber of Commerce recommended that he invest in flowers. To be successful in agriculture one has to be highly resourceful. For one, the country did not have access to modern farming equipment. They still used pitchforks and plowed with donkeys. Daniel eventually sold MetroLux Flowers and started a new business in horticulture called Omega Farms. He did a lot of research and observed how his farmers harvested chickpeas. He then realized that by being more resourceful and making small improvements in their handling processes, his farmers would be able to increase production by 30%.

“I like to use the analogy of gold in the dirt,” said Daniel Gad. Ethiopia has a lot of dirt. The key is to find out how to get gold out of it.”

Rashida, Marilu, Erin & Brady

Marilu sympathized with the huge healthcare challenges the country faces. “Their resourcefulness in utilizing telemedicine is both novel and remarkable,” she said. “Dr. Atnafu has made huge sacrifices and has done a remarkable job.”

All the entrepreneurs we met, made bold decisions and took huge steps to start their businesses in a very risky and volatile environment. There was a huge information gap, and they faced steep odds against reaching their lofty goals. When faced with challenges, some of them had to take a step back or make a drastic course change, but they always kept their eyes focused on their goal and navigated towards it.

Even 10 years later, I remain inspired by the group’s resourcefulness, their deep understanding of the current market, their ability to broker and negotiate, their willingness to adopt innovation, and their courage to take the next step.

Pedicabber

The following weekend, Zach and I were in my Subaru Baja, driving at full speed on the N.J. Turnpike to NYC.  

“Why are we driving up to the Big Apple just to pick up a damn rickshaw?” Zach asked incredulously. “Segways are all the rage on the Mall.”

“So we can hang signage promoting our brand and ride it all over town like a taxi cab.”

“Can’t you just buy one in D.C.?”

“There’s a premium for these three-wheeled wonders in the metro area. But in NYC, where their popularity was spurred, there’s a superabundance.”

Many tourists choose to ride the pedicabs instead of taking a bus or taxi because it allows them to observe the surroundings better and because the bikes can squeeze through heavy traffic. And sure enough, as soon as we crossed the Lincoln Tunnel, the busy streets of Manhattan were congested with taxis, bikes, scooters, and pedestrians. One pedicab driver just purchased a medallion to own a taxi and was selling his weaning out of the travel destination business. He was happy to let it go for $1800, and I was delighted to take it off his hands. We deftly squeezed the pedaled contraption on the bed of my Baja and with the handlebars hanging over carried it home to greener pastures. When we landed at the Mall and took her on a spin-down Constitution, she looked like a Lamborghini basked in sunshine.  

“I will dub her Lil Yellow.”

“Yes, she looks sleek and shiny and will definitely turn some heads.”

“She’s not just for advertising. She’s to make a few bucks, and you’re welcome to ride Lil so you can earn extra beer money. How else is a scavenging Colonial supposed to survive? I know it sucks to be a non-paid intern.”

“Yes getting paid with cheeseburgers and subs gets old after a while. Yes, I’ll love to take her on a spin after class and see if I can coerce some stray tourists to pile on.”

“Sounds like a plan. And don’t forget we’re not licensed to charge a fare but can easily take donations.”

“Super, I’ll bring along my school work which I can tackle when there’s a lull.”

“Yes, please use your time wisely, and take the opportunity to learn more about the history and landmarks so you can better inform and entertain your guests.”

When Zach was parked at the green zone in front of the American History Museum, he spotted a pretty Persian girl with long brown hair and knee-high socks. Tall and tanned, she looked like a supermodel on wheels, and it was evident that she was passionate about her mission.

Her name is Shaadi, and she was a former elementary school teacher turned into an enterprising rockstar.

“How did you get into this business dominated by jocks, vets, and hippies?”

“Well, I got into an accident, and doctors found a tumor in my left leg. They removed it, and the tumor returned. When I was rehabbing on a stationary bike, it was challenging to have my right leg get my other leg to go around. So I made a pact with myself. ‘The day I can ride my bike again, I’m gonna ride for 50 miles, and I’m not gonna stop.'”

Shaady took Zach under her wings and got him up to speed on the history and background of this fledgling business.

Last summer, the Park Police started cracking down on pedicabbers on the Mall. They claimed we were cutting into the Tourmobile monopoly that the National Park Service had a long-term contract with. An operator was attempting to pick up customers in front of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum when he was tased, tackled, and arrested.

“Damn, that’s harsh. So the Park Police Gestapo felt threatened, so they started suppressing our Eco-Friendly business model.” 

“Yes, we’ve come to a truce now. I love your silly monkey logo, by the way. I’ve got six pedicabs and would love to advertise your brand on our backs.”

“Love how environmentally friendly this is,” stated a tourist from Maine. “Summer days are just roasting, and we’re too exhausted to walk up and down the Mall. Take your time and tell us all you know about the spots.”

When Zach wasn’t using the cab to shuttle tourists, Lil Yellow was employed during multiple events such as Taste of D.C., where we interacted with various vendors such as the Cupcakes Lounge. The multi-day culinary event along Pennsylvania Ave attracted some of the region’s best restaurants and lively entertainment.

People loved the thrill of the ride and they loved posing and shooting selfies. Even met a young, newlywed couple who deemed it quite romantic and were found smooching in the back.

“Are we allowed to drink inside the cab?” a passenger asked meekly.

“I don’t see why not. The only stipulation is that the driver can’t drink. But please buckle up.”

During our reconnaissance and cold calls with Suzannah, I would drive the pedicab and she would sit in the back waving at dumbfounded passersby. From time to time, we would pick up a sightseer or a tipsy passenger bar crawling along H Street.  Lil Yellow was our lucky charm. We were able to negotiate business with Biergarten Haus on H St., Ulah on U St., and Jake’s American Grille in Chevy Chase.

Our pedicab and signage got a lot of attention, and we were invited to provide complimentary rides during the H Street Festival, the quintessential 10-block street party featuring live music, karaoke stages, live music, and yes, even belly dancing.  

It was a sweltering, hot day, and many people were tired of having to walk from 3rd to 14th street. My illustrious intern agreed to provide rides as long as I provided refreshments and he kept all the tips.

When we weren’t providing rides, guests enjoyed using our cab as a photo op, and we were happy to oblige. 

Every year, the British-themed double-decker bus would be parked in front of The Queen Vic where Newcastle Brown Ale flowed like the River Thames.

There was a half-pipe for local skateboarders. Dangerously Delicious Pies sponsored a hands-free pie-eating contest and the grungy ex-funeral parlor turned lounge, Rock and Roll Hotel, pumped music all day.

Zach and I got to meet so many people — tourists, locals, business owners, and artists. One gifted performer specialized in Egyptian belly dance, and she was quite a ravishing entertainer. Dressed in a red chiffon hip scarf, the Arabian beauty swayed her hips and shimmied her body rhythmically to the cheering audience’s delight. I didn’t catch her name, but I promised to introduce myself the next time I see on stage.

There were also tons of local artists such as Pete Baker, and Flo Anito was strumming her guitar, singing her tongue-in-cheek ballad to the vacuum “No Dustbunnies.”

Flo is a classically trained vocalist and pianist and sang like a blue jay on a hot summer day.

The H St Fest was the best block party in town. There were tons of people and lots of random conversations. It was the best marketing event we could dream of and the word was definitely getting out that RUNINOut was about rides.

In the Fall, we provided support at the Marine Corps Marathon cheering runners and even offering free rides to spectators or exhausted runners who wanted to beat the  (14th street) bridge. Runners had to maintain a 14 min/mile pace until mile 22 or else they would be taken off the course and bussed back.

The ending was great with Marines in their BDUs shouting “Oorah” and handing out the coveted Eagle, Globe and Anchor finisher medals. There were tons of photo-op moments, and we all had a blast, especially Kanita, who lost her voice screaming and cheering. 

“The pedicab is great for marketing. You should take her on a spin on Halloween night and get more people to come aboard,” she suggested.

One thing about the intelligent mind of a great attorney — she was always a source of great ideas. And so was my reliable sidekick, Suzannah.

“I have an idea for an event.” Suzannah said. “Hold a reelection night party for Obama at the Rocket Bar in Chinatown.”

And November 6, 2012, President Obama and his running mate Joe Biden had easily gotten reelected and the GOP, it seemed, had become the grand old party of the past.

Thai Landing

Since I spent a few days in Baltimore for the Drupal Camp, I used my free time to tour and explore restaurants nearby. Long before Baltimore was known as Mob Town, she was named the “Monument City.” 70 years before the iconic Washington Monument was dedicated at the National Mall in D.C., Baltimore’s own monument was erected to become the first landmark dedicated to President George Washington. The 178-foot white marble colossal column with GW standing on the top overlooks historic Mount Vernon, Johns Hopkins University, and various museums and galleries. Mounted on his horse, directly south of Washington, is the Marquis de La Fayette, a general from France whose contributions were instrumental during the American Revolution. 

Despite the ornate memorials and classic architecture, Mount Vernon, once a haven for millennials and college students had recently turned into a ruinous corridor for crime. Lately, there have been many incidents where law-abiding citizens have been mugged or gunned down leaving many Baltimoreans feeling vulnerable and subjugated.

And this was during a time when many retail businesses were still on a rebound after being roiled by weeks of tense protests after the April 19th death of Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old black man who was tossed around the back of a police van while he was shackled by his hands and feet. He died a few days later from a severe injury to his spine.

The protests began on April 25th, 2015 as a peaceful demonstration outside the Camden Yards baseball park but eventually turned violent when demonstrators clashed with fans. Over the weekend, a plan at circulated on social media

The following Monday, April 27th, a plan had circulated on social media for a purge event — a reference to the 2013 dystopian film in which all crime is made legal for one night — to start at Mondawmin Mall in NW Baltimore and to proceed down Pennsylvania Ave towards downtown. The police got wind of this plan and stopped all buses and forced all riders to disembark. The students then gathered together and started pelting bottles and bricks at the police. Violence escalated and rioters started looting the Mondawmin Mall.  The violence continued for the next few days, resulting in 144 vehicles and 15 buildings being burned. Even after the curfew was lifted a week later, it took weeks before customers found it safe to return. 

Sirenat, the owner of Thai Landing on N Charles St. was a 30-something, slim woman with a bright smile and positive attitude. She agreed to hire me to design their website. Many people were still scared to come out, but they were keen on online ordering. She also needed help in drumming up her business and attracting positive publicity.

I didn’t know too many people from Baltimore, but I did know someone from D.C. who had spent a lot of time there. His family was in the restaurant business, and as a realtor, he was familiar with the lay of the land up north. As president of D.C. Asian Professionals and the founder of the Charm City Eats meetup group, Joe Nam Do is very well connected.  Just like John Tinpe from Burma, he was well regarded by the D.C. Mayor’s Office on Asian and Pacific Islander Affairs. 

Joe wholeheartedly agreed it was time to patronize local businesses and host events that showed our true support.

“It is a Prix fixed menu of their top Thai dishes for $25 per person,” I said. “The owner wants good reviews on Google and Yelp and wants the dishes featured on RUNINOut.”

“As long as she’s serving my favorites: pad thai, drunken noodles, and massaman curry, I’m down,” he said.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Sirenat will be serving Tom Yum Goong, pineapple fried rice, grilled fish with lemongrass, and papaya salad.”

“But we have a couple of vegetarians in our group.”

“No worries, they have veggie chicken and duck and it’s hard to tell the difference.”

“That sounds amazing – I love Thai food, and I have lots of faith in our community. Let’s support Thai Landing and Go Charm City!”

October 29, 2015

Over two dozen Thai food enthusiasts showed up that crisp fall night for good food and to bring good tidings.

We tasted several dishes on the menu, all large portions and all Thai sizzling hot.

“This is as hot as the real estate market in Baltimore right now,” Joe said.

I was devouring my honey duck curry. “There are some nice neighborhoods like Mount Vernon, but much of the city is run down.”

“Even homes in war-zone areas are selling like hot cakes. Yeah, you might have to invest $30K to rehab, but you’ll be getting a steal and there’s plenty of room for appreciation.”

“Well, I’m already invested in a low-income neighborhood — Anacostia in D.C., and I’ve lived there for 12 years.”

“I had a dream this morning that woke me up a bit early. I bought goldfish in N.Y. and had to bring them back to Baltimore. Unfortunately, the bag was too small and it was crammed with goldfish. I separated the fish into several bags and changed the water frequently to keep the oxygen fresh. Still, some fish died and a few jumped from the bags into the sink I was getting the water from. There was a sense of loss, but most of the fish did make it home. I woke up immediately and realized what the goldfish represented. Dreams and the subconscious are honest with us even when we don’t want to admit the truth.”

“Wow, Joe, you actually remember your dreams?” 

“The ones that matter — these I write down so I don’t forget.”

Prayers for Nepal

May 12, 2015

The views at the Georgetown waterfront were busy with paddle boarders launching from the Key Bridge Boathouse and lunchers enjoying the open patio seating at Sequoia and Tony & Joe’s Seafood Place. Bikers were crisscrossing the Capital Crescent trail on their way to Bethesda or Cabin John. Runners and strollers were enjoying the historic C&O Canal stopping at the numerous bakeries and coffee shops to grab a bite or to enjoy the rich, sweet aroma.

While kids were splish-splashing in the fountain and grown-ups were getting their feet wet, Sunita Amatya was sitting on the side of the river, praying for the thousands of lives lost thousands of miles away.

On April 25, 2015, a 7.6 magnitude earthquake struck the city of Kathmandu in central Nepal killing 9,000 people, affecting millions of lives, and causing $10 billion in damage.

“May the tragic and devastating situation get better with Divine grace. May all five elements of the creation (earth, water, fire, space, and air) be balanced forever and will there be no more natural disasters,” she chanted towards her Supreme Deity.

The common belief is that to experience enlightenment one must be quiet and sit motionlessly. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Then as her prayers to Dharma were received, her devotion transformed to dance as hundreds of sightseers and gawkers were entranced by her majestic movements. But this was not a performance. Sunita was touching her dimension beyond her limited mind and body. It was an inner engineering language to express life energy while using the body as an instrument. 

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spirited straggle of runners. Not just any runners that you would see spurting all over the pristine paths of D.C. But these exuberant runners were adorned in bright red Embassy Run shirts, matching their crimson red Nepali flags they were waving. The color symbolizes the brave spirits of the Nepalese people and the two triangular pennants represent the Himalaya Mountains and the two major religions: Hinduism and Buddhism.

The astounding sight was too coincidental to be a coincidence. She quickly rose and with the enlightened spirit of Buddha followed the throng to a neighborhood saloon on Water Street called Mr. Smith’s.

For a second, she wondered whether she belonged here. The pub was unassuming and low-key, and there she saw what seemed like a hundred road-weary warriors all dressed in crimson red, nursing a cold Dos Equis.

“Saw you guys running by the waterfront. Are you running for Nepal?” she asked gingerly.

“Absolutely, we’ve been running 13 miles and raising awareness for survivors of the earthquake,” I answered. “Are you from Nepal?”

“Why yes, I was just at the park praying and dancing for the plight of our people. And Prince Shiva led me down this path to join your gathering.”

“That’s quite poignant. We were devastated when we heard about the earthquake, and we wanted to use our run as a vehicle to raise awareness and funds.”

“Then Prince Siddhartha answered my prayers. My son, Sudin, and I are also raising money for recovery and relief, but our efforts to date have fallen short.”

“I think there are ways that we can collaborate. But first, tell me why dancing is so transformative.”

“Dancing helps us purify our thoughts and heart and heals us from physical and mental pain. It’s to let God in and to let go of any negativity — to attain bliss.”

“Wonderful, Audrey Pichmimi said. “Can you show us outside how you perform your dance?”

[ Image: Sunita-dancing-in-Georgetown-1024×689.png ]

Sunita showed us how to dance for enlightenment on the Georgetown Waterfront

The following Thursday evening, a couple of dozen revelers, runners, and members of the Newah Organization of America (NOA) amassed at Courthaus Social in Arlington to honor the people of Nepal, discuss earthquake relief opportunities, and enjoy music and dance. 


Sudin plays Sax @ Courthaus Social

Sunita brought her talented son 16-year-old, Sudin who played the sax and sang traditional folk music. The music carried powerfully through the outdoor patio on a warm spring night, and many onlookers inquired about the cause — NOA was able to also receive generous donations from those who were deeply touched and wanted to show their support.

We charged $20 for entry which included a wide selection of appetizers. Jackie was instrumental again, spreading the word and getting people to book the event through her site, Bookalokal

Audrey, who was enamored with Sunita’s faith, returned to help raise money and to enjoy Nepali music.

By the end of the night, we were able to present NOA with a check for $1,000

Members of NOA receiving a donation from the Nepal Relief Fundraiser

“We are extremely grateful for your spirit of generosity,” said Ram Shrestha, president of NOA. “We will be able to provide medical supplies and build temporary shelters with these funds.” 

“Thank you very much,” Sunita said. “This divine circumstance proves that praying and dancing is indeed transformative.”

“It’s our great pleasure, to serve a small part in this. I’m now a true believer in the power of spiritual dancing. My thoughts and prayers to the courageous people of Nepal.”

Postmates

Winter 2015

In the winter of 2014, Postmates roared into town with the promise of being able to deliver virtually anything to anyone in the District within an hour. They charged a 10% purchase fee and a nominal delivery fee based on the distance of which 80% went to the couriers.

The app is commonly used for restaurant food but people have been known to purchase computers, groceries, you name it. The app works fairly well and the startup had received a hefty amount of funding to hire staff and rent office space.

But the idea of on-demand delivery is neither new nor novel. Both Seamless and GrubHub were already dominating the industry in D.C. Most people who pay the price of a good meal prefer to enjoy the atmosphere that comes with it. A $50 Prime Rib from Del Frisco’s Steakhouse somehow doesn’t taste the same on foam and plastic as it does on china and silverware.

So many of the food purchases are for franchises and fast food restaurants like Shake Shack, Chipotle, Potbelly, and McDonald’s — those with low prices and even smaller margins.

The app is popular with college students who may not have the best spending habits. But college students don’t tip and couriers could make as little as $5 an hour especially if they have to wait in line and make an order — like Vapiano during rush hour. And how long will college students continue to use the app, when their parents find out that their spending habits and cut back on allowances.

Jason Morenz had been delivering for Postmates since they arrived in D.C., and recommended I give it a try. Since I’m in the Restaurant food and customer relations business, I had to see it for myself. I signed up and attended the onboarding session. And just like that, I was hired — it was fast and easy. They didn’t even check to see if I knew the city, was in shape or I was really up to this task. As long as I didn’t have a criminal record, I was hired. 

At first, it was fun. I got to see the city and visit new restaurants while getting a workout. The customers were nice but stingy on the tip, and there was definitely a lack of transparency on how much they tipped (since it was not readily known how much their tip was)

After completing 10 orders successfully, the company started sending me two orders at a time and that’s when it started becoming a burden. And even if you want to do one order at a time, Postmates will keep pushing it, along with the most deafening beep requiring you to accept or reject.

You almost want to accept a second order just to keep your phone from beeping. And you can’t turn the app off since you need to keep it on for directions to your customer.

And since Postmates have invested a lot of resources in marketing, they have way more orders than they have couriers. So if you are scheduled or if you check in for duty — you will be bombarded with orders — some of them very challenging to complete within an hour.

The orders that I regretted taking were for made-to-order restaurants like Vapiano that would not take orders over the phone. I had to travel to the location, wait in line for 30 minutes, order, pay, pick up the food, then travel to the customer. The entire job took over an hour but my fees plus tips amounted to less than the minimum wage of $10.50/hr.

The obvious goal was to avoid taking orders that were time-consuming, had low margins, or would take me away from the city hub. Orders for deliveries to the northern corner of D.C. such as Friendship Heights also meant not finding another order for miles. I could cancel the order. But this would come with a penalty and a negative rating.

Knowing which orders were attractive and which were the low-hanging fruit came with experience. Usually, the newer couriers were tricked into taking them. But eventually, word spread like wildfire. To incentivize couriers to accept unpopular orders, Postmates would offer a $50 bonus if you were able to complete 20 orders in a 48-hour period. The catch was that you would have to accept every order that was assigned. You no longer could swipe left on an order that you didn’t like.

If you experienced any issues such as the order not being ready, or the customer not answering the phone, you could call customer service to iron things out. But after a while, the company outsourced their help desk and we would generally get a canned answer that didn’t seem to solve my problem.

To take a break from taking orders, I would often check out of duty to pick up passengers. Very rarely did I do both at the same time, though it was entirely possible unless it was pizza in which my passenger would enjoy the smell of spicy pepperoni with melted cheese on hot pizza dough.

Because the orders took us all over D.C., MD and VA, I would rotate my mode of transportation from my Subaru, bike, and pedicab. Unlike their competitors, Postmates would deliver virtually anything: clothing from Walmart, electronics, groceries, even pharmacy prescriptions. 

At one time, I accepted an order to carry $20,000 worth of laptops, ten miles to Bethesda. Postmates knew I was driving my car, so they assigned me the order. The customer was shocked when I arrived since they had made the purchase from Apple and not Postmates. Apple just subcontracted the order to Postmates. Needless to say, I didn’t receive a tip.

Many restaurants are not happy with Postmates doing their delivery since Postmates does not ask the restaurant for permission. They just link the restaurants’ menus to their site and charge the customer a steep delivery fee. Some restauranteurs are not happy because they don’t trust the couriers to handle their food properly, and if there is a complaint, it most likely will be directed to the restaurant.

On April 4, 2015, I was riding my pedicab on M St NW transporting burgers from Thunder Burger, when I was struck from behind and suffered damage to my right rear wheel. The driver stopped and was apologetic, but did not have any insurance. My bike was out of order and I wasn’t able to deliver the meal. My rating score would take a hit, but at least I got a free burger.

I got the wheel fixed and sent a copy of my bill to Postmates for compensation. I was surprised to hear from Stephan the local area manager that they would not cover my expenses.

“What if I got hurt and needed medical care?” I asked.

“You’re a 1099 independent contractor, not an employee,” Stephen replied harshly. “You’re on your own.”

“If you enjoy delivery and want all the benefits of an employee, you should consider venturing into trucking,” Jason said. 

“That’s absurd. Trucking is a hard life and if you think the streets of D.C. are busy on a pedicab, I can’t imagine what it’s like in an 18-wheeler.” 

The following week, I got a call from Stephen. With my recent slew of late deliveries from my pedicab, my rating had dropped below 4.6 (out of 5) and I would be terminated effective immediately.

“Is there an appeal process?”

“We decided in this case, you didn’t merit one.”

It didn’t matter that I had connections to hundreds of restaurants in the area. It didn’t matter that I had received dozens of 5-star reviews. That couldn’t be fair. The way Postmates treated their couriers was a violation of labor law. The following week, I called Jason Rathod a Labor Attorney from Migliaccio & Rathod Limited Liability Partnership to see what could be done.  They agreed to file a claim, and I joined Sherry Singer et al v Postmates in the class action lawsuit.

“If the courts rule in our favor, Postmates would have to treat its couriers as employees and pay them accordingly,” said Jason Rathod. “ A victory will have implications for other delivery companies like GrubHub as well as Uber and Lyft drivers and GrubHub food carriers.“

Labels don’t really matter; it’s the economic realities,”co-counsel, Nicholas Migliaccio said. “Giving workers labels to deny them protections is an injustice worth fighting against.”

* * *

Bottom Line

December 2014

With McFadden’s closure, I had to scramble to find another venue to celebrate New Year’s Eve. I knew just the right place near McPherson Square next to the Veterans Affairs office on I Street. Established in 1979, The Bottom Line has served politicians, lobbyists, authors, and celebrities dirty martinis and gin and tonics over the span of four decades.

It’s a renowned watering hole that welcomes Bengals fans on football Sundays. The basement dive bar serves Skyline Chili atop a pile of spaghetti with a generous mound of shredded cheddar cheese. 

Jr Mosbrucker, owner of the Bottom Line

The burgers are also half price on Mondays, and on Fridays, there’s the uber-popular “Beat the Clock” happy hour, where cold bottles from their extensive beer list start dirt cheap at 4 and climb a buck to $5 at 5 and until it reaches its peak at 8 pm.  

I had visited the institution before on Sept 14, 2014, when the Falcons played the Bengals at Paul Brown Stadium, Cincinnati, and the Bengals whooped the Dirty Bird’s ass. The “The Bengals Growl” played loud and proud every time they scored, along with that celebrated/annoying chant.

“Who dey, who dey, who dey think gonna beat dem Bengals?”

“Nobody” is then screamed in unison.


Alcides serving Shots at the  Bottom Line

Owner Jr Mosbrucker and Manager, Alcides Garcia were busy keeping the D.C. Jungle happy, serving orange vodka shots to the faithful fans. Behind the bar, Ellen Massey and Ivan Aguilar were performing their magic pouring cheap domestic beer with baskets of crispy golden fries. The crowd was mostly trashed and boisterous, but for food, they were easy to please.

Jr had a knack for making his customers laugh and enjoy themselves. “We’ve played in two Super Bowls so far. Think we’re overdue to return to the big game very soon before we turn 40, I hope1”

New Year’s Eve, 2015

The party started with a bang. The revelers greeted the wooden saluting Indian chief and gathered under the multi-colored chandeliers which lit up the funky walls with holiday props. They arrived early to reminisce all the big milestones of the year and recall all the victories and eventual defeat of their beloved football team. For the fourth year in a row, the Bengals were eliminated in the first round of the playoffs, but still, there was a lot to cheer for. Mayor Bowser took the oath of office after a rocky tenure of Mayor Gray, Black Lives Matter made a huge statement, and weed was now legally flowing in the city.

Merrymakers danced with abandon while the D.J. spun a percussive house mix. They sang “Raise Your Glass” by Pink and “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey while Ivan worked behind the bar concocting stylish cocktails and pouring sparkling wine like a magician.

Ivan Aguilar shaking a cocktail

The crowd knew 2015 was going to be an even more amazing year. The presidential campaigns would be heating up, and many expected Hillary to win the Democratic nomination. D.C. restaurant scene would continue to flourish, and independent courier services like Postmates and Uber Eats were starting to gain steam.

So I was thrilled to have found the perfect spot to celebrate New Year’s Eve — What doors would open this year, and which ones would close? Hopefully, the one resolution I could stick with this year would be to drink less alcohol.

“Hey, we’re looking for a website redesign next year,” Jr stated. “Would love for you to join the D.C. Jungle.”

“I’m a die-hard Falcons fan, but, I love the energy and would be thrilled to join the team,” I replied.

“Great, what are your prices?”

I opened up my webpage on my laptop, which showed a price of $2,500.

“Sounds great. It looks like you’re having a blast. So, we’ll pick up your tab tonight to make it even more enjoyable.”

“Fantastic Jr., I’m sold. Tonight, I’m officially a Bengals fan.”

As the evening wore on, I noticed the alcohol kick in. I voraciously consumed anything that was offered to me — Whiskey, tequila, scotch, beer. Then before I noticed that time had slipped by, the ceremonial ball was released, and people were raising glasses of champagne hoping 2015 would bring another stellar year. Glasses clinked, and confetti rained down like snowflakes. Dancing bodies gyrated like an Egyptian belly dancer while party revelers continued to pack the place like this was the place to be. It was getting sultry hot with little breathing room.

I had been out cold for quite a while when Jr found me, my head down listlessly on a table, drool flowing from the corners of my mouth, the front of my shirt stained with Cincinnati chili. Alcides got me a glass of iced water which I readily drank. Then I stepped out to get some fresh air. Merrymakers were raising a ruckus with abandon, and I happily joined them in the cheer. I laughed at a man making a feeble attempt to climb a light pole. I wanted to join a crowd of twenty-somethings dancing in the middle of the street, but something seemed amiss. I rushed inside the pub to see that the crowds had not eased. I walked over to Jr to see if he could jog my memory.

“No more drinks for you,” he said. “You’ve had quite a lot tonight.”

Then suddenly, it dawned on me. My backpack with my Macbook Pro, wallet, and keys was missing — it appeared someone had grabbed it when I was lights out. I ran around like a headless chicken asking if anyone had seen it.

Jr scratched his head. “I remember you had your laptop out at the beginning of the night, but I don’t remember seeing it after that.”

“Well my car keys were also in my bag. How am I supposed to get home now?”

“Here, lemme give you $40 to catch a cab. Sleep it off; hopefully, you’ll remember where you left it.”

I returned home, banged on the door, and woke up my housemate. Then I crawled into my rack and tried to sleep it off. The next morning, I caught a metro to Farragut West to retrieve my car. I was afraid I had forgotten where I parked it. My eyes didn’t deceive me when I saw the distinctive half sedan, half pickup truck of my 2003 Subaru Baja on 18th & I, and when I looked into the back seat, I was beyond delighted to find my elusive backpack. My Macbook Pro and keys were exactly where I left them. How did it get there? Was I hallucinating all along? It was clearly time to change my drinking habits.

1 The Bottom Line opened on October 29, 1980.

RUNIN — the Theme

RUNIN is not exactly about the joys (or pain) of running.  It’s not about running out of food either. Did you realize that RUNIN is actually a back acronym? Huh? Let’s take a look at the qualities of the Ethiopian Diaspora. 

They were all Resourceful in surviving tough living conditions and eventually found success in their business ventures. They Understood the local environment well and identified the target market audience before starting their businesses in Ethiopia. They had to Negotiate with business owners, investors and the local governments who at first had little faith in them. They had to be Innovative to find the right business that would fill a void. And they all made bold decisions but remained open-minded and nimble when they Navigated toward their goals.

Resourcefulness:

Resourcefulness is about using the full resource of tools and other people to solve problems and reach goals. When the devastating EF-5 tornado ripped through downtown Joplin, Americans from near and far rushed to lend a helping hand. Thankfully, there was no shortage of compassion and generosity. The AmeriCorps displayed resourcefulness by allowing me to build an online database that tracked donations and matched them with survivors and their specific needs.

When our team didn’t place during Startup Weekend due to lacking a technical co-founder, I had to rely on resourcefulness to find a developer who was flexible enough to fulfill our requirements.

When we reached out to restaurants, many were willing to have us photograph their dishes, but didn’t want the food to go to waste.  So we decided to photograph the food in conjunction with events and allow our guests to enjoy it.  The events also served to promote the restaurants and we were able to capture amazing photography of attendees enjoying the ambiance and cuisine.

R also stands for Reflecting on what’s important in this journey and seeing how we can make improvements.  Deb Santos taught me how to truly reflect —  learning to invest in myself and showing self-compassion regardless of my mistakes. 

R also stands for Researching.  The secret sauce for RUNINOut was the behind-the-scenes research that we did for each restaurant to ensure that the user would get the best results possible.

Understanding:

The Irish Republican Army who sought a united Ireland clashed with the British forces resulting in massive death and destruction. When I visited Belfast, I met a tour guide named Arthur Magee who talked about building bridges.  For peace to start and the troubles to end, both sides had to build bridges.

“If you come nigh you will see a city where on a micro level, people are building bridges.  The most important bridge that is been built is in each and every single person here. That bridge is between who you actually are and how you see yourself. Whether you’re part of the problem, looking back and blaming other people, or whether you’re part of the solution and reaching out and seeing other human beings, as exactly that, human beings.”

From a business standpoint, one must fully understand the environment, the target market, and the competition in order to build a successful business. The diaspora community had done their research — that’s why they were able to build a leading PR firm, a luxury day spa chain, and a rose farm despite facing steep odds and many doubters that were skeptical that such business ideas could flourish in Ethiopia.

I applied these lessons when I worked with restaurants and bars. When I tried to sell our services to the Irish Channel, they were also receiving bids from other providers.  In order to stand out from the competition, I studied the pub’s clientele and target market to determine which sports teams they could affiliate with and which social events we could host.

When the Lebanese Taverna requested to host a belly dancing event with Arabian folk music, I immediately did my research to familiarize myself with the art of belly dancing — I would then need to be resourceful to find the right talent and audience that would attract a strong turnout so we could host many more events and raise money for charity.

Over the years, we ended up working with several different groups and hosted a wide variety of events: running, comedy, political, food blogging — spanning a diverse group of bars and restaurants.

In the end, hosting tons of events took its toll, and I had to honestly look in the mirror and realize that the boozing had gone to extremes and I needed to start tapering off. 

Negotiating:

Many restaurants were receptive to our services but did not have the resources or the inclination to pay for them. So we found a clever way to negotiate by having them host our events and provide free food and other amenities. We often got paid, but we were willing to barter web and social media assistance for food, eatups, and fundraisers.

Negotiating is something that I’ve always done my entire adult life.  Throughout my entire Navy career, I never seemed to get what I wanted so I had to negotiate for just about everything of value. Successful negotiating requires understanding the other side’s priorities, open communication, and settling differences.

Innovating:

My search for a technical co-founder led me to take a Greyhound to Vancouver to find a web developer who could create our site in Drupal.  And once the framework was built, I had to stay current in both Drupal and WordPress by regularly attending tech meetups.

Innovating meant building a menu prototype for Burma Restaurant and Vapiano’s so customers can decide on their orders while waiting in line.

When RUNINOut got rejected by the GW Business Plan Competition, I had to find ways to gain traction with users.  It was imperative that we were able to expand our reach throughout the entire city with innovative methods. That meant deploying a used pedicab to market our brand and acquiring loyal followers who would vote for us for Best of D.C. We won the “Best Restaurant App” award in 2012 and 2013, and my alma mater agreed to let us present in the Business Plan Competition after all.

Navigating:

Some people struggle to make a decision. Some may be very simple like what to wear, others are very complex like finding a new job. Many times, we’ll end up regretting the decision that we make, but the worst decision is making no decision. No decision can be a decision, also, but the main thing is you need to take some action. 

Navigating means making a decision to go one way and to stay on course despite experiencing choppy seas. It also means making course changes if the path is not the right one for you, even if it means making a drastic change.

I wouldn’t be where we are today if I never got into a scuffle with my GWU classmate causing me to transfer out of the Executive MBA program to the Professional MBA.  With more freedom and flexibility, I was able to enroll in a New Ventures class where the idea of RUNINOut came to life.

After working tirelessly for over five years, It was clear that it was time to change course.  Hosting events was time-consuming and tiring, and there was usually excessive drinking resulting in anxiety and depression.

It also became clear that we needed to branch out further from the DMV (D.C. – MD – VA).

How we would achieve that and what would the next step would be, was still undecided.  But it was clear that it was time to take a radical, new direction.

Wherever we would be going, it would sure be a magical ride that the universe has specifically earmarked for us.

RUNIN Ragged…

* * *

A Home in Joplin

After weeks-on-end of business school and tweaking my business plan, I was ready to head west on my cross-country bus trip, looking for that elusive web developer who would be my last cog in the wheel.

The journey which would take me through the heartland of America would seem interminable — four gritty days and sleepless nights. Could I tolerate the middle-of-the-night disruptions, filthy bathrooms, the constant chit-chat from disheveled vagabonds? 

May 22, 2011, started like any other Sunday in Joplin, Missouri. People went to church and gathered with family and friends. The Joplin High School had just held its graduation, and families were returning home. But as dark clouds gathered above, a severe storm was brewing. At 5:41 PM, an EF-5 tornado touched down in the southern part of the city and tracked east, cutting a 13-mile swath through the heart of downtown.

It struck the campus of the Missouri Southern State University, where the local high school was holding its graduation ceremony. One hundred fifty people were still in the arena and swiftly evacuated to the basement. But others were already returning home and in stark danger. Tragically, the storm claimed the lives of seven students (including one of the recent graduates). 1

On May 25, I boarded a Greyhound from Baltimore heading west. I would stop in San Diego to run a marathon with Janine and her hubby before I headed north to Vancouver to find a web developer for my site. 

But at the last minute, I decided there was a more significant calling than just running a road race. The city of Joplin had taken a heavy toll, and they desperately needed help.

A full-figured woman in her early 20’s sat a few rows behind me in a rowdy bus where a couple of boisterous fellows were cracking us up like a lobster claw. The jokes were coming at a feverish pace, exactly what we needed to establish the right mood for the long journey. One rugged hooligan was getting too fresh for comfort, causing the girl to pitch a fit. 

“Young lady, please get up and sit somewhere else then. The rest of you brats – if I hear another peep from you, I’m gonna pull over and drop ya’ll off on the side of the highway where you’re gonna have to thumb your way home,” the bus driver announced indignantly.

The commotion subsided, but, I still didn’t get a lick of sleep for the next few hours. At the transfer in St Louis, I joined the other backpackers lounging on the floor. I would be stopping in Joplin for tornado relief – my body and my mind yearned for respite.

Suddenly my siesta was interrupted by a soft rendition of Keyshia Cole’s “Love”. She had a voice that could move mountains and a face that could launch a thousand trucks.

“Wow, you sound just like Whitney Houston.” 

“Thank you. Maybe my delightful croon will make me rich and famous one day.”

“I certainly hope so. What’s your name and where you’re going?” 

“You can call me Dee for Damaris. I’m heading to Ok. City to visit my aunt, Mimi.”

“Right on my dear. You should be going to L.A. You have a face of a movie star. I hope you’ll remember me when you record your first album.”

“How ’bout you — how far west are you going?”

“All the way to California, but first, I’m making a stop in Joplin.”

“Yeah, I heard about the tragedy – many precious lives were lost, thousands of homes destroyed.”

Then as I boarded the bus in St Louis, the bus driver started to give me a hard time.

“Are you sure you want to get off in Joplin — the entire town has been wiped off the map.”

“Absolutely, tens of thousands of survivors desperately need our help.”

“Ok, but your bags are going to San Diego.”

“Can’t do that, Ma’am. I have a foldable bike in the baggage compartment, and I’ll need that to navigate my way around the disaster area.”

“You’re outa your mind. That’s against Greyhound policy. Since the town is completely devastated, I’m sure they could use your help — what little support you can provide.”

Thankfully, the driver relented, and as we entered the town, I felt road-weary but headstrong for whatever lay ahead. I hugged Damaris goodbye, hoping she would suddenly decide to come along.

“Stay safe,” As she wiped a tear from her eye. “I hope we’ll meet again soon.”

“Well, eventually, I’ll be heading to California to find someone who can help me create a restaurant search directory. Maybe something that you can find useful one day.”

Damaris rolled her eyes, doubtful that would be in the cards.

When I stepped off the bus, my sour, sweaty smell of three days of rolled-on antiperspirant evaporated like steam in the scorching Missouri sky. There was no one to greet me, not even a soul on the street. It was a lonely bus stop in a mid-sized municipality, some parts showing virtually no signs that a deadly EF-5 Twister had rolled through a few days ago.

Despite lugging an extra bag around from bus to bus I was now deeply grateful that I had decided to bring my Dahon foldable 12-speed roadster along.

President Obama and his entourage and Governor Nixon had just visited and showed compassion. “This is a national tragedy,” Obama said. “We’re not gonna stop until Joplin is back on their feet.”

Flags were flying at half-mast. Emergency response vehicles and T.V. trucks filled up a parking lot at the downtown mall. A National Guard hummer drove through the desolate downtown like it was in Iraq after the Battle of Ramadi.

The campus of the Missouri Southern State University, where the AmeriCorps had set up their task force, was four miles from downtown, and taxis weren’t readily available during a crisis. I loaded all my luggage on the bike (Macbook Pro, Nikon 5100, sleeping bag, and thankfully only a few pieces of clothing) and pedaled my way to the Volunteer Relief Center.

By the time I arrived on campus, the volunteers had already departed for the day, scraping the thick crust of grime covering their arms and legs. The staff was putting things away, and in the cafeteria, a large throng of AmeriCorps members was busy debriefing the day’s events. I was fortunate to catch the tail end when the staff decided to recognize each other for their hard work and dedication. I pulled out my camera and started filming, unbeknownst that I would witness something quite remarkable. This is where I met Quinn, Julie, Abby, and Will — incredible people who sacrificed tremendously to serve Americans in need. They called on each other and recognized their contributions. Then they presented a rose as a token of appreciation. I choked as I held back tears for people I didn’t even know. But after sharing with us something special from the inside, I felt that they would be dear friends for life.

The accommodations at the college were better than anything I could ever expect. Yes, I didn’t have a rack to sleep on, and I haven’t had a decent meal since arriving here (except sliders and snacks). But the building was new, and the couch that I slept on was extra firm and surprisingly comfortable. I was blessed to have a roof over my head, considering the thousands of people who were left homeless. I made sure I got some rest because tomorrow would be a big day.

Julie was one of the first team members that I met. Incidentally, she was from College Park, Maryland. I could tell that she had a lot on her plate, so I asked how I could be of help.

The overflow of support from Americans everywhere had been enormous. Thousands of people called United Way and AmeriCorps, offering their homes, etc. AmeriCorps then posted this info on their Facebook page.

“We’re getting dozens of calls a day from people offering to donate goods and services to survivors. People are offering their cars, computers, cell phones, tents, food, clothing,” said Julie. “We’re simply posting these offers on our Joplin Tornado Relief Services Facebook page, and it’s first come, first served.” 

The issue with these postings was that there were not sortable or searchable nor user friendly. There was not one clearinghouse that gathered all the information. As a result, many of these donations were not managed effectively or were simply wasted. So I took the initiative to create an online database where the AmeriCorps could easily track all donations and match them specifically with survivors depending on their exact needs.

So I spent the first two days on campus creating an online database with Drupal (which I literally learned on the go). After a lot of painstaking research and trial and error, the database was created — a small but momentous cause for celebration.

* * *

My next goal was to document the heroic contributions of the AmeriCorps’ disaster relief teams. Spending the last three days working alongside them, I had nothing but wonderful things to say about this dedicated group of young men and women. They were bright, innovative, and selfless, never counting the costs of uprooting their lives to serve our country in need with very little pay. With people like Abby, Julie, Will, and Melissa, I was left impressed and thankful for their sacrifices.

But there was only one problem: I didn’t have any closed-toe shoots. Traveling on Greyhound, I had to travel light. Thank goodness, Abby came to the rescue and lent me her boots for the day.

The next day I visited the site ravaged by the tornado and met some of the victims. The first time I got to see the damage, I was shellshocked. Trees that were left standing were stripped bare by the intense winds. The images brought back forlorn ssmemories from Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. It had already been an amazing whirlwind tour in what has already been a very long journey for disaster relief for one of the deadliest single tornadoes in America.

I met Christina on the bus going out to the field. Originally from Georgia, her mother owned a house an hour from here. An outdoor person with a warm heart, she loved to snow ski, windsurf, sail and pitch a tent and enjoy nature at its finest. Christina would be spending the next month sleeping in tents and volunteering for both the AmeriCorps and the Ozark Food Harvest. After this stint, she would be heading north to Alaska to go glacier camping.

I listened to Christina as she cleared debris and collected memorabilia. One of the hardest parts of the relief effort was recovering personal belongings.   Many of the pictures, some over a generation old, would be digitized and posted online in hopes that someone would claim them. Christina found some dental records, books, videos, and a porcelain figurine.

Debris piled near the street would be picked up by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

I also spoke to Chelsea, another volunteer who lived in the area.

“Many people think we’re a small town. The population in Joplin is 50,000, but actually, 300,000 people work and shop here,” she said. “Lots of folks commute from neighboring town — just like me.”

I was humbled and honored to meet Jerry and Debby, one of the homeowners who lost two houses: theirs and their daughters. Jerry was actually in his truck when the deadly twister hit. He was lifted up and spun around before being dropped in front of his house. His house was pulled straight out of the foundation and blown to bits. House after house for miles in all directions was literally reduced to slab. Cars and trucks were crushed like soda cans. Jerry was fortunate to have made it out alright. His house was reduced to shreds, but he was blessed to have his life and that of his lovely family.

“It’s slowly sinking in,” said Debby, as she looked through some old photos. “It’s taken a week for me.”

“Yes, we really need to come here and experience it. Watching it on T.V. is not enough,” said Chelsea.

“And it’s important to look at your belongings as just items that come and go. They are not attached to you personally — it’s time to move on,” Christina added.

I was deeply touched when I visited St. John’s Regional Medical Center. Every window in the hospital was blown out, and the top two floors were ripped away. The staff had only minutes to pull patients from their rooms and into hallways before the storm struck. The entire building had been moved four inches off its foundation and six people died. Because there were concerns that the structure might collapse, the building was evacuated.

Brian spent the entire week working at the Salvation Army, sorting out food and clothing for the survivors. Some provided canteen services (feeding, hydration, and spiritual support) for the survivors and volunteers in the field.

I was proud and happy to see Sailors from the USS Missouri (SSN-780) clearing rubble and assisting homeowners with retrieving their belongings. Like the humanitarian assistance deployments to Haiti after the deadly earthquake last year, the U.S. military is always there to assist whenever disaster strikes. 

Soon, the relief effort would come to an end, and the city would shift into a reconstruction phase that would last for many years.

With damage estimated to be $3.18 billion, the Joplin tornado is the costliest single tornado in U.S. history (adjusted for inflation). 553 businesses and 7,411 homes were damaged or destroyed, affecting more than 17,000 people. The storm reached a maximum width of nearly one mile during its path through Joplin, killing 161 people (with an additional eight indirect deaths).

After spending five days in Joplin, I left inspired by the service and dedication of the AmeriCorps and the strength and fortitude of the survivors. The people of Joplin have truly come together to show how a community can survive a disaster, turning adversity into strength, rebuilding their town and their shattered lives, and creating opportunities for the future.