My 40th birthday was a difficult one for me. As milestones go, there’s no real reason why the 40th milestone should have been much different from the many preceding it. But on this birthday I was in a reflective mood, thinking about my decision in 1988 to remain in Kenya and build a life in this far-off place. What would have happened to me if I had not made this choice, or if I had stayed in Kenya for a shorter time? What would my wife be like? Would I now have kids? Would I like my job? Where would I be living? In short, would I be more or less happy, more or less satisfied with what I had accomplished at mile 40 had I not decided to live in Kenya? 

Some of this is simply idle speculation. We can’t change the past. But would we even if we could? That is a valid question, because it relates to who we are. The decisions we make in life are not simply accidents. We may have limited influence over which opportunities may present themselves to us in our life’s journey, but we have significant influence and control over what we do with those opportunities. Our choices reflect who we are, and what’s important to us. 

I was conscious of these things when I decided to remain in Kenya. I felt that the world was just waiting for me to discover it, and that I would be a better person if I took up the challenge. Staying in Kenya seemed right. I had always wanted to live and work abroad, and learn about other people. This was my opportunity. Most of us let fear guide us: fear of the unknown; fear of beliefs or ways of life that are different; or fear that we won’t be able to adapt to new or challenging circumstances. These challenges can be professional, or personal. They can represent dreams we’re only vaguely conscious of, or goals that obsess us. Prior to my trip, I had always been enriched by challenges: they stimulate growth; test one’s limits; give you the self-confidence that you can have an effect on the world. 

Like most young people, however, I was not fully aware that the decisions we make have a deep and lasting effect on us too. Our choices not only reflect who we are, but over time they also come to influence the people we become. My choice to remain in Kenya changed my perspective of the world. It opened some doors, and closed others. It strengthened my self-confidence in certain realms, but also made me acutely aware of some of my weaknesses. It was a decision that, in hindsight, was fraught with contradictions.

When I left UCLA in the summer of 1987, I had no idea that, upon returning to the United States eight years later, my life would have been dramatically changed. In 1987, I left a university community that felt permanent and enduring. I had many friends and colleagues; I had a well-paying job, and until then making money had been very easy. I had good computer programming skills, a bright future, and very few real responsibilities.

The ensuing years were a humbling experience for me. I experienced first-hand what it’s like to live and work in an underdeveloped economy, and what it’s like to really struggle to make ends meet. I met many good, hard-working people, and came to identify with them. I came to appreciate a very different way of life, and a very different set of priorities. And through this identification, the burdens of my friends and family became mine. In a country overcome with corruption, nepotism and venality, I was often frustrated, sometimes angry, and always driven to succeed, despite the obstacles. By the time I finally did realize that I was not achieving the success I had hoped for, I had exhausted my financial resources, and some of my youthful optimism.

The experience in Kenya had shaped me, and not entirely for the best. Professionally, I would have been far better off remaining in the United States. By placing myself on the technological periphery, I missed out on opportunities I would have had had I remained in Los Angeles. On the other hand, the experience was also enriching. It gave me a perspective few people possess. It tempered my naïve optimism without killing my spirit. It allowed me to see the world through the eyes of people who have a rich, vibrant culture, who raise well-adjusted children whose grandparents have a role and purpose in their old age. I came to truly appreciate how privileged we are here in the United States, and how little we really need to live well. And I came back with a loving wife, and two beautiful daughters.

In 1995, I brought my family back to the United States, to a world I thought I knew, but which I had to get to know all over again. My life at the university was of course over, and most of my school acquaintances had moved on. Returning to my own country was as much of a challenge in 1995 as leaving it was eight years earlier. UCLA of the 1980s had changed as much as I had. I walked through one door upon leaving the United States, and returned through a very different door on the way back. I wasn’t simply retracing my steps. I was beginning a completely different life. Reflecting on this, it seems clear that the large and small choices we make each day mold us, and the world around us, and we can never really go back. 

Which brings me back to the quotation by Socrates: “The unexamined life is not worth living.” This quotation is, at the same time, both profound, and exaggerated. It is profound in emphasizing the importance of making choices that allow us to live purposeful, directed lives, realizing that the decisions we make can never really be taken back. Most of us let real opportunities pass us by because we don’t look critically at ourselves, or explore what we’re really about. We make expedient decisions, without understanding or considering how they’ll affect us, and we are often unfulfilled and uninspired by what those decisions bring.

Still, the perspective that the unexamined life is not worth living is also exaggerated. It presupposes that we can really pick our life’s journey. It generally implies a one-way causal link between our decisions and our circumstances, overlooking the important fact that life also pushes back in interesting and often wonderful ways. Had I truly and objectively examined my decision to remain in Kenya, I doubt if I would have made the decision. It wasn’t really rational! But it was a decision that reflected who I was at the time. It reflected my priorities, my yearning for adventure, and my need to see and know more of the world. If I had fully examined all the likely consequences of my decision, I would have not met my wife, and I would not have had the very unique experiences that decision led me to have. 

So setting aside the momentary insecurities and doubts that characterize 40th birthdays, in retrospect I’m very happy I went to Kenya, and have no regrets!