Day 99: September 10th 2009, Lordsburg, NM to Duncan, AZ (38 mi)

A fine entry into Arizona. But again the day didn't begin with a good start. The road was Texas shitty, that bad. Cracks, roughness, you know-all the good stuff. I had to walk from early on US-70 west. I walked. The whole way until about 5 miles before the Arizona border, I walked. It took me until 240MST to get to 5 miles east of the Arizona border. It was long, hot, painful, but I'll spare the bitching today, because blah blah blah blah. It's hard, it's difficult, I feel like shit doing it, but when I'm done for the day, you know what? Its all good, because I made it through another day. Besides, I'm sick of writing about how hard my day was. This past week has been pretty repetitive, and I'm sure I've said all I can say. So instead, I'll share some of the thoughts that crossed my mind on this 8 hour walk.

Well my first thought happened to be with the first song selection my ipod gave me and it was "Body Moves" by Yellowman. When that song played, I remembered one awesome summer day. Me and Matt were supposed to be doing some landscaping but for a summer day, the waves were too good. Monahan's was breaking, solid chest high waves. We decided early on in the day that, fuck work, we could make up the lawns later, there is no way we would waste waves like this. So we went to his house, picked up our boards and had an amazing summer surf session. Nobody out. Just me, Matt, Beau and Sam. That was a good day and it put a smile on my face. I don't know why that song reminded me of that day specifically but I'm happy it did. We surfed until the late afternoon that day, not a worry on our minds, not even work. As a matter of fact our baby blue truck was parked with its trailer right on the dock, "A Cut Above Lawn Care", but we were taking care of the waves.

I wondered why people never picked me up, though I came to later realize that I was happy nobody even attempted to pull over, even when I stuck my thumb out. The feeling of getting there by myself is so much more rewarding. I thought, even if my own mother had passed me as I was on the highway, she would never even remotely think that, that was her own son. All the people that have approached me were the people that saw themselves as equal as everybody. Whether they were doing it for God, the country man that was confident of his land or the hippie that wanted to spread love (I only say hippie so you can understand the kind of person I'm referring to, though I really hate that word). It was never the upper middle class or upper class guy in his BMW, Range Rover or Porsche. Those people actually always tended to steer into a lane as far away from me as possible. They see me as a potential threat and for them the risk is too large. Our system as capitalism creates, a completely classist society. Inevitably we are judged by what we possess and a man like me looks like I ain't got shit. That is a sad thought, especially knowing that, that is the way my own mother is.

She cares too much about what kind of handbag she carries or what kind of car she drives, how many homes she owns. Her best days, she would come home and brag about how the clerk at Macy's loved her authentic Louis Vitton bag or a person somewhere told her of how young she looked because of all the creams she puts on her face. The jewelry she flaunts, I hate it. And she is kind to the poor, but too many times I have heard her talk down about them to me when they were not around. My mother, who I love very much, gets pissed me when I tell her that I just want to surf or I want to live in Africa. She won't speak to me for days, because she would be so frustrated with my wishes. It is never about 'Omar you can do whatever makes you happy', its always 'Omar go to med school, go to law school, go to business school' something thats only intention is to make tons of money. "I didn't invest all this money in you for you to be a skater". Thats what kills me, I wish I could just make them understand. Even graduating with a major in Microbiolgy/Entomology (because I love insects) and a minor in chemistry is looked down upon in my family. That is why Im doing this, and they have no idea about it. I do not need their negativity and doubts on my trip, in the same way my trip to Africa started and ended. While they think I have a good job in San Diego, I'm living and learning. Sure I'm not gaining financially, but I can look back since the first day and see the positive change, spiritually, emotionally and just becoming a better person the way I see fit. To them, that means almost nothing, but to me, you should only judge a person according to their heart.

A best doctor is an old experienced doctor, the best engineer is an old experienced engineer, and so on and so on and the best human being is the most experienced in life. It goes back to what the curator of the Tunica museum told me at the start of my journey "A person is the sum of all their experiences". Though I know I will never be perfect, because it is impossible to go through every single experience, I will strive to always be a better person, a better listener, to be more understanding. I know I will never reach that point, but that is the source of any person's humbleness, knowing that they will never be perfect. I know I am no better that anybody. It kills me to keep lying to my parents about my fake job in San Diego, but that is the only way to keep doing what I'm doing, maybe one day they will understand. That is something I strongly hope for.

"What the hell am I going to do when I get to San Diego?" That occupied some time, but I never came up with an answer.

"These roads fucking suck". Why in America, who people form so many countries see as a perfect place, does a road like this exist? All cracked, loose gravel, rough. Oh, then I remembered that money is being drained from our infrastructure to fund wars, private corporations that feed on disasters, kill people, buy weapons, test missiles for the sake of 'fostering democracy' and developing other countries. Sorry to get political but for me it all ties together.

The last five miles in Arizona were downhill, straight downhill. The road was terrible until Arizona, but at least I was going down. Aaaaah, Arizona, brings back good memories. So beautiful and indeed it is. And the road was smooth as butter. And the people in Duncan are so fucking nice! Every single car, no lie, either waved or smiled. Even the sheriff pulled me over skating through town and he is probably, single handedly, the coolest cop I ever talked to. I couldn't stop smiling at his accent and comments and together we shared some good laughs. He is such a good guy. Arizona, I love you. Eating acid here some summers ago, my first in the desert, completely changed the way I view the desert. I's so happy to be back in this beautiful place. I get such good vibes here, from the environment around me and the people that live here.