I was born in a small town in the Ethiopian countryside, near Addis Ababa, during a famine.
During that time, my father made the difficult decision to put me up for adoption.
He wanted me to have a chance at life, even if it meant letting me go. I was around four years old at the time.
I spent the next year or two in an orphanage, and I still remember how hard it was. There wasn’t enough food for all of us, and the orphanage later told my mom that I made sure the younger kids ate before I did.
Even at that age, I had a gift for picking up on things, and I realized there was a woman at the orphanage who was connected to adoption agencies. So I kept asking her if anyone was interested in adopting me.
Eventually, my time came.
My family in America adopted me when I was five years old, and I can’t express how grateful I am for them.
Their decision changed the course of my life. It taught me that sometimes, we have to let go and trust that better things are on the horizon.
For me, I’ve taken that lesson to heart. Closed mouths don’t get fed. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.
Handling Business
Funny enough, I was born on a farm in Ethiopia, and my new family in America had a farm too. So in some ways, it wasn’t a complete culture shock, but it was still a massive transition.
I didn’t speak English, so I had to repeat kindergarten. I remember watching my friends move on to first grade, and feeling so frustrated that I was getting left behind.
After learning English, with the help of my parents and kindergarten teacher, we convinced the school to let me skip first grade so I could catch up with my friends in second grade.
I’ve always been willing to take an unconventional path if it meant getting closer to my goal.
In seventh grade, I had a cattle business. I was homeschooled at the time, so I had some flexibility.
I would wake up at 6 a.m. every day to feed and care for the cattle. I remember how frustrated I was when I couldn’t stay over at my friend’s house because I had to get up early to take care of them.
Something so little now, it felt so big at the time. I didn’t realize it then, but those mornings shaped my understanding of sacrifice and commitment.
Academics and Athletics
High school was a mix of frustrations and opportunities. My junior year was disappointing because I had to split playing time.
But I still got some interest from college coaches. I had a few preferred walk-on offers, including one from Cal.
I still remember scrolling through their roster one night and seeing that they only had three quarterbacks. So I did what I’ve always done. I took a shot. I sent a DM to one of the coaches.
I made another unconventional decision and a leap of faith by committing to Cal without even visiting the campus.
Being a preferred walk-on came with its own set of challenges. I often felt like I was treated differently because of my status. I knew the reality when I committed, but it was still tough.
In three years, I didn’t play a snap.
That was something that I struggled with for a long time. I had always been known as “the quarterback”. It was my identity.
And it was gone.
But at some point, I realized football was something I did, not who I was. It didn’t define me.
What defined me was how I handled when things didn’t go my way and the kind of teammate I was.
I became more involved in the community and started a quarterback training program to help younger players navigate the same challenges I faced.
In December, I graduated in two and a half years and am now pursuing opportunities in both business and athletics. I’m interning at a private equity firm, training quarterbacks, and exploring my next steps through the transfer portal.
I’m not sure what the future holds, but I’m excited about the possibilities.
Redefining Success
If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this journey so far, it’s that success isn’t binary. It’s not just wins and losses.
It’s about showing up, giving your best effort, and making the best decisions with the information you have.
From being adopted during a famine to graduating in 2.5 years from Berkeley, I’m proud of the journey that shaped me.
I hope to inspire others to follow their own path and redefine what success means to them. Too often, people chase someone else’s definition of achievement. I believe there’s no single “right” path, only the one you’re willing to commit to. By seeking opportunities, staying curious, and taking risks, anyone can create something meaningful. I’ve learned that success isn’t about accomplishments, status, or recognition; it’s about growth, impact, and consistently capitalizing on the chances in front of you.
Closed mouths don’t get fed. My journey has taught me to speak up, take initiative, and never wait for opportunity.
