The Introduction

I had known about the dangers and the need for international intervention in Afghanistan for years. I really believed in the NATO presence and the job all of our troops were doing over there.

But the danger of the situation really hit home for me on May 17th, 2006, when my best friend, Captain Nichola Goddard, was killed in combat in the Panjwai district in southern Afghanistan. That terrible day, although I didn’t recognize it at the time, changed my life forever.

That summer I settled in to a severe depression. I hated my life, I hated the apathy of the world presented each passing day towards injustice. I hated knowing that there was such misery in the world. That there were good people who needed a chance and weren’t getting it. People, like Afghans, who needed a chance for democracy, for freedom to better their lives, and for freedom from harm. It hurt me to know that these things were so valuable that people I knew were dying for them. That they were worth having my best friend - a talented, strong, amazing person - die for. And yet, in my current situation, there was nothing for me to do. And still the situation in Afghanistan needed more help.

What could I do? I’m a sailor, a Naval Officer by trade and vocation. I’ve spent all my life since the age of 9 as part of a naval organization. I was senior member of my local naval youth organization, Sea Cadets. I enrolled in the Royal Military College of Canada as a Naval Officer Cadet at the age of 18, right out of high school. I graduated in 2002, with Nichola and her husband Jason, with a first class honours degree in English and a minor in politics. These were studies that prepared and honed the critical thinker in me.

I then joined the fleet and learned the practical aspects of my job: how to drive 5000 tonnes of warship at high speed in close formation; how to maintain precise navigation within yards of the planned route, by day or night; how to fight fires, floods, and the enemy. It was awesome.

But that terrible May 17th, 2006.

Nothing in my job could allow me to fight back against that pain, and I needed to fight back. I needed to make changes in the world with the passion that Nichola’s memory needed, with the passion that all of our lost loved ones needed, that all of Afghanistan needed.

I even considered joining the Army, changing jobs, or “re-tooling,” as it were. But could I, as an untrained soldier, make a difference where the difference needed to be made?

No.

Could I contribute as a naval officer to a conflict in a land-locked country?

No.

So I focused on the one other thing I really knew would help: education. That is, the development of the critical thinker in free Afghans so that they could choose for themselves their own paths, their own freedoms, rights and responsibilities unhampered by thoughts of death and persecution for trying to gain knowledge and insight.

I knew I could contribute in this way. I could fight to educate people for a better order in a nearly failed part of the world. This was my path.

And at the same time, I needed my own education. I needed perspective and knowledge of the world outside of my own high-speed, broadband-fed, free-medicare world. I needed a Master’s degree from the University of Hard Knocks; I needed to travel.

And so I developed this plan after months of meditation. To, simply put, quit my job, sell all my stuff, start a charity for women’s education in Afghanistan, and ride my motorcycle solo around the world to raise both money for the cause and awareness of the plight of Afghans.

Please follow my team and me as we build a charitable organization from the ground up; as we prepare a motorcycle, rider and gear for an unsupported ride of a lifetime; and as both the charity and the ride raise money and awareness for this cause.

Yours Aye,
Mitch D. Rivest
Director/Rider – Goal: Aid In Afghanistan