I had a one-on-one with him when I could no longer hold everything in.

I asked if he could lend me some of his time, and he graciously allowed me to talk my heart out.

What he said has stayed in my mind.

I remember him saying that around the third-year mark of building his previous company, he started questioning whether he was doing the right thing and whether it was worth it.

Looking ahead, there was still a mountain of work.

It was hard, but he held on and kept pushing through until eventually, he was able to let it go.

Yaw ran an agency before starting Malomo. Malomo was later acquired by Redo.

I don’t think he ever dreamed of joining a dog food manufacturing business, but I am glad he is here.

After talking with him, I said to myself:

I will still help build Kibbies while it is mine to build.
I will still show up, serve, and work hard while I still have the strength to do so.

Thank you, Yaw!

I honestly think he would do this even without getting paid. He has said many times that this is his dream job, and he is always thanking the Kibbies team for working hard and helping make that dream possible.

This office (picture) was once where he lived. It was his house and the place where he worked. Whenever I see him, sometimes I just want to shake his hand and say, “Hang on.”

From sunset till dawn, from the moment he opens his eyes until they close, he works.

Hell, he probably thinks about his mission until he falls asleep.

Dogs are some of the best companions humans can have. They don’t treat people differently because of their age, their wealth, their status, or where they come from. They don’t care what kind of car you drive or what you have accomplished.

They just love you.

And because of that, I think Matthew wants them to live longer. He wants them to stay healthy and happy, and stay with the people who love them for as long as possible.

That is why he founded Kibbies.

Yeah, the world keeps moving.
Yeah, life keeps changing.
Yeah, the work keeps getting harder.

But the mission is what keeps him going.

His mission is why his dad, Rob Anderson, still comes to Kibbies after retirement and helps.

His mission is what keeps Yaw, Kayla, Joseph, Amos and Daniel showing up every day at Kibbies, even when the work is hard.

His mission is what makes Kibbies different.

Mission!

I want a little spice. A little struggle. Something hard. A little burden to carry.

Maybe that’s just who I am.

I also said I want to be an ordinary and simple man. But another part of me wants to be known.

To leave a great legacy. To help a lot of people. Maybe… to get a little attention too.

Sometimes I wonder how both can be true.

Kibbies is my life. I can’t imagine living without it.

My bones. My heart. Everything in me would miss it.

If there was a roll call and someone called out, “Kibbies,” and Rob and Matthew weren’t there…I would raise my hand and say, “Here.”

The smell of the carp. The smell of the beef liver. The sound of the gas burners.

The people. The struggle. The story.

Maybe that’s why I love it so much.

But I also long for my wife to move to America.

To start building our family. To go to coffee shops together. To attend events together.

Because I want home to become my life. And I want Kibbies to become my work.

July 17, 2026

When winter comes, and the earth is covered in snow.

When spring rain falls, bringing life to the trees and flowers begin to bloom.

When summer arrives with its long days and warm nights.

When autumn leaves fall, and the wind carries them away to become nourishment for the earth.

When night falls, every street grows quiet and no one is there,

The beauty of this lamp beside my house has never changed for me.

Jul 11, 2026

Having a wife who lives far away from you is very hard!

When I first started at Kibbies, I had a lot of energy.

The first year was fun. I thought about the future, the possibilities, and the reward. I was also working with Rob, and his faith and hard work inspired me.

When we moved into our current facility, it was exciting. The work was hard, but I still had energy. I was still excited.

One of the hardest moments was when I had to lay off Amos. His room was right above mine. I would send him $100 every two weeks because I did not want him to choose another career. I needed him at Kibbies. I needed him in production. Later, he told me how hard that season was for him, and how much he appreciated the little money I gave him! That meant a lot to me!!!

The season when Rob pushed himself physically and mentally because of the roaster was hard too. I wish I was smart enough to help him more, but I still had energy. I showed up. I made food for customers. I made food for experiments.

Without Amos, it was so hard. Thankfully, my wife was there to support me through phone calls.

During the summer, the temperature in our facility would reach up to 103 degrees Fahrenheit. Even with air conditioning, Rob, Amos, and I would still make Kibbies and keep pushing ourselves.

It was hard!

By the end of the first year, I knew I was not the person who could scale our production department by myself.

The second year was hard too, but it was steady. We were growing.

Then the next half year became very hard.

We had to scale up. We bought equipment from China. I asked Matthew to stay at the factory many times, and I felt like I was slowly killing him by asking so much from him. That made me feel bad every day. I still feel bad about it. (I hope he read this :P)

That was the season when I burned out. I did not want to do anything other than Kibbies. I worked from 7am to 6 pm . Then I came home and slept for 10 hours. Maybe more.

I had no interest in music.

Nothing!

Then I went to Malaysia. I wrote a song called “Daisy,” and while writing it, something in me healed.

After I came back from Malaysia, Kayla Austin joined the Kibbies production department. She is confident, experienced, strong, and disciplined. After seeing her work, I could see the future again.

I wanted to build the Kibbies production department again. I wanted to help her lead us to the next level. I was full of energy again.

Then I met Yaw Aning, a seasoned business leader who will help my friend Matthew.

My energy went above Mount Everest!

The hardest thing I have ever faced is myself.
The part of me that talks me down.
The part of me that does not believe in me.
The part of me that always says negative things about me.

But I won this psychological battle.
And it feels so good.
I cannot fully describe how I feel.

Now, when I go to the Kibbies factory, I think about the future.
I think long term.

I talk to Amos, Joseph, Rob, and Kayla about new ideas, music, songs, lyrics, and Kibbies.

I know this battle will come again in the future. But I also know I will win it again.

Yes, building Kibbies.co is hard.
It is the physical fatigue, the stress, the heat, he fast pace, the pressure to keep moving and the responsibility of building something that matter!

Having a wife who lives far away from you is very hard too.
It is the emotional loneliness.
it is seeing happy couples everywhere and being reminded of what you miss.
It is the quiet pain you carry wherever you go.

But what would be harder is NOT DOING THIS!

Not building.
Not trying.
Not showing up.
Not becoming the person I am supposed to become.

I am so lucky to be here in America.
I am lucky to have this opportunity to help build Kibbies.
I am lucky to be married to my wife.
I am lucky to have people who love me.
I am lucky!

This is my energy at 2.7 years at Kibbies:
I feel good.
I will work harder.

I won the battle.

The garage door was open. Without warning, an Indian man walked inside.

He took a deep breath, sniffed the air, and asked, “What kind of fish are you making?”

I laughed.

“We make dog food,” I said. “We use carp.”

Before I even asked how I could help him, I was just giving him a tour! hahaha

I showed him how we make dog food. I told him the Kibbies story. I showed him the equipment, the new building, and the machines we had worked so hard to buy.

A few minutes later, several of his friends arrived. They were looking for warehouse space for their sign-making business.

So I opened the garage door and showed them around.

They saw Matthew’s bed and shower.

They saw the roaster that Rob designed and prayed over.

They saw the old hand-drill mixer that Amos used, took 12 hour a day to finish the whole process, for weeks back in July 2024.

They saw the meat grinder that once made my back hurt so bad and so frustrated that I sat down and cried until 9 pm!

Every machine had a story. Every corner of the building carried someone’s sacrifice.

As they prepared to leave, the man introduced himself as Parm Singh.

He asked, “How long do you plan to stay here?”

I replied, “We’ve invested a lot into this place, so we plan to stay here for a very long time. Unless we’re out of business.”

Parm immediately said, “Don’t be negative. Be positive.”

His voice was loud and confident.

It sounded less like advice from a stranger and more like a father telling his son, “Keep going. Don’t give up.”

I thought about him later that night while watching a documentary about Indian families who own gas stations across America.

Many operate in difficult neighborhoods or remote towns. Their families help behind the counter. Their cousins help. Their children help. Watch this

The work is hard.
The hours are long.
Yet they keep showing up.

The documentary reminded me of Chin and Burmese families.

For decades, many of my people have operated sushi stands and fruit-cut businesses inside super markets across the United States.

I know because I grew up in one.

Amos and I helped my dad every weekend.

No excuses.

Today, many Chin families own sushi businesses, fruit-cut operations, and chicken farms. Some have spent years working seven days a week so their children could have opportunities they never had.

All this work may seem low prestige.

But I believe it has high value.

It feeds families.
It pays mortgages.
It sends kids to college.
It gives immigrants a chance to build something of their own.

I am proud of those who reached the finish line.
I am proud of those who are still running the race.
I am proud of the people working under the summer heat.
I am proud of the people standing in cold rooms cutting fruit.
I am proud of the families working 10-hour days, 7 days a week.
I am proud of the farmers who smell chicken manure every day but keep showing up because they believe their children will have a better future.
I am proud of the sons and daughters who help their parents, even when they don’t feel like it, because they know it matters.

And last but not least...

Mah My Kibbies, urghh Kibbies.

I am proud of Matthew, who founded you.
I am proud of Max, Conner, Rob, and all the investors who believed in you when you were just an idea.
I am proud of everyone who helped build you one day at a time.

I am proud of the people making dog food.
The people cleaning equipment.
The people packing bags.

The people solving problems.
The people showing up early and staying late.
The people carrying the dream forward one day at a time.

I am proud of all of you.

Parm, thank you for the reminder!
I will not be negative.
And I will never give up!

I helped my dad make sushi for many years. During college, I made sushi seven days a week while going to school full time.

One day, a friend looked at me and said, “This skill might feed you someday.”

I laughed but deep down, I thought, “No way. I won’t be doing anything related to food.”

I wanted to do something different. Probably business or product management. Maybe something far away from kitchens, knives, and food production.

Turns out he was right.

Not only did food feed me, it helped build my career and change my family live.

Today, I am making dog food everyday!

Over the last 2.5 years at Kibbies, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned my strengths and my weaknesses.

I’m stronger than I ever thought I was. I can work harder than I ever imagined. Give Amos and me a clear goal, and we’ll find a way to get there, no matter how difficult the journey is. We’ll work ten hour days without complain. We will use all the tools we have to save money. We’ll even work weekends if needed.

Working hard has never been our problem.

Working better is harder.

We don’t always have the experience, the discipline, or the patience to slow down and improve our little system. Looking back, many of the things we’ve accomplished in production could have been more efficient, more ergonomic, and easier.

On top of that, I haven’t always been good at advocating for myself or for my team. Most of the time, I wait for permission instead of taking ownership. That slows down both the people around me and the business itself.

That's why the production team and I are excited about an experienced leader joining us! Someone who can teach us, challenge us, and help us reach the next level. It won't be easy, but we'll support that leader and work together to build the best production facility in the world.

My goal for Kibbies this year is $1 million ARR.
Matthew’s goal is $1.2 million ARR.

Come along and see who wins. Hehehe

Along the way, I’ve also discovered how much I love telling stories. Writing feels like a door into my heart, my mind, and my soul.

Yes, making food fed me. Writing stories feed me too.

Do I want to make food all day? Hell no.
But am I good at it? Hell yes.

I will go to bed now, I am tired, good night!

This episode was inspired by Jeb Banner’s newsletter, “Irregular #20.”
If you enjoy thoughtful stories and reflections, you can subscribe to his newsletter here: Irregular Newsletter Sign up

One time, Sunny ran out of food. Mom texted our family group chat and urgently said, “Sunny is out of food. He is meowing a lot, and I feel bad. Can anyone who’s out buy food for him?” No one replied to the text, but Dad bought dry cat food from Kroger, I stopped by Walmart on my way home from work and bought dry cat food too, and Amos, who was traveling, bought toppings for Sunny from Amazon.

Sunny only loves Amos and sometimes likes Mom. No one else can hold or cuddle him for more than one minute. He only sees us as his chefs.

I started helping make Kibbies over two years ago during the initial trial production and pilot feeding program, where we monitored the first dogs eating Kibbies for six months. As of January 2026, our customer base had grown to 103 subscribers. By the end of April 2026, it grew to 199 monthly subscribers. Assuming each customer has 1.1 dogs, that means around 219 individual dogs are eating Kibbies every month.

By the end of this year, we plan to grow to 560 monthly subscribers.

Matthew has worked very hard over the past few years to learn which growth channels are worth pursuing, and I think we’ve found a strong one that can help us reach the number of customers we want. As far as I remember, some of the first growth channel experiments included working with dog adoption facilities, attending dog and pet-related events to give out Kibbies samples, and collaborating with nano and micro influencers. But now, the channel that is really working for us is social media advertising. It is performing very well, with Matthew and his team working incredibly hard on it.

Part of growing Kibbies is making the product, but that’s only a small part of the journey. The harder part is building the team, managing the team, and focusing on growth and sales. And the hardest part is raising funding. That’s what Matthew is doing.

Years ago, I wanted to become the CEO of a hot startup. But now, I just want to work with people who are smarter than me, learn from them, and help them while reaching the summit of my own transformation.

Whenever I think about slacking off, being lazy, or not trying to improve margins, I remind myself of the story about Sunny running out of food. It gives me empathy for our customers.

There are many brands out there, yet they chose us.

So everyday, the production team walks into Kibbies HQ to make sure the food is fresh, clean, and safe. Sometimes I babysit each batch just to make sure it reaches the quality we want and the quality our customers deserve.

I was young, so I don’t remember much but a few things stayed with me.

- The refugee school, where I made friends, learned and play guitar.
- The church, where I watched musicians play and hoping they will invited me to play with them.
- Every Saturday, following my mom to buy flowers because she served as the florist for Sunday church. This was hard.

After 16 years, I had the chance to go back.

The International Chin Christian Alliance was hosting a conference, and they invited one of my best friends, James Tluang, as a speaker. He is a mental health counselor in Indianapolis.

I decided to go with him.

To be honest, I was always afraid to go back.
I didn’t want to see my people struggling.

I had heard many stories, but seeing it with my own eyes… feeling it… I was afraid.

But this time, I knew I had to go.
Something was calling me!

During the conference, they asked me to sing.

Before I sang, I shared a message, hoping it would encourage the audience:
“Asking is a skill.”

I told a story about when my younger brother Amos and I were cleaning at Lessonly. That’s when we met Max.

I was shy. Nervous. Almost crying when I asked him to be my mentor.

He didn’t turn me down.
He was gracious.
He helped me, loved me, and guided me.

And today, I am part of a team building Kibbies.co!

Everywhere I went in Kuala Lumpur, I saw Burmese people working.

Young and old.
10 hours a day.
6 days a week.
Extreme heat.
Constant pressure under their bosses.

Some families would say,
“We are lucky. We have a kind boss.”

That sentence stayed with me.

They don’t have a home to go back to because their villages were burned by the Burmese military. Their livestock was taken or killed. And many don’t have a path to migrate to the U.S.

They are stuck and always afraid of operasi, similar to ICE.

But one thing hasn’t changed.

Faith!

Church is still where they find peace.
Where they find meaning.
Where they encourage one another.
Where they pray for each other.

I had a chance to attend a service where I helped my mom carry flowers again.

I got emotional. I cried secretly during one of the songs.

It was about how everything we have comes from God.
No matter big or small.
Whether we are smart or not.
Everything we see… is because of Him.

James and I also visited the refugee school we used to attend.

After 16 years, they are still using the same tables we used to eat lunch.

The principal told us, “You are one of the first alumni to ever come back.”

That moment hit me.

The principal shared their struggles.

So James and I decided to help. We are raising funds for 4–5 students who cannot afford their monthly tuition.

The school is small, around 140 students. They split classes into two shifts: morning and afternoon.

Before we left Malaysia, I asked the youth chairman at Falam Christian Community if we could spend time with their youth.

We just wanted to learn from them.
Hang out with them.
And maybe share our story, hoping it would encourage them.

They welcomed us.

I shared “Asking is a skill” again.
James spoke about youth and mental health.

I was overwhelmed by everything I saw.

I wanted to do more.
A lot more!!!

But right now, the only thing I could do was write an encouragement song for them.

And somehow, while writing it, it started healing me too.

Maybe I couldn’t change their situation, but this trip humbled me and drew me closer to God.

Song: Daisy

Verse 1
Daisy,
When the night is long and dark
And you hide your silent tears
There are no words for all you’ve been through
But you never give up

Verse 2
Daisy,
The world you carry is heavy and hard
Your heart is tired and worn
No words can describe all you’ve been through
But you never give up

Chorus
God is your strength and your shield, don’t be afraid
He is your refuge, your safe place

You are stronger than you think
Because God is in you
You are a blessing wherever you go
Daisy

Verse 3
Daisy,
When life gets hard and you feel alone
And when you whisper your prayers to God
He hears you
The sun will rise again for you!

Matthew is the founder and CEO of Kibbies. The more time I spend with him, the deeper my respect grows. He has a big heart. He is humble. He is very smart. He is truly loving.

Recently, he and I had dinner at Tinker Street. It was my second time there.

The first time was with Max. I had come straight from making dog food at Rob and Tana Anderson’s garage in Carmel, dirty and smelling bad.

I remember being shocked when the waitress came to pour our wine. When they asked what we were celebrating, Max said, “A dog food startup or something like that…” They congratulated us, and that night I had a great steak with great wine.

This time, with Matthew, I wore clean clothes. That night, steak wasn’t available. I ordered pork instead. It was so good that I started eating fast, like someone might take my plate away.

Matthew looked at me and said, “Slow down.”

He reminded me that it is a privilege to eat like this, here and now.

On our way out of the restaurant, I was rushing again.

Matthew reminded me to slow down again.

I always rush. I have been rushing my whole life. I move fast at Kibbies, but this time, I feel like it needs me to slow down. Most of what I have accomplished so far has come from luck, or from having someone beside me who slowed down and thought things through.

Matthew always slows down.

He has this way of tilting his head and smiling slowly when he speaks. There is a kind of peace in him. I feel like even strangers feel safe around him.

Most mornings, I walk into our Kibbies factory tired and tense. Matthew is tired too. He works almost all the time. But somehow, he still slows down. And with a simple, wide smile, he shows me how to do the same.

When he does that, something in me settles. My tiredness doesn’t disappear completely, but it softens.

I am learning from him.

Lately, I remind myself to slow down.
To smile before I speak.
To slow down and think.

Slow down.

A beautiful flower right in front of my apartment-entrance is starting to bloom.

Soon, Max and his family will be sitting on their front porch again, rolling down their white sunshade as the warm evenings return.

My brother Amos is excited for summer too. He said, “Now I can play volleyball again and lose some of my belly fat.”

My little brother Michael is getting taller, thinner, and more handsome every time I see him.

My little sister Blessing is excited about summer because I told her I would sponsor her piano school. Every time she sees me at church, that’s the first thing she reminds me about.

My mom, Nuam, is planning to visit her mother and family in Mizoram, India this summer. She’s working hard, praying, and saving money.

My dad, Sairas, is planning to sell his sushi kiosk this summer after working there for more than 12 years, seven days a week. He feels many emotions right now. Excited, but also worried about what comes next, and praying.

My wife, Hlawn, is excited because she and her friends are planning a trip to Malta this summer. She’s working hard to earn the money for it. Tired, but excited.

As for me, I’m working 10 to 12 hours a day at Kibbies, giving everything I still can so that it can become successful. Very tired, but still excited.

Rob Anderson still comes to Kibbies to help his son Matthew and his friend Daniel, bringing his experience and wisdom with him.

A beautiful flower right in front of my apartment-entrance is starting to bloom.

Time flies very fast!

March 13, 2026

One day, I listened to Scott Abbott interview Max Yoder. During the conversation, Scott mentioned that Max came to his house and took his shoes off. I could hear the surprise in Scott’s voice. He did not expect it, but he sounded genuinely touched.

“I don’t like to walk in anyone’s home with shoes on,” Max said.

That small moment took me back to where I grew up.

In Falam City, we always took our shoes off before entering someone’s home. We walked on dusty mud streets all day, often wearing sandals. Our feet were dirty. Bringing that inside someone else’s house was unthinkable.

When my dad went to Malaysia to work, he brought us a TV. Our apartment floor was wood. I remember brushing the floor, mopping it with a worn cloth, and cooking rice on charcoal.

My friends liked coming over, mostly because they wanted to watch Power Rangers on our TV, even though we had already seen every episode. Before they came in, I asked them to clean their feet.

Before we had a TV, we went to other people’s houses to watch. In Falam City, kids were always second. Elders came first. If the house was full, the door was closed, and we stayed outside, trying to peek in.

If we were lucky enough to be let inside, we had to clean our feet first. Water was not easy. Before pipes, we carried water and stored it in a large steel bucket that had to last days. Looking back now, using someone else’s hard earned water just to clean my feet was not a small thing. I understand that now.

In the place I grew up, taking care of a home meant being careful and strict.

Max showed me how care can also look like quiet humility.

Max took his shoes off many times for me and this is one story I want to tell today.

On Friday, March 16, 2018, from 6 pm to 8 pm, I hosted a small entrepreneurship conference at the Chin Center on Madison Avenue. I invited Max to speak to Burmese people about business. About twelve people showed up, mostly friends I had begged to come.

Max still came.

Even though he was the CEO of Lessonly, he brought a 12 pack of beer. He talked with people one by one. We had real conversations about business and life.

Afterward, everyone told me the same thing. How humble he was. How unbelievable it felt that someone like him would give his time to people like us.

Only recently, after listening to the podcast and thinking back, I keep returning to this phrase:

I once told this story to my Church senior Pastor. He said, “Wow, you really loved Max.”

He was right!!

During my senior year, the ENL program offered a scholarship funded by the Washington Township School Foundation. I did not expect anything, but I received a $1,000 scholarship. When I asked why I was chosen, they told me it was because of my essay. I wrote about where I came from, my experiences, and my hope to help others once I became successful in America. The essay was reviewed and helped by a tutor. I still remember the tutor’s face, warmth, and kindness.

Today, while chopping vegetables for Kibbies, I caught myself daydreaming about displaced people from the place where I grew up.

Young women leaving home to become maids overseas, often facing exploitation and abuse. Children who should be in school but have nowhere to go. People my age are forced to choose between joining rebel armies (the good guys, in our case) or running away to another country or city in search of opportunity, always afraid.

Everyone is just trying to survive each day.
It is hard.
It is messy.
And it will not get better anytime soon.

Then my alarm rang. The oven was ready. I took the Kibbies out and continued my work.

I realized that right now, the only way I can help is by working very hard at Kibbies. This is the work in front of me. I hope one day I can return to these dreams.

Jan 13, 2026

Album link

It’s about Kibbies and my responsibilities.
It’s about the story I live between my work and my involvement at our church.

It’s about a table where friends and I share future plans, struggles, hopes, and worries.

It’s about listening to my wife over the phone while I work and she rides the train or bus, telling me about her day.

It’s about a group chat with my brothers and cousins, full of jokes, memes, and laughter.

It’s about those once-in-a-while, heartfelt talks with old friends and new friends, where care and encouragement are exchanged.

It’s about becoming vulnerable with my mentor, speaking with my whole heart, and learning how to live better by watching how they live.

It’s about making music, pouring out what weighs me down and turning it into something positive.

It’s about walking 10,000 steps a day and carrying the feeling that this is enough.

My world is very small.
What I can do is very small.

But because of all these small things, my life has meaning!

The moment we walked in, Amos asked,
“Do you remember the books we listened to when we worked sushi together?”

We started naming them one by one - David and Goliath, Blink, Talking to Strangers, Sapiens, Greenlight! We shared what we remembered, what stuck with us, what we forgot. Then we split up. I went back to the band saw, he went back to grinding meat

How We Process Kibbies Meat

We usually prep meat in five steps:

1. Chicken leg quarters
   Fresh chicken leg quarters go through the grinder with 4mm holes to break down bones and make clean pieces.

2. Carp
   Fresh Asian carp are huge - some are 22 inches long, 9 inches wide, 5 inches thick. Anyway, we cut them with the band saw, grind them once through 6mm holes (“first pass”), then again through 4mm holes to eliminate tiny bones.

3. Beef Liver
   On the second day, fresh liver arrives. We cut it with the saw, then grind it through 4mm holes.

4. Bagging Day
   On day 3, we fill bags carefully. A 15-qt bucket on a scale. A 50-lbs ice bag in it. Count pounds slowly, one bag at a time.

5. Cleaning
   On the fourth afternoon, everything gets cleaned: sanitized all surfaces, mopped all floors and deep cleaned the kitchen.

From January 2024 to November 2025, this has been our system. There were months where we outsourced it, but prices went up! So, in order to control the price and quality of the meat, we brought everything in-house again.

Scaling this part of Kibbies is hard. But we’re planning something better now, and honestly… it’s exciting.

The Conversation

While I was sawing meat and Amos was grinding, I asked him:
“If Kibbies couldn’t employ you one day, what skills do you think you’ve learned here?”

He thought for a second and said,
“I don’t know. Making products every day doesn’t really feel like teaching me skills.”
Then he went back to grinding.

I realized the question felt depressing, so I asked it differently:
“Cung… if Kibbies becomes very successful, where do you want to see yourself?”

He said,
“I don’t really care… as long as I make $70,000 salary.”

We both laughed so hard.
I said, “That’s a lot of money!”
He said, “I know!”

Then I asked him:
“Okay, if you were the CEO of Kibbies and the company is doing great… who would you pay $70,000 in the production department?”

This time he paused. Stopped grinding. Looked up at the ceiling and said seriously:
“Someone who looks over the whole food production and the building. Like a general manager.”

He never asked me, but I told him anyway:
“I want to be like Rob - the guy who is experienced, detail-oriented, five steps ahead, fast, smart, a planner, a hard worker.”

Amos is five years younger than me, and we’ve already worked together in three places:
- Cleaning (hard labor)
- Sushi (hard labor)
- Kibbies (hard labor)

But this time, it feels different. We’re not just working with our hands anymore. We’re learning how to think, plan, build and improve.

We’re developing our little brains.

Santi’s home is beautiful. It sits right by the White River.
It was October, a little chilly, but to honor the view, we sat in the backyard. We spent our time watching leaves fall, listened to birds chirping, and enjoying small talks, his amazing life journey, business ideas, and of course, the food.

Between Kibbies and Santi’s house is my dad’s sushi kiosk inside the Kroger on 65th & Keystone. I thought, just in case Santi didn’t like Burmese food, I should stopped by my dad’s store to make sushi for him and I did.

On top of the fifteen pieces of sushi I made, my dad handed me a calamari salad and a seabreeze salad. So I asked him, “Dad… these are for customers. Why are you giving me so much?”

He said, “This is my investment in you.”
In other words, this is the only way I can help you!

Kibbies is hard to make. To get to where we are now, Rob and Matthew had to come up with creative ways to turn wet dough into dry Kibbies pellets. We believed that if we could ramp up Kibbies production, we could serve more people and make a difference in the market.

How We Make Kibbies:

Every morning, I walk into the kitchen and chop produce for our pre-batches. Then I mix the meat (chubs) and the grain blend in our 60 lbs mixer. When the dough is ready, I bake it in a modified oven for 45 minutes. Rob turned a lamp roaster into that oven! When the baked Kibbies come out, I cut the cake so I can dump it into the pasta extruder. Matthew came up with using the extruder to form the small pellets. After that, I take the extruded Kibbies into our roaster, which can handle 60 lbs at a time - another machine Rob modified.

But to scale up, we needed to roast much more at once. The 60 lbs roaster wasn’t enough. While Matthew was raising funds, Rob worked on building a big roaster that could roast 240 lbs. I helped him however I could.

We used the same idea as the small roaster: gas burners in the front and back, and a big drum rolling on top. Since the small one worked, simply put, we thought the bigger one would too.

After weeks of testing, it failed. The big roaster lost 50% of the product every time. It was crushing. Rob worked every day trying to fix and learn from it. I was making extra products for testing and for customers, and cleaning the machine was brutal. My back hurt, my arms were covered in burn marks, and my left knee had a second degree burn. I was burned out.

Rob was stressed and frustrated. He carried the weight of the roaster and kept saying, “This has to work or we can be out of business.” Both of us felt stuck. While Rob and I were struggling in the kitchen, Matthew was battling his own pressure trying to raise funds.

Before Rob arrived each morning, I would cry from physical and mental pain while mixing dough or extruding Kibbies. I didn’t want him to see me cry!

Eventually, the roaster just didn’t work. After weeks of trying, Rob broke. One day he walked out to the backyard, crying. He called his wife Tana, and asked her to pray for him. Then he called one of his best friends and asked him to pray too. He surrendered. He was defeated.

When the crying and praying were over, he came back inside, patted my shoulder, and said, “Daniel, we will be alright. I pray every day for Kibbies.”

A few days later, he came up with the idea we are still using today and this machine can roast 240 lbs of product at a time.

Now we’re scaling up again, and to do that we need to air-dry far more product at once. I’ve grown stronger. I’ve gotten better at helping Rob and Matthew.

And this time I think I’m ready!

In May of 2022, on an undisclosed U.S. military installation, I was part of a small ten man element training on infantry tactics for jungle warfare.

It had been three days since we’d had a full night’s sleep. We were constantly on the move with 60 pound rucksacks on our backs and weapons in hand, practicing patrols, attacks, and ambushes. The only downtime we got was when we stopped briefly between missions to plan the next one. Even then, we were still pulling security in prone positions, and only one of us out of ten could sleep at a time. On average, we were getting about two hours of sleep per day.

On the third night of the training operation, I had just finished leading the squad on what I’d call a successful ambush mission. As a reward, I was assigned to serve as a security guard for our patrol base while the next leadership team planned the upcoming mission. The time was just past midnight.

I lay there silently with my weapon aimed at my assigned sector, dozing off here and there, desperately trying to stay awake. My buddy next to me encouraged me to keep my eyes open, and with his company, I did. We whispered back and forth, trying to distract ourselves from the exhaustion. Time blurred, and before we knew it, our conversation had grown loud enough to attract unwanted attention.

“Ranger, you are dead.”

A flat, firm voice came from behind me. Just four words, but for me, it felt like an explosion went off in my ears. I jolted out of my trance and turned to see who had spoken. I wish it had been a ghost, a monster, anything but what I saw. It was the cadre. It was a death sentence for me, at least for the exercise.

He asked who I was talking to. In my shock, I turned toward my “buddy,” almost as if my brain needed to confirm who he was. But he wasn’t saying anything, and then I realized why. He couldn’t. He didn’t have a face. He wasn’t a “he” at all. He was a stump. I had been talking to a tree stump for the past hour in my sleep-deprived state.

Looking back now, I still don’t know if I was talking to a ghost or a stump. I don’t know if ghosts are real, but monsters, for certain, are. The stump may or may not have been a ghost, but it was no monster. If anything, it was a friend who helped keep me awake. The real monster was the cadre who ended our friendship and gave me a “No Go” (fail) for the exercise.

Here’s how my “research” went.

First Company – Conagra Foods

I joined Conagra Foods as a production worker. I didn’t see anyone my age there! Everyone there was an adult. We had to wear long pants, boots, a hairnet, earplugs, and a white lab coat.

They assigned me to two tasks. The first was mixing a huge batch of peanut butter in a massive mixer but it didn’t have a mixing paddle. Instead, two people were stationed there to manually stir it with long wooden paddles. I was paired with a tall Hispanic man who didn’t speak English, but he was sharp and hardworking. We developed a rhythm and worked well together.

The mixer bowl was enormous and tall, so we had to stand on stools just to reach inside and stir. We moved the paddles side to side in a steadily, almost like rowing a boat, to make sure the peanut butter was mixed evenly. By the end, my arms would be sore from holding the paddles.

When we finished, the mixer bowl, which was attached to a stand, could tilt forward like a giant bucket. We had to pull a lever and slowly tip the whole thing to pour the peanut butter out into another container (I don’t remember exactly what it was). It was heavy, and if we weren’t careful, it could spill everywhere.

I also remember one time I had to push a very heavy bowl - over 50 lbs for sure, based on my Kibbies production experience - on wheels, full of peanut butter, up a slight slope toward the mixer. Because of the floor drains, the ground wasn’t level, and I just couldn’t push it. I was SHY to ask for help, but a Hispanic gentleman from another department noticed and said to my manager, “Why did you let him do this? He can’t push it, help him!” The manager just replied, “It ain’t my job,” and sat down on a step stool. The Hispanic gentleman came over and pushed the bowl for me, and I thanked him. I still remember his face and his eyes!

After the first task is done, they tell me to help a Hispanic lady sprinkle small pieces of chocolate onto white cakes on a conveyor belt. At first, we each used one hand, but when one of us went on break, the other had to use both hands to keep up.

By the end of the day, my clothes were covered in white flour because I was constantly leaning on things. Standing all day was tough for me.

Break Room Life

The lunchroom was tiny. It was clearly designed just to heat food, eat fast, and get back to work. There were only a few microwaves, and almost everyone from my department brought food that needed heating. When the break time came, everyone rushed to the microwaves to get in line first because every second counted!

Looking Back

I’ve still wondered why such a big company didn’t invest in automating the peanut butter mixing or chocolate sprinkling. They definitely had the money. Maybe they were testing a new product or proving a concept. I’ll never know!

I didn’t last long at Conagra, but I learned a lot about work. My perspective on my parents, the Chin people, and Hispanic people changed!

But that manager who just sat there… yeah, it’s hard to forgot that!

My grandpa loved hosting big celebrations. He would invite all the villagers and pastors to pray and feast together. He had been the village head for a long time, and people respected him deeply. As far back as I can remember, he always wore a longyi (a skirt like garment worn by Burmese men) tied around his waist and a white tank top. He owned a small radio that my aunt, a school teacher, had bought for him. Because his hearing wasn’t good anymore, he would hold the radio close to his ear to listen to the news. He also loved reading books, articles, and newspapers.

As a child, I admired my grandpa because he was so good with words. When he spoke, he sounded wise.

This particular occasion was a grand celebration, just like the ones he loved to host. I can still vividly remember all the villagers gathered at his house. Dinner was served first in the large dirt filled front yard. There were no chairs or tables. Everyone squatted on the ground, holding their plates in one hand or placing them on the floor. Only the pastors and other leaders were given chairs and tables.

After dinner, everyone went inside the house. It was packed. The service began, and eventually, the moment came for my grandpa to pray for us. San, Sui, Amos, Nini, and I knelt at the front, right beneath him. While everyone closed their eyes, I kept mine open, watching him closely and listening to his words with awe.

He raised both of his hands toward the roof, palms open, as if to catch the blessings pouring down from heaven. When he finished praying and said “Amen,” he turned his palms toward the four of us, as if passing all the power and blessings down to us. It was such a powerful, unforgettable moment. Maybe I got my dramatic side from him!

My grandpa passed away a few years later, but I still feel that I’m living under the fruit of his blessings.

Growing up, my mom always taught us how to pray. Sometimes, I still use those prayers, but they can feel formulaic or almost fake. Some of my friends know how to pray by heart and out loud, but I don’t always believe they are truly close to God. For me, real prayer comes in moments of surrender, when I can no longer follow a certain formula and my heart simply opens.

My prayer topics have changed over the years. When I was younger, I prayed for things like buying a car, long life for my parents, or finishing college. But as I’ve grown older, my prayers have shifted. Now, I pray for strength to keep working and grinding, for a heart filled with empathy and love for others, and for wisdom because without it, I am nothing.