There are times when my love of bicycles and bicycling clashes with my view of the world. Case in point is the knowledge I have of the struggle for life waged by the people of the Congo. Approximately 37 million people in this wage-ravaged country are malnourished. Multiple international, non-governmental agencies are at work there to bring basic food supplies to far-flung villages.

Among these agencies is Bread for the World. This agency brings bags of grain to villages that are cut off by roads that are impassable by truck for much of the year. But not by bicycle. Bread for the World and others hire men with bicycles to transport the grain.

One of these men is Tutu Moke. Tutu's village was destroyed in fighting between government and insurgent forces, neither of which had the best interests of the citizens of the Congo at heart. Tutu escaped to the bush with his bicycle. Quite a bicycle it is. Big and heavy with one speed and a rack over the rear wheel. Its paint is faded and chipped, fenders dented. It's a workhorse that doesn't seem to mind being burdened.

Tutu pumps up his bicycle's tires before setting off on a three-day trip with 200 pounds of dried peas secured to the rack. He then demonstrates his answer to his bike's one gear. He stands behind the bike and pushes it: first gear. Tutu then stands beside the bike and pulls it: second gear. He then climbs on it and pedals to show what third gear looks like. His only complaint is directed at his tires, which he calls "cheap Chinese."

He doesn't have water bottle cages; he asks for water from people he encounters along the way. He carries food in a dirty sack that he ties to his handlebars. He sleeps where nightfall finds him. When he lies down to sleep, Tutu does so in a plain pair of shorts, colorful shirt and flip-flop sandals. He and his fellow "truckers" get up the next morning and ride another day with a load that I can't imagine carrying on a bicycle over the roads that he and the others like him encounter.

What Tutu Moke endures on his bicycle is at the polar opposite of my bicycling experience. Even in the early days of my bicycling when I pushed the limits a little, I experienced nothing like it. I may experience some self-induced physical challenges on rides, but I don't have to. My challenges are meant to improve my riding ability or to satisfy some internal need. My riding is nothing compared to Tutu's.

At the end of Tutu's three-day ride through the bush and over roads that make Beach Drive look like the autobahn, he returns to the distribution point where he started. Once there, he hopes for another trip over the same kind of road with a similar load. Tutu Moke is truly the Lance Armstrong of the Congo.

With Tutu in mind, I temper my complaints about conditions in which I ride. Beach Dr. is pretty good compared to the dirt and mud on which Tutu rides. My bicycle's value and the combined value of all five bicycles that I own represents many years income of Tutu and the people he serves. My government, despite its many faults, isn't likely to burn my home and intentionally destroy my future and that of my country. Tutu doesn't bed down for the night beside his bicycle with the same confidence. But even with his experience of the cruelty of life's realities in his country, Tutu rides his bicycle with a smile and hope.

Although I'm not likely to stop riding my current bicycle nor am I likely to stop wearing what I wear, I will ride with the image of Tutu on his two-wheeled "truck" loaded with 200 pounds of dried peas while doing so. I'll also support Tutu and his countrymen by donating to Bread for the World (www.bread.org). Maybe you will do the same.

Whatever kind of bicycle you ride, or what kind of load you carry, do it safely.

David Kannas may be reached via wseditor@robinsonnews.com