Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It is not rude. Love is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
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I rolled up to the unfamiliar apartment complex with a Tahoe full of boxes to meet my friend Pabitra, organizer for the Bhutanese refugee community in Atlanta. I was running late and she had a wedding reception to attend in an apartment complex across town, so we decided to just meet there. I jumped out of the car and we quickly started transfering boxes to her vehicle. I didn't want to interupt the reception and I didn't intend to stay, but... "Come in," she coaxed.
"Like this?" I asked looking down at my jeans.
"It's okay, it's okay," she fluttered. So I followed her up the steps and through the door flanked with faux flowers in clear vases and into the small space to find a beautiful young bride surrounded by her family and friends. Instantly swept up in their joy, I watched the bride and her groom (a young man she met for the first time that day as their marriage had been arranged) seated in plastic chairs receive blessings in the form of tika painted on their foreheads and rose petals placed on top of their heads. The image below shows the father and mother of the bride saying goodbye to their daughter, as she will leave them to live with her new husband and his family (a Bhutanese custom). Just minutes after this image was made, the bride and groom hopped up on the backs of two attendees and left through the front door to begin their new life together.
I spent the day with Lauren, Paige and their son Jessie today in the tiny town of Tate, Georgia, the next family to be featured in my "One Family at Home" series. I didn't shoot today (with the exception of this little glimpse of Lauren's desk out back in the Airstream trailer that is her office) but we connected in a really deep way. I needed this time to ask questions and just listen. To learn and explore without the weight of my lens. I cherish this level of openness. It's such a gift. I'm looking forward to sharing their lives with you.
]]>Picture Hope: Kwizera Alfred, Musician from LittlePurpleCow Productions on Vimeo.
Five minute video interview.
Alfred came in and out of Alex and Goreth's home during our stay in Rwanda, sharing tea and stories with us. And when he spoke in a soft voice about his dream of sharing his music with the world, I could feel his unwavering faith in that dream. A faith that has been tested by the loss of his parents, lack of finances, and a commitment to help provide food, shelter, and school tuition for his brothers and sisters. "So how do you hold on to hope?" I wondered aloud during one of his stories.
"You have to trust. I trust everyone, and believe that God is there for me – even when I have no one and nothing," he replied. And then he placed his trust in me, and insisted that I accept his bible as a gift just before we left Rwanda. Packing that bible was difficult for me. I don't deserve it. And as the months have passed, seeing that bible beside my bed has been a gentle reminder of Alfred's presence. A visible sign of his faith. There's not much that I can do for him, but share his light with you. And hope you'll share it too.
I've got this drive. A drive to make sense of things... to move ideas into action... to solve problems... to make things better. I'm driven to act, in spite of anticipated challenges, when I'm clear on what I want or what I need. This is good, mostly, but not so good when my drive is not enough. I'm learning that big dreams, the ones that make my heart flutter, require the exact opposite of me – the one thing that is most difficult for me. They require me to just have faith and let them go.
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If I could give my children just three things, I'd give them self-confidence, humility and love.
What would you choose?
Frank and Betty's daughter Patience outside her home in Rwanda.
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It takes time to find yourself. To peel back the layers you've accumulated – the ones that seem to mask the core of who you were way back when... Life was simple. To recognize that somehow you got lost in the routine of tasks. Buried beneath a myriad of safe decisions that veered you far off the course of intuition. A risky path. But that path never fades. It waits.
Jen Lemen in Rwanda
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Praise, manager of local non-profit organization BEST (Business and Entrepreneurship Support Tanzania) and her team introduced us to several of their clients during our visit with them in Arusha. She explained to us that the poorest of the poor are eager to cultivate the land if they are supported with farm inputs, seed capital and farm acquisition.
This is Agness, a wife and young mother. She welcomed us into her modest home in Magadini Village to show us her baby and share her life with us. Thanks to BEST's seed capital and business services' support, Agness is able to support her family with the money she earns cultivating her rice paddy. Quietly, she moved with ease out to the center of the muddy field for me to make her portrait. Patient and proud. This woman's strength humbles me.
Update 01/28/10:
I just received an email from Praise at BEST. She writes, "Agness has just harvested her rice. She harvested 14 bags and all are stored in her single room. By next week I will send you her amazing pictures. Others are doing fine too with a lot of demand and expectations from BEST. They want to copy from Agness." If you want to offer support for people like Agness in Arusha, let me know and I'll connect you with my friends at BEST.
After our friend Innocent had his hair trimmed and buzzed in a big chair by the hip barber of what appeared to be an all-men's shop in Kigali, Rwanda, we followed him into the back room where several ladies manned their washing stations. No running water. No temperature adjustments. She simply lathered up his hair and face and poured small buckets of water over his head.
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The lost art of handwriting is practiced (in English) with precision at Shepherd's Junior School in Arusha, Tanzania. These stacks of notebooks are used again and again, year after year. Repurposed. Paper, pencils, crayons, and chalk are valuable assets for these children. I think about how quick I was to toss a piece a paper because of a bent endge, or a pencil because I might not like the color of it. I value them differently now.
Update 01/24/09:
You might enjoy this NYTimes story by Nicholas Kristof about a family in Atlanta inspired to press the reset button on their lives and live on half of what they had. Looking forward to hearing Kevin Salwen and his daughter Hannah's story at the TEDxAtlanta event this week.
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