A feature documentary?

Hi folks. Follow this link, or click on the one in the right column, to learn more about this project becoming a feature documentary:

http://ethiopia.15four.com

Danut's Testimony

Greetings to those of you who are just signing in. Some of you remember me talking about a woman we met, named Danut, whose life was literally saved by the HIV/AIDS Care and Treatment Program in Addis. Below is her story, in her words.

home, better for the wear

Someone in church yesterday lovingly encouraged me to let everyone know that we are safely home, and add something of an epilogue here, or let folks in on the processing I'm doing. If I get much feedback, I'm happy to keep writing as the project comes together.

The trip was awesome on five different levels (don't worry, that's a figurative number, I won't try to write about all five or ten levels of awesomeness). You've read some of my response to being there, meeting the incredible people and dealing with the theological reality of it all. I haven't talked a lot about the project, finding the story, getting the shots. One of the things which made the trip so energizing was the pressure of having to get up every morning, prep our gear, get out there, and find the shots. It was great discipline to have to spend that much time with a camera in my hand, behind the lense. Usually back here I have the luxury of relying on folks who are very much better at that than I am. Dan was along to get closeups, and tasty flavor shots, and he is a better camera man. But I had to try and figure out a way to establish where we were, and tell our story with images, direct the process and do the interviews. Thinking this through each day, writing in my little log book, and then trying to do it better the next day was as fun as it was intense. Figuring out how to do it in Africa with limited gear and the need to be a little discreet intensified the challenge. Time will tell if we succeeded. But I learned, once again, that I love a challenge, and this project challenged me in every way possible.

It was not a comfortable excursion. We were in some remote places, dealing with various physical challenges. We were on our feet all day, and then had to listen to the local discotheque every night, smell whatever acrid smoke came through our tiny window, then listen to the orthodox church start chanting at 4 a.m., and the Muslim call to prayer at 6 a.m. We walked through crap (open sewers in many places), stepped over discarded animal parts (what can you cook from a goat's head?), showered off fleas and went through hand sanitizer like water. Our clothes each day smelled of the places we'd been. We ate porridge every morning and three starches for dinner.

I have two thoughts:
1. I would do it again in a second.
2. I could not last ONE NIGHT in the Kebeles (communities) where 80% of the people in Addis live. Not - ONE - NIGHT.

In all of it, through all of it, the most potent flavor I tasted, smelled, experienced, -over anything I saw/smelled rotting or burning on any given day, was the presence and aroma of Jesus amidst those people. I hope this is the smell that I can't ever get out of my head. He was what made you want to be there, stay there and throw in your lot with whatever he was up to. Not surprising, but after traveling all that way, what we found was Jesus.

thoughts from Paul

Have I mentioned that the title of this blog seems completely trite to me now?
Anyway, Paul Warren is a good talker and writer.  I thought I would share some of his reflections today, as he has been here many times.

He writes: "One of the best moments for me personally was last Monday morning when we arrived at the project office for the first time.  There is a woman named Jerusalem who has been a beneficiary almost since the very inception of the project.  Some of you will remember her from our previous trips and the stories we have told of visiting her home as she lay sick in bed near death's door.  Across the room from her bed sat a framed photo of a strikingly beautiful young woman who was a model.  Of course, it was Jerusalem before this horrible disease had inflicted her.  I can still remember sitting beside her bed one afternoon in the darkness of the tiny house, holding her hand and praying as she struggled to draw each breathe. Jerusalem had touched so many of us because she had become a Christian and even in the face of death exuded a vibrant joy in Christ.  As we left the house that day I thought that I probably would not see Jerusalem again on this side of heaven. But when we were here last February, Rose Rode asked one of the staff how she was doing.  The project had begun an antiretroviral treatment program and Jerusalem was one of the first beneficiaries to receive the life saving drugs.  We were all amazed and thrilled to hear that she was doing well.  We could hardly wait to go and see her, but even though we tried about three times to visit her at home, she was never there.  The staff told us that she was out working and visiting others who were sick. We left Addis last February without ever seeing her.

So when we walked into the project office this Monday and I stuck my head in the little office where ARV's are distributed to the beneficiaries, you can imagine my joy in seeing Jerusalem sitting there counting out medicines.  She is now an employee of the project, working as an expert patient helping other beneficiaries with adherence and compliance to the ARV program.  I immediately called Rose and when she walked in and saw Jerusalem, they both lit up and embraced.

Jerusalem was baptized not too long ago and is now an active member in the church.  She is a trophy of God's grace and just one of many examples of how your support is helping change peoples lives here in this amazing place.

As you can imagine, our time here has been very full.  Our first two days were spent out in the community doing home visits with the beneficiaries.  I had the joy of going to see my little friend, Mikias, and his mother Ainelum.  Ainelum hosted the very first project Bible study, which I had the privilege of leading.  One of my best friends, Steve Smallman was with me. Steve is here to produce a film documenting the work that God is doing through the project.  Steve got some great footage of my reunion with these dear friends, but as we started to visit, he turned the cameras off.  At one point as we were visiting, Ainelum asked Teddy, the project director, who was translating for us, to please tell us that when we return to America she wants us to tell all our friends and families how grateful she is to them for sending us to Ethiopia and for supporting the work of the project. She said, 'My son and I are alive today because of them and God is doing a great work in our hearts and we are thankful.'  When Teddy finished translating, Steve sheepishly asked Teddy if he would ask her to say that all again for the camera."

Team Video

Hello everyone,
My update today is a link to a video we put together for the visiting team this past Friday, in an effort to highlight their first week here.  As a disclaimer, it is not intended to overview the work here, but to be a simple reel to commemorate a full first week on the ground here.

The images are already emotional for me, because they are attached to names and faces we are coming to know.  Almost all of the children you see are in the program, and are HIV positive. 

There is a woman you will see raising her hands as she speaks (around 1 minute into the vid).  Her name is Danute.  She tells the story of Andy Warren visiting her when she was very sick, washing her without wearing gloves.  "He washed me, and I never forget this."  This was several years ago.  Now she is healthy, though she battles both HIV and TB, and is a leader in the program and in her community.  While her future is uncertain at best, she if full of joy, and one of many compelling people I've had the privilege of meeting.

2nd Monday

Greetings, friends and family,
We have just four more days to work here, and then start for home on
Friday. This week the medical teams will be conducting clinics all
day every day.

Someone out there, who has been on a previous medical trip here, sent
a response to my last post asking for an update on the staff working
here. The staff here are wonderful folks. Teddy Alemayehu is the
Project Manager. He is a university graduate with a background in
nursing and public health. Before joining the project he worked at
Black Lion Hospital, which is the largest government hospital in Addis
Ababa. I've had the privilege of being granted a lot of access to
Teddy, who is a busy man. I've traveled with him several times
through the communities on foot, and we don't get anywhere fast
because he is known and loved by many people. When I'm not listening
to Teddy answer one of my many questions, I am standing there watching
him embrace and talk to the people that stream into our path when they
see him coming. Once in a while he translates because the person
we're speaking to insists that he tell me what they are saying.
"Teddy is our father. Before meeting Teddy and coming into the
program, I am very sick and cannot even get out of my bed. He used to
yell at us if we do not do exactly what we must with the program, and
our medicines. Now we understand each other. My family is safe and
getting healthy. God is good to us."

My transportation to one of the clinics has just arrived, so I'll need
to end this.

Love to all,
Steve

Thursday

Greetings, everyone.
I understand that there may be some new readers as it's been somewhat difficult to get news around to all those concerned with the members of the team here. The good news is, we are all well. We did have a nasty intestinal thing take a few of us out in shifts over our first five days. Me, Dan, Matt, Kurt, Dennis and Linda all had bugs (we'll leave it at that). The medical folks here were pretty well equipped to take care of us, so everyone is on their feet and working very well together.

Now that I seem to be recovering from basic Africa shock, I am loving being here, though I miss my family. The Ethiopian staff, together with the Americans and interns here are all pretty great people, seem to love each other and love working together. Each day I've met numbers of people who were basically dying a couple of years ago, but who have put on weight and are living pretty healthy lives as participants of this program, which addresses everything from the most obvious threats of AIDS and Tuberculosis, to nutrition, rent and transportation. They are still desperately poor, and don't look super healthy to my eyes, but they are alive and gaining strength. I don't want to paint a rose colored picture, but when you are as good as dead, to be alive and laughing about it seems utterly miraculous to me.

I've also been impressed by the skill of the physicians and other medical support folks who are on this trip, and the way the program here has managed to maximize the resource of visiting health care providers. Each day serious situations are diagnosed and addressed by the Docs as they huddle up and speak their highly technical medical vocabulary. Because of the methodology of the program here, these situation are addressed beyond the sort of treatment that can be offered on the spot.

HIV+AIDS Care and Treatment (They decided on a very functional and descriptive name. I don't know how to pronounce or write the Amheric version) notifies the leadership of the kebele's when there is going to be a community clinic available to non-beneficiaries of the program (those who aren't already in the network/system they've created.) They then issue a certain number of tickets to be passed out for any given day, so that those who come are the ones who need it the most and can spend as much time with the providers as they need to. It is extremely well organized and efficient. Taking a page from Partners in Health, the program here is trying to address systemic issues as well as give needed treatment. So full records are created for each patient, if they are new to the program, and aggressive follow-up takes place once they have been connected. They may not be addressing the sheer volume that they could if they did nothing but hold massive clinics all the time. But for those who come into the program, the changes in their lives are pretty comprehensive.

We've been gathering footage everyday, and I've been talking to everyone I can about everything I can think of. Slowly, the picture is starting to come into focus, at least way better than it could without seeing it for myself. Like many successful programs I've seen, there is a vital partnership here with folks who have brought expertise and resources from the west, and highly skilled Ethiopians, several of whom were doing this sort of work in Ethiopian hospitals before joining this program, but with greater frustration and not as much impact, according to them.

I'm tired, so will close for now.

Five Days In

Hey everyone! Internet access has been much more difficult than I had anticipated before being here.  Forgive the delay in this update. 

Travel and Arrival
We arrived in Ethiopia on Friday evening around 10 p.m. (Addis time)  The trip over was uneventful, except to say that it was long.  The folks on the ground here have learned to give teams a day or so to rest before sending them to work, so we spent Saturday at a retreat center on a lake near a place called Baba Gaiyu (sp?).  We hiked to the top of a volcanic cinder cone, sucking wind because of the altitude (or maybe just because I'm in pathetic condition).  Village children crowded around my camera whenever I lifted it, and then insisted on holding my hands while we walked back to the compound.  They laughed at me making faces at them, or walking funny.  Then came the awkward reality of going back inside the walls of the compound, leaving all the children on the other side of the steel gate.  The truth is, most everyone here, whatever their means, lives behind some sort of wall; whether it's cinder block topped with broken glass, corrugated metal, or eucalyptus poles.  Sunday we went to the international church, ate lunch, then headed to an open house at the home of Andy Warren, leader of the HIV/AIDS project here. 

Driving through Addis to get to the mission guest house where we're staying, one is immediately bombarded with all things present in a developing country:  dirt, choking diesel fumes, thousands of people, animals and vehicles held together by who-knows-what, all sharing the same travel lanes.  It is obvious that the city is poor, the city is crowded, the city is a complete and total mess.  That assessment sounds like an impersonal comment on the department of public works, or the need for Addis to have such a department.  It is the assessment that can be done from the window of a car by a guy who has been in the city for all of two days.

Monday-Tuesday
Nothing from my life experience could have possibly prepared me for what I've seen these past two days.  We left the Addis that can be seen by car, and walked into the communities (kebele's) that comprise 80% of the city.  I don't feel qualified to write about it yet, but I will tell you that I have no category for the level of poverty and suffering that I've seen.  We've been visiting in homes with residents who are beneficiaries of the HIV/AIDS program here.  And what has been so emotionally potent for me beyond the stench and the squalor, is the faith of those who are surviving.  The program beneficiaries, for the most part, are amazing survivors, badges of humanity, clinging to hope.  I've also met some amazing Christian workers, Ethiopians and internationals working together, pushing forward for the difference they can make to a few, while there seems little hope for the many.

The thought came to me while I was walking, going in and out of tiny dwellings:  this is not a refugee camp – this is not because of a war, or a hurricane.  This is permanent.  Dr. Paul Farmer makes mention of a Haitian proverb, which says, in essence, "God gives, but does not share," meaning: God gives enough abundance to humanity for everyone, but he does not force the distribution of it.  It is the responsibility of people to share.  I don't claim to understand anything about this place, or the "why" of it all, but this idea makes some sense theologically, because it is true of our salvation.

God created a perfectly balanced earth, which men promptly threw into disorder.  God provided a solution (the redeemer), but leaves it to us to make it (him) known.  "How can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?" (Rom. 10:14)

I don't know all the history of this place.  There is probably plenty of blame to go around from previous generations in both hemispheres.  But where there is adequate sharing of salvific wealth, places like this cannot continue to exist.  That leaves us to sort out our responsibility in all of it. 

movie magic

Having had the opportunity to write and produce a little music, fool around in the theater, and just suck whatever I can out of performance art of any kind, by far the most energizing work I've done is with visual media, -the moving picture variety. That isn't to say that the arduous process of making a film (what some director described as pushing an elephant up a hill) can compete with the momentary adrenaline that comes when performing live music. There's nothing quite like it when band mates and audience are locked together in a moment of concert-ed energy. But beyond the moment, seeing a film project come together is incredible. The power of the story that emerges can easily upstage the reality of what really is.

Movie magic, when you're watching a film, is what happens when you are transported to another place, time or perspective on the world. Now, when you're on the set of a project, "movie magic" is what you keep telling yourself, -reassuring yourself, will happen once you take a mediocre performance or bad light or poor audio, and mix it all together to make it greater than what just happened in front of you. Add some filters, compress the audio, give it a sound track and it's just, well, -better. That's why I like my iPod. Let's face it, walking through an airport is just way better when there's a sound track. Otherwise I'm just wading through a crowd waiting to get my luggage. With music playing, I can at least imagine that my life is a movie. And here's the thing: I actually believe it is.













I think God is the amazing director who is weaving together thousands of stories, pre-production storyboards and shots which bring to life the script he's written about all of us. I travel on Thursday not knowing which story I'm being sent to notice, or what my role in it is. I guess this tension drives some folks crazy. When I can remember that my life is God's movie about his work with me, I prefer this tension to trying to figure everything out ahead of time.

The temptation of "movie magic" when going to a place like Africa is that it would be really easy to turn on the camera, show some pictures of people living in misery, pick the right music and then think we've accomplished something. "All of the folks at home" will watch and be amazed. But what about the real people there, whose families and communities, -whose lives have got to fit together somehow in this grand picture?

For the praying folks reading this, I guess I'll ask you to pray that we find whatever true story it is that we're supposed to be telling, and that we'll tell it with dignity and promise. That the joy and love and life which is just bound to be there would come out clearly and that God's humanity would be seen as such. When we find that story, then by all means, bring on the soundtrack and the filters.

Kurt Dutra and I love the film, "Buena Vista Social Club." The truth is, he loved it first and showed me what to love about it. It's a film shot in Castro's Cuba, but it isn't ABOUT that. It's about love, life, music, relationships and the joy that is there when humans share those things. It's been our template for telling stories from places like Sandtown. Sure, when you turn on the camera, you're going to see some difficult things if they're there, but that isn't ALL that the story is about. The story is about people, God's people. Whenever humanity is out and about, there's a mess of joy mixed with suffering, heroism mixed with corruption. I think these stories can help us figure out who we are, who God is, and ultimately, who we were intended to be.

Even a hack like me can use media to make things look better (or worse) than they really are. I think when God is directing, maybe things are actually better than they look.

one week from today...

One week from today I'll be in the air, probably just about to cross over into Europe, or still over water. Our flight leaves from Dulles, International. From there, after a brief fueling stop in Rome, I'll join a medical team with members from New York City, Tulsa, Birmingham and Columbia, South America. The Columbian Doc actually lives in Miami, but I'm not sure if she's a U.S. citizen so we might as well make this team international. I'm travelling with another film maker, Dan Gerding, a 26-year-old talent from my home of 15 years, Baltimore.

Rev. Paul Warren, team leader and pastor recommended we read Tracy Kidder's MOUNTAINS BEYOND MOUNTAINS in preparation for the trip. The story catalogues a Harvard Doc's work among the poor in Haiti. 20 pages in I responded somewhat emotionally, feeling as though I could easily be swept back in to that "life on the edge."

The easiest way for me to describe the past two years of my life would be to say that I "have not been living in Sandtown." Sandtown is most "correctly" described as a distressed urban community. Our last 13 years rounded out 20 of what for our family was a "call" to live and work in a community development setting. One doesn't just leave a call like this. One must be released. Two years ago I was released to pursue other opportunities.

Reading Kidder's book I felt more like a recent escapee... Like one who has labored to get back to shore from particularly rough surf, still lying on the sand, but not out of reach of the biggest waves. I started wondering if this trip to Ethiopia would be the big wave that picks me up and drags me back in...

Sort of a sad way to look back on a call, a ministry. I think I trust God more than that. But we are frail and selfish, and I have enjoyed these two years, and the absence of those things which used to define me: poor, inner city, pastor. I have been prospered - and I do mean that in the passive voice. We have been lying down in green pastures, my family and I. But the lingering pathologies (or is it Christian conviction?) of 20 years of community development leave me yet uncomfortable with my relative wealth. So we'll see.

I'm quite certain God has his own reasons for my being on this trip. Our immediate assignment, though, is to tell the story of an HIV/AIDS mission working in the Lideta and Bolle communities of Addis. We've done what pre-production we can, have auditioned our gear and rehearsed what and how we'll carry it.

We leave in a week.