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.