"The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera." - Dorothea Lange

Monday, November 06, 2006

layover

On my way home now.

I haven't been able to get one of the songs the children at St. Mary's sang for me out of my mind. It just keeps rolling around in my head, trying to find a place to rest. I don't know for certain how long that process might take... finding a place to put all that I have seen and done in Uganda, the "pearl of Africa." One thing I do know, however, is that I'm going to take these experiences with me wherever I go and I am going to try to use them in a way that might bring about even more change in me - and perhaps change in others, as well. I feel a responsibility to DO something with all of this.

As far as the photographs go, ironically I had told Thatcher at the very beginning of the workshop, when we were just getting to know each other a bit, that personally this workshop was NOT about the pictures. It was about the experience of being in Africa. Of course, I was put to the test, as many of my pictures were indeed taken away from me, so I have really had to come to terms with this bold delcaration. I think I have. It reminds me of being a kid and shooting a zillion pictures with my Brownie and all these years later realizing that my parents most certainly didn't put roll after roll of film it for me. It was about the PROCESS of making the pictures - framing the world in the viewfinder, exploring different ways of seeing things, making new juxtapositions, new connections, always new discoveries. I know that even though I may not have all the pictures I thought I was making in Africa, I do have the discoveries. In the end, I think that it is what matters most... at least for me.

I hope that those of you who have stuck with this blog will continue to check in, as I will be posting many of the photographs I DO have over the course of the next few days - once I get home and begin to sort through them.

One of the last things I did in Kampala before I left was get a massage. I found this very wonderful place called The Golden Lily. It was open and airy and earthy - in a neighborhood with relatively nice homes and businesses. A beautiful young woman greeted me and welcomed me into this place. I felt like I was entering yet another hallway that is the labyrinth of Africa. She washed my feet in a basin filled with warm water and oils, flower petals floating around on the surface. Then she gave me a full body massage, so sensitive and graceful. The sweet music, her sweet touch, the sweet aromas and the sweet afternoon breeze that was all around us was breathtaking and sad all at once.

Kind of like the way I felt about everything in Africa.

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