Into Africa

I know, I know… Cabbagetown has everything you need – why go anyplace else? But sometimes duty calls you to more distant environs.

In my case, that meant three months in the Horn of Africa – a region in the grip of a terrible hunger crisis. My employer, the Atlanta-based humanitarian agency CARE (www.care.org), is responding with aid including food, water and treatment for malnourished children.

From our Nairobi headquarters, I traveled around Kenya, Ethiopia and Somalia with my cameras and notepad. My assignment – a challenge and a privilege – was to inform media and donors about CARE’s work in communities stricken by drought. Yes, there was terrible privation, but also hope, human endurance, and incredible beauty.

I visited humble villages where hardworking folk struggle to keep their cows, goats and camels alive with scarce water and shriveled pastures. In the sprawling Dadaab refugee camp, I met a few of the nearly 500,000 people fleeing war and famine in Somalia. Many – especially women – had suffered horrific violence while crossing the lawless desert.

But despite deep misery, a spirit of generosity and hospitality (not so unlike that of Cabbagetowners) prevail. You can’t visit the most ramshackle hut without being offered a cup of sweet, scalding tea – sometimes with camel’s milk.

These months were full of unforgettable impressions. The desert sunset as women gather at an ancient well and men lead their cattle home from pasture. The early-morning call to prayer from tiny village mosques. Schoolgirls, bright with joy, taking turns with a precious jump rope. Communion ceremonies in the ancient churches of Ethiopia. Modest, gentle Muslim men and women – whose attire might subject them to ugly stereotypes in other parts of the world.

There was time for recreation, too: a Kenyan safari right out of “Out of Africa,” where giraffes and zebras grazed outside my lodge window. Festive meals hosted by village hosts, where we feasted from a common bowl of roasted goat (maybe I’ll bring some to the next potluck). And to top it off, Thanksgiving weekend – my birthday, too – on the famously exotic spice island of Zanzibar, scuba diving off a traditional wooden fishing boat called a dhow.

You might think after those experiences it would be hard to return to the mellow rhythms of life along Carroll Street. Nothing of the sort. It’s been the happiest winter ever, nestling in my cozy loft, meeting friends at Milltown, singing goofy carols at the Christmas Crawl. Sure, soon enough I’ll yearn again for far horizons, but for now, there’s no place I’d rather be.

Be it ever so humble.

–Rick Perra

– Click on the images below for a slide show of Rick’s trip to Africa –