She Matters

Now that my kids have been back to school for a few weeks life is developing a rhythm. Get the kids out the door, make a latte, procrastinate reading emails- then finally settle down to some work. By late afternoon I am eager to see my kids and curious about their day. Today in a quiet moment I had time to wonder about a little girl named Tatu I met this summer in Tanzania,. I wonder if she’s attending school and wonder if anyone is there to greet her as I greet my children at the end of the day.

As some of you know I was in Tanzania this summer taking photos for a nonprofit called New Course (www.anewcourse.org). I was lucky enough to be able to travel to several remote villages in the Usambara Mountains where New Course is launching a new program. My job was to tell the story of life in the villages in images.  In the process of doing so and while trying to get acclimated to working in a very foreign environment I noticed Tatu.

Tatu is probably about six years old, shy but naturally curious – and once I started to notice her she seemed to be everywhere – peeking out from a doorway, or around the laundry hanging out to dry. Once she captured my attention, my heart followed quickly behind, and I found myself seeking her out, looking for her as I wandered the red dirt road of her village, hoping not to be disappointed, hoping she wouldn’t tire of our game and wander off.  She didn’t – becoming increasingly less shy she skipped and hid and ran, but always reappeared just as I feared that this time she wouldn’t.  In a laughing group of kids she would be in the back – questioning me with liquid brown eyes, ever alert and always engaging. Tatu seemed as curious about me as I was about her.

The village where Tatu lives in Tanzania is called Kazita. It is several days walk on a dirt road to the nearest town and it is miles, days, and centuries away from the modern world. The villagers of Kazita are primarily subsistence farmers – scraping a living from the hard land. There is no running water, no electricity, no plumbing, no cable tv, no doctor or dentist. What there is, is a landscape of incredible beauty, lush forests, diverse plant and animal life. What there is, is worth saving.

For the girls and women of Kazita, like rural women in developing countries worldwide, most hours of the day, every single day, are spent collecting water and firewood, farming, and preparing food – ensuring the survival of their families.  Nevertheless, with life as hard as it is, there is joy and laughter and the same desire for the things in life that we desire for ourselves, and our children. What is lacking is the opportunity for girls like Tatu to live life to their full potential.

So, that is what I was doing in Tanzania this summer. Using my camera to take photographs, to share stories, so that maybe there will be a face for you to attach to the news coming to you from so far away. Maybe this September, like me, you put your own kids on the bus to school, and you know what it is like to desperately want the very best for a child and to hope and dream their dreams along with them.

Tatu doesn’t have parents to send her off to school on the bus. She doesn’t have a mother waiting for her at the end of the day, or a father waving her down the road.  She has a grandmother doing the very best she can to keep food on the table for her grandkids while mourning the loss of her own daughter. Tatu doesn’t have a lunch box, new back to school clothes, or a Hello Kitty backpack. If she has a book to read at the end of the day she reads by the dim light of a small kerosene lantern.

The village of Kazita does have a school, and I’m working with New Course to see that girls like Tatu can stay in school, so they can get an education, postpone marriage and childbirth, and increase their choices in life.  I am working with New Course so that girls like Tatu will remain healthy enough to raise their own children to adulthood; so that families will have a choice as too how many, if and when to have children, and be better able to provide for those they do have.

Because what Tatu has, like all little girls everywhere, is a dream for her life.  I know I can’t simply make that dream come true, but I can share her story and let her know that her dream matters.  And that is what I was doing so far off the beaten path this summer in the Eastern Usambara Mountains of Tanzania, letting a six year old girl named Tatu know, that to me, she matters.

Missing Maine

Do you ever find yourself missing a place? Usually it’s a place you’ve come to know in some intimate way, a place with layers of memory built up over time.  Right now I find myself simultaneously celebrating the publication of my very first book ever, The Lobstering Life, while missing the Maine Coast and wondering about all the people and places I’ve come to know well over the past year and a half.

This image was made on a cold December day the last time I was lucky enough to wander the shores of the gulf.  But like any place you love, you go back in your mind until you can go back in real time. Lucky for me, I’ll be back in Maine this summer promoting the book, as well as teaching a workshop with David Middleton in Acadia come October.  Come along if you can, I’ll show you some of my very favorite spots, so next year you too can be missing Maine.

The more you look the more you see

As with anything, time and patience lead to good things. The catch is that we often don’t take the time nor have the patience to find out. We are all fast moving cream-skimmers whether we are on vacation or at work or at home. We do what we need to do at the moment or what we think we need to do for the next moment but we don’t sit back and wait for the moment unannounced.

To anyone who is not actually fishing for lobsters, lobstering is all heading out, hauling and hard work. We think of all the physical labor, the sore backs and bruised arms, the crud and crust. But there are moments, other moments, when instead of the constant push and pull there is, well, nothing…ok, not nothing but certainly not much. And in this not much you will find the true beauty and grace and power of whatever you are watching. The essence is in the intimacy. The intimacy is in the quiet moments.

There are always other places to go, things to rush off and do, someone to text, talk, or tweet. Don’t. Don’t rush off and stop all that communicating! The next time you are on the coast, turn your car off, put your hands in your pockets, find a place to sit and take the time to be patient. You’ll be surprised what you see.