A couple of the emails said, “Rwanda . . . huh”. The skepticism was palpable. The messages plainly implied that this decision was significant in so far as it indicated deteriorating mental capacities and an alarming uptick in questionable decision making. Oprava’s email was more blunt: “Christmas in Rwanda sounds like, well, hell, but what does the white man know.” Precisely. What does the white man know? The media’s business is infotainment. It breathlessly recounts the horrific apocalyptic flavor of the moment for riveted audiences before rushing on to the next catastrophe in the heart of darkness. The news’ steady diet of natural disaster, civil war, famine, disease, and public uprising liberally indulges the schadenfreude of the fickle observer. Consequently, the Rwanda of public imagination is, and perhaps forever will be, rooted in the undeniably hellish ... read more

Sinking into his chair, Haptu, a corpulent Chinese buddha looking Ethiopian, lifts his steaming cup of tea and smiles broadly. “What we do is go look at those people”. Haptu smelled opportunity. In Ethiopia, tourists follow the highland ‘historic circuit’ to Gondor, Axum, and Lalibela or go south to see the tribes of the Southern Peoples. Western Ethiopia, bereft of historical-mythical ties to Christianity, ancient architecture, or people with plates in their lips, has, so far, largely escaped attention. However, outside of Gambela, near the Sudanese border, there are villages inhabited by traditional tribes, the Anuak and the Nuer. We were going to look at them. Haptu’s company, Vast Ethiopia Tours (http://www.vastethiopiatours.com), would blaze the tourist trail west, but first, he needed to assemble the A-team. (cue music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MVonyVSQoM) Nico,... read more

It’s July, cold and rainy in Addis. In America, it’s hot. A grand time to be there instead of here. The Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt leaves Bole International Airport near midnight. They call it the ‘Baby Snatcher’ as it leaves under the cover of darkness filled with white folks retuning west with Ethiopian babies. Though I’ve got no baby on board, there will be plenty stateside I’ve never met: Henry, Mira, Waylon, Gretchen, Ryder, Pearl, Veronica. The rest of home leave will entail little sleep, an orgy of meat and drink, a little art, and the hopeless attempt to make meaningful the relationships of memory. In the end, only the babies are unburdened by memory. Within moments of landing in Frankfurt, I know I have come back to the future. In the airport bathroom, the toilet ... read more

We were lost. We had come down from the caldera of the Fentale Volcano but were now zigzagging across the surrounding foothills looking for the road. Our ‘guide’ was a random kid we had picked up out of a nameless village about 10km west. What was clear is that he knew the difference between up and down, so he had figured out how to get to the top of the mountain. Getting back to where we had left the car, however, was proving more challenging. We needed to go north and west, and the kid had again put his back to the rapidly setting sun. Given present company, this predicament wasn’t all that surprising. Ben, Nick and I were good at getting lost. We had had lots of practice in the Andes. At least this time, ... read more

In between bouts of serious depression about losing the cat, I have been trying to write about Egypt. We went there. I don’t really know what to say about it. It was amazing. It was exhausting. In addition to the touron imperative to mainline the land of the Pharaohs in ten days, there was the other thing. The other thing has to do with authenticity, trying to glimpse the humanity of a place. It was hard to do in Egypt, namely because there are two very distinct Egypts. It’s as plain as the money in your hand. Two Egypts: on the front, some Pharaonic antiquity; on the back, a mosque. And that is Egypt near as I can figure. The ancient and the modern. The dead and the living. The fascinating and the feared. The National ... read more