Smokey Morning on Lake Chelan

Susan and I spent several days at Stehikin Village on Lake Chelan.  The Forest Service had been working on putting out a forest fire near the village.  In the early morning hours, smoke hung in the cold air pockets.  So similar to mist, but at the same time not.

 

Turkana Men

These four paintings are of my friends in the Turkana District, Kenya.

The first time I ventured away from North America, I was as a researcher with the South Turkana Ecosystem Project.  I remember sitting on the plane in Denver thinking, “Why am I doing this?”  I mean I didn’t know anything about tribal cultures; my most foreign experience was a  couple of days in Quebec.

Turns out, it was one of the most meaningful experience of my life – Turkana that is, not Quebec.  Not saying there’s anything amiss with Quebec. Africa resonated a bit deeper, that’s all.

Lopayon

I met Lopayon at the end of my first day of navigating the Turkana scrub.  It was the first time I’d ever driven off road.  Eliud kept telling me “Follow the road.”  Me saying, “There isn’t a road.” He points, answering, “There, just there.”

Then, there he is, Lopayon.  First man I ever met with a lip plug.

 

Achukwa

The youngest of my friends and helpers in Turkana.  Achukwa was the most curious and  the least likely to ask for a favor. I enjoyed his company.

 

Angarot

At Angarot’s awi (nomad camp) I fell 2000 years backward.  The smell still clings to my nostrils.

 

Eliud Lewoto

The evening before I was to leave Turkana (for the last time it turns out), Eliud pointed to the new moon hanging there in the western sky, there over Pokot land and he told me, “See the moon. It is pouring out bad luck.”  He gave a little laugh, paused and went on, “Think about me when the moon is young.”

I do rafiki yangu,  I do my friend. You taught me so much about the bush.

 

Ladybug on the Garden Wall

In the corner, under the vine maple where the winter sun warms. I see you are still here my little friend.

 

Big Beetle

There are beetles in the Rift Valley the size of a B-52 (I swear it).  Don’t wear white tee shirts.  They love ‘em.

 

New York Conversation

I have no idea why I painted this or why it is called New York Conversation.  I’ve never been to New York. I just painted it one afternoon instead of doing my chores.