Many of these photos, taken in Africa in 2006 and 2007, reflect the need and hope of a continent in despair. Portraits can and do bond relationships and preserve segments of history, familial or otherwise, as time marches on. Photographs motivate us. As these African images lift injustice to the forefront of our minds – they stir in us the desire to seek solutions and take action.  There is no shortage of venues in which creative minds, compassionate hearts and willing hands are not needed. Perhaps these images will inspire you to help. I took two trips to Africa one in 2006 in one in 2007. Both were mission trips to help Africans in various ways like building Wells, teaching farming and how to start a business. We set up people to do micro financing.

I was very moved by some of the people that I had met. Many of the residents we met look much older than their age. They were grandmother’s taking care of grandkids because the parents have died of AIDS. One story touched me, especially. And that was a hospital we were in. They were taking HIV patients off the streets who were near lifeless and giving them hope, a human touch and kindness. Miraculously some of these patients were completely healed. The human heart needs compassion from others to survive and thrive. My first day in Africa, I was shocked by the poverty and awful conditions that many of these people lived in. After our day of work was nearly ended I went by myself and wept. After a while, one of the staff members consoled me. He said I know how you feel and I felt the same way, but you have to understand that these people don’t want what you have and it’s unfair to compare our lifestyles. The rest of the trip was easier as I kept us in mind. They don’t want what I have, but they do want to live a life of dignity, productivity, and being appreciated. We have that in common.

My journey took me to Rwanda’s genocide memorial, where the horror of what happened remains etched in the nation’s soul. Standing before mass graves, I felt a wave of anguish and anger surge through me. How could such darkness reside in human hearts? The wounds were still raw, the memories still bleeding. In that sacred, haunting space, I found myself overcome with a simple yet profound realization—what healing might unfold if those who perpetrate ethnic cleansing could truly see the humanity in those they’ve been taught to hate. We share the same fundamental needs, the same capacity for joy and suffering. My camera cannot capture this wish, but it fuels every photograph I take: that we might stop judging one another by political views, race, culture, or any other divisive factor. I dream of redirecting our destructive impulses toward building something beautiful together. I dream of a world where love displaces hatred—not as some distant utopia, but as the only path forward from the graves I stood before that day in Rwanda, where silence speaks louder than any words I could write.