Why Africa?

During the month of November (2001), I had a vivid dream. It began with a map of Africa. On the mid-western coast of Africa was a handwritten name, 'Cote d'Ivory' and below that and inland a bit, a big red dot.

Curious, I dove into the dot on the map. What I saw next was a very pristine village. As I hovered over the village center, I noticed that the village itself, in its entirety, looked like a giant sun. In the middle there was a fire circle, and around the fire circle were rings upon rings of circular huts, extending out towards the horizon. As I hovered there in the air, I could smell the dirt and feel the warmth of the breeze.

In my dream, I sat down at the fire circle and gazed across at a hut. The hut was ringed with freshly painted geometric murals, one stacked upon the other until reaching the top. As I looked around the village, the other huts had similar murals on them and each seemed to tell a different story. Each mural row was made up of different patterns of triangles, circles, dots and lines and they seemed in perfect symmetry with each other. As I was admiring the huts, a woman came out of hers from behind me and sat down on my bench. She was around 30 or 40 years old and was wearing an intricate golden cloth that seemed to be made of spun gold and silk. The cloth had black geometric patterns on it, with each section depicting different stories.

As I took all of this in, it seemed to me that in this dream village, every single object had meaning. We live in a culture where almost nothing is pristine or as meaningful as what I was seeing. I did not feel worthy enough to sit there. I realized that I did not want my influence in any of the pictures I was about to take. I decided to ask the woman next to me to take the photos after I was gone. The photos would be of her world without my influence. I told her this and she agreed to use the camera to take the photos.

Back home again and amazingly still in the same dream (!), I received the spent film from Africa. Her photos were magnificent. I had a show called "Her World" in Mill Valley and brought the proceeds back to her village. I woke up with a start and sat for awhile, staring at the blank walls and banal furniture of my bedroom. It took me awhile to realize I had not actually been to Africa. The difference in our culture and what I had just seen was jarring.

In May, I received an email from a travel group and opened the link to their latest slideshow. The first photo was of a hut with murals of painted triangles, dots and lines. I guess you could say that I didn't move for awhile. I called the photographer of the photo and asked her where it was taken. She answered, "Just below the Ivory Coast and inland, in Ghana". The village name was Sirigu, just outside of Bolgatonga. I immediately arranged to join the next trip to this region.

When I finally arrived at the village in Sirigu, it was very different from my dream. There were now some square huts as well as round huts, and there were walls between them. I asked a man from the village why this was and he said that because of fighting and slave raids, the villages changed over time. I drew 'my' village in the dirt and he sighed. This is what the village was like, he said... it is not like that now. He was trying to be patient with me and did not know why I was interested in a village that no longer existed. I was very sad, but decided to drop the issue and explore the village anyway. Just then, as I entered the first courtyard, a beautiful golden cloth with black geometric designs came off a clothes line and flew into my hands. I caught it and noticed I had help. On the other end was a girl wearing a necklace with a large silver cross. Her eyes were very familiar.

We looked at each other for a while and smiled. I was a little embarrassed because the hair on my arms was sticking straight up. I decided to trust my instincts and tell her about my dream. Luckily, she was learning English in school and knew what I was saying. After I had finished, I asked her what her name was and if she understood what a "dream" was. Her name is Helen and she said, "Oh Yes I know dreams". She then said, "Two years ago, I had a dream that a foreigner would come to my village and show me how to take pictures so that I could help my village. I told my mother and my brother, James, and my mother told me to pray to God and it would come true. You must come share your dream with my family now."

After telling them the dream, James told me that their family is a family of dreams. His great great grandfather had a dream in which he painted murals on his hut. This was never done before, but in his dream, it brought good fortune to his village. He and his wife were captured as slaves, sent to Europe and never heard from again, but the villagers kept the new tradition of painting their huts. Like many travelers going to this remote area, the murals were the only way I found the village or knew of its existence.

I asked Helen if she would like a camera to take pictures of her world. She said she would like that very much. Helen's uncle is the Chief of the Sirigu village. Helen is taking photos of her world.

Click Here to View Helen's Photography