My friend Joel of E for Everyone fame is a talented musician and filmmaker.  I miss seeing him in Red Deer!  It was fun to work with him on this video for Breakthrough Urban Ministries.  The part I played was very minor, but ’twas fun to work with a friend for an important cause.

Here’s Joel’s talent at work:

Here’s a bit of background about the video from Joel’s website:

On October 28th Breakthrough Urban Ministries hosted their annual benefit dinner where they welcomed 1700+ guests to learn more about how they serve the people of East Garfield Park and how they can partner with them. For the benefit dinner, Breakthrough asked me to put together a feature that would explain the different aspects of Breakthrough and the many ways in which they serve their community.

To do this I used a variety of motion graphics and real video. I have long admired graphics that fit into video as if its a part of the landscape and so I wanted to approach this project in that way. As I went through the script and did the storyboarding, I knew which shots would involve text and framed them so I would have a spot the text could sit. However as I brought them into After Effects and began working on them, I realized some shots work for this kind of thing, and some don’t. I found that what helps the most to make text look “natural” is two things: either have camera movement and the text staying in place relative to the camera, or have parts of the text be blocked out by people or objects that are in between the text and the camera. Ultimately I’m quite happy with how this came out! A fun project to work on for sure and for an organization that my wife and I both believe in so much!

The voiceover narration was done by Mike Dawson, a really professional, classy voice artist, and really talented guy who added a lot to the project. Andrew Kooman compiled the statistics and data and wrote an excellent script conveying the heart of Breakthrough. It was a team effort, of which I was glad to be a part of!

I used After Effects for the motion graphics and assembled it all in Final Cut Pro. The video was shot with a Canon 5D Mark 2. Recorded the narration with an H4N.

 

I just booked my ticket to Vancouver to attend the screening of Sex + Money: A National Search for Human Worth!

I’m really excited to see the outcome of all the hard work by my good friends from photogenX to bring this film to the screen.

If you’re in the Vancouver area (or are not, and like me will travel) check out either of their screenings:

View the trailer here

Date: May 18th
Time: 6:00pm
Place: District 319 Theater
Admission: $30, which includes cocktails and appetizers (with all profits going to the Union Gospel Mission’s women’s and children’s shelter on the Downtown Eastside)

buy tickets to the May 18 show

Date: May 20th
Time: 6:30pm
Place: Gracepoint Community Church
Admission: Free, but a donation will be taken for Deborah’s Gate (women’s shelter)

(Thanks Kevin Miller for posting the dates)

Here’s the new trailer we filmed for the play, featuring Denise Wong as NUMBER 18 and Aaron Krogman as JASON.

We got the footage during the promotion shoot in Rosebud on the studio stage of Rosebud School of the Arts.

A number of weeks ago I published a conversation I had with visual artist, filmmaker, and photographer Timothy Dyk, a friend of mine who is currently up to his elbows in paint, creating a series of art pieces he will exhibit in June 2010.  The project ties into another one his life has been consumed by for the last few years: the published book Sex + Money: A Global Search for Human Worth and a Nationally-focused film of the same name that explores the reality of the sex trade in the United States.

Tim is based in Ellensburg, Washington, where he’s currently balancing his commitments to the film and the art project.  He’s also working to nail down a place to exhibit his work.  He has his eye on a warehouse space that was once a milk factory.

I caught up with Tim via email to see how the project has taken shape.  He generously provided some video (see below) to give a sense of his creative space, the colour scheme, and some of the paint-soaking work the project entails, before he heads off for a few more months of filming.

AK: I was wondering if you could describe your technique.  The video you’ve graciously offered reveals some of the process and shows that you’re working with more than paint, but fabric as well.  What other materials can we expect on the canvas, and why are you using them?

TD: It sounds funny to imagine it as ‘technique’ as it seems a very sloppy and unruly thing to do, but I really wanted to capture the idea of the patchwork of a flag.  I felt like using different layers of fabric was a good way I could try to do that, to try and accentuate the different colors that comprise a flag, specifically that of the United States.  It makes me feel like a Betsy Ross of sorts…

AK: Some artists compare the creative process to a jet taking flight.  The runway is the starting point, but what matters is getting the plane off the ground.  What has been your runway?

TD: I think it would be accurate to say the runway has been the experience of traveling around the United States, hearing and sometimes seeing what human trafficking looks like in the country.

Hearing different individuals’ stories of being trafficked has had a big influence.  Looking back, a lot of the stories I hear can blend together, but I really believe the art that I am currently working to produce is a way I can process the harshness of all that I’ve heard.  In the moment, hearing someone’s story of being exploited, it was usually hard for me to make any sort of sense of such brutal experiences.  In this case, I think my art is a way I can question the ideas and values that led to such unimaginable brutalities.

AK:. Within the metaphor of take-off, something that is discussed (often passionately) among creatives is what to do with the runway: is it forgotten, is it for the artist only, does the audience need it?  Is there anything (ideas, technical elements) that you thought you might use that you’ve left behind now that that the project is up and running? If so, what have they been and why?

TD: More and more I’m thinking the runway will be a very important one for the audience being able to make sense of what I am trying to say (or ask) with the art.  If the viewer doesn’t understand the stories and interpretations of human trafficking that have influenced the pieces, the messages of certain pieces might seem a bit foggy.  On a broad scale, I think the final product of the film (set to release in the fall) will eventually provide that context; but for the actual art show I think I will need to do some creative explaining in order for the paintings to have sufficient context.

As far as ideas I’ve left behind…mainly they’ve just had to do with ways I thought I might do the paintings.  I threw around the ideas of making linocuts for certain parts, but I figured out that might not be the most efficient technique.  For certain parts I considered using screen printing, but that would have been a bit more expensive – so I figured out ways to get similar looks with resources that were more available to me.  These sorts of ideas I think were OK to drop, as they just didn’t suit the project.  I’ll certainly keep them filed in my brain though…

AK: To expand the metaphor (trust me – this is the last flying-related question), as you continue to develop the project, what does it mean for you to see the project take flight?

TD: I think taking flight is getting to the place where the art is being made, and completed.  Some people might say that flying is getting it to a place where it is being seen by other people, and that makes sense – but for this project, just seeing the pieces come to completion is a big step for me individually, because for so long they have only been nothing but concepts and ideas.

AK: What have the challenges of the project been so far?

TD: The painted fabric is taking a lot longer to dry than I would have planned.  Learning to multitask is a big challenge for me, because I would much prefer to simply finish a painting and move onto the next, but having to allow time for paint to dry on different layers of different pieces has forced me to have a lot of pans on the grill, so to say.

AK: What have the surprises been?

TD: The materials haven’t always responded quite the way I had imagined.  I didn’t realize fabric would absorb so much paint, so things have taken a long time to dry.

AK: How involved are the people around you – family and friends – in this or your other creative projects?

TD: I would say they are very involved – not so much necessarily in the making of the art, but family and friends are most always supportive in that they allow me to do what I do without calling me crazy or thinking I’m wasting my time, or my parents allowing me to use space in their garage.  Sometimes they’ll ask questions about what I’m trying to make or communicate, and answering those questions helps me to clarify my vision, and understand more how other people might interpret my work.  It’s almost like a continual test-flight so to speak (I know you like those flying metaphors…)

AK: As a non-US American I want to ask you about the politics of your colour scheme.  Perhaps it’s ridiculous of me to do so.  It seems politics in your country are especially polarized right now.  How do you think the patriotic palette you’ve chosen will inform how your work is received?

TD: Not ridiculous at all, my friend.  I think growing up as an American, the red, white, and blue color scheme has a kind of sentimental/iconic feel to it.  To me those colors have stood for all the good and honest values that I was taught our country is supposed to stand for.  Putting these colors in the context of all that is happening with human trafficking is a big contrast, at least in my mind, and hopefully it will be for the others who see it.  Contrasting the crimes of abuse and exploitation to the values of truth and justice should be a big contrast.

AK: How do you, personally, envision the red, white, and blue, and how does it weave into your project’s theme?

Red, White, Blue - A snapshot of the upcoming exhibition

TD: I think the red, white, and blue is something that reminds me of the respectable values that our country was intended to stand for.  Since our country was founded, a lot of people have sacrificed a lot to preserve those values – and I want to respect that sacrifice – but I also want people to realize that the values which we tried so hard to preserve are once again under “attack”, this time in the context of human trafficking.

AK: Something that stood out to me from our last email conversation was that through your artistic exploration of human trafficking with this project you hope others will be motivated to consider to embark on similar journeys engaging the issue, and not only through art.  What things have been revealed to you about engaging the issues as you’ve set your hands to work on this project?

TD: I’ve realized a lot,  that even though I don’t know the entirety of everything that is going on, I have seen and heard enough to say something, and that is what I need to do, even if I haven’t fully arrived at solutions myself.  I want to say something that will encourage others to join in the process of ending these crimes within our borders and around the world.  The  more minds that are in on this, the better.

AK: Why do you think the physical, hand-dirtying (see the video!) work of shaping something creatively matters?  What does the realm of creative expression do that a purely intellectual approach cannot?

TD: The act of putting the art together is time consuming, and it’s hard not to think thoroughly about the message you’re saying, because you’re taking so much time to actually produce it (at least in my case – I take forever to actually get something done…) Thinking might not always cause you to take as much ownership of an issue, because when you tire of thinking of one thing, you can just start thinking about something else.  With creating something artistically, if you are to complete your work, you’re almost required to come to a place of understanding, on a deeper level, what you’re actually trying to say.

AK: I’ve been tuning into the weekly webisodes for your upcoming film Sex+Money: A National Search for Human Worth.  How does the edited footage of your experience inform your view of yourself and your project?

TD: It’s a new experience to see myself in video footage.  I often forget the experiences that have brought me to the place of working on an exhibit about human trafficking in America.  The footage brings me back to a place of remembering why I am doing what I am doing.

AK: How does the footage inform your view of the over-arching issues of trafficking?

TD: When we were filming, all the stories we heard seemed so scattered – from truck stops to legislation to former victims to sexuality in the mainstream media.  Having the webisodes put together helps me have a more organized understanding of the different ways trafficking is happening in America.

AK: What’s the scoop on the film project: where does it go from here and what’s in the line-up?

TD: Pretty soon actually I will be leaving Ellensburg, flying out to Virginia to meet up with the rest of the crew to begin our final months of filming.  Throughout May and June we’ll be capturing our final footage before post-production begins in the summer months.  We’ll be capturing some interviews that weren’t able to fit into the schedule last fall.  Also we’re trying to find more footage of the other side of the story – people who are proponents of the sex-industry and all that it entails – to help give viewers an understanding of both sides of the argument.  And also, we’ll be in Ellensburg in early June to film the first public showing of my art – so it will be interesting for us as a group, and also something new for myself.

##

Read my first Interview with Tim here: Towards a Creative Vision

The Sex + Money: A National Search for Human Worth documentary crew hit up Vancouver, Washington with the Defenders, picketing at a truck stop to raise awareness about the reality of child trafficking.

My friends from photogenX, who are making the film Sex+Money: A National Search for Human Worth stop in at the NYC Porn Exhibition and talk to industry insiders about their view of sex and money.

In 2006 Andrew traveled with a crew of six independent filmmakers to shoot the film E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant. The following is an excerpt and a behind the scene look of Andrew’s experience on set.

Previous Entry

What are the edges of our lives and what is the space?  How do we present ourselves to those hands that shape?  Outside a small shop near the Tulia Guesthouse in Nairobi I drank a Coke from a glass bottle for sixteen Kenyan shillings, the equivalent of thirty Canadian cents.  Thinking back on our time in Lodwar and Kisa, considering my shape and the shape of my dreams and whether those dreams are the same shape as God’s perception of my life.  I have come to no solid conclusion yet.

There is, however, something I’m aware of, I reach for it like a child stretches his tongue on a dare for the back of his throat.  For a brief moment able to touch at and feel the soft flesh, reeling and relieved to leave things be.  There’s a part of God that isn’t nice and isn’t tame and, were I not aware of his tenderness or loving heart, a part that would make me feel afraid.

Lord, you have been our dwelling place.

Throughout all generations.

Before the mountains were born

Or you brought forth the earth and world,

From everlasting to everlasting

You are God.

You turn men back to dust saying

“Return to dust, O sons of men.”

For a thousand years in your sight are like a day

That has just gone by,

Or like a watch in the night.

You sweep men away in the sleep of death;

They are like the new grass of morning –

Though in the morning it springs up new,

By evening it is dry and withered.

We are consumed by your anger

And terrified by your indignation.

You have set our iniquities before you,

Our secret sins in the light of your presence.

All our days pass away under your wrath;

We finish our years with a moan.

The length of our days is seventy years –

Or eighty if we have the strength;

Yet their span is but trouble and sorrow,

For quickly they pass, and we fly away.

Who knows the power of your anger?

For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you.

Teach us to number our days aright,

That we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Relent, O Lord!  How long will it be?

Have compassion on your servants.

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,

That we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,

For as many years as we have seen trouble.

May your deeds be shown to your servants,

Your splendor to their children.

May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us;

Establish the work of our hands for us –

Yes, establish the work of our hands

Who but Moses, wanderer of deserts, leader of the grumbling multitude could write such a prayer?

There seems an aspect of God’s nature that seems as barren and harsh as Lodwar.  But why shouldn’t it be that way?  The earth with its deserts, glaciers, dry lands is the Lords and the fullness thereof.

For some reason it is this aspect of God I try to keep at bay, deeply and quietly, so subtle I rarely catch myself, a pattern of behaviour so well practiced: me afraid to let things be things, to allow things and persons to be what they are, even God.  Afraid to let him so batter and afflict me in order to make me malleable and able to change.

Who am I fooling?  Who can keep God at bay?  Like a lion tamer I sometimes approach the Lion of Judah with feeble whip in hand and enter his cage, manipulate him, make him jump through hoops of fire, with a fear buried deep down that I could become prey.

***

In Kakamega, before I knew it was the Plasmodium Falciparum strain of Malaria at work in my system, I had a ‘seize the victory’ moment like the Hebrew King David of old.  My body was in pain.  My digestive tract and gut felt rock hard and uncomfortable.  I didn’t know what to do with myself so I prayed.  Should I go throw up, Lord? And soon after a picture came to my mind: a cheetah, running swiftly, then an image of an arrow pointing to the bathroom.  Go quickly to the toilet. A Should-I-go-attack-the-Philistines-Yes-you-will-be-victorious moment in the present day.  I ran to the toilet, forced myself to throw up, a violent messy battle, one that changed my miserable state.  I was victorious.  Truly I am the Lord’s anointed.

Though it is a fearful thing, sometimes you have to take the dare, pray, put your finger to the back of your throat, feel that soft flesh and not waver. The obstacle will move if you move yourself.

***

Does the clay say to the Potter, ‘what have you made?’

I long to be finished, useful, beautiful.  A vessel admired, noted for its worth.  But who am I to say to the Potter, ‘shape me so.’  I cannot resolve the fact of my dreams, dreams that if unrealized promise to leave me unfulfilled.  Dreams I cannot help but think are part of the Potter’s very design.

And still I yearn to trust those hands that belong to a person I believe is so worthy of trust and love.  What if those hands merely meant for me to be shaped into a vessel with space enough to be filled, only to be emptied so others can receive, filled and poured out, even with living water?

A corridor, or a riverbed, maybe a simple funnel.  In Lodwar, in Africa, or somewhere else.

© 2010 andrew kooman

Remembering Names: Reflections from Kenya :: Download the entire Ebook HERE

E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant :: $20.00

Motion Picture Soundtrack – E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant :: $10.00

In 2006 Andrew traveled with a crew of six independent filmmakers to shoot the film E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant. The following is an excerpt and a behind the scene look of Andrew’s experience on set.

Previous Entry

We started the day at the bank.  We brought some money with us from people at home and gave some from our own pockets towards the purchase of a plot of land.  Kubondo and the church had a scheme to build a real church building, a house for the pastor, a medical clinic, and an orphanage on a piece of land not more than an acre or so big.  Sixty thousand of the eighty-five thousand shillings remained, and we decided to pay it all.  The provincial government of Alberta had just issued surplus cheques to all Albertan residents: $400 just because.  A few of us pooled this money together to pay the difference for the land the church needed.  As independent artists making our first feature film on a small budget and a prayer, gifting the money was a good hurt.  A thousand Canadian dollars and this dream of theirs, by now years old, could move beyond the vision and come much closer to reality.  Money can go a long way in Lodwar, if you can actually get it out of the bank.  We had to fight our way in the line, creatively access funds, then wait, wait, wait.

Later we traveled half an hour North of Lodwar to a small Turkana tribe to distribute some food.  The children we gave juice bought in liquid concentrate and stirred in a bucket purchased at the supermarket in town, which, like everything else in the area, was covered by a thin layer of red dust.  And with the juice, two pieces of white bread stuck together with margarine, which I’ve been told is, chemically speaking, only a few molecules away from being classified as plastic.  Sugar water, white flour, plastic.  What little it takes for smiling faces.

We gave a kilogram of rice and a kilogram of maize flour to each of the adults, and whatever leftover bread that the children didn’t eat, which worked out to half a sandwich each.  Before we distributed the food, the tribe gathered and sang a few songs of worship and prayed.  It seems the gospel really has, as St. Paul wrote, reached the ends of the earth.  It was somewhat bizarre or maybe the word is surreal, to watch people so foreign to me worship the same God.  It was unexpected to say the least.

Women, thin, skin weather-beaten like canvas sails that have been out at sea for countless voyages, breasts and jowls sagging and stretched, necks covered in beads.  Shoulders wrapped in bright red-dyed cloth, tooth sized gaps between their front top and bottom teeth, casually spitting wads of saliva on the ground like it was a spittoon, the only moisture besides human and animal urine to hit the soil for who can remember how long.  These are the ones who sang.  Kubondo pointed out an old mama, wrinkled and hunched, skin leathered by the relentless wind and heat and punch of the elements.  I had noticed her too, tears in her eyes, singing with all her heart, her faith undoubtedly real.

Beauty, an oasis in the otherwise desolate land.  Many others just sang.  Christianity, like sheep herding, female circumcision, or hunting in other parts of Kenya another cultural practice that all members of the tribe participate in.

I feel that I have so little to say about the experience.  For me it was barren and spacious as the surroundings.  I watched.  I was a set of eyes.  Hands too, I guess.  It was meaningful to place food, water, juice, in peoples’ hands, to give practical help.

Does a river attach feeling to the fact that it channels water to the ocean?  Does a hallway have much to express after people pass through its corridor?  Perhaps I too need only be silent, and consider myself a conduit, an open space, otherwise empty but for the moment when it is used and useful.

© 2010 andrew kooman

Remembering Names: Reflections from Kenya :: Download the entire Ebook HERE

E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant :: $20.00

Motion Picture Soundtrack – E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant :: $10.00

See what Demi Moore is tweeting about:

Learn about trafficking and sex slavery in the United States.  Follow the Sex + Money film crew as they travel across the States learning about the reality of modern day slavery.

Did you know most prostitutes in the USA enter the life of prostitution, trafficked as small children?

You can help this must-see film crew continue their work to end modern day slavery by casting a vote for their cause HERE.  It’s 2 of the best minutes you’ll spend all day!

In 2006 Andrew traveled with a crew of six independent filmmakers to shoot the film E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant. The following is an excerpt and a behind the scene look of Andrew’s experience on set.

Previous Entry

We made the long journey to Lodwar from Kakamega in the matatu we hired from Nairobi.  The driver we inherited was worth his pay.  George was a quiet, serious man with a smile.  He drank his orange Fanta warm because cold soda made him sick.

Before the drive Kubondo prepped us for the worst.  Severe drought had eaten the area and continues to bite away at the land like a praying mantis the head of her mate in the climax of passion.  He told us of children, water starved, lining up at the side of the road for water, a gift as valuable as gold.

We were to expect young girls and boys whose stomachs were pushed to the bursting point, stretched with hunger.  As we imagined encountering these facts in the coming days I could only trust that whatever we saw, God would give the grace we needed to bear witness to whatever ugliness or pain we would see.  And compassion.  Even as I sat on the steps of Mama Ruth’s in Kakamega after a devotional time with the crew, meditating on the personal love of God given freely to me, a picture grew inside of me: a young Kenyan, ribs poking through a naked torso, bloated, food-starved belly appeared on my mind.  Emaciated arms and skeleton skull, bulging eyes, hair orange-red with malnutrition.  Feet covered in dust while World-Vision-sized black flies crawled over her face, in and out of her nostrils, while she stood about absently scratching at bug-bitten skin.

We took to the road.  The temperature increased, it seemed, with each degree of latitude we gained as we drove further and further toward the Somali border.  Hotter.  Drier.  More desolate, but surprisingly, even to my untrained eye, the land was beautiful.  It was itself.  Abandoned termite hills were thrust against the sky like skyscrapers, tall as giraffes.  Goats grazed on who-knows-what while camels loitered and swaggered, breaking from their routine to watch our vehicle interrupt their lethargy and bump its way down the road.  In Kenya, potholes seem to be the rule, not the exception, great chasms and crevices in the pavement, pockmarked like a war zone.

And the people.  Stoic men emerged from the horizon carrying long staffs, shawls thrown over their shoulders, limbs graceful and thin like dark ebony wood-carvings.  Women with elaborate, colourful beadwork around their necks, carrying bags filled with grass or rice on their heads and empty containers for water.  Young boys responsible for entire herds of goats often naked or carrying their shawl in their hands.  Shy little girls with stunning white teeth holding empty bottles in hopes they might be filled with water.  Never in groups of more than three or four, randomly spotting the road like signposts, like phantoms.

At the sight of a vehicle they would hold out their hands or empty containers, sometimes run to the side of the road and yell magi, the Swahili word for water.  Oftentimes, the children, forgetting themselves in their desperate thirst, would neglect the warnings of abduction they were given by their parents and approach the vehicle, only to panic once they saw the white-skinned foreigners holding out bottles of water as seductive lures, the means to hook them by the gills, steal them from their families and tribe forever.  The sudden realization of their danger and the fear that overtook them was heartbreaking.  The youngsters would scream in terror, turn and run, shouting in Swahili for the younger ones to run away.

Though our hearts dropped, our spirits lifted to see the same children cautiously creep back to the roadside once the van carrying us had driven a safe distance away to collect the treasure left in danger’s wake, bottles of water they received like a prize or treasure of incomparable worth.  The dancing and smiles we could make out in the rearview mirror proof of the water’s value.

Oh to thirst like a child on the road to Lodwar.  Kubondo laughed a deep baritone laugh that echoed in his chest like everything else when I told him “three days out here and I’d be dead.”  Matt said he thought he could make it five, a pretty generous wager.  It was fun, in a morbid, inappropriate way, to speculate.  And though Kubondo laughed there was enough of a sigh in it, a sort of contemplative self-check to make me think it would be the same for him too.

What is out there on the road to Lodwar that makes the people stay?  Dry river beds crisscross the land, constant reminders of other times when life could be sustained.  Dry wells, barren landscape, dust and rock.  Would this not be a perpetual slap in the face?  Move south.  Curse God and die.  Do something, but stay?  I cannot imagine the life.  There is nothing to start with.  No food.  No water.  Hot, dry heat.  How do you cultivate a life or organize a cultural system on these things?  But there goes another sheep herder.  There are a few more children.  There’s another pair of women with empty buckets out on another fruitless quest for fool’s gold.  Another herd of camels.  The district officer in Lodwar told me the region is so eaten by drought, people only survive on the relief brought and distributed from January to December.

What is man that you are mindful of him?

Kubondo asked me to preach at a service in Lodwar.  What message can you possibly give to people who live on the edge of death, people one meal away from starvation or survival?  How is a North American experience of reality, of God, possibly relevant in the given context?

And then I was reminded of those words from Isaiah.

Come, all who are thirsty,

Come to the waters

You who have no money

Come, buy and eat!

I spoke of food that is not for the belly and water that is not for the body, of my country where there are people who have too much food, who eat so much they get fat and sick and die, but whose hearts and souls still are not satisfied.  Through a translator, I told those who were gathered – mostly women and orphaned children – that I could never forget the picture in my mind of children on the road to Lodwar, running to our vehicle to receive water they could freely drink.  Water they longed for.  Water they were dying for.  Water they so gladly received.

I deeply admire the people on the road to Lodwar: their ability and quickness to receive, their desperation, shameless and overt.  I told the small church at Lodwar that evening in the dark, under the stars, two Coleman-like lanterns burning on the table in front of me, that I admired them and that they should run to the One who gives living water for eternal life as quickly and as desperately as those children on the road into their town.  May God help me to ever do the same.

© 2010 andrew kooman

Remembering Names: Reflections from Kenya :: Download the entire Ebook HERE

E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant :: $20.00

Motion Picture Soundtrack – E for Everyone: The Mouse and the Elephant :: $10.00