This past December, I went to Kenya with no expectations, other than expectations of proficiently pulling off the job of photographer. Which is a reasonable expectation after many years as a photographer. It was my first time in Africa, and my preferred way to travel is to prepare minimally and remain open to whatever is about to happen. Sometimes that includes laughing off travel foibles that would normally cause anxiety and/or frustration as just part of the adventure. Luckily, though, for a trip with this many airline connections, it was as smooth and foible-free as anyone could reasonably expect.

As much as was possible, I tried to leave my Americanness in Detroit so that I could arrive willing to be reshaped by my experience in a land and culture to which I had never been. I think I had reasonable success on that front.

It is always intimidating to meet a group of people with whom you have no history, knowing that you’re the only one who doesn’t know anyone, and you’ve committed to stay at their home for over a week. That could go really badly; you never really know. The phrase “welcomed with open arms” gets overused to the point of meaninglessness, but that’s literally how everyone at the CRCA greeted Randy and me. It makes sense for Randy, he’s known many of them for decades, but it was surprising to me how open they were to me, an actual stranger. That feeling of being an outsider was gone within less than 24 hours. Maybe it went away immediately, I can’t remember exactly.

The kids, the staff members, everyone was wonderful to interact with, and just to spend time together. Almost immediately it felt like we’d known each other our whole lives, and lifelong connections were made.

I tried to keep quiet so that I could maximize observing and learning from them. This is actually important as a photographer anyway, because the photos change if you insert yourself too much. That’s a part of photography and filmmaking I don’t love because I always want to be a part of what’s happening.

It is kind of like the butterfly effect. If you make your presence too important, it changes what’s happening and in a case like this, the photos become inauthentic. But not to worry, I regain my humanness when I’m editing the photos, and at the CRCA, I made sure to give myself “humanity breaks,” putting the camera down for periods of time so I can authentically be a participant in what is going on around me.

I had been on some supposedly similar photo assignments in the past. So, I had some concerns about the “white savior” phenomenon, to which I am vehemently opposed. I was delighted to figure out that CRCA is a Kenyan organization, run by Kenyans for Kenyans. Many aid organizations might claim a similar position, but the reality in-country turns out to be radically different. Kenya Matters wasn’t swooping in to “save the day” but acting as trusted partner and facilitator.

Lastly, and this has nothing to do with why we were actually there, Africa (and I’m not being hyperbolic, or at least not trying to be) is like no other place on earth. It truly feels like you’re standing in the exact spot where that first pebble of human civilization dropped into the pond, and all of human history are the ripples that radiate out from equatorial Africa.

As a musician, it is especially powerful to be in the place where very nearly every musical genre and instrument can trace its origins. And while contemplating that, to notice that you are also what feels like only touching distance from wildlife (in their native habitat) that you have only seen incarcerated in zoos or on television, never thinking you’d have the opportunity to walk among them on their turf.

There is a version of me that existed before going to Kenya. And there is the version now that has been to Kenya. The two are not the same person. That much seems clear.