A Flower Called Forget-Me-Not

Forget-Me-Nots make amazing bridal bouquets, not just because they are beautiful but also for what they symbolize. This post isn’t about flowers, by the way.

The bride walks up the aisle holding her little bouquet smiling with her watery eyes fixed on the love of her life.  Today is everything she’s ever dreamed of. She’s going to do everything to love this soulmate she’s found until death separates them. This is her decision and her prayer. But clasped in her fingers is a little reminder that lovers sometimes do get forgotten. There are no widows where there haven’t been brides. There is no divorce where there hasn’t been marriage. There is no heartbreak where there hasn’t been love. Darkness comes when the sun hides. 

Last week we buried an old man. There were no wreaths and the mourners were few. His life read like a movie but apparently the theatre emptied out before his end credits rolled up. As we listened to his biography in that little church, I wondered if he’d probably outlived most of those who remember him best?

It is a privilege to be unforgettable, and an honor to be remembered but what we are remembered for may be much more important. Just as no one remembers an uneventful day after a while, so are some people more easily forgotten. 

Stay unforgettable.

We went to Kenya to find a bride

My current conversation starter for anyone I meet who knows John is, “Do you know John is now married?” It never fails. The responses range from shock to dismay to doubt to joy! And yet, the best part isn’t that John is married, but that a most amazing woman decided that he is the king she’s been waiting for. Wise woman. John is an amazing man. A go getter. A drink deep or taste not kinda bloke. Amazing chap with one major flaw- He can’t dance. I cannot dance but John cannot dance AT ALLLLL.

When Pastor Pete yelled “Oga, move your waist” as the couple had their first dance (sorry, I don’t have pictures. I was busy being a pastor then), I knew even a supernatural touch from above could not save John. Dancing isn’t in his destiny. If King David had been like John, the ark of God would never have reached Jerusalem. The brother can’t dance.

I didn’t go to Kenya as a photographer. I didn’t go to photograph John’s wedding. I went to bless it as his pastor. Pastor Joe, my travel companion, is also a medical doctor. He and his amazing wife Ayegs counseled the couple.. On our flight, one of the passenger’s enemies decided to try and see if they could nudge him to join his ancestors. After a couple of announcements for a doctor, I saw Pastor Joe switch hats and go to his rescue. What I didn’t know then was that he was nursing a terrible migraine himself. What a selfless man.

Kojo was the angel God has sent ahead of us to prepare for us. He was a fantastic host, and introduced us to aspects of Nairobi life I had never experienced before.

This wedding wasn’t in Cana of Galilee, it was in Voi, a red-earth, quiet community of beautiful women and wild life in Taita-Taveta County in Southern Kenya.

My brother John got us to travel over 6,000km for love; and it is a small price to pay.

My Little Billingham Bag

Leica M10-p + Summilux 35

I’ve never understood why photographers will empty their bank accounts to buy expensive cameras and lenses, only to end up carrying them around in cheap bags that damage the equipment, their shoulders or backs or all- or super loud ones that scream “Steal me, please steal me!”

Leica M10-p + Summilux 35

I love my little Billingham bag. This is not advert. The brand doesn’t know I exist. My Leica M and 2 lenses or just my Q often come with me in this bag. The padding is solid, the colours ooze taste and confidence. I avoid the blue and red ones because I consider them too loud for my taste.

Leica M10-p + Summilux 35

My kids are on vacation. We spent this afternoon playing table tennis under our mango tree. The bag hang on a branch watching us, and I thought: “ Wait a minute, you can’t just hang there watching us sheepishly, lend me your camera let me photograph you.

So… enjoy these photos of my little camera bag.

There are two types of photographers: Those who don’t care about what gear they shoot, as long as the photos are great, and then there is us; who take as much pleasure in the process of making the image as we do in the images themselves.

What kind of photographer are you?