More Than We Know

Throughout Ethiopia, donkeys and young men are the workhorses of the nation. They walk the streets together carrying loads of cargo piled higher and heavier than either of them could ever carry alone, delivering goods, bundles of wood and gallons of water from one home to the next. Dawn until dusk. It’s a long daily grind for a small daily pay and this young man is at the beginning of his career.

The cemetery of Sololá is perched at the south edge of town, high in the Sierra Madre mountains overlooking Lake Atitlán and its surrounding volcanos.

The Kaqchikel people built this cemetery more than two centuries ago. They continue to live in this mountain town and to lay at rest in these tombs when their lives are over. This man is their caretaker.

One might think that by adhering to Sharia law in many aspects of society, men would flourish in the privilege and authority bestowed upon them. In this strict Muslim nation, unlike women, men are given the luxury of freedom and control over their own lives. But in public life, men and women are essentially segregated with virtually no socially acceptable place for them to be together to enjoy one another’s company or share perspectives and laughter. In Somaliland it may be a man’s world, but in the luxury of his daily life he is alone.

This lovely woman lives and works in the heart of old Phnom Penh in a tucked away neighbourhood that’s wedged between Charles de Gaulle Boulevard and the Orussey market. If you’re not looking for it you’ll pass right by the narrow opening to its network of laneways that tie the community together, and you’ll remain stuck on the busy streets that run unsuspecting circles around it day after day. Her neighbourhood is like a tiny, isolated world in the giant solar system of the city. For most of her life she’s been right here at the centre of it, older and wiser now, and loved by all.

This young man lives in the inner city neighbourhood of Barangay 310. It is a community of winding laneways and tightly packed buildings that surround the Manila City Jail, and it may very well be one of the most challenging places in the city for a young person to grow up.

The more time I spent here, and with this young man, the more I realized just how poorly I would fair in life were this the neighbourhood where I grew up in. I can’t imagine how I would ever find my way or become my best. But the more I got to know this young man, the more I could see his strength and determination to become the person he longs to be. His is the kind of strength and determination I have never known, or ever needed to look for.

This young man lives alone in Ethiopia’s capital city of Addis Ababa. He is one of millions to abandon the mounting challenges of life in the countryside, leaving his village and family home for the lure of prosperity that only the growing capital can offer. Its population has nearly doubled in this past decade alone.

He lives here on a side street in the city centre, surrounded by construction zones, in this small dwelling he has made from tin and wood. To his left, just out of view, are neatly stacked bundles of coal organized by size and weight that he will sell throughout the day at a price that can’t be beat. It’s a business he has built from the ground up and the possibilities are endless.

This old man has power over every conversation. You are at once captivated by his magnetic eyes and distracted by the reflections in the lens that magnify them. He reveals the world around you within his quiet gaze as though he were the sage of Bangladesh, the father of your fathers, the window to your soul. But he is not. He is an old man by the side of the road who has power over every conversation.