Hello world!


As the plane tilted downward to land in Nairobi, Kenya in the summer of 2002, I had no inkling my life was about to change. I had come to see the animals, with a few short days on assignment for a nonprofit that worked with kids in Kibera, a Nairobi slum. We’d been traveling over 20 hours from our home in San Francisco.

While my husband went to sleep in our hotel, I went off under the wing of a social worker to visit a school in Kibera. The kids tumbled out the door of a corrugated metal shack, laughing and shy around the sleepy white woman carrying a camera. They lined up, a patchwork of colorful hand-me-down t-shirts and green gingham uniforms. I looked through the camera viewfinder. The sun reflected silver off their faces, and one girl, diminutive and regal, tossed her magnificent braids.

I was in the first hour of documenting the devastation that AIDS leaves in its footprints across the African continent — the trail of children left behind at the death of their parents. In the six years since that morning I’ve visited remote villages, towns and slums, capturing their stories with my camera to bring them to you. Because if you and I won’t reach across the oceans to help these beautiful and brilliant children, who will?

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