A Letter From Story and Photos by NICHOLAS BLAIR On November 23, 1984,1left San Francisco to join a small film crew in New York. Weflew together to Africa to film the drought- stricken countries of Ethiopia, Somalia and Sudan for the relief agency CARE. Our crew consisted of Cynthia Citron, producer and director of communications for CARE, Russ Pariseau, director and cameraman, Jeff Wayman, cameraman and assistant, and myself, soundman and still photographer. Our assignment was to document thefam ine reliefeffort in order to create TV spots and longer fundraising films. The objective as it was explained to us was tofilm the indomitable spirit o fhumanity tested in those extremely desperate conditions. Thirty million people in Africa face starvation and depend on international assistance for their survival. Our first scheduled stop was Somalia. But both planes of the Somali airlines were inoperable. One had been hijacked the day before, and the other had been hit by a catering truck. Thus we had to reroute via Cairo to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, a country most difficult to enter. Most film crews have been denied visas- one reason why so little attention was given to the Ethiopian famine until the fall of 1984. We had no visas, but luckily Cynthia Citron had lived in Ethiopia, and was able to use her connections to get us into the country. But the bureaucracy was an obstacle. It took us a week to obtain our visas and the permits needed to film in the drought-stricken areas. In the meantime I was able to get a sense of the capitol, Addis Ababa. I have travelled in Asia and Latin America. Ethiopia is by far the poorest country I have seen. Shopping at a “supermarket” for provisions, I found the shelves stocked with canned pear halves and laundry detergent. Although they declined frisking me, all other patrons were searched as they left the store. The traditional market wasn’t much better. It looked very poor, with mostly chilis, spices, garlic and a few vegetables wilting in the sun. In the middle of poverty-stricken areas, young street kids would approach me speaking very good English. Others, a little older, often asked me about universities in the States where they hoped to enroll through the American Embassy. (Throughout my travels in Africa I met many students who wanted me to sponsor their studies in the U.S.) The Ethiopians seemed very intelligent, beautifully featured and holding up extremely well under their misfortune. When we finally received our permits, we travelled first to Gondar, a city near Lake Tana, a watershed area at the headwaters of the Blue Nile. Gondar appears to be a medieval city with a twelfth-century castle, many thatched roof stone dwellings, and horse carts for transportation. We flew there aboard a British Air Force mercy flight loaded with grain. From the air the mountainous countryside was the color of dust. The river beds were bone dry and there was not a living thing to be seen. Yet we could make out small villages and clusters of huts perched on the tops and sides of mountains, without, apparently, any roads leading to them. It was beyond me how food could be grown and people survive in that Godforsaken land. After spending a night in Gondar, we flew with the governor and other local dignitaries in a Russian helicopter to tour the surroundings. Our first stop was a small makeshift camp of 5,000 people. These people received a minimum of rations and they had only enough grain to last them a few days in their storehouse. The camp was on dry, hard sloping ground at an altitude of 5,000 feet. Food is their major concern, but it is painful to imagine what it is like to spend night after night outside without blankets when the temperature dips to 40° (fahrenheit). For shelter, families (many of whom had walked for days without food or water to arrive) slept in teepee-like structures made of branches and dried grass. 52 Clinton St. Quarterly
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