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Choice of a Lifetime

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June 19, 1982
June 19, 1982

Many of the choices we make through life can be changed or revoked without very much difficulty, but some ought to be thoroughly thought through before they are made. One of the more difficult of these would be the choice of a life partner or spouse – a choice that can be a great blessing or devastating for the rest of your life.

Today, June 19, LaVonne and I are celebrating 35 years of marriage. 35 years!    It’s unbelievable that time has passed so quickly. When we were newlyweds we met a couple that had just celebrated their 5th anniversary. WOW! We thought that sounded like a very long time.

In 1979 I was working in California and renting a few rooms in the house of a Swedish woman. One day, when I came home, she said that we were invited for dinner at the home of her friend who was also from Sweden. That sounded nice so I accompanied her to dinner. Of course I couldn’t imagine that May-Britt, the Swedish woman who had invited us, would soon be my mother-in-law. We drove to the house in Arcadia, about an hour from where I was living, and it was here that I first met LaVonne. It wasn’t, perhaps, love at first sight, but it was memorable. I saw LaVonne a few more times before I returned to Sweden in the spring of 1980.

In the spring of 1980 I was filming a documentary about the mission sailboat, Elida, and their orphanage in India. In the summer I was going to film on the boat in Sweden. LaVonne was in Sweden visiting relatives and had, a bit reluctantly, stayed to sail with Elida along the west coast for a week. It happened to be the same week that I was filming onboard the boat. It didn’t take very long before LaVonne was glad that she had stayed behind when her mother went home to the USA. A few days after we left Elida, I invited LaVonne to go with me to Liseberg, an amusement park in Gothenburg. Liseberg can be a dangerous place for a bachelor who wishes to remain single. That’s where it said, “click.”

LaVonne returned to her aunt’s house in Småland where she would stay for a few days before going back to the states. While there she called her mother. LaVonne, who hadn’t spoken many words in Swedish earlier, began babbling in Swedish about this man she had met. May-Britt was surprised and shocked, something BIG had happened.

In 1981 I was again working in California and was able to spend a lot of time with LaVonne and her family. The following winter I was working on Sri Lanka and could only talk to her briefly by telephone. At that time you had to order your call through the post office on Sri Lanka and then wait for a couple hours to be connected. But LaVonne wrote to me every day, making the other members of my team a bit jealous over the amount of letters I received.

The wedding was set for June 19, 1982. I returned to Sweden from Sri Lanka and one week later flew to California. Luckily LaVonne and her mother had made all the plans and everything worked wonderfully. My father and brothers and their wives all came to the wedding. We had over 400 guests and it was a celebration we’ll never forget.

I got an amazingly beautiful, intelligent and loving woman for a wife. It’s now been 35 years and I want to say in all honesty and with all my heart that I love you more now then ever, you, my best friend and wife.

Life experience, Observations

A Peek at Eternity

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What was left of my Triumph Spitfire
He told them not to hurry since no one could have survived such a crash.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning, January 10, 1978. Temperatures had dipped below freezing during the night, but by 10 o’clock in the morning the sun was already warming up when I climbed into my little Triumph Spitfire sports car. I was on my way to town for a meeting with the director of the school where I had been teaching classes since I was in high school. It was a 15-mile trip that I had done hundreds of times.

Exiting Vårgårda at the intersection by the Doggy dog food factory, there were no on/off ramps to the highway, only a stop sign before I would turn left. It was just like any other day, only a little prettier and sunnier then most winter days. I loved my Triumph, which I had bought six months earlier. It handled beautifully and purred like a kitten, licking the asphalt as I sped away. I drove down the hill, past the gas station and over the bridge past Doggy. I carefully stepped on the brakes as I approached the stop sign. Large spruce trees by the side of the road cast a shadow across asphalt. I tried the brakes again but nothing happened. The road approaching the intersection was covered in black ice. It was impossible to stop and there was a huge semi-truck speeding past. I saw the big wheels and realize that I was heading straight towards the truck. My reflex reaction was to pull the handbrake to skid sideways so I wouldn’t glide under the trailer. I found out later that that reaction bought me a mille-second of time and I missed the truck trailer.

The car spun around, coming to a stop in the middle of the highway, with its nose pointing towards Vårgårda. But I have no memory of what happened after I saw the wheels of the truck and pulled the handbrake. A tank truck was behind the semi-truck. The driver hit the brakes 200 meters from where I stood but, because of the icy conditions, couldn’t stop the truck. Another car was approaching in the opposite direction so he had no choice but to plow into my little sports car.

In a violent collision the truck ended up on top of my sports car and together we slid for another 300 meters before coming to a stop. My Triumph was completely crushed underneath the cab of the truck. The only thing somewhat unscathed was the driver’s seat. Since the car had spun around on the road, the truck hit it on the passenger side.

It seems that someone was watching over me. Medical personnel were immediately on the scene. The car behind the tanker was driven by a doctor on his way the hospital. In the second car there was a nurse, also heading to work. A third person ran to the Doggy factory to call an ambulance but, I later learned, he told them not to hurry since no one could have survived such a crash.

The wheels of the first truck are the last things I remember. After that all feelings of fear or worry were gone. I came instead to a world filled with enormous joy, where there was no sorrow or pain. I had a very distinct sense of the presence of other people, but there was one person in particular who guided me. I experienced a world that was indescribably beautiful and wonderful. A world much more real and tangible than the world I knew. I had no desire to return to the old world, neither did I think of my family or friends. In this new world the joy was so intoxicating it eradicated all thoughts of what was left behind. Death and sorrow didn’t exist.

Suddenly my guide was telling me that I would have to return to the old world. I was only 19 and had everything to live for, but I was devastated that I wouldn’t be allowed to stay. If I had to leave this wonderful place and return to what we consider to be life, I wanted to tell everyone in the whole world about…could it have been heaven? But a very kind voice told me that I would not be able to tell anyone about what I had seen and experienced. I was taken to a round door and, passing through it, returned to the old world and all my memories of what I had experienced were carefully erased.

When I regained consciousness at the hospital all I had left was the disappointment of not being able to stay in, or remember, the world I had visited. I also felt the pain of all my injuries. My disappointment turned to anger and a profound sorrow that is hard to describe. My parents were by my bed. I can’t remember what we said, but my mother told me later that I was so angry when I woke up that they had to leave the room for a while.

For a long time afterwards I struggled to remember my experiences. Sometimes I tightened all the muscles in my mangled body to force the memories to the surface, but it didn’t work, my memories were gone. All I could remember was that it was a wonderful place, more “real” than the life we are living, and the voice telling me that I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about it.

The experience of being pinned under the tanker truck, lying there on that frozen asphalt, then being transported by ambulance and those first painful hours in the hospital would most certainly have been excruciating if I had been conscious. Instead I was given a glimpse of eternity, a reality that has given me great joy throughout my life. It hasn’t taken away my desire to live, but has assured me that something much better is waiting. I am convinced that it was God who appeared as my kind guide who was strangely familiar.

Fascinating_People, Sri Lanka, Wildlife/Documentary Filming

Sir, Sir!…Don’t be afraid!

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Stefan Quinth holding cobra, 1982
It took awhile before I was comfortable holding a cobra in my hands, but I learned a great lesson; fear is our greatest enemy in any situation.

My first visit to Sri Lanka or Ceylon, as it is also called, was in 1980 when I was 23 years old. It was, and is, a fabulous island with amazing wildlife, scenery and history. One day, when I was sitting in my hotel room, I saw two young boys squatting by the side of the road. They didn’t seem to be local boys. They carried cloth bags and a box that they had placed on the road in front of them. Curious, I watched them for a while and discovered that they had snakes crawling out of their pockets and around their feet. Not just your garden-variety snakes, these were cobras, the snake they say kills more people than all other snakes combined!

When I was four years old my father told me, “Son, be careful in the forest and never go near the stone walls because there are snakes there.” That admonition served only to spike my interest in the animals that I was supposed to avoid. Now, when I had a chance to study the king of all snakes, I just had to go out and get a closer look and talk to the boys. They told me, in broken English, who they were and where they came from. I was impressed by the way they handled their animals. As a filmmaker, who had produced and sold a few of my first wildlife documentaries to television, the temptation was just too great. I would have to go home, get my camera and then return, as soon as possible, to Sri Lanka.

One year later I was back again and produced the first documentary about the snake people for Swedish Television. They are actually called Ahikuntake, which, in Sanskrit, means, “people who catch spear bodies,” or rather, “snake catchers.” They are nomads, traveling around the island collecting poisonous snakes from rice paddies, plantations, homes and gardens.

As the rice ripens it attracts rats and mice, and the snakes follow in their wake to feast on rodents. When it is time to harvest there are plenty of poisonous reptiles lurking in the knee-high rice. Before the reapers can step out into the paddy they call on the Ahikuntake to come and gather the snakes. When their bags are full, they’ll walk around to another field and release the snakes. That might sound strange, but if they killed the snakes, the rats and mice would destroy every harvest for years to come. The snakes, especially the cobra, are essential for the economic survival of the rice farmers.

When I returned to Sri Lanka to produce my first film about the Ahikuntake, I followed the children out to the fields to gather poisonous snakes. The children, only 8-10 years old, picked up those dangerous animals as if they were toys. It looked kind of fun and I, who had been interested in snakes since I was a small boy, also wanted to try. Understandably a bit nervous, I tried approaching the serpents from behind, but every time I got close enough to grab the least dangerous end, the snake turned around, hissed and lunged at me. After umpteen attempts that all failed, one of the children tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Sir, sir! Don’t be afraid! DON’T BE AFRAID!” These children who had been playing with snakes since before they could walk, saw nothing dangerous in their task.

You could compare those children in the field with our own children who have learned to walk on the sidewalk along a heavily trafficked street in the city. We’ve also taught them how to safely cross that same street. As long as we follow the rules, we are not particularly concerned about the cars, but one false move, a thoughtless mistake, could be catastrophic. The same applies in the field and since snakes can also sense or smell fear, it is important to remain calm when working with poisonous snakes.

The children in the rice field taught me an important lesson that day. “Sir, don’t be afraid!” Fear is, in itself, the most dangerous thing we carry with us wherever we go. Fear causes us to make foolish decisions, whether it is when we confront a bear in the forest or our boss when we are asking for a raise. It took awhile before I was comfortable holding a cobra in my hands, but I learned a great lesson; fear is our greatest enemy in any situation.

Fascinating_People, Sri Lanka, Travel

Sri Lanka – My first visit

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Two Ahikuntaka boys
Two young boys squatting by the little gravel road. (Photo: Per Wester)

My teacher in elementary school had a sister living on the island of Ceylon in the Indian Ocean, off the southern tip of India. Sometimes her sister sent letters. It was a special treat when our teacher read the letters out loud for the class. While she was reading, the envelope was passed around the class so that we could see the beautiful stamps with exotic animals and flowers that were glued in the corner. From the letters came exciting stories about elephants, jungles, endless beaches and about tea that grew on bushes. For me, Ceylon was a country sprung from the pages of storybooks.

In November-December, 1980, when I was 23 years old, I was offered the opportunity to travel to Ceylon. By that time the country had officially reverted to its original name, Sri Lanka, which means “the shining or glimmering island.” When I arrived on Sri Lanka the first time, the International airport, located just north of the capital, Colombo, was only a small, inconspicuous building surrounded by palm trees that seemed to bow down as the plane came in for a landing. When the doors of the plane opened and I took my first steps down the stairs out into a tropical world it felt like walking into a soft wall of warm, moist air – a totally new experience for me.

All the stories my teacher had read from her sister’s letter came to life, but the sound of the waves, the intense song of the tropical birds and the smell of the flowers and burning grass in the warm, humid air was something that could not be portrayed on paper. Sri Lanka was so much more. Still, the colorful stories springing from those letters telling about a tropical island, far off in the great big world, had left an indelible impression on me as a child.

My first encounter with the people and sights of Sri Lanka had been so intense. Every day was full of new experiences. I had walked on warm, empty beaches, seen elephants and met people who welcomed me as a friend. It was impossible not to fall in love with this tropical paradise. There was only one thing missing on my list of things to experience, and that was to see a cobra. But one morning, just before Christmas, 1980, looking out of the window of my bungalow, I saw two young boys squatting by the little gravel road. At first I paid them little heed, but when I discovered that the boy’s cloth bags were full of snakes I was intrigued. I went right out to talk to the boys and was able to become acquainted with their extraordinary pets. Finally, I was able to hold a real-live cobra! Little did I know, meeting those young boys would lead to a deep, life-long friendship with an exciting culture.

That first visit to Sri Lanka was followed by many more and over the years my teacher’s sister, Inga-Lisa Fairweather, who has lived on Sri Lanka for many decades, became a very close friend. I have returned to the island almost once a year since 1980. It’s fascinating how the stories we’ve heard as a child can have a lasting influence on our lives. I never dreamt that Sri Lanka, my childhood paradise, would one day be like a second home to me. Throughout the years I have made some extended visits and produced many films about the people, nature and animals on the island.

Fascinating_People, Sri Lanka, Travel

Sri Lanka – A Paradise to Return To

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LaVonne and a Blue Whale
Swimming with a Blue Whale – We were only yards away!

There are some countries in the world that have that little extra something, that appeal that draws you back like a super magnet. Sri Lanka is one of the countries I find difficult to be away from for very long. They have everything – jungles, wild animals, history, fascinating people, long beaches and exciting underwater scenery. It’s never hard for me, as a filmmaker, to find a story on this paradise island.

My latest trip, in March-April, was my 30th visit to Sri Lanka. I have often been there over extended periods, maybe 2-4 months at a time, working on various film projects. My first visit to this paradise island was in 1980. Sri Lanka was, at that time, a somewhat primitive country with rough, narrow roads and people doing hard labor with simple tools. A country not yet industrialized but still maintaining the unique culture of a fading colonial era.

Now, in 2017, Sri Lanka is a modern country with well-developed roads and transportation. People live much like we do in Europe, for better or for worse. For me, one of the more disturbing “modernizations” is the ever-present television that can now be found even in the simplest homes in rural Sri Lanka. People have succumbed to the same social paralysis that affected us in the 1960’s, staring at a moving picture on the screen rather than visiting and talking with each other. Even if they don’t have time to sit down and watch, the television is left on as some sort of artificial companion or status symbol. Of course, television, correctly used, can be a great source of entertainment and information.

This spring I and my wife and colleague, LaVonne, were in Sri Lanka to film the final scenes for our new film, a story about the Ahikuntaka people, and to gather more material for our new book about Sri Lanka. First we visited Kudagama, a small village about 30 minutes drive south of Anuradhapura. When I came to Kudagama the first time to film in 1982, the village was little more than a cluster of huts made from mud, sticks and leaves. Most alarming, however, was the obvious alcohol problems in the village. Virtually 100% of the people from the age of 10 years old were alcoholics, drinking large quantities of the cheapest alcohol called Kasippu. Terrible violence and riots broke out daily. I think it could best be described as “Hell on Earth.” In our coming book and the film “Ahikuntaka – The Children of Paradise” I’ll describe more about working in the village at that time.

Since that first visit in 1982, I have followed the Ahikuntaka people throughout the years and seen the village develop and change. This spring we spent several days in the village, interviewing the elders and visiting with friends. No longer a hell on earth, it is now closer to paradise. What brought this change? I’ll tell you more about that later.

After our visit in Kudagama we traveled to Sri Lanka’s east coast to film and photograph the marine national park, Pigeon Island. The national park is a popular destination and the coral reefs surrounding the island have been damaged and destroyed by the many tourists walking in the bay, breaking off the delicate corals. Although Pigeon Island is worth a visit, the real excitement is to be found just outside the national park in the deeper water where the Sperm whales and Blue whales feed. We dove at several beautiful sites that week, but one day we were snorkeling in deep water when a Blue whale swam straight towards me. (The Blue whale is the largest creature to ever live on earth.) His enormous body was just a few yards in front of me when he slowly dove into the bottomless depths. The intensely blue water, laced with rays of sunlight, engulfed the whale as it was slowly sunk into the depths. It was magical. Swimming with that gentle giant in his own environment is an experience I’ll never forget.

Coming this fall, 2017, the film “Ahikuntaka – The Children of Paradise” and a book about my favorite places on the paradise island, Sri Lanka.

Alaska, Kodiak

The Naked Salmon

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Stefan Quinth holding a skinned salmon
The salmon refused to give up, even after a nasty encounter with a bear. When I released it back into the water, it swam away quickly.

Five species of salmon return every year to the creeks, rivers and lakes on Kodiak. Having spent 2-4 years swimming all over the Pacific Ocean, they return to the same body of water where they once hatched. The thousands of salmon that spawn in the Connecticut Creek have had to swim several miles through a network of rivers before coming home. It is a journey wrought with danger. Like runners in a gauntlet, the salmon race as fast as they can up the shallow water, while hungry bears wait expectantly on the shore.

I was wading up the middle of Connecticut Creek one day, when several salmon swam past my feet. This was not an unusual occurrence, as the stream was often full of fish, but one of them looked odd. On closer inspection, I saw to my surprise, that it was naked! It had apparently just escaped after a close encounter with a bear, leaving behind the skin off its back.

Striding through the water, I chased after the naked salmon, wanting to get a picture of the fish that wouldn’t give up, despite incredible adversity. I caught up with it at the next bend and managed to coax it up on the sand. Carefully, I lifted the salmon in my hands to take its picture. It was stripped of skin from head to tail. Such a tenacious character, giving all it had for the next generation! I released the salmon back into the river, and as soon as it felt the cool water, it took off with a powerful swish of its tail, probably very much aware that time was of the essence.

(Excerpt from “Kodiak, Alaska – The Island of the Great Bear”. The book can be purchased from Camera Q)

Don’t miss our first ”Kodiak Scandinavian Film and Culture and Festival” on Kodiak, Alaska, November 6-12, 2017. See Camera Q for more information.

Fascinating_People, Wildlife/Documentary Filming

Premiere in Cambridge MN for the film “The Tom Coleman Story”

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Premiere "The Tom Coleman Story"
Full house at the premiere of “The Tom Coleman Story” in Cambridge, MN. (Photo: Shawn Coleman)

The premiere of our film, “The Tom Coleman Story” was held in Cambridge, MN, on April 22, 2017. The Richard G. Hardy Performing Arts Center has 710 seats and every chair was filled. We even had to turn away a few people, unfortunately. During the first hour of the event I showed pictures and film clips from various projects, interspersed with music from the American Swedish Institute’s Spelmanslag and the musician, Frezgi Hiskias, and his choir from Ethiopia. Tom and his children, Judy and Bill, were also on the stage and spoke about their time in Ethiopia. The show was a tribute to Tom Coleman who also turned 95 years old that weekend. The premiere event was a great success; I don’t think that I have ever experienced such joy and appreciation at a film premiere before.

I first med Tom Coleman in the small town of Mora, one hour north of Minneapolis, MN. I think it was in 2007. Our friend, Gordon Hallstrom, had asked several Swedish-Americans to meet at the home of Elwood Ostrom to share their stories about their Scandinavian heritage. That was the first time I heard Tom Coleman tell a story told in the Orsa dialect, which is quite different from proper Swedish. We became good friends and over the years I filmed Tom as he told me many stories about his background and his Swedish heritage from Orsa in Dalarna, Sweden. I used those stories in the series, “Pretty Much 100% Scandinavian.”

Whenever I met Tom he would ask if I didn’t want to film his stories from his time working as a surgeon in Ethiopia for the film series I was making about Scandinavian emigrants to the USA. He even showed me pictures of horrible injuries and diseases he had treated in Africa. I answered each time that I didn’t think those stories would fit in the film. When I finished the series in 2013, however, I felt like I needed to learn more about Tom Coleman and his stories from Africa.

I was working on a film about the oldest man to ever ski the Swedish Mora race (Vasaloppet), Allan from Flaskhall. We brought Allan to the USA to visit his relatives in Seattle, stopping over in Minnesota on our way home to Sweden. I also brought Allan to meet Tom in Cambridge. Allan, who was born in 1918, became very good friends with Tom who is only four years younger. Allan was fascinated with Tom’s ability to speak perfect Swedish even though he was not born in Sweden. They were like two teenagers laughing at each other’s jokes and comparing scars from various injuries incurred during life. Allan won, of course, since he lost his left arm in a battle with a threshing machine. It was during that visit that I decided that Tom’s story needed to be documented on film.

In the three years that followed I made several visits to Minnesota and to Cambridge. I learned to know Tom’s wife, Elaine, and their children, Judy and Bill, who also have amazing stories from growing up in Ethiopia. At that time both Judy and Bill were living and working in California but flew to Minnesota to be interviewed. Judy has recently retired and moved to Cambridge to live with and help her parents. I admire the courage of the Coleman family to open up and share their lives for me and my film camera. Even if they had seen several of my films, I was still a relative stranger.

Ten years after I first met Tom Coleman we premiered “The Tom Coleman Story,” a tribute to a great man. I realized as we prepared for the premiere that Tom and his wife, Elaine, are greatly loved. People from all over the USA, Sweden and Ethiopia wanted to be a part of this tribute or send their greetings. It was a premiere with much laughter and tears of joy.

Here are a few of the comments we’ve received after the film:

“On a scale of 1 to 10, it was a 15 or 20.”

 What a blessing it was to be at the “Tom Coleman Story” on Saturday.  The music, testimonials, discussions and film were all superb.  It was truly a day we will never forget…”

 The film flows beautifully.  It is an incredible film.

 Many thanks to Tom, Elaine, Judy and Bill for sharing your lives and your amazing stories with us. You will always be in our thoughts.

Alaska, Wildlife/Documentary Filming

A Playful Bear Cub

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The young bear clowned around outside my tent, keeping one eye on me to see if I was paying attention. He kept me company for over a weeks
The young bear clowned around outside my tent, keeping one eye on me to see if I was paying attention. He kept me company for over a weeks.

My first visit to South Frazer on Kodiak Island was in late August. Although it was quiet and deserted, evidence of the summer’s activities could be seen everywhere. The grass lay trampled and dotted with bear scat. Piles of rotting salmon lined the riverbanks below the waterfall.

I set up my tent by the lake, just north of the outlet. The fishing was great, and I lived like a king on freshly caught trout.

Waking early one morning, I opened the tent flap to find a young bear watching me from a few yards away. He studied me carefully. Then, after a minute or two, began rolling around in the grass, turning somersaults, and playing with his back paws, keeping an eye on me the whole time. He seemed to want to play … with me! Is it possible to play with a 300-pound bear cub?

The cub had dark fur, like most males. About 20 yards away, there was another cub, this one lighter in color, probably the sister of the cub near my tent. Sows, ready to mate again, usually abandon their cubs during their third summer. Left alone, not really knowing how to act, the cubs are most vulnerable. Bears are very social animals, and abandoned cubs often seek the company and security of other creatures, even humans. I’d been “adopted” before by cubs on Kodiak. While a great honor, it’s not entirely without risk.

I had plenty of opportunities to film and photograph the playful cub that stayed near me the whole time I was there. When I went down to the lake, he followed me, and when I went to bed, he laid down just outside my tent. His sister, the lighter bear cub, kept her distance.

Since then, I’ve returned to South Frazer many times and have often wondered what happened to my little friend. Maybe he is one of the giant bears that roam the mountaintops. Hopefully, he’s learned to be a little more cautious and keep his distance from dangerous humans.

(Excerpt from “Kodiak, Alaska – The Island of the Great Bear”. The book can be purchased from Camera Q )

Don’t miss our first ”Kodiak Scandinavian Film and Culture and Festival” on Kodiak, Alaska, November 6-12, 2017. See Camera Q for more information.

Alaska, Kodiak

Kodiak, Alaska

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Kodiak, Alaska

Alaska! What is it about this great, unspoiled wilderness that is so alluring to some people? It is a destination that often requires a challenging and costly journey, with accommodations lacking creature comforts like hot water and dry socks, swarming with mosquitoes and other bloodthirsty critters, and completely cut off from communication with the outside world. Why are we willing to go to great expense and difficulty for the opportunity to abstain from comforts we strived for generations to obtain? Is it a longing for a simpler life, a desire to escape from city noises, smog-laden air and bumper-to-bumper traffic or simply a challenge to see how much we can handle? I would like to take you on an exciting adventure to the Kodiak islands in the Gulf of Alaska, a place laden with history and hidden secrets.

It’s a little known fact that most of the natives on the island are descendants of a group of Scandinavian men who arrived on Kodiak about 100 years ago, married Sugpiaq women, and raised large families. This explains why so many of the natives have names like Olson, Gustavson, Haakanson and Svenson. With its high mountains, clothed in emerald green and cut through with deep blue fjords, Kodiak has many similarities to the Scandinavian Peninsula.

I first came to Kodiak more than 25 years ago to film the Kodiak bear, the largest land carnivore on earth, but I found the islands so intriguing that I have returned year after year. For a documentary filmmaker, there is a never-ending source of inspiration in the dramatic landscapes, unique wildlife, and rich cultural history.  I would like to share some of my adventures in the wilderness, my experiences with the great bear, and my encounters with history through sunken ships and archeological digs.  I found a multitude of film projects on Kodiak, and I also developed friendships that will last a lifetime. Every time I return to Kodiak it feels like I’ve come home.

(Excerpt from “Kodiak, Alaska – The Island of the Great Bear”. The book can be purchased from Camera Q )

Don’t miss our first ”Kodiak Scandinavian Film and Culture and Festival” on Kodiak, Alaska, November 6-12, 2017. See Camera Q for more information.

Fascinating_People, Travel

The Path to Ginde Beret

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3 men in Ginde Beret
Three men welcomed us on the path to Ginde Beret.

I wanted to see the places in Africa that Dr. Tom Coleman spoke about so often, and in the spring of 2016 I booked a trip to Ethiopia. In Addis Ababa I met my translator and chauffer. We had a lot of places to see so we left the city early the next morning. Leaving Addis Ababa, we drove west for about an hour and then turned north, up through the mountains and a beautiful forest. The air was crisp and sweet and the forest was brimming with wildlife. At first the gravel road was wide and even, but it gradually became worse. It was about 120 km across the mountain but, with big rocks and large holes in the road, it took us several hours before we came to the small village of Kachise.

Our goal was to get to Ginde Beret, where Dr. Coleman had worked most of his time in Ethiopia. From Kachise the best route was to walk down a steep footpath to the valley below. There was, my chauffer told me, a road, but it went way out of the way and wasn’t at all in as “good” condition as the road we had just come by, so the decision was easy. I wondered if anyone in the village remembered Dr. Tom Coleman and his family who had lived there during the 1960’s and 70’s.

We arrived in Kachise before dark and checked into the hotel. Well, they called it a hotel; it was really not more than a shed. The toilet was a hole in the ground and there was no running water. The room we were givien was small and dirty and the mattress was lumpy and hard. I pulled out my travel sheets and crawled into bed. We needed to get an early start in the morning.

We were up at sunrise, ate a quick breakfast, a couple of eggs and tea, before beginning our trek through back allies and out to the edge of the cliff where the serpentine path wriggled down the ravine. We stood for a moment on the edge and looked down at the little village of Ginde Beret far below. A great surprise was waiting for us down there. No one has yet forgotten the miracle doctor, Tom Coleman, who saved the lives of thousands of suffering people.

We were four people in our group when we began walking down the trail, myself, my friend, Stefan Jansson from Sweden, our translator and a guide. But within minutes we were joined by more and more people who offered to carry our equipment and camera bags. I don’t know where they all came from; they seemed to appear out of nowhere. Our little troop was transformed into a caravan with people all eager to help. The path was steep with large rocks strewn here and there. Some portions had been repaired with large stone steps that made it easier to step safely. Tall trees lined the path giving us shelter from the sun. Baboons and other wildlife wandered nearby, watching us curiously.

Coming down into the valley we met people on their way up the path to Kachise. Many people from Ginde Beret climb the steep path daily to go to school, work or shopping. Suddenly there were three men standing on the path in front of us. As we came nearer I noticed that they were missing fingers and their faces had been badly marred by leprosy. Without hesitating they reached out, one after the other, to shake our hands in welcome. Their fingerless hands felt soft in mine, but it was a peculiar sensation. It was the first real encounter with a leper.

When asked if they had ever heard of Dr. Tom Coleman, they all began talking at once. Dr. Coleman! It had been 50 years since they last met him, but Dr. Coleman had saved their lives. I realized that many people in Ginde Beret indeed remembered the Colemans. They asked, “Is he coming back soon? Are you one of his children?” I explained that I was a good friend of Dr. Coleman and that I wanted to film in the village and show it to Dr. Coleman. We spent a whole day in the village and they showed us all the places where the Coleman family had lived and worked, and where the children, Judy and Bill, had played. A visit from a friend of the Coleman’s was cause for a celebration. I felt humbled by the reception we received in Ginde Beret and it gave me a greater understanding of the impact Dr. Tom and Elaine Coleman had made in Africa between 1956 and 2004. The name Coleman is spoken with great respect in Ginde Beret. It represents people who sacrificed their own comfort and prosperity to save the lives of thousands of suffering people.

Don’t miss the premiere of the film and the chance to meet the Coleman family. April 22 in Cambridge, MN. Tickets available online or at the door. More information at cameraQ.com

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