By Henry Regehr  July 30, 2020 In July 1972, our Lufthansa 737-100 flew out of Nairobi airport after a long anxiety-producing delay. Kenyan officials had been checking all women for excessive jewelry to prevent gold and money from leaving the country. Fear had gripped the Asian community of East Africa when Idi Amin, in neighbouring Uganda, had begun imprisoning and killing Asians in deadly earnest. The East Asians of Kenya, the backbone of Kenyan business, had also felt the grip of prejudice as their businesses were confiscated by the Kenyatta regime. Our family of four, including our ten and fourteen-year-old children, were happy to finally get through the ordeal and…

As a photographer, I remember events and relationships in images of the mind. These stories, these reflections, are the still photos of a long-lasting and loving romance. I now share this album of images with you. February 1946: On starlit prairie winter evenings, riding Madge, thirteen- year-old Lillian lets her pony choose its way in the farm field. She lies back on the horse and gazes at the wide- open black sky, its shimmering stars, and unknown galaxies, and she feels at peace. Her parents, refugees from communist Russia, arrived in Canada in 1929 with four children and after difficult years, including the death of infant Peter, Lillian was born…

It was to be a national holiday celebration but the announcement about a Belgian official’s visit for the occasion came as a surprise to everyone in the large Nyankunde community. This is situated in a fertile plain and at the edge of the tropical Congolese jungle. In 1952, the large hospital compound was operated by a Canadian benevolent organization. The medical director, lovingly known to everyone as Doctor Bob, was a highly regarded physician. Trained at the University of Toronto, he was respected by foreign professionals, locally trained staff and Congolese nationals as well as the Belgian colonizers. To the East of the hospital were the busy elementary and high…

From infancy I was surrounded by my mother’s storytelling. During the dreary, dry depression years she translated her own rich reading into children’s language. We were often sitting on the floor around her while she retold melodramatic stories of the Napoleonic wars, or of families in poverty or of Bobbie who grew up in prewar rural Germany and accompanied his parents to the overwhelming  World’s Fair in Berlin. We shared Bobbie’s excitement and we were frightened when he was lost in the big city. We were relieved when the policeman found him watched over him until his parents jubilantly appeared to claim him and take him back to his country…

Excitement was mounting around the prairie church and in the prairie community: old fashioned revival meetings were coming to town. The caravan of semi-trailers, with large painted signs emblazoned with crosses and the words “Tent Revivals” arrived at the large empty space on the fringes of the town.  Immediately after school we rushed to the site, watched as three huge wooden tent poles were anchored to the ground, cables were stretched and fastened, and massive sheets of canvas were manhandled onto the cables and secured to the poles. Backless benches were placed in rigid rows. Sheets of plywood emerged out of the trucks, piece by piece, and were assembled into…

By Henry Regehr  July 30, 2020 In July 1972, our Lufthansa 737-100 flew out of Nairobi airport after a long anxiety-producing delay. Kenyan officials had been checking all women for excessive jewelry to prevent gold and money from leaving the country. Fear had gripped the Asian community of East Africa when Idi Amin, in neighbouring Uganda, had begun imprisoning and killing Asians in deadly earnest. The East Asians of Kenya, the backbone of Kenyan business, had also felt the grip of prejudice as their businesses were confiscated by the Kenyatta regime. Our family of four, including our ten and fourteen-year-old children, were happy to finally get through the ordeal and…

As a photographer, I remember events and relationships in images of the mind. These stories, these reflections, are the still photos of a long-lasting and loving romance. I now share this album of images with you. February 1946: On starlit prairie winter evenings, riding Madge, thirteen- year-old Lillian lets her pony choose its way in the farm field. She lies back on the horse and gazes at the wide- open black sky, its shimmering stars, and unknown galaxies, and she feels at peace. Her parents, refugees from communist Russia, arrived in Canada in 1929 with four children and after difficult years, including the death of infant Peter, Lillian was born…

It was to be a national holiday celebration but the announcement about a Belgian official’s visit for the occasion came as a surprise to everyone in the large Nyankunde community. This is situated in a fertile plain and at the edge of the tropical Congolese jungle. In 1952, the large hospital compound was operated by a Canadian benevolent organization. The medical director, lovingly known to everyone as Doctor Bob, was a highly regarded physician. Trained at the University of Toronto, he was respected by foreign professionals, locally trained staff and Congolese nationals as well as the Belgian colonizers. To the East of the hospital were the busy elementary and high…

From infancy I was surrounded by my mother’s storytelling. During the dreary, dry depression years she translated her own rich reading into children’s language. We were often sitting on the floor around her while she retold melodramatic stories of the Napoleonic wars, or of families in poverty or of Bobbie who grew up in prewar rural Germany and accompanied his parents to the overwhelming  World’s Fair in Berlin. We shared Bobbie’s excitement and we were frightened when he was lost in the big city. We were relieved when the policeman found him watched over him until his parents jubilantly appeared to claim him and take him back to his country…

Excitement was mounting around the prairie church and in the prairie community: old fashioned revival meetings were coming to town. The caravan of semi-trailers, with large painted signs emblazoned with crosses and the words “Tent Revivals” arrived at the large empty space on the fringes of the town.  Immediately after school we rushed to the site, watched as three huge wooden tent poles were anchored to the ground, cables were stretched and fastened, and massive sheets of canvas were manhandled onto the cables and secured to the poles. Backless benches were placed in rigid rows. Sheets of plywood emerged out of the trucks, piece by piece, and were assembled into…

By Henry Regehr  July 30, 2020 In July 1972, our Lufthansa 737-100 flew out of Nairobi airport after a long anxiety-producing delay. Kenyan officials had been checking all women for excessive jewelry to prevent gold and money from leaving the country. Fear had gripped the Asian community of East Africa when Idi Amin, in neighbouring Uganda, had begun imprisoning and killing Asians in deadly earnest. The East Asians of Kenya, the backbone of Kenyan business, had also felt the grip of prejudice as their businesses were confiscated by the Kenyatta regime. Our family of four, including our ten and fourteen-year-old children, were happy to finally get through the ordeal and…

As a photographer, I remember events and relationships in images of the mind. These stories, these reflections, are the still photos of a long-lasting and loving romance. I now share this album of images with you. February 1946: On starlit prairie winter evenings, riding Madge, thirteen- year-old Lillian lets her pony choose its way in the farm field. She lies back on the horse and gazes at the wide- open black sky, its shimmering stars, and unknown galaxies, and she feels at peace. Her parents, refugees from communist Russia, arrived in Canada in 1929 with four children and after difficult years, including the death of infant Peter, Lillian was born…

It was to be a national holiday celebration but the announcement about a Belgian official’s visit for the occasion came as a surprise to everyone in the large Nyankunde community. This is situated in a fertile plain and at the edge of the tropical Congolese jungle. In 1952, the large hospital compound was operated by a Canadian benevolent organization. The medical director, lovingly known to everyone as Doctor Bob, was a highly regarded physician. Trained at the University of Toronto, he was respected by foreign professionals, locally trained staff and Congolese nationals as well as the Belgian colonizers. To the East of the hospital were the busy elementary and high…

From infancy I was surrounded by my mother’s storytelling. During the dreary, dry depression years she translated her own rich reading into children’s language. We were often sitting on the floor around her while she retold melodramatic stories of the Napoleonic wars, or of families in poverty or of Bobbie who grew up in prewar rural Germany and accompanied his parents to the overwhelming  World’s Fair in Berlin. We shared Bobbie’s excitement and we were frightened when he was lost in the big city. We were relieved when the policeman found him watched over him until his parents jubilantly appeared to claim him and take him back to his country…

Excitement was mounting around the prairie church and in the prairie community: old fashioned revival meetings were coming to town. The caravan of semi-trailers, with large painted signs emblazoned with crosses and the words “Tent Revivals” arrived at the large empty space on the fringes of the town.  Immediately after school we rushed to the site, watched as three huge wooden tent poles were anchored to the ground, cables were stretched and fastened, and massive sheets of canvas were manhandled onto the cables and secured to the poles. Backless benches were placed in rigid rows. Sheets of plywood emerged out of the trucks, piece by piece, and were assembled into…

By Henry Regehr  July 30, 2020 In July 1972, our Lufthansa 737-100 flew out of Nairobi airport after a long anxiety-producing delay. Kenyan officials had been checking all women for excessive jewelry to prevent gold and money from leaving the country. Fear had gripped the Asian community of East Africa when Idi Amin, in neighbouring Uganda, had begun imprisoning and killing Asians in deadly earnest. The East Asians of Kenya, the backbone of Kenyan business, had also felt the grip of prejudice as their businesses were confiscated by the Kenyatta regime. Our family of four, including our ten and fourteen-year-old children, were happy to finally get through the ordeal and…

As a photographer, I remember events and relationships in images of the mind. These stories, these reflections, are the still photos of a long-lasting and loving romance. I now share this album of images with you. February 1946: On starlit prairie winter evenings, riding Madge, thirteen- year-old Lillian lets her pony choose its way in the farm field. She lies back on the horse and gazes at the wide- open black sky, its shimmering stars, and unknown galaxies, and she feels at peace. Her parents, refugees from communist Russia, arrived in Canada in 1929 with four children and after difficult years, including the death of infant Peter, Lillian was born…

It was to be a national holiday celebration but the announcement about a Belgian official’s visit for the occasion came as a surprise to everyone in the large Nyankunde community. This is situated in a fertile plain and at the edge of the tropical Congolese jungle. In 1952, the large hospital compound was operated by a Canadian benevolent organization. The medical director, lovingly known to everyone as Doctor Bob, was a highly regarded physician. Trained at the University of Toronto, he was respected by foreign professionals, locally trained staff and Congolese nationals as well as the Belgian colonizers. To the East of the hospital were the busy elementary and high…

From infancy I was surrounded by my mother’s storytelling. During the dreary, dry depression years she translated her own rich reading into children’s language. We were often sitting on the floor around her while she retold melodramatic stories of the Napoleonic wars, or of families in poverty or of Bobbie who grew up in prewar rural Germany and accompanied his parents to the overwhelming  World’s Fair in Berlin. We shared Bobbie’s excitement and we were frightened when he was lost in the big city. We were relieved when the policeman found him watched over him until his parents jubilantly appeared to claim him and take him back to his country…

Excitement was mounting around the prairie church and in the prairie community: old fashioned revival meetings were coming to town. The caravan of semi-trailers, with large painted signs emblazoned with crosses and the words “Tent Revivals” arrived at the large empty space on the fringes of the town.  Immediately after school we rushed to the site, watched as three huge wooden tent poles were anchored to the ground, cables were stretched and fastened, and massive sheets of canvas were manhandled onto the cables and secured to the poles. Backless benches were placed in rigid rows. Sheets of plywood emerged out of the trucks, piece by piece, and were assembled into…

By Henry Regehr  July 30, 2020 In July 1972, our Lufthansa 737-100 flew out of Nairobi airport after a long anxiety-producing delay. Kenyan officials had been checking all women for excessive jewelry to prevent gold and money from leaving the country. Fear had gripped the Asian community of East Africa when Idi Amin, in neighbouring Uganda, had begun imprisoning and killing Asians in deadly earnest. The East Asians of Kenya, the backbone of Kenyan business, had also felt the grip of prejudice as their businesses were confiscated by the Kenyatta regime. Our family of four, including our ten and fourteen-year-old children, were happy to finally get through the ordeal and…

As a photographer, I remember events and relationships in images of the mind. These stories, these reflections, are the still photos of a long-lasting and loving romance. I now share this album of images with you. February 1946: On starlit prairie winter evenings, riding Madge, thirteen- year-old Lillian lets her pony choose its way in the farm field. She lies back on the horse and gazes at the wide- open black sky, its shimmering stars, and unknown galaxies, and she feels at peace. Her parents, refugees from communist Russia, arrived in Canada in 1929 with four children and after difficult years, including the death of infant Peter, Lillian was born…

It was to be a national holiday celebration but the announcement about a Belgian official’s visit for the occasion came as a surprise to everyone in the large Nyankunde community. This is situated in a fertile plain and at the edge of the tropical Congolese jungle. In 1952, the large hospital compound was operated by a Canadian benevolent organization. The medical director, lovingly known to everyone as Doctor Bob, was a highly regarded physician. Trained at the University of Toronto, he was respected by foreign professionals, locally trained staff and Congolese nationals as well as the Belgian colonizers. To the East of the hospital were the busy elementary and high…

From infancy I was surrounded by my mother’s storytelling. During the dreary, dry depression years she translated her own rich reading into children’s language. We were often sitting on the floor around her while she retold melodramatic stories of the Napoleonic wars, or of families in poverty or of Bobbie who grew up in prewar rural Germany and accompanied his parents to the overwhelming  World’s Fair in Berlin. We shared Bobbie’s excitement and we were frightened when he was lost in the big city. We were relieved when the policeman found him watched over him until his parents jubilantly appeared to claim him and take him back to his country…

Excitement was mounting around the prairie church and in the prairie community: old fashioned revival meetings were coming to town. The caravan of semi-trailers, with large painted signs emblazoned with crosses and the words “Tent Revivals” arrived at the large empty space on the fringes of the town.  Immediately after school we rushed to the site, watched as three huge wooden tent poles were anchored to the ground, cables were stretched and fastened, and massive sheets of canvas were manhandled onto the cables and secured to the poles. Backless benches were placed in rigid rows. Sheets of plywood emerged out of the trucks, piece by piece, and were assembled into…