If you are interested in gaining a current perspective of my activities as I promote Brother In The Bush?  You have come to the right destination.  I decided to start my blog-like journal by answering some of the many questions I've received about the book.

May 6, 2005: Comments To/From A Reader Who Purchased Brother In The Bush From Website
April 12, 2005: Barnes & Noble Promotes Brother In The Bush on New Release Non-Fiction Website
March 30, 2005: The Neighbors' Reaction To Brother In The Bush (BITB)
March 23, 2005: The Cover Photo Of Brother In The Bush
March 22, 2005: What are you doing now-and are you working on another book?
March 21, 2005: What is your personal sense of the political situation in Africa, particularly Kenya?
March 20, 2005: Do many African Americans travel to Africa? Do you think more should?
March 19, 2005: Are there parts of Africa that you haven't been to that you'd particularly like to visit?
March 18, 2005: How have your grandfather and great-grandfather lives influenced yours?
March 17, 2005: How would you characterize your personal and professional challenges?
March 16, 2005: How did that event, when you killed an intruder in your home, change your life?
March 15, 2005: What sorts of race-related behaviors do you see as being most problematic?
March 14, 2005: How did you decide to make your first trip to Africa?

May 6, 2005

Stunned by the unbalanced comments of professional reviewers, I paused for a few weeks before blogging on. Why the pause? I was angry. I felt injured because I drew a personal attack about my car, my father, and why I didn't write about abject poverty and violence on the continent. These comments stem from a unbridled belief that 'Africa' is one big-assed country in desperate need for us . . . We: Tarzan, You: Jane.

But then I stepped back and realized the obvious. All reviewers are human. I had to begin looking at my life, now that it's on paper . . as art. Reviewers, like us, tote their life experiences, like baggage, every where they go. Like skin, it colors our world. People are people, however, what we say reflects where we've been. Last week, a reader penned a warm response to the Publisher's Weekly review. I've enclosed it below. Be well.

Yvonne J. Butler
I started your book at 11 last night upon finding it in my mailbox and finished it early this morning sometime before dozing off. That is, I did not put it down until I reached the final page. Like a very good movie I was somewhat preoccupied today with its complexities, nuances, provocations and humor. That's a very good sign. Of course I am privileged by my race, higher education, and extensive travel to the Mother Land but there was meaning in the text, both hidden and in your face, well beyond my expectations that I think and hope will arouse serious thought in readers (lord knows not reviewers) who are willing to see or start to see. With all due respect and humbly I say, I applaud your courage and conviction. It took a lot of guts to put "this" out there.
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April 12, 2005

On April 11, 2005, before the official "publication date of April 22, 2005, Barnes & Noble promotes BITB on their new release non-fiction website, along with Charles Barkley's and Dennis Kimbro's new paperback release.  I find myself in great company!

Barnes & Noble.com - Nonfiction
... Title: Brother in the Bush, Author: John Slaughter, Brother in the Bush An African American's Search for Self in East Africa, John Slaughter, Paperback ...
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March 30 , 2005

On Saturday, as I prepared my car to drive to Suffolk, VA Amber, a Muslim neighbor of mixed Iranian heritage saw me pulling boxes of books from the car. "Is that your book?!" she squealed. Apparently, she'd heard from her roommate that the book was coming out, and she had to have a copy, "now. Can I place the money in your mail slot?, . .oh, I'm so excited, . . .can you sign it? . . . oh, this is amazing! . . a book about our historic neighborhood . . . which one is your house now? . . oh, that one, OK . . .I will put the money in an envelope . . gotta run . . gotta take my brother to work . . . have a happy Easter!"

Dazed from the attention, I continued to take the boxes of books into the house.

Yesterday evening, after walking home from the coffee shop where I studied all day, I knocked on Amber's door. I wanted to talk to her. Earlier that morning, her roommate, Giovanni, seeing me in seated in the coffee shop, strolled in to tell me, whilst stopping people lined up to purchase coffee, "Have you meet John Slaughter?, he's our neighborhood author," that Amber started and read the BITB that Saturday, in one sitting!

When Amber opened the door, she was breathless. "Oh, it's you . . I couldn't put your book down . . where are my keys? . . . Johnny I enjoyed it so much, I loved the sections about the neighborhood . . and in particular the chapter in the morgue . . . nobody discusses this subject about the black penis . . . even you danced around it . . . where did I put my keys? . . . I'm running around trying to find my keys because the card I wrote you is in the car, and I want to give it to you, now . . .

We spoke for a hour. "You must have a book signing at Cappoochino Cafe (the dog-themed coffee shop and bakery where I was studying), on opening day! Opening day is a festive occasion in Baltimore, a time when hopeful Oriole baseball fans come downtown. On this day, all major league teams are equal. Imagine the recent euphoria of the NCAA basketball tournament, when all 64 teams are waiting to advance, spilling into one city, flowing onto Russell Street and into Camden Yards.

"WJZ TV-13 will be filming in the cafe, you must be there!"
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March 23, 2005

My publisher, Doug Seibold, called at 16:46 hours to tell me the book's has been printed and - there's more? - he's holding five copies right now! Despite my glee, I heard his voice drop, implying a concern. He continued, "the cover photo of you is so detailed that I can see your individual pores and the hairs from your moustache. With this clarity, a palm reader looking at your hand could read your future." "Good!" I exclaimed.

I wouldn't give a gnat's knee for a palm reading; however, I wanted a 'gritty' cover photo. This book, written with a glaring white light about my experiences, should reflect starkness with the cover art.

In the months leading to the editorial process, I thought for many hours about the cover. I knew my opinion was simply that, an opinion, and regardless of what I thought, the reality is: book covers sell books. I knew what I wanted the cover to say, the challenge was how!

Every day, during the summer of 2004, I'd tour different bookstores, walking amongst the titles. I'd look at the photo, the design and gauge my interest in picking up the book. I ignored the political books with the silly embarrassing photos and cartoons. I was struck by the contrast. J.D. Salinger's A Catcher In the Rye had no photo. While on other books, the cover photo was more memorable than the thousands of words on the pages. From this I gleamed publishers like new printings of titles that have been made into movies. They're hoping that movie star's looks, will sell more books.

Not having movie star looks, I decided to submit a provocative photo of a Maasai warrior. This image, shot from the back, is of a Samburu warrior with long, plaited hair, plastered with the ochre, the rust colored dye. It is a strong conflicting image of masculinity and beauty. If an image can define an experience - that muscular image spoke to me.

However, reality sunk in like quicksand. Not only could I not use that image, my publisher reported, but, he continued, "a photo of you must be on the cover." What? Oh, hell no! I didn't want my photo on the cover. "Doug, what are you doing to me, I wanna sell this book!" "So much for impulse buys, son," my dad said jokingly. "Maybe you should release Brother In the Bush on tape!" he added laughing.

Images of me in the stores, walking quickly past my own book made me shudder. "Oh what the hell!" I said out loud, how about a profile?

Humm… a profile? Half of me is not that bad, I reasoned. I quickly grabbed my Leica Digilux 2, my tripod, and walked across the street. As I wrote in Brother In the Bush (BITB), across the street is Conway Park, a lively tree-lined area, about the size of a football field. I stuck the 'pod in the grass and positioned myself under a tree. The fading afternoon light was shining directly in my eyes, prompting a squint. I positioned my Maasai spear against my cheek. After activating the self-timer, I held the spear in place with my right hand. For dozens of images, I toyed with the position of my left hand. I was looking for confluence and contradictions. I wanted to create a timeless image that highlighted the strength of my gaze or glare, the sharp edges of the spear and the warm, paternal - protective nature of my palm, shadowed. I edited the images judiciously, opting for the grittiest image. I hope I succeeded.
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March 22, 2005

I left the brokerage business in 2002. At that time, brokerage firms had lost their way. We, brokers, were the thumbs fighting the fingers and America didn't want to shake our hands. Once this book was in my agent's hands, I started relearning veterinary medicine. I sustained myself during these months by taking freelance photographic assignments. Once I secure my license, I will take part in a small animal practice and lead clients on private photographic safaris to East Africa. Yes, I am writing a new book, about finding love in the pursuit of a good meal and how joy can be found in the pleasure of "living about town." It's an urban Under the Tuscan Sun.
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March 21, 2005

Most sub-Saharan countries are less than fifty years old. These countries are going through growing pains. Half of Kenya's population is under age sixteen. In many of these countries, when the colonizing European powers turned tail and left, they left without leaving a sustainable infrastructure. Imagine how difficult it would be to govern effectively without trained structural engineers, or without doctors or lawyers committed to the welfare of all the citizens, not just certain tribes or villages. Personally, I'm encouraged. America is just over 200 years old, and we're still fighting a civil war.
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March 20, 2005

I would love to introduce more African Americans to the sub-Saharan game parks and the wonderful people living among the animals. I can promise them a five-sense adventure they will never forget!
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March 19, 2005

I like the bush; cities are cities to me. I would like to visit the Okavango Delta in Botswana, and walk among the lowland gorillas in Rwanda. I want to spend a month each living with the Maasai and with the Hazabe people, the indigenous tribe photographed on the book's jacket. I want to share veterinary medicine and learn their medical, cooking, and hunting techniques.
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March 18, 2005

They've both taught me resilience. My grandfather, blown to shreds in a mine tunnel explosion, crawled for over a mile to safety and survived after not receiving medical attention for three days. My great-grandfather decided he'd had enough of debt slavery and simply decided to walk to freedom one day-leaving Alabama heading to Kansas. Both these men exhibited tremendous resilience. Some people are amazed at my resilience when they read of the difficulties I've experienced in my life. I simply say, it's because you have no sense of my American history. Most of our worries and resultant conversations are about petty affairs. Life is actually very simple. All we really need is acceptance, food, and shelter. It's the decisions we make that complicate our lives. The word for this new century is: Simplify.
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March 17, 2005

Always changing. I remember growing up in the seventies, telling myself that once I reached forty, these racial problems would be distant memories. However, as the landscape changed, those who felt threatened, both black and white, consolidated their resources-or simply moved their resources out of the cities and away from one another. When America gets a cold financially, African Americans get the flu-and some of us don't recover. The challenges facing African Americans have always been difficult, which is why we can't afford to suffer what I discuss in the book as "the illusion of inclusion." Everything begins and ends with the family. I learned the true essence of family in East Africa. We can't afford not to know how each person is getting on-especially our mature family members. If these post-9/11 years have taught us anything, they've taught us to be fluid with our thinking about the future. What can we count on? Change.
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March 16, 2005

First, I no longer have bad days. My definition of a bad day is so far removed from the average person's that it's not measurable. Second, because I know how life can change, literally, in seconds, I don't waste my time with anything nonproductive. And last, I need to be outside! I want all of my senses firing. I know it sounds strange, but ask who have had a traumatic experience like that-they will tell you life will never be the same afterward. At the same time, anything that rings false jumps out at me in stark relief. I have difficulty with network television: cops and robbers shoot people, slap high-five, and go have a beer. Each week a more vicious crime unfolds, bleeding into the nightly news for a hungry audience. We've become numb to real pain. That saddens me. I watch very little contrived programming.
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March 15, 2005

I remember an employer telling me proudly he was colorblind. I should have turned and walked out then and there. The problem is not the words we say, but the actions we take. Most Americans, white and black are color-deaf. They don't listen to one another. Fortunately, I grew up in a household that sat white, black, and brown down at the same dinner table. White man, don't tell me you have black friends, tell me your attorney is black. Black man, don't tell me you have white friends, tell me your barber is white. Tell me you sat down to discuss controversial topics and you parted as friends, even if you disagreed with each other's answers. Our founding fathers separated church and state because they hoped religion would be the one place where difficult dialogue could begin. If you're black or white, tell me you invited your Jewish friends to dinner, or if your children attend a private school, put your children in a swimming class around public school children, of all races-and let them watch you make friends with their parents. People are people-we must stop being colorblind, because it's teaching our children negative scripts not from our words, but from our behavior.
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March 14, 2005

In mid-1997, I called wildlife photographer Boyd Norton for help in managing my hundreds of photographic slides. I asked casually when he was returning to Africa, and he mentioned he was leading a month-long safari to Kenya and Tanzania in early 1998. Excited about the possibility of joining him, I cleared my calendar of all obligations and starting saving for the adventure that changed my life. After a week in Africa, Boyd mentioned, "With your knowledge of animals and photographic techniques, you should lead your own safaris." Four months later, I did! I thought I was going to Africa for the animals, but it was the people who changed my life.
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