My Father's Archives #1

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. She turned 79. When I called her to thank her for all the love she has given me and for all the things she has taught me during her long life, she replied: "You know, sometimes I wonder if my life has been a failure." It broke my heart.
My parents spent 42 years of their lives as missionaries in Brazil. My father as a farmer and carpenter, my mother as a nurse. They worked in some of the poorest regions of Brazil, helping people in every way they could. When they arrived in the 60's, health services were available only in the bigger cities. Very often, my mother was people's only hope of getting help. Of course, as a nurse her ressources were limited. But I remember our house being always full of people seeking some kind of help. When people couldn't make the trip to our house, my parents would saddle their donkeys and visit them.
My father always had his Voigtländer Vitoret with him. He took hundreds of pictures along those years. Several years ago I scanned all those slides to preserve these documents.
Every week I will share one of his photographs as a way of honoring their lives and sacrifices, but also as a way of showing you the region and the country I live in. Many things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same.
My father took this picture in the early 70's, in one of the poorest regions of Brazil called "sertão". My mother is the beautiful lady in white. The child she's holding is me.