Religion is business. Africa, the cradle of mankind, is an expert in the trade. Holy dwellings carved out of the Ethiopian rockface ages ago are used and abused today by drunken villagers who dare calling themselves priests, but who can neither read nor stand straight. Today signs of faith can only be seen on the faces of the village children – a cross carved into their young foreheads. The church is a place of business now. No power on earth, no messiah, son of god, or government authority can pass the threshold without forking over twenty bucks to see faded drawings of saints on lumpy walls. Nevertheless, we have managed to penetrate some of these stone forts leaving behind only small donations of our choice and sometimes, if we really liked the place, a Russian penny with St. George on it.