I had originally come to Paris fresh from my ordeals in Greece, where I had been trying to stem the tide of Mohammed. [Editor's note by grey area: An acquaintance of mine of Greek origin has just confirmed what I knew from my high school education: Greeks are not Mohammedans, but instead believe in the 12 Gods of Olympus] Called by the Right Reverand Jack Green of the International Humanitarian Cross Society, I had been engaged fighting a war of attrition against the disgraceful encroachment of Mohammed and his legions upon Christian, European soil, and even into Constantinople, a city second only to Jerusalem in Holiness. Constantinople is a city full of Mosques, and though it pleases me to see a cross of some description in every street, it sours my gut to think that these crosses are atop a den of Islam. (Though I could not comprehend their jargon, I knew enough to spy the Mohammedan 'Priests' by their long beards and flowing robes.) We met with some little success though, for our community outreach program designed to cast the sinners out of Babylon met with some fierce resistance, and these drunken Mohammedan 'Priests' would often harangue us for our humble attempts at negotiation.

So from defense to offence. My assignment in Ethiopia is a simple one - to spread the word of the Lord amongst a hitherto ignorant and savage race, in hopes that they will take His Word to heart and ascend the steps to heaven and industrial maturity.

My first impressions of Addis Ababa are unpleasant. It has a dirty smell, and I find the animist women with their simple beliefs to be quite shocking. The men are mostly surly and aloof, though I see some potential in them for future greatness. They are courageous and slight of form, and often wear many colourful beads and headresses.

My hotel is but a simple shack, and I have had to administer some beatings to household staff to make sure they always boil my water and use only the freshest of ingredients. These simple lands can be hard to bear if one is sick. The Church has lost many good men out here for want of cleanliness. But at least I have water, though I know not from what source they draw it. The dust I tread cakes underfoot; though I have not asked, it surely has not rained in years. I despair of finding a pool for the baptismal; I pray we shan't resort as the Mohammedans do to "bathing" with handfuls of sand, substituting grit for grime.

I say this to you: I am resolute in bringing Christianity to this land. It is such a wonder to me that a country can exist which has had no contact with Christianity in all its history. This land is a virgin, an expectant bed of soil in which I shall plant the seed of the Holy Bible.

I pray for you and your family,

Thomas Livingstone,

Addis Ababa