"I had been thinking about what is going to be my legacy, beyond family and beyond succeeding in business."
-- Ken Frantz

But repairing a bridge in another country—especially a country with few resources and many needs—was a new challenge. Frantz first contacted the Ethiopian embassy, where he shared his plan for rebuilding the bridge with Brook Hailu. The second ambassador to the U.S. expressed his enthusiastic support for the proposal and offered to provide letters of introduction to local and national Ethiopian officials.

While conducting research on the bridge, Frantz also received some valuable advice from Paul Henze, one of the world's foremost experts on Ethiopian history. "He said, 'When dealing with people in Ethiopia, start with local people and work your way up,' " Frantz recalled. "In the U.S., our tendency is to work from the top down."



Top, l. to r.: Randy Stacey, volunteer; Hussein, nurse at free clinic; Burre, camp security chief; Ken Frantz, project leader; Amar, camp aide. Bottom, l. to r.: Dr. Mengistu Mekonnen of the free clinic; Zoe Keone, logistics and photography; and Gary Bunch, volunteer.

Three months after Ken Frantz first saw the National Geographic photo, he was on his way to Ethiopia. Forrest, a systems engineer for the Boeing Co., traveled with him to survey the bridge and determine what it would take to repair the structure. "Ken's job was to handle the politics. My job was to handle the engineering," said Forrest.

Other family members and friends rallied around Frantz's idea, offering their support. Brett Hargrave, a nephew and former U.S. Army survival instructor, volunteered to serve as the party's medic. Two other acquaintances with construction backgrounds, Randy Stacey and Gary Bunch, also offered to accompany the group and help. All of the men paid their own expenses, including airfare.

Because the bridge site was a considerable distance from the Addis Ababa airport, Frantz hired an expedition firm to help them reach their destination. The 25-member party traveled in jeeps to the trailhead at Mot'a, then began the toughest part of the journey: a 26-mile trip on foot, packing their gear in by donkey.