Young Boy, Paint, Mursi Community, Mago National Park, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

While most of the portraits are in black/white, a sizable minority of images from my trip to Ethiopia have color parallels. It seemed both natural and important for me to do so, since the color spectrum was already almost duotone in presentation.

When the time came to do so, the film backs of the camera were exchanged and color images made. It was pretty simple actually, and the people cooperated fully for the most part. We stayed in a small town just outside of the park system, since staying within was forbidden. Every time we entered the park system we would need to take with us an armed park ranger, usually a member of the very tribe we wished to visit.

Before visiting this community I was told about the difficulties some have faced, the aggressive nature of the park's inhabitants. Stories of trucks being approached by large groups of people, products being thrown upon the tourists for purchase without choice. The reality was much different, and the communities accepted us with kindness. While they did approach me with lip discs and baskets for sale, they did so with respect and humor. They allowed us to set up the equipment without hassle and with the simplest of negotiations.

There were times when we would ask of them something different, for example to have their children stand on the bumper of the truck. They never disagreed with us and made it a most amicable environment. The older men helped us with the children, and the women stood at a distance watching all of this unfold in front of them.

The young boy above was photographed in both color and black/white. Most of the boys wore necklaces with white and black beads. Their faces were painted in various patterns of white, and sometimes this extended to their torsos. The white of their eyes was rarely white, the environment having much to do with this. They live a most difficult life, with scars on their skin as evidence.

What struck me about the color images was the sky. While I wanted so much for it to be clear, the various cloud formations proved to be quite beautiful. This, coupled with the importance the sky plays in the religious beliefs of this community, has made these images supremely important to me.

According to Wikipedia:

Like many agro-pastoralists in East Africa, the Mursi experience a force greater than themselves, which they call Tumwi.This is usually located in the Sky, although sometimes Tumwi manifests itself as a thing of the sky (ahi a tumwin), such as a rainbow or a bird. The principal religious and ritual office in the society is that of Kômoru, or Priest. This is an inherited office, unlike the more informal political role of the Jalaba. The Priest embodies in his person the well-being of the group as a whole and acts as a means of communication between the community and God (Tumwi), especially when it is threatened by such events as drought, crop pests and disease. His role is characterized by the performance of public rituals to bring rain, to protect men, cattle and crops from disease, to ward off threatened attacks from other tribes, to safeguard the fertility of the soil, of men and of the cattle. Ideally, in order to preserve this link between the people and God, the Priest should not leave Mursiland or even his local group (bhuran). One clan in particular, Komortê, is considered to be, par excellence, the priestly clan, but there are priestly families in two other clans, namely Garikuli and Bumai.

I plan to return to this land in the near future, but need to attend to another part of Africa until then. However when I do return the work will hopefully manifest itself differently, with more sensitivity for the daily routines of the communities being photographed. A fuller picture of these incredible people is the desire.

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Note: This image was made with a Hasselblad analog system.

Two Boys Playing, Daasanach Community, Lower Valley of the Omo, Ethiopia, February 5, 2010

This piece is less than one minute in the lives of two young boys from the Daasanach Community of the Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia. While waiting for the sun to reappear we decided to document the children having fun, and the boys took as much pleasure in doing so as the girls. Two by two sat down and performed for the lens without direction, a surprise from one set to another.

People sat behind me to the left watching, and also beyond these two boys going about their chores. As fast as the boys sat up two others took their places. The village itself is separated from the general Ethiopian population by a small river, and has the feeling of another world. When we arrived on the other side we sat down at the local eatery, and noticed around us some tourists with their guides and locals attempting to make a living from the same industry.

The contemporary world has taken its toll in this corner of the world, as alcohol flowed quite easily throughout the afternoon. The supply of labor outpaces that of the demand, and people do what they can in order to support their families. We were offered translation skills, as well as manual labor with the equipment. When we needed the help we certainly accepted the offers, as was the case with this community since the language was an issue for our small team.

My time with this specific village marked my sickest day in Ethiopia, and prevented me from truly documenting these most beautiful people. Getting across the narrow river was very difficult for me, and on our way back it was necessary to stop for a few minutes at the bottom of the climb to gather my senses, preventing me from fainting actually.

While very little time was spent here, less than three hours actually, the images made are incomparable and have given me a glimmer of hope for my next visit. Plans are already being made with South Expedition in order to fully document this community as well as three others, and bring a sense of accomplishment that is at this time lacking.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Woman from Mursi Community, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

When it came to photographing the women of this community, the presentations were limitless. While much of it was for the sake of the tourists, including me of course, there were examples when they were themselves and enjoyed the session. My inability to communicate with them directly, as well as my translator's inability to do the same, led me to use hand gestures and facial expressions.

Their laughs were surely directed at my clumsiness, at my difficulty within their environment. While everyone else was dressed comfortably for the heat, here I was in the formal attire of pants and shirt. They saw my camera as an antique compared to the digital versions in the hands of the tourists. They were used to standing for group shots for a few seconds, and interpreted my work with a tripod differently.

My friend and guide just advised them that my camera was an old one and that all of my busy movements were to make sure that it worked properly. Every time he would explain my work to them through his own translator they would smile and laugh a little bit.

From most we asked for a minute in front of the camera, perhaps six exposures or so. They stood in a group to my right, in the direction of this woman's gaze. They would walk over, stand for their portrait and then go back to the group watching the work. The sky was used as the background to keep the images in line with my work from other countries.

After our session we went for a break in order to wait for the afternoon sun. Heading back to town seemed pointless, and we found a secluded spot to hang out until our time arrived. We wanted to give the community some peace and quiet, rather than burdening them with our presence.

In my next entry I will tell the story of our return to the town, and how we managed the breakdown of our truck halfway through the mountain path.

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Note: This image was made with a Hasselblad 555 ELD/180 mm combination.

Mursi Boy, Decoration, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, February, 2010

Color film is always with me but old habits usually prevent me from using it. Every once in a while a roll is loaded and a few images are made. Even less frequently it is scanned and reviewed, usually put away for future reference.

This past week a few were scanned and the above image is an example from my visit to Ethiopia in 2010. People warned us about these villages and gave us the impression that photography in my style would be nearly impossible. We heard stories of villagers crowding the cars, at times rocking the vehicles until their demands were met.

The exact opposite was experienced. Sure they wanted to sell their goods in order to make a living. Then again show me one group on this planet doing otherwise. These good people made their own baskets, their own ornaments. They even had a sense of humor about it. The women would ask for my hand in order to show me an ornament. Then they would walk away, too far for me to give it back, asking for payment in return. They would however always take their product back, with the exception of the four purchased by me.

I admire this population greatly, for their lives are extremely difficult. The surroundings even for a few days were most difficult on us. Tourists were amongst them daily, yet they ignored the glitter and glamor that came along with the SUVs and the digital screens.

This young boy carried an ornament rather than the AK-47 that the adults seemed to enjoy. He stood on the bumper of our truck in order to allow us the sky as the background. His portrait was only made in color in light of the white beads present. He allowed me a few exposures and went along his way.

I hope to return and photograph the Mursi Community of the Lower Omo Valley in the near future.

For more of my work, please visit the newly designed website below, courtesy of Patrick Luu.

Halim Ina Photography

Mentally & Physically Challenged Orphan, MACODEF, Western Kenya, February, 2007

The people tell me that this is his only shirt, as is the case with the two dozen or so children in this small orphanage. We arrive early this morning before the children wake, many of them sleeping almost naked in their simple beds.

The simple building is located on the outskirts of a government school where the other children from the area attend classes. The orphans in this small building however will never attend classes on even this simple campus. For them to even receive the minimum care in the orphanage, their families needed to be convinced.

The reality is that before the orphanage these children were hidden from Society, some locked in rooms while others chained and restrained. There is a stigma involved with their physical and mental condition, as perhaps in many other parts of the world. In their present home, they sleep peacefully and are attended to by kind and gentle spirits.

Another fact is shared with me by the people in the orphanage: many of these children are anything but orphans. They do have families but their families have chosen to place them in the orphanage for various reasons, ranging from shame to inability to maintain proper care.

So we arrive this morning and see the children get ready for their photographic session with speed and excitement. The sight of children moving quickly in the shadows of the building gives me an immense sense of honor, of humility. Here are children facing daily hardships that most in the world will never glimpse. Yet they get up this morning and give of themselves without asking for anything in return.

The children from the neighboring school gather on the fence and watch with genuine curiosity. Like the children in the orphanage, they face an extreme life regardless of their mental and physical abilities. They stand in silence and lend their support to their brothers and sisters being photographed, until they are called in by their headmaster.

We photograph for perhaps one hour, against the back wall of the building. The caretakers handle the children with gentle hands, guide them to the camera and allow the children to make their own expressions, to claim their own identity. The young man in the portraits above does just that, without guidance from anyone. He stands his ground and tells his story.

One may view more regarding the foundation doing good works on behalf of the children below.

MACODEF

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Tareequa, Tsemey Tribe, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, February, 2010

People will often ask: how do you remember their names?

How does one forget?

Towards the end of her photographic session, she allows me to hold her hand and turn her body from looking right to looking straight to looking left. Her friends giggle the entire time and she gives them a few words in between exposures.

Her hair is perhaps the source of amicable teasing and is the result of my curiosity. When we arrive this morning, she is the first to greet us. Her little village is off the tourists' map and she rarely sees an outsider. The look on her face as she sees me demonstrates this even more so.

We get out and start making our way to the elders to ask for permission. They grant us a chance to make portraits and doing so away from the road makes this session perhaps the easiest session during my entire time in Ethiopia. The area is calm and quiet.

Before she has a chance to step away and neaten her hair, we ask her permission to make her portrait as she is and without change. She is completely surprised, laughs in a very shy way and accepts. The images above are the result.

In a previous post, a picture was provided of her in color and a fuller story was also shared. It can be viewed by clicking below.

Story of Tareequa

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Child, Banjara Community, Rajasthan, India, November 25, 2008, Roll 3, Exposure 12

On the same day as the previous posts this image is made.

As the title suggests, this is the last negative on the third roll on November 25, 2008. The child belongs to the Banjara Community, one that is on my mind as of late. The more learned about them the more desire to document that follows.

In between sessions, we find ourselves sitting down for a cool drink at a crossroad. The local shop acts as a bus stop as well. Sitting perhaps a few meters from us is a group from the Banjara Community, children as well as a few elderly people along with the parents of the children perhaps.

One thing noticed is how this community interacts while in the presence of others. While they are quite active in our presence, laughing and enjoying their time together, there is little contact with the people around them. A certain sense of confidence permeates through their interactions, giving me the impression that they receive all of their needs from within.

Even the smaller children find little wonder in my foreign face, much less so than the other local men sitting across the aisle from me for example. The children look at me out of curiosity and nothing else, then return to their parents without any further glances. They have their own language, speak on their terms.

One day soon, one day very soon.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Banjara Girl, Rajasthan, India, November 25, 2008, Roll 2, Exposure 6

As the title describes, the image above represents the sixth exposure from the second roll of film on Thanksgiving Day in Rajasthan, India. This young girl belongs to the Banjara Community and attends a school for working children sponsored by Humana People to People India.

During the day, she works collecting plastic, fabric, metal and so forth for a middle person to come by and purchase. Then for perhaps three hours, she attends classes in a humble building and acquires the most rudimentary reading and writing skills. Her parents have certainly been informed and have given their permission for her education, as long as she is still able to work during the day.

Today, Humana People to People India faces serious funding challenges along with the usual social and political turbulence. Through these images my hope is that we can help the foundation help the people. Should you find it within yourself to recognize an opportunity to aid in this venture, you may feel quite free to contact me through this medium.

Perhaps a sister school can be found locally, perhaps a bake sale or even perhaps a purchase of this print. Regardless your initiative will be most appreciated by this and every single child under the Humana umbrella.

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In Search of a Banjara Girl, Rajasthan, India, November, 2008

This is the young girl referenced to in the last entry, the one from the Banjara Community. When we showed the picture albums to the street children, it is this young girl that they recognized. She was the reason for their smiles and laughter, they recognized one from their community.

This is her second portrait in as many years. The first time we met was during my first visit to India, during a special day arranged by Humana People to People India. On this day many activities were under way, including one contest between women walking very fast with containers balanced on their heads.

My first portrait of this young girl was made behind the main tent, with white fabric from the tent serving as the backdrop. This portrait was made the following year at her school, a basic open classroom on the roof of a building donated to the foundation. While she was absent when we first arrived, she showed up later because she heard that we were there to photograph her once again.

A previous entry described this incredible day; suffice it to put down at this moment that over ten dozen images were made of her, ranging from two clips in the hair to one clip to a roll or so without either clip.

The year following this portrait my documentation of her continued, this time in a village a bit distant from the school. By this time, she and her community had moved out of the town to a more remote location. The children had stopped attending the foundation's school and she was working as a house maid as well as tending to the family's livestock.

Two years after the portrait above our collaboration ended. Although we found her once again after asking around, by this time she had become so shy, so conscious of herself, that she refrained from even stepping out of the tent to exchange greetings. The younger girls were making fun of her, even teasing her about the attention she was receiving from this stranger.

So we of course respected her wishes and photographed the younger girls. One day they too will refrain from being photographed. Until that time however we will return.

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Child, Student, Banjara Community, Rajasthan, India, November 25, 2008, Roll 1, Exposure 12

So many of their children look like any children from around the world.

Here is a child that belongs to the Banjara Community, can be from anywhere and from any family. Earlier this day, we stop by the side of the road for some oranges and apples. The people from the foundation tell us to stay inside the car because outside of the car we will garnish attention.

We decide to ask for forgiveness and walk with them to get the fruits. As we do so we of course witness their warning up and close. A few children gather around us and start their usual hustle, all in good jest and with genuine intention, for they are only trying to support their families.

One of them looks at me differently, recognizes me from last year. At that point the book of images from last year is shown to them and they begin to laugh, realizing that some of their friends are in that book. A few strangers take note and wonder what this outsider has in common with these young street children. We ask them if they are going to be in school later in the afternoon and they all give us the affirmative in the sweet Indian style with their heads.

We bid them farewell and go looking for a specific child. A few of the children a little further up the road recognize her in my book and point us in the correct direction. We locate the young girl's village and arrange to return the next day for some photography. Afterwards we return to that street corner and locate the children from earlier in the day.

Their encampment is kind to us, allowing our photography amidst the chaos. Voices are everywhere and people are running behind the subject and in front. The people from the foundation are certainly more nervous than me since they are the ones speaking directly to the people. Forgiveness can be granted to me since I am a stranger and lack further understanding.

Nevertheless all goes well and a chair is even located for the children to stand upon for their portraits, giving their faces access to the sun in the middle of the crowd. One such face is the child above, from the Banjara Community but resembling the face of children everywhere.

We will return and photograph this community, for they are on my mind day and night.

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Banjara Woman, Rajasthan, India, October, 2009

The image above is a still from moving footage. While we are on this day unable to make still images of this group, they allow us to film them during their tasks. The rest are standing to my left and she watches them as they watch her, all the time making three pieces of bread at the same time.

My friend tells me that she is able to place one on top of the fire, one inside the fire and one in her hand in preparation for the fire. Watching her as the camera records her movements proves this to be true.
From this home we move on to photograph a few children nearby, some of whom follow us from this home. It seems that they too want their portraits made but, without the men from their homes, are unable to do so.

Earlier in their history, the Banjara Community were known as the salt traders, moving this and other commodities from one part of India to another, going as far as China and Europe, even to the United States. Many consider them the ancestors of the Roma Community throughout Europe and of nomadic groups around the world.

The literal meaning of their name is: 'One who moves or wanders in the jungle.'
Soon, perhaps in the next two years, they will be a focus of my documentation more so.

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Dawn and Trent, Arbore Boy, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

An entry with this young boy from the Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia has already been made.

This entry is about another story behind his portrait and has something to do with a wire motorcycle.

Before one of my flights within Ethiopia during this trip, the men were as usual going through my baggage and inspecting the bags and bags of film. A few other passengers were also questioned regarding their belongings, helping me feel a little bit less odd this time.

One such passenger was a man named Trent. He was questioned regarding a toy motorcycle he had purchased for his little son. For some reason, the security personnel felt the need to question this seemingly caring man regarding a gift for his son.

After we cleared security, we sat down for a little bit and chatted about our experiences. My photographic work had yet to begin and this flight was to take me to the Lower Omo Valley. We talked about the toy motorcycle and enjoyed the intricacy of its construction. It was completely made of wire and had all the details right down to the mirrors. The security people were also amazed it seems.

Trent and his friends seemed very interested in my photography, in the fact that nobody was with me and that my work was all on film rather than digital. We said our goodbyes and parted ways never to see each other again.

Then one day, just a month or so ago, an email arrived from a woman named Dawn. In a sweet, gentle way she explained that she was looking for a photographer and a dentist that lived in the States, one that had travelled to Ethiopia earlier this year and one that perhaps had met a man with a toy motorcycle in the airport. Since all of those facts applied to me, my answer was in the positive.

She then explained to me that her husband was touched deeply during his time in Ethiopia and that he would so appreciate one of my photographs from our mutual time in that country. She selected an image and kept all of this secret from her husband with the help of her dear friend Kelly.

In her own words:

'It was perfect!!! I wrapped the framed photo separately from your letter and a few notes from me. He opened the photo first, and the tears started even before he really understood the whole gift. He immediately recognized the little boy as someone from Ethiopia, and that was all it took. :) He then opened the other package, read your letter and asked in a somewhat "shocked" voice, "Is this the man I met in the airport?" I think it took him a minute to take it all in, but he absolutely loved. loved, loved it!!! And the print looks amazing matted and framed. Trent is excited to reconnect with you, and I'm sure will do so once the busy-ness of Christmas, birthdays, etc. subsides.'

'I really appreciate your help in putting together such a special gift for Trent. It's really a treasure, and I just knew that he'd love it!' 

 Thanks again, Dawn

PS Trent hung his photo today. It's beautiful. He plans to have some of his own framed, and they'll hang alongside yours. :)

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Mursi Man, Earrings, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

He walks over from under a tree for his portrait, along with the rest of the men. The sun is behind me to the left, we have two hours of light left before we need to start back on the road to the motel. The trouble with the truck forces us to leave the engine running, the noise becoming a part of the background by now.

One by one, the men take their turns. Some of them smile, some of them refrain from doing so. A few bring their rifles, a few others brandish their swords. They have seen me before in the form of other photographers and appear quite comfortable.

During my day with this Mursi Community, tourists come and go. They get out of their air-conditioned vehicles for the standard dozen or so photographs, haggling over the price a few portraits that in the end are less than the bottle of water in their other hand. The lack of courtesy shown surprises me very little for the most part, for these tourists barely look my way as well. They remind me of others from their Society that walk past me in the airports, in the streets, in the coffee shops; barely lifting their heads from the bright screens to notice my presence then either.

One man approaches me however. He is this group's tour guide. He has seen enough and walks away for a break from the excess. He notices me and starts a conversation. He is quite friendly, telling me about his work as a tour guide and the number of visits to Ethiopia before this present one.

He then asks me about my ethnicity, about my history. His face turns to curiosity when he learns of my Lebanese descent and time spent in Lebanon during the Civil War. He inquires as to the exact location of my family. When he learns the answer, he smiles slightly and tells me that he has been to that city.

Knowing his background as an Israeli, my guess is that his time in Lebanon was under the occupation of my country by his nation. He confirms this and tells me of his time in the armed forces during the Egyptian conflict as well. His face is transformed at this time, he tells me of one difference between the two conflicts: during the Egyptian affair, if a missile missed its target it might have struck the natural landscape behind that target... but during the invasion of Lebanon, if a missile missed its primary target it might have struck the urban landscape behind that target, quite possibly a civilian series of casualties.

At that moment, he says something completely unexpected, that he has never had respect for his government's decision to invade Lebanon and to engage forces within the population in such a manner. He extends his hand as a sign and we shake hands in the middle of a foreign nation. Here is a man that might have pointed a rifle at my family in Lebanon, telling me of his sorrow for the act, and then sharing his humanity with me years after the incident.

All the while the women from this village are walking around and trying to sell their crafts to the people under his guidance, pieces ranging from woven baskets to clay lip plates. We talk for a few minutes more until his tourists are finished with their snapshots. We bid each other farewell and he returns to a home on the other side of a border from my family.

It is on this day that the portrait above is made, hours after the conversation with the former Israeli soldier.

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Karo Man, Headrest, Paint, Feather, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

On the eve of this image, we camp an hour away from this village. The hour can be attributed to the fact that a road is lacking. A rough path is what guides us to this man's home. He belongs to the Karo Community and lives on the east bank of the Omo River. With a population ranging between 1,000 to 1,500, the survive growing sorghum, beans and maize. They are well-known for beautifying themselves with chalk, charcoal and other materials.

The women in this community produce scars on their body in order to augment this beautification process while the men do the same thing but for a different reason, the killing of an enemy or a dangerous animal. The women also prepare their hair with a mixture of clay and organic material, giving it a most beautiful appearance.

This man carries a headrest, one that he uses when lying down so as to keep his head from touching the ground. This headrest also doubles as a small chair.

We arrive on this hot day after camping out nearby. After this morning, my friends decide that seven days without a meal for me is enough and decide to take me to a hospital four hours away. Before the drive however, we make magnificent portraits, both in color and in black and white. Due to a physical weakness this morning, the truck is parked right behind me, protecting me from the sun. A seat is also provided for me to sit upon, allowing me to manage the still and video cameras with ease and without exhaustion.

The portrait above is a still from the video camera.

We have a short discussion with the men and begin the photography after agreeing on a price for the portraits. In the Lower Omo Valley, negotiations are always necessary and a price is to be fixed prior to the photography. This community, like the rest, are used to tourists and requires an amount for each portrait, as well as an entrance fee for their village.

They are unsure of my work since it requires a dozen exposures for each person at times. We agree that a higher price is to be paid in exchange for the possibility that more is needed by me. We advise them that, for most, the payment will actually be higher. This is the balance that is struck.

We photograph the men first, followed by the elders and then the younger men. In this village, the children seem missing and we walk away without any younger portraits. We drive to the next location, four hours away and with the thought that a good doctor will be waiting on the other end of this drive to improve my condition for the remainder of my time in Ethiopia.

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Mursi Man, Earrings, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

This portrait is the morning after the portrait below, in the middle of Mago National Park.

The night before we sleep near a stream and under a large tree. For our dinner, we have corn from the previous day and some canned tuna. While we sleep, a guard from the park services department watches out for us along with some men from his tribe, the very tribe we intend to photograph the next morning.

The reason for the decision to camp is based on the amount of gasoline remaining for the trip. Sleeping near the tribe allows us to eliminate the arduous trek over the mountain range and also lessens the wear and tear on the truck, as well as the driver.

Clouds, for some reason in the land of sunshine, decide to appear on the horizon just as the sun is shining most beautifully this entire week. Sleep is hard to find all night because of this. Every once in a while, I unzip the small tent and look up at the skies only to see stars. Then I go back to sleep only to repeat this a few times during the night.

In the morning, before the sun rises, I check on the sky one more time, seeing only stars. Excitement builds and we decide to move quickly. We pack all of our gear, place it on top of the truck and head to the village only a minute or so away.

As written in previous posts, a tribe that is supposed to be most difficult is in actuality more than gentle. We begin with the girls, then the women and then the older men. During this morning's session, a large cloud appears out of nowhere unexpectedly and seems to be moving in the same direction and with the same speed as the sun.

With the previous five days in mind, I almost decide to put everything away and give up. The translator tells me to be patient, tells me that the sun will reappear in less than one hour. In the end, he is right. The sun does reappear and even though it is higher and stronger than before, the people are able to stand up and collaborate beautifully.

We finish on a high note and move on to the next tribe, until our return next year hopefully.

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Mursi Man, Hat, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

This portrait is made on a late afternoon while our truck idles behind me. He stands looking to his right where perhaps twenty women and girls sit. Earlier today they had their portraits made and even sold a few lip plates to me, all with different shapes, patterns and colors.

In between sessions, we wait under the hot sun, to the surprise of the driver and the translator. While most of their friends bring customers into the village for a few minutes only to drive back to the motel for the rest of the day, these two good men get to hang out with me all day and wait for the sun to begin its descent into the late afternoon.

We would rather go back and rest ourselves but know that to come back would be most difficult for the truck. So we have our lunch under a tree, share a can or two of sardines with a few tribesmen, sleep for a bit, talk to the older men and generally are the center of attention for the younger generation.

Today the sun exists without clouds and my only wish is that this remains so until the afternoon. We are granted this wish and arrange to make the men's portraits. One by one they walk from under the row of trees to stand in front of the camera. Some come as they are, some bring their rifles and some bring their swords.

While this tribe lives in a most inaccessible part of Ethiopia, they have been photographed beyond ability to count. Almost every single day a group of tourists stop by for their dose of a different world. They typically get out of their SUVs, walk around with their eyes wide open, stand behind their guide and wait for an opportunity to make some pictures then return to their air-conditioned vehicles twenty minutes later on their way to the next visual attraction.

So this tribe has seen it all, the world has come to them and continues to come to them on an hourly basis. For this very reason, their portraits amaze me this afternoon. While cameras are nothing new to them, their collective reaction to my camera is fresh. They usually negotiate a fee for a single image but are willing to stand in front of me for a few minutes and hear the continuous sound of the shutter without refusing me their portrait. According to our translator, our approach is quite unorthodox yet accepted.

These men honor me and my work, I am humbled by their worldliness.

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Young Mursi Girl, Body Paint, Ear Modification, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

Out of all the communities we run across in the Lower Omo Valley, the Mursi Tribe seem to attract the most tourists.

The lip plates? Can it be the way they modify their earlobes? Maybe the fact that they live in a national park? Does body paint have anything to do with it? Do raised patterns on their skin catch the tourists' attention?

With the exception of the lip modification, this young girl has it all. She belongs to the Mursi Community, lives in a national park, adorns herself with wonderful images and boasts beautiful raised patterns on her shoulders as well.

She is however different in that she is missing an opening in her lower lip for the placement of a lip plate. She is near the age when such is done, as a transition to womanhood. Wearing a lip plate is associated with fertility and eligibility for marriage, a sign of sexual maturity.

This is all missing above; or is she perhaps signaling a change in her culture, in the mindset of her people?

According to some accounts, the influence of mainstream Ethiopian culture as well as the introduction of tourists have perhaps challenged internal perceptions regarding this practice.

While older women and men view the lip plate as a transition to womanhood, a certain portion of the younger generation is aware that this practice is seen as 'backward' by the state. While the older generation considers the absence of a lip plate as a sign of weakness, awkwardness and a general lack of grace, the younger generation at times sees it as a transition to the 'modern world.'

A most intriguing article regarding this phenomena is included here for your review.

As for this young Mursi girl, she stands above with strength and balance; she holds herself with a grace that few can rival.

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Young Mursi Girl, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

After resting from the morning, we decide to move onto the next group of homes a few kilometers away. The sun is high in the sky and clouds are nowhere to be seen. The key is placed into the ignition and silence is the result. The truck fails to start. We are in the middle of a national park with the nearest town almost a two hour drive away and on the other side of a series of mountains. A look of panic replaces one of rest on the driver's face. This is after all the company truck. Over the next hour or so, he tries everything and still fails to start the truck.

Then he decides that pushing the truck is a good idea, under the scorching sun. So we get behind the truck and push it for the next hour or so without success. Over and over again, the clutch is released and nothing happens. It is hot, dry and we are tired from the pushing. Seeing this, a few from the previous village come to help us. All of us push, the villagers without shoes, with the same result.

Just when we are about to give up, a truck appears on the horizon coming in our direction. We attempt to wave the driver down but he passes us on a one lane road at a speed dangerous enough to have killed someone. The local villagers smile and tell us that they know this man, that he is both mean and ill-mannered.

We continue pushing and finally give up, thinking that we will sleep overnight and photograph in the morning as well, a happy thought for me in effect. However, we do need to move out of this mountain range at some time and we try to come up with a solution. At that moment, another truck is seen coming our way. This time, we decide to block the road and the driver slows down. She has a few passengers with her but spares a moment to talk with us.

She tells us that she can take two of us with her and we offer the two tourists with us the option. Everyone agrees and she tells us that she will return after dropping off her passengers. With my mind at ease regarding the tourists, I grab my gear and start walking to the next village. Time is of the essence and we only have two hours before the sun disappears. We walk at a fast pace on a seemingly endless straight line. Three girls follow us and offer to help carry our gear. We accept and all of us walk the next two kilometers in silence, with the girls giggling at my clumsiness. It gives the walk a more pleasant, lighter tone.

As we arrive at the village, two trucks arrive behind us, having pulled our truck to a start with a rope. We wave goodbye to the nice stranger and the tourists and are happy to know that we will also be joining them in a few hours. We ask the driver to pull the truck up and leave it running while we photograph. At times, a few villagers stand on the bumper of the running truck to give me a better perspective. This is how her portrait is made, the young girl at the top of this entry.

The photography runs smoothly, with smiles all around. We bid farewell to the villagers, knowing that this would be our last time together this year. The sun is setting and we make our way up the mountain range. One request is made by me to the driver: 'can you kindly leave the truck in first gear during the hard climbs rather than trying to switch gears?'

We move for about one hour before, as expected, he decides to switch gears on a very steep climb. His timing is poor and the truck stalls. A sigh can be heard from all in the truck. He tries to start the truck but the engine fails to ignite. We are now in the middle of a mountain range, in the dark, up a steep hill and without a single line of communication. In short, we are stuck.

Tempers rise and word are exchanged, everyone is tired. In this moment of anxiety, he decides to attempt a start in reverse, down a steep hill. His attempt almost results in the loss of the truck as the rear of the truck slips off of the road and down the hill. He is fortunate to have prevented its loss as well as serious harm to himself.

We now stand with the truck, half on the road and half off the road. Just as we are about to call it an evening, the lights of a large construction truck become visible. We wait twenty minutes and the truck arrives at our side. We ask for a ride and he accepts to do so, with twenty or so Ethiopians already in the back of the truck.

Our driver also asks for a tow and a jump, the driver of the larger truck also agrees. For the remainder of the trip, I sit with the rest of the people in the larger truck, even as the engine of our truck starts. For some reason, sitting with complete strangers in the back of a large truck engenders a feeling of safety, of kindness. These wonderful strangers help me with my gear in my climb up and help me with my gear in my descent.

We return to the town and are happy to arrive safely. The tourists are waiting for us with smiles.

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Arbore Boy, Design on Face, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

After five days with the Mursi Community, it is time to head back for the capital. Before we begin our drive north, we decide to photograph one more tribe a second time. Ten days ago we visited the Arbore Community and made portraits from a distance, with a home providing protection from the sun for me. The session happened in the middle of my sickness and being out in the sun was unbearable for me.

We arrive today a bit early, but healthy. The children recognize us immediately and call on the rest to come quickly. We do all we can to tell them that we have at least one hour before we can begin but they continue coming. We end up finding a place under a tree for all of them to use as shade while I walk around this time and make still images of their homes, their environment.

After about an hour of hearing their giggles, it seems time to begin the work. We choose to photograph the young boys first, then the girls, women and men. The boys line up according to height, making it easier for me to adjust the tripod down rather than up and down.

They pose beautifully, none of them shy perhaps due to the fact that many tourists visit their community. Other evidence of this happens to be the designs on the faces, made mainly to attract the attention of foreigners as they drive by.

We finish the photography of the boys and then the girls begin to line up, according to height again. In this community, the women and girls will wear a black fabric over their heads. We decide to use this fabric for the images and all of the girls take their turns arranging their pieces of fabric.

The images are exquisite, my mind is giddy with disbelief. This is my last day and the images are out of this world. People will view them and think the Middle East, Africa, Islam or Animism. In the end, what happens to these negatives is a story for another entry. It will be sufficient to write that the spring for the shutter snaps before the very first negative of the girls and that the rest of the negatives from this day are lost to history.

This very single moment will be the reason for my return next year, if nothing else.

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Mursi Man, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

Upon unzipping the tent, it is clear to me that the sun will shine unhindered. The sky is full of stars and the wind is almost missing. We rise out of our tents, get everything packed and head to the first collection of homes less than one minute away.

There they are, waiting on us from yesterday. Today is a calmer day than the one previous when the market was open and full of tourists. We speak to the men and make arrangements for the photography. Although this community is quite active, we manage to select from the crowd and gain the cooperation of all.

We begin with the younger girls and manage to make some portraits until, out of nowhere, a large cloud appears and threatens our morning. To my dismay, it moves in the opposite direction of the sun and we achieve sunlight in less than one hour. We call on the men at this time and they pose for us happily. They have seen us around and know that we have done as we have spoken.

Some of them carry a utensil, some of them rifles. The man above is an example. They stand on the bumper of the truck at times to gain height in relation to my lens. This gives the perspective seen in the images. The sky in the background just disappears with the film selected, the process in the darkroom.

During much of my time in Ethiopia the thought of returning seems to fade away. While the children in the communities and many of the adults give of themselves, many of the rest seem quite indifferent, understandably so due to the intense touristic industry in the region.

Everywhere we go, someone has their hand out figuratively, whether that takes the form of yet another guide in addition to the other guide following us or in terms of the official tourist collectives that demand our patronage even though we are trying to mind our own business. At one point a group of unmarked men advise us to put our equipment away, telling us that it looks professional.

However, with the benefit of time and the development of the images, my camera yearns to return, as does my mind.

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