Halim Ina, Global Community Portraits, Cleveland Print Room, Humana People to People India, July 12, 2013

An example from the most recent showing at the Cleveland Print Room, in which two schools for girls in India found support for the next year. The good people of this space joined forces to get the word and did so in a most selfless manner.

Portraits from Africa and Asia and the Americas were presented on behalf of the girls of Rajasthan, and we hope that this is only the beginning. All proceeds from the sale of these prints will be allocated to these schools. So if any of these images attract your attention, please feel free to contact me directly and initiate a conversation.

Woman + Accessories, Mursi Community, Ethiopia

She was the first person photographed during my time with this community, and the one with the most intricate presentation. She just stepped in front of my camera without hesitation and allowed a roll to be exposed. From this image forward my infatuation with this community has continued to grow. Rather than spending a couple of days as planned, we stayed for almost one week before moving on to another region in the Lower Omo Valley. She and her community live in a region quite remote in terms of access, requiring a day of transportation from the larger populations and then two hours of harsh terrain before reaching their small villages inside Mago National Park. In order to be granted access, an armed guard is supplied at the entrance without choice. The community however is as hospitable, kind and gracious as any experienced within Ethiopia.

Unframed $850
Framed $1000
Smaller Prints Available
100% of proceeds going to Schools for Girls in association with
Humana People to People India

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Young Girl, Mursi Community, Mago National Park, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March of 2010

She stood on our truck for this portrait, elevating herself above an already sublime environment. This was our last day with the Mursi Community, and we slept the night before in their midst in order to have a most perfect day.

We had some trouble early in the morning with the sun, but were rewarded soon after with pure rays. In this image she looks past her circle of houses while her entire village sits at her feet watching her being photographed. We worked with some of the men earlier, and had around us many young children waiting their turn.

One or two of the children were frightened of the truck, while most jumped up with a smile. She was of the latter group, and held her composure in the midst of chaos all around. She used a piece of fabric with a fabulous pattern to cover herself up, and only show her upper features. This was different than most of the others in that the dominant theme was the display of their beadwork, of their metal pieces. This young girl wanted to show us perhaps something different, more subtle. I appreciated this very much then and even more so now.

She lives in Mago National Park in the famed Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia. Although the area is quite remote, she is beyond familiar with tourists since a truckload of them appears every hour or so during the busy season. During our session a truck pulled up and the local population quickly gathered themselves to walk over to the new visitors, offering their artistic creations as well as their portraits for sale.

We intended to spend the entire day in the park, photograph in the morning and then in the late afternoon as the sun set. So we had plenty of time and waited for the tourists to leave before continuing with our work. Of course I considered myself a tourist as well, and only differed in my mechanism of documentation. Women approached me as they did the others, with their plates and discs in their hands. Their trick was to put an item out in front of me and have me take that item in my hand for viewing, or so I thought. Then they would walk away quickly, in theory forcing me to purchase it.

In the end I did purchase four plates with various sizes and colors. I look at them with immense pleasure often, and think of my time amongst one of the most magnificent communities in the world, that of the Mursi of the Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia.

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 Man & Cane, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2012

During my time in Ethiopia, I visited a dozen communities. Each experience had its own feeling, its individual flavor. We only had three weeks to accomplish these visits and so set a limit as to time spent with each, at least until I met the Mursi Community of the Lower Omo Valley.

After one session I knew we would stay put for the next five or so days. In order to photograph them we needed to stay in a nearby town, about one and a half hours away through rough, mountainous terrain. Because we needed to photograph as the light appeared and disappeared, this made it most difficult for our driver. The road up and down the mountain was barely a road, just a path actually. On either side of the mountain were dangerous slopes, easily engaged in pure darkness.

The Mursi live in a national park, and thus are quite remote from any possible accommodations. We arrived one day early because we were seeking a local hospital to take care of my health. Seven days prior to our arrival I had been unable to eat anything substantial, and anything that did go down came back up quickly. I lost perhaps a dozen pounds in less than six days, but continued to work because the energy of the place was irresistible. 

When we arrived to the small town, we visited the local hospital. There were many people already gathered for the attention of one physician, people with issues ranging from broken limbs to pregnancies to infections. I felt quite awkward being there for something so superficial, but knew that I needed this man's help. For the past few days tremors crept in whenever I moved a muscle, and this scared me very much. Every time I would try to stretch out in the truck my muscles would seize, every time I would move in bed while sleeping cramps would set in.

When my time came the doctor and his team saw me without prejudice. In perfect English he went on to explain how he was going to diagnose my ailment. He asked question after question, alleviated my concerns and then made a diagnosis based on his interview. He provided me with two prescriptions to be filled in the pharmacy next door. When we attempted to pay for his services, the doctor refused payment in the kindest of ways and included me in the social contract of the region. My visit alone with this gentle man gave me a sense of peace, and the medicine (for the price of one cup of tea) cured me in one evening. The very next day I was able to eat, and do all else associated with normal bodily functions. Sleep was finally available to me.

So we arrived to this community reinvigorated, and worked from sunrise to sunset. In between we would drive to a secluded spot and have our meals, and chat amongst ourselves. One night we were allowed to sleep near their homes, and thus were given rest between driving back and forth. During this night we set up our tents, and made a dish that included spaghetti and corn. We thought we were alone, but then found ourselves in the company of these good people as they arrived to our campsite with their machine guns in hand. Rather than being alarmed we felt safe, and slept through the night looking forward to the next day. 

While my time in Ethiopia was overall the most difficult photographic experience of my life, it was also amongst the most fulfilling in light of the images made. I do look forward to one day revisiting these communities and being more familiar with their customs, lending a more authentic feeling to our communications. 

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Scarlett Von Sinn, Model, Friend, Northeast Ohio, Summer Day, 2010

On a cold afternoon we make this image. The wind is blowing quite cool and the sun is perhaps one hour from disappearing. Three of us are working, two models and one photographer. While her portrait is being made, her friend waits in the car and warms up for her portrait.

The session occurs in the parking lot of a friend's business. We set up and use the white wall of the building as our background since our own is blowing in the wind. A spontaneous message a few days prior has made this day possible, in addition to the clarification that traveling to her area has been my intention all along. Her humility and courtesy had given her the impression that they would need to travel to my area and such was most difficult for her and her friend.

Many rolls are exposed, from different distances. In the end however, making her portrait from a closer distance allows me to document her ability to present the most subtle changes of expression. From one negative to another she displays this uncanny talent, so much so that my instinct is to load another roll of film and continue until the sun sets.

During the entire session, she is kind and courteous and without hesitation. Whatever is asked of her, whether to turn her head or to perhaps to look a certain direction, she does so in the most gentle of ways. She honors the people in my portfolio with every gesture, by wanting to be included in my portfolio rather than asking for something in return.

It has taken me almost four months to process her images and she has yet to express concern.

The camera rarely leaves my home in the States, for various reasons. Working with Sarah has given me more reason to do so in the future.

One may see her portfolio through the link below.

Scarlett Von Sinn

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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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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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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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Mursi Girl, Mago National Park, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

Standing on the bumper of our truck, this portrait is made. This is the most distant of the villages we visit during our time near the national park. Once again, according to all accounts our work will be difficult.

Contrary to the best intentions of our advisors however, we are met with smiles and body adornments for sale. Sure we need to negotiate our photography; then again all of the tribes in this region of Ethiopia ask for the same courtesy.

Since we are limited with time and with funding, we decide to select the ones most interested in the photography. We begin with the children and work our way to the adults. On this day, the market nearby is closed and so only the people from this village are present. Yesterday, many more were present due to the fact that tourists were sure to visit before and after the market.

On this day, everyone decides to take a seat behind us to the left and wait for their turn. They are very patient, knowing that we are limited in what we can do. Every now and then, a woman will walk up with a small child; but for the most part the hour or so on this late afternoon is calm and orderly.

This is most important because the clouds are moving in and we still need time to set up our tents. Every few minutes or so, we look behind us at the sun and continue with the photography. Every few portraits, a small cloud appears and we wait until it passes. Now and then, a few men decide to cut in line. These are men with rifles and other weapons and, even though everyone around me tells me that the rifles are rarely used, it makes sense to allow them their minute in front of the camera.

We then return to the girls and then the women. There is one girl missing though. Yesterday she was there, when the market was open. She followed me everywhere, asked for nothing and just wanted to satisfy her curiosity. My friend kept smiling, telling me that we have found the star of this village. She never once spoke a word, only smiled. In a land and among people very different on the surface from me, here was this little girl that treated me like her big brother.

Today she is missing. We look for her without success. We acknowledge our loss and finish our afternoon, hoping that she'll be present next year. Like all previous times in different nations, there are faces that keep me coming back. Her face is etched in my mind.

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