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

Woman, Karo Community, Ethiopia

Her village is so remote that even the local guides were unsure of which path to take. Looking through images of this community online will more than likely yield similar views since the population is less than 3,000 in number. They tend to their cattle and also grow such crops as sorghum, maize and beans. At times they paint their faces with chalk, mixed with yellow rock, red iron ore and charcoal for variation. Their clothes are made from animal skin and the women scar their skin in the quest for beauty. We visited their village in the early afternoon and returned to a campground for rest before heading out the next morning. My desire to stay longer was cut short by an illness lasting for seven days leading up to the visit. My companions felt it necessary to take me to the next town for a visit to the doctor, and so we left this community for a future date.

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Man + Cane, Mursi Community, Ethiopia

Numbering less than 7,500, this community struggles for their existence daily. Living on the fringes of Society, they continue in their traditions and have adapted to the onslaught of tourists most ingeniously. On this day we approached the community and they agreed to let their women and girls be documented first in the morning. After the early session we had at least six hours to pass, and did so with them. When the afternoon sun was acceptable we asked the men to be photographed and they obliged. One by one we photographed them as they wished, with objects ranging from blades to machine guns to canes.

Unframed $400
Framed $550
Smaller Prints Available
100% of proceeds going to Schools for Girls in association with 

Humana People to People India

Bedouin Woman, Bekaa Valley, Lebanon

She sits for this portrait in front of her home, along with her grandchildren. In my numerous visits to her street this is the only portrait she allowed, quite a courageous act to do in public. She has since passed away, remembered here through this image. In her eyes can be seen her grandchildren standing next to me, watching her being photographed.

Unframed $450
Framed $600
Smaller Prints Available
100% of proceeds going to Schools for Girls in association with
Humana People to People India

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

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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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 Woman, Feather, Mago National Park, Lower Omo Valley, Ethiopia, March, 2010

Five days are spent in this area, five days spent driving over mountains to reach these villages. On many days, the clouds appear just in time for the photography. During the middle of the day, the sun rules. Then in the afternoon, the clouds appear, lasting until the evening when the skies become clear once again.

This ritual remains constant during our stay here. Just when we think the sun will remain, it is covered by the clouds. One day we decide to take our chances and stay overnight in the park. We arrive in the afternoon for a day of photography with the sun intact until the early evening. We then set up the tents, get some water boiling for the corn purchased the previous day and have our short dinner.

Seated next to us is a Mursi guide with his AK-47. Even though darkness prevails, the men from the nearby tribes have very little trouble finding us. They join their fellow Mursi man and decide to hang out with us until the morning. Most of them are also armed with the same hardware. Contrary to my presumptions regarding the presence of guns, sleep is easy to come by this night, especially after a little corn.

We wake up in the morning to a glorious, blue sky. The feeling is hard to explain. We decide to hurry to the first village and begin. Upon arrival, negotiations are initiated and we quickly start. We are able to make portraits for about one hour before the clouds hide the sun.

The aggravation is easy to see on my face and the tribe wonders why we have stopped. We point to the sun hiding behind the clouds. The guide insists that the sun will reappear and, to my surprise, it does so one hour later. The angle of the sun is still more than acceptable and we continue with our portraits until all are photographed.

Almost everyone prior to our arrival warns us with respect to the Mursi Community: they are most difficult, they are forceful, they attack tourists and their trucks.

Contrary to all this talk, the Mursi Community accepts us with open arms. We sit alongside them under the trees, the continue their conversations without noticing our presence. We spent days with them. Sure, they approach me and put their lip plates in my hands, walk away and then speak prices to me with a smile. However, they also smile back when I walk over to them and place the lip plates back in their hands. At times, we speak directly with them, sharing with them our limitations. They accept them, they allow us to stay.

In the end, this is a tribe that I will visit for the rest of my life.

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

Unlike advertisements praising Ethiopia's thirteen months of sunshine, my time seems plagued by clouds and a general lack of sunshine during the early and late hours of the days, traditional times for my photography.

As a result, we spend almost six days near the Mursi Tribe attempting to photograph three small villages. The driver and guide are tired and weary of the driving, making the decision halfway through to camp near the Mursi villages for easier access.

The Mursi Tribes are a nomadic people, cattle herders traditionally. Most estimates put their population at less than 7,500. They are located in the Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia, surrounded by the mountains of the Mago National Park, one of the most isolated regions of the country.

They have their own language also called Mursi and follow a religion that is classified as Animism. While some do speak a second language, the overwhelming majority speak their own language only and have an illiteracy rate of 97%.

The women are famous for wearing lip discs made of clay by the women themselves.

During our day, we witness the women sitting and making these discs, at different stages of production. They use a sharp tool to place patterns into the discs and then place the discs into the sand for curing.

Now and then, they walk up to me and place a disc in front of me to see. As a reaction, my hand takes the disc and then the realization that they have walked away expecting payment sinks in. Most of the time, they do take the discs back with a smile.

Today, four discs are purchased by me, four different sizes and four different patterns.

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