Child Laborer + Bricks, Haryana, India, March 16, 2015

She is but one of millions bearing the brunt of globalization, making possible the gleaming buildings rising all across the Indian landscape for example. She works in this position all day under the hot sun, turning one brick after another in a seemingly endless line of bricks, as her fragile body moves along the lines gracefully.

Her family came from the northeastern portion of India in search of work, for back home there was even less. She lacks access to a school, medicine, running water, safe housing, electricity and so much more. Her family lives in a small brick room with a corrugated, metal roof... making the interior unbearably hot. The room lacks windows, yet is unable to protect the children from mosquitos, roaches and the like.

She represents a sizable portion of the population, those responsible for harvesting the rare earth elements for the sake of modern phones, for making the bricks necessary for the gleaming high-rises. She is the price society pays for its progress, hers is the pain few in power will ever see.

So while countless politicians argue about what is to be done, she gets up every single day and pays the price for their inaction with her labor, with the loss of her childhood. For her the new school is being introduced, she is our inspiration.

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Note: This image was made with a Fuji GA645 system, onto Kodak TMX film.

Migrants + Brick Factory, Haryana, India, 2015

On our way to Uttar Pradesh last year, we visited a few brick factories in an attempt to document the families and the conditions in which they existed. Out of the three visited, one allowed us to do so. The owners were quite generous actually, and accepted our presence openly. They invited us for some tea that evening, and arranged for us to do our work in the morning even in their absence.

We arrived as the sun was rising the next morning, and began our photography. The families were mostly from northeastern India and migrated to this region for work. They lived in tiny rooms made with the bricks they produced, enduring endless days of labor. The roofs of these rooms were made of corrugated metal, making them almost unbearably hot... and beyond noisy when it rained.

Under the hot sun they worked, parents alongside their children. These displaced families lacked access to so much many of us perhaps take for granted such as the education for their children, and healthcare for their families. They lived a hand to mouth existence, earning enough each day to barely feed their families and pay their employers for rent and food.

In these two frames we are seeing slavery in its modern form, with countless humans being forced to exchange their labor for the most minimum of existence. I do hope that we will be able to move forward with our interfaith effort in this region, and produce a school for the children of these communities.

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Note: These images were made with a Fuji GA645 system onto Kodak TMX film, scanned for preview through the negative sleeve.

Family + Sorting Garbage, Humana People to People India, Gurgaon, India, November, 2013

Then there are the incredible people at Humana People to People India, working for example with people such as the ones in these images, ragpickers living in Gurgaon, India. Presented as an incredibly rich city filled with tech savvy individuals… this city also is home to countless people barely scraping by, collecting and sorting trash just to put food on their children's plates perhaps once per day.

According to Wikipedia:

'As of 2013, about 250 Fortune 500 companies have a base in Gurgaon. It is the most prosperous city in India based on ownership of consumer durables.'

Humana People to People India is working hard in this community, along with Dell and Nokia in presenting schools for basic education as well as computer studies. I am proud to have spent the last six weeks with this foundation and the good people at the various projects.

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Child and Strip, Banjara Community, Humana People to People, Rajasthan, India, November 21, 2009

On the morning of November 21st of 2009 we arrived at a tiny group of houses just a small distance from the main road. We set off looking to photograph the Banjara Community and thought we'd find the children playing nearby. The good people of Humana People to People India guided me to this area and helped me even though this was outside of our pre-arranged schedule.

Instead of finding the children near the homes, we saw a small bus taking the children to school. On this day it so happened that they went into the nearby town for classes, instead of working on the streets. I was of course happy to see this, even though my intent was to photograph them. We talked to the only adult in our presence for a little bit until he felt comfortable enough with our intentions.

A group of perhaps six children came along and sat on a thin strip for their portraits. The sun by this time had reached an uncomfortable angle and we did our best to get the children to laugh, the best way to get the eyes to relax in the sunlight. We photographed for less than thirty minutes and then set out to find a couple of government schools in which to work.

The Banjara Community has affected me deeply since my first visit to Rajasthan almost seven years ago. Their independence from the local communities is clearly visible even for a visitor such as myself. They keep to themselves and seem content doing so. At a local bus stop they chat amongst themselves, laughing wonderfully and presenting themselves much less formally than the others sitting around the tea shop.

Their children are incredibly beautiful, and wear the most gorgeous outfits. The patterns range from floral to space age, always abstract and colorful. The skirts are tightly pleated while the shirts fit so tightly against their small torsos. I will return year after year to photograph them, and hopefully build a larger portfolio than the one presently in my possession.

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Halim Ina Photography

Older Woman, Dancing, Humana People to People India, Rajasthan, India, November 18, 2009

As she sat for her portrait she danced, moving her  hands about and giggling like a little girl. While she lives in one of the traditional villages documented by me over the years, her jewelry resembles that of the Banjara Community. She however dresses like the other villagers, and sat with us as we photographed the girls from the local school sponsored by Humana People to People India.

We arrived at this village in the middle of the day and took advantage of the shade. A couple of young men took turns holding the reflector, and we arranged a small stool for the girls to sit upon for their session. The cookware next to her was already there, and for the sake of variety we moved them a little bit in between sitters.

I enjoy it when an adult, like in the previous post, injects a bit of humor into the scene. This allows the students to be freer with their expressions and makes for a more interesting session. This is exactly what she did, moved her hands through the air and allowed me to photograph her all the while. Behind me and to the left sat a group of men watching, which made her actions that much more remarkable.

Contrary to my experiences in the past, the men also enjoyed the humor and supported all of our work. Their presence served to give our work more plausibility, and we did our best to present all of them with photographs a day or so later.

In the beginning of my photography, years ago, I would return to the villages the following year and hand the pictures out to the people. While they very much appreciated it, the number of photographs was limited to the amount my luggage would allow, plus the protective sleeves. Taking a digital camera along allowed me to make images and print them immediately afterwards at the local photographic lab. In this way the local economy benefited from my humble offerings and the people received their pictures much sooner, and more of them.

This engendered a warmer response, and allowed further sessions to have a flow unattainable before.

I look forward to visiting this village once again, perhaps next year. My hope is that the girls of this village are attending government schools, and that they will allow me the privilege to photograph them once again.

halim.ina@gmail.com

Halim Ina Photography

Man and Woman, Humana People to People, Rajasthan, India, Evening of November 18, 2009

We schedule the girls for a session and the men invariably join in the fun. When they approach me with kindness it is a blessing, as in the image above. In many ways he makes the rest of the work easier, sharing with us his approval and allowing the girls to be themselves more so.

He is willing to make fun of himself a bit for the sake of the girls, rather than sitting a few meters away and staring at them as is the usual in these circumstances. Whether the photography takes place in the Middle East or in Asia or in the Caribbean, my work with girls and women brings out in men a less than desirable reaction, many times understandably so.

One interaction such in the image above diffuses such reactions and allows me to work in peace. These are after all girls accustomed to doing their chores and rarely taking center stage. Their place is that of the woman in the background, secluded and separated from the activities in center stage. During our entire session she never allowed her face to be seen, only a few times lifting her head enough to see the girls having fun and smiling in turn.

I will admit that I know very little of this culture, and the other cultures within my photography. These visual records are but clues to the larger picture, but I feel deeply honored to have been given the opportunity to make such an image, to be able to later on reflect on it and perhaps gain a slightly better understanding of the people within it.

To this village I will return soon, perhaps next year in order to see the success of the schools sponsored by Humana People to People India. I do hope that this elder and his colleagues continue to support the school in their village, to send their girls to gain an education.

We are in the final stage of funding for the five schools of 2013 and could use any support. Should you feel attracted to these faces and their stories, then you may contact me through the following links with your thoughts.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

El Trabajador, On the Road to Pinar del Rio, Cuba, July of 2008

In my last few days on the island I decided to head out on my own to Pinar Del Rio. It seemed easy enough, nicely paved roads and neatly placed signs. Heading west from the hotel and without a map, the feeling was a mix of anxiety and excitement.

After getting out of the city, everything cleared up... the skies, the roads and the air. Every now and then I would stop and speak to a few men, ask their permission to make images. Without exception everyone agreed regardless of my limited Spanish at the time. On this occasion a group of workers were cutting the grass manually.

For a monthly salary equal to an average pair of pants, they are responsible for the grass on this stretch of highway. In addition to the work accomplished on their farms, they would come out in groups on certain times of the month and cut the grass. This of course is done under the grueling sun and during the hot months of the Caribbean, when the grass grows most quickly.

We went on to collaborate for perhaps thirty minutes, after which time I bid farewell to them and continued west. For me the rest of that day was easy, driving around in a car with the wind blowing, keeping me cool. I drove for a few more hours and then turned around to head back to the city.

All the time I couldn't help thinking that these men continued their work until the sun went down, then returned to their farms to do more of the same. I have a deep respect for these men and others like them, men toiling under the sun without rest and only with the hope of providing for their families.

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

Halim Ina Photography

The Last View of Home, Île de Gorée, Off the Coast of Dakar, Senegal, February, 2006

Perhaps this stone has been in this place for ten years, perhaps for two hundred years.

One thing is for certain, this is the view that countless Africans shared as they were removed from their continent and enslaved for future generations to come. On this small island near the city of Dakar they were held, on this small island their lives changed forever.

According to an entry in Wikipedia:

'Probably no more than a few hundred slaves per year departed from here for transportation to the Americas. They were more often transported as incidental passengers on ships carrying other cargoes rather than as the chief cargo on slave ships. After the decline of the slave trade from Senegal in the 1770s and 1780s, the town became an important port for the shipment of peanuts, peanut oil, gum arabic, ivory, and other products of the "legitimate" trade.'

Does the number lessen the horror?

While sitting on this beach making this image, visions of Africans shackled in ships and held standing for sale passed through my mind like a slideshow. One cannot imagine the horrors that must have passed through the minds of the people on this island hundreds of years ago, so close to the African continent yet destined to live in a land devoid of their people, their history, their culture and their language.

They were removed from their continent as Africans and forced onto another as slaves. 

Can one imagine such an experience? How does a language disappear? How is a culture snuffed out? How is a history lost?

The first few generations might have thought, we will never forget. How can we ever forget?

As decades turned into centuries, I imagine that these questions must have dissolved as well.

I can never come close to understand a single millisecond of the above, but can appreciate the view above, a view of the unknown.

For more of my work, and to contribute your thoughts regarding this project, please visit the newly designed website below, courtesy of Patrick Luu.

Halim Ina Photography

Man and Horse, Humana People to People, Rajasthan, India, November 17, 2009

Every session presents unforeseen opportunities. While we rest a bit after our early morning session, this man approaches on his horse. With a gesture he asks for his portrait to be made. He maneuvers with ease, creates a few poses and then moves along quietly. Just to his left gather the girls for a short class.

Only with his permission can the school in the village succeed. Humana People to People can present their best case, but it is up to this man and his male colleagues to allow their girls access to education. While boys in this village have access to government schools, the girls in this village fall outside of this most basic of educational platforms.

With this man and others like him, girls now have the chance to attend classes. The excitement during my visit is a testament to their exuberance. They are up before the sun rises in anticipation for our session, and come dressed in the most beautiful colors. They stand shivering due to the early morning chill, yet have smiles all over their faces. This is possible because the elders of the village have given their permission for our session, and have fostered an environment in which the girls may be themselves.

I am proud to know this man, and to have made his portrait. His single spirit cancels thousands unlike him, and will allow the light to burn bright in dozens of girls in his village. His is the face of change.

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

Halim Ina Photography

Grandmother, Humana People to People, Rajastshan, India, November 19, 2009

A glimpse into the women's strength outside the courtyard is this portrait. With men to her right and behind me, she stands uncovered and with her smile in defiance. This is their predecessor, the women from the previous blog post.

For most of the session we photograph the younger girls, students from the Humana People to People school in the village. Then perhaps seeing how difficult the work is becoming a few of the older women stand by in support and then walk to have their portraits, as in solidarity with the younger generation. They see their daughters attempting to do what they perhaps were unable to do in their youth, and this inspires them.

It is moments like this one that motivate me to continue with this work.

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

Halim Ina Photography

Bedouin Girl, An Alley with Wind, Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, Summer, 2005

In the beginning my work includes images with indirect light and darker backgrounds. This is certainly true of the early portraits from the Middle East. My inexperience at the time forces me to seek shaded areas and use any light available. Much of the time the results disappoint me, lead me to seek other avenues to produce images respectful of the subject matter.

On this one day a few children catch my attention while photographing a neighboring home. At this point my work in Lebanon is in its sixth year or so, and the people of this area have become accustomed to my camera. I talk to their parents and they allow me to make portraits of the children.

Looking up the alley from the main street, a three story apartment building is at the entrance to the left while a one story home is to the right. Further up is a small shed to the right that houses the livestock and another three story apartment building next to a home on the left. Then the alley ends in an open field. The alley is quite narrow, able to accommodate one large car at a time.

Over the years many portraits are made using the indirect light bouncing off of the larger buildings to the left. The result is a natural studio, with soft boxes to the left and various backgrounds to the right. For the portrait above the shed serves as the background. The young girl stands in front of a large window with only the bottom of the frame showing. The white shape behind her is the window to the back of the shed.

What makes this natural studio that much more incredible is the constant flow of air. On every occasion, the wind provides movement better than any fan could and is relentless. The result is that every exposure brings with it another composition.

This young girl is a Bedouin that has long since become a Lebanese citizen. Once migrants with livestock, now they live in concrete homes and tend to their sheep daily. The girls refrain from attending school and are responsible for the livestock. She and her younger sister walk the animals to graze all by themselves, and show a confidence most striking to a first-time viewer.

She is a tough, young girl... as is her sister as well. They take every bit of energy out of me when being photographed. They are extremey resilient and show remarkable fortitude. They cannot be pushed around and fend for themselves without reservation.They know that they have me at their disposal and that pleading for their portraits is most natural for me. At times it becomes a bit overwhelming... but has yet to keep me from asking. Last year I made the decision to only visit socially and allow a year to pass before asking for their portraits once again.

I hope to visit next summer and make their portraits once again. There is a slight chance that they will refuse, since they have become older and, in this most conservative Society, become less accepting of the image. Regardless they have given me more than I could have asked for already.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Fatouma, Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, Summer, 2005

Just today sixty rolls of 400 ASA film is ordered from New York for the upcoming Cuban trip.

On my mind during the order is the portrait of Fatouma above. It has been over six years since both this image and my use of anything but slower film. For this trip to Cuba, it is my intention to make images both in direct sunlight and in subdued light.

Since Fatouma's portrait six years ago, many visits to her home have been made and her portrait repeated. This first image is perhaps considered the easiest one for me of her, for she was a stranger to me then. Ironically as she has gotten to know me she has become a bit more shy.

Usually she allows herself to be photographed on the first day, perhaps in response to the pictures handed out and to the excitement of the other children. Then upon subsequent trips during the same two week visit, she becomes withdrawn in the sweetest of ways and goes about her chores which range from gathering water to tending to the sheep to washing clothes.

To see her tending to a dozen or so animals, all the while she is less than half of one animal's weight, is incredibly fascinating. She lacks fear and approaches each task without trepidation. She is a most confident young girl and asserts herself in response to either girls or boys. On my last trip, she denied me her portrait in the tradition of girls from the area growing up.

She however lives in my memory through the portrait above. I will still visit her as long as she will allow it. Perhaps one day I will photograph her daughter, at least until I am denied her portrait as well.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Widow, Glasses, Mosque Courtyard, Zakat Foundation of India, Old Delhi, India, 2008

Like many women in her widowed situation, she has been left to defend for herself and for her children. Instead of being looked after by her community, she belongs to the majority receiving nothing from the State and lacking a pension.

In many instances, life after the death of the husband is a life waiting for death itself. So many women are married when quite young to men much older than them. As a result, the death of their husbands leaves them as young women with children and without a security net. The stories are endless, the humiliation eternal.

Depending on position and caste, some of these women are forced to shave their heads, others refrain from wearing jewelry or from presenting their beauty to the world. They are to remain invisible for the rest of their lives, almost as a means to relieve Society from its conscience. With over 40,000,000 widows in existence, this leaves a void difficult to ignore.

One can see them on the streets, going about their day trying to form a life for themselves and their children. While the news portrays advances in their State's well-being, they tend to the homes of others for just enough to eat and little else. This is a most difficult existence and one made even more extreme by the social norms of the day.

Some will say that India has changed, that such practices have disappeared. It is my place only to describe the images created by me, the lives of the people represented within. For them, little has improved in their lives. The humiliation of presenting themselves in front of complete strangers for a sack full of rice is glaringly apparent. While making their portraits serves to support the foundation helping them, the difficulty in the portraiture could never be avoided.

Here are women that are in this position, standing in front of a stranger to have their picture made. I am a witness to their humiliation and yet another source of humiliation. It is the rape victim being forced to make pictures of her bruises, both external and internal.

The photograph in the end will hopefully tell her story without taking anything away from her.

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Young Girl, Student, Kanjar Community, Prostitution, Nirvanavan Foundation, Rajasthan, India, 2008

A conversation is had in a classroom this past week.

The makers of such portraits as the one above deal in a form of exploitation it seems.

This argument is made in almost every situation during my years as a photographer, from the valley of Lebanon to the villages of India. Regardless of language, the above words are expressed to me without exception.

Even though the experiences have been innumerable, a simple answer has yet to be formulated because each situation is different. Sometimes it is the mother of the child, at times it is a complete stranger from a neighboring village and sometimes it is an art student from a local university. Each suspicion of injustice deserves its own response.

Most of the time, the people closest to the person whose portrait is sought are the most understanding. Much of the time, it is that student in a classroom thousands of miles away whose opinion is most hardened. This seems irrational but has been my experience.

Even though the people in the field have encountered exactly that type of photographer, they continue to give the next photographer the benefit of the doubt. Even though that student has yet to step into the field as an artist, his mind has yet to open to the idea that many people will do for others only for the sake of doing.

This young girl has every reason to walk away from the camera. Her community looks to her for one reason only, to earn money from her future as a prostitute. She walks around the village stepping over used condoms as they lay on the dirt paths, without giving them much thought. She cannot attend school because she is deemed 'below the pollution line' by the rest in her Society, the largest democracy in the world as praised by so many. She wakes up to this reality every morning and goes to sleep in the evening with this thought in mind.

Yet she stands in front of the camera with a hope that every child possesses. She refuses to be denied this one chance to express her joy, to share her story with other children in the world, in a language without need for translation.

She does so and without hesitation, regardless of the photographer. She understands that it is the act of doing so that matters for her, rather than whether the photographer will honor her wish to be seen. The tree falling in that forest does make a sound, regardless of an audience.

Rather than falling however, she rises to a place few have ever reached.

I have witnessed this and will continue to honor her.

So does another student in that classroom, the one that raises her hand and responds to the accusation of exploitation. By doing so, she restores honor to the girl above and to our own community here.

Her name is Margaret, the other student in that classroom with her hand raised high.

She is a sister to the girl from Rajasthan.

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Young Women, The Kanjar Community and the Sex Trade, Rajasthan, India, 2009

Are they really that? Does that define them?

Do their aunts still trade sex for money? Are their uncles the pimps behind these transactions?

Can a Society calling itself a democracy allow this to happen in plain view? Are the police aware?

Do the neighbors think of them as the lowest in the Society while they pay for their services?

Do they have a chance in this dark world? Can there be a future for humanity with this in mind?

How much pain have they seen? How many of their sisters have been sent away for money?

When they play in the alley in front of their home, are they only a wall away from the truth?

Do they perhaps already know their sisters' reality? Do they believe it is theirs?

Are there men that believe being with them will cure them of their sexually transmitted illness?

What payment will they make? What price will these young girls pay? What has Society lost?

Does anyone care?

Only the answer to the last question is clear to me. It is one reason for their smiles.

They will survive, they will overcome the present.

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Girl, Student, Humana People to People, Near Virat Nagar, Rajasthan, India, November 19, 2009

Once again, the note on the roll of film tells me that this portrait is the 8th exposure from the 11th roll of film. The background is that of a white wall. Behind her and to her right, a woman is working a fire, away from the frame of the portrait.

During her portrait, she is both serious and funny, most of the time the latter dominates the former. Her laugh is infectious, helps everyone around us laugh when she does. Even the older men laugh and then poke fun at her. To my surprise, she pokes fun back at them with an attitude rarely seen by me in a young girl from this culture.

Her village is away from the beaten path and it takes us at least thirty minutes over rough terrain to arrive. She and her friends are performing chores and gather themselves the instant we arrive for their portraits. We arrive early in the morning, almost before the sun has risen.

We walk to the end of the village and, to our pleasant surprise, we find a home with a glorious white wall, and with the sun directly striking it. We set up our equipment after receiving permission from the owners of the house. The setting is quite private and enables the girls to feel comfortable. The older men are quite gentle and allow the girls to express themselves both in expressions and in their choice of clothing. Many of the girls are dressed in their traditional attire but some of the girls have chosen other styles.

In this image, she is in between expressions. The film is exposed while she is trying to regain her composure. She is perfect before, during and after this image.

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Daughter of the Kanjar Community, Rajasthan, India, November 4, 2009

A daughter of the Kanjar Community, she stands before us on a chair with only the sky behind her. A daughter of the Kanjar Community, she plays in alleys where sex is traded out in the open in exchange for payment. She watches as her aunts and sisters entertain local villagers in the very house that she calls her home. When finished, these very customers will turn and walk in the other direction, barely acknowledging her or her community. When in need, her community is sought after and when in day to day circumstances, it is shunned.

This is the world in which she lives, this is a collection of homes on top of which she stands for her portrait. She has been waiting for over an hour and yet has the wonder of a girl that has just seen the camera for the first time. She is shy at first and then allows her smile to surface for the rest of us to witness.

At an average age of fourteen, the girls of this community are sent to the brothels of the larger cities. Their brothers and uncles go along as well, serving as their handlers, as their managers. While this community has seen generations of this life, their history is rich with another life.

In a previous time, they served as traditional entertainers for all castes. They earned their living in a system of trade by playing music, walking ropes, dancing and acting. With the disappearance of this traditional system and without land to their name or a manner of making a living outside of entertainment, they made the transition to the trade of sex.

A foundation is making a difference in her life as this is written. The Nirvanavan Foundation has established a school in her small village, has provided her with a most enthusiastic teacher, one that smiles as he speaks and one that teaches as he smiles. The classroom is filled with their drawings, the shelves stocked with books. A small curtain acts as a signal that one is entering a sacred place.

After the photography, we walk around the village and watch as women go about their chores. Under one tree, a group of people are playing a game. We set the video to work and document their conversations. After which we are led by a man that is to sponsor land for the new school building. He is a proud man and one that is making an effort to help his community find a different way.

We walk to our truck and say our goodbyes, we hope to return next year to a different community.

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Young Indian Girl, Rajasthan, India, November 1, 2009

The writing on this roll of film tells me that this is the eight exposure on the ninth roll of film in the afternoon on November 1, 2009. Behind her are the mountains surrounding her home and in front of her is her village. She is the very first girl that comes into my view when we stop for this afternoon's work and she hangs around until we finish. We photograph her twice, at the beginning of the session and then toward the end.

She is a natural, needing little guidance from us. She looks straight into the direction of the sun and does so with little effort. There are perhaps forty people in front of her and this worries her very little, even though many are the elders of her village.

She stands for a moment in defiance of the norms and in support of her sisters. Even though our work has taken us to the school nearby three years in a row, this is our first visit to her village. We always seem to go to the neighboring one and this time around we decide to visit her village. She is beaming with pride, with confidence and with happiness.

It is almost without exception when people look at her image that someone will think that she is a boy. This makes me smile. She represents youth, she represents hope, she represents our future, for all girls and boys. At the end of our session, a few of the girls follow us back to the truck. Just as we are about to say our goodbyes, four or five of the girls grab my hands and pull me to visit their homes. They do a pretty good job of getting me halfway there actually and the older people seem to enjoy the scene.

We wish everyone a good day and begin to head back to the truck. At that moment, I grab one of the girls and make a run for the truck, soliciting laughter and giggles from all of the girls and their parents at the same time. They see this interaction and with kindness say their goodbyes until next year.

Their children's laughter remains in my memory until then.

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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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