Caretaker of Trees, Banganga, Rajasthan, India, November 22, 2009

We spend the morning of my last day in Banganga, Rajasthan. This is a tradition that dates back to my first year in India.

The teacher from Humana People to People India and her sister look after me as a brother, serving two cups of tea rather than one and two servings of breakfast rather than one on this and every day. They do so even though they have very little, they do so with smiles reflecting the love they have for our collaboration, a love that is mirrored within me.

We arrive early this morning and it is very cold, forcing us to sit around a small fire for warmth. This small fire is cooking the meal for the buffalo nearby. According to the girls, each buffalo eats five kilograms of food per day, food that is cooked for them by the family with much care.

The sun begins to rise and, instead of walking over to the usual place, we decide to photograph at the teacher's home to show fairness. She smiles broadly and arranges the benches that will be used as backdrops. As it gets warmer, the girls of this school begin to arrive. The sun rises more and so does the temperature. We set up and begin with the photography.

In the middle of the session, two events occur, the result of the first is shown above. While making a portrait of his daughter, the father from the second home calls me to come over in an excited voice. He wants me to photograph a young boy who happens to be located about sixty feet or so up a tree.

We run closer to the tree and make the pictures, with this young boy pausing in the middle of his work to pose for us. It is a wonder that he can do so, for he is without shoes and using only a rope to keep himself from falling. I am told that this is his work, that this is how he supports his family, by going to different homes and asking to trim their trees.

This reminds me of a friend's words earlier this evening. Alyssa wrote these words in response to seeing earlier entries and has allowed me to include them here with all due respect to all parties described. She writes:

'If only each American could live a day in their shoes, away from the luxuries and technology that we are able to enjoy everyday... More of us would appreciate the simple things that we have an abundance of, yet they lack.'

This is the first time that my eyes have ever witnessed someone else doing any of the work in either one of these two homes. Every single time we have visited, the men were guaranteed to be working the fields and the women were guaranteed to be working around the home. We have never visited either one of these homes to see anyone sitting down, never. This is in spite of the fact that these two families have a sizable amount of land and even perhaps the humble means to bring someone to help with the land. I have a deep respect for the families, for their children.

We walk back to the photography and notice that one girl is missing even though we stopped by her parents' home the evening before to ask for their permission. We decide to send for her and she arrives for her portrait, a little sad that she almost missed her portrait. Regardless, her friends make the effort to help her smile and she does so ever so brilliantly. At times my lack of language in this land provides me with so many questions. I hope that the portrait when processed in four weeks time will answer my curiosity.

This day is spent without a translator. All seems clearer somehow.

Upside Down Tree, Gambia, 2006

On the way back from Banjul, we cross the Gambia River and visit a fort at the mouth of this body of water as it exits into the Atlantic Ocean. We happen to be the only ones and a young man approaches us to act as our guide. He tells us of its history, its transition from protecting the slave trade to helping end it.

When we first arrive, a small van is parked underneath this tree. We move along with the tour and then decide to get back on the road to Dakar. Just at that moment, I notice that the van is gone. The portrait of the 'Upside Down Tree' is made against the backdrop of history.

As our generous guide explains, the British soldiers thought this tree to be a bit odd, with its branches lacking leaves for much of the year. The named it the 'Upside Down Tree' because its branches resembled the roots of a traditional tree. Whether he is telling its history or merely entertaining us matters little, we enjoy his company.

He makes one more point, with the life of this very tree perhaps being over five hundred years old, it stands as a witness to the entire slave trade as it moved in and out of the Gambia River, from its inception to its decline centuries later.

How many lives passed by this tree? How many faces did it bear witness to over the centuries? Was this the last tree that the slaves might have been able to see as they were removed from the continent?

Only this most beautiful of life forms has the answers.