On a more personal note for a change, I’m posting the story of a trans-African journey I took in October 1972 with my family--Martha, 22, Barbara, 15, and Eric, 13—Martha would accompany me during eight months, Barbara and Eric during five. We would camp out most of the time.
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Sur une note plus personnelle aujourd'hui , je vous conterai l’histoire d’un voyage
transafricain que j’entrepris en octobre 1972 avec ma famille--Martha, 22, Barbara, 15 et Eric, 13. Martha m'accompagnerait durant huit mois, Barbara et Eric durant
cinq mois. Nous camperions la plupart du temps.
Somewhere in Niger’s Sahel Eric is washing his hands before joining the
rest of the family for breakfast. The second
tent is out of the frame.
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Quelque part au Niger, au milieu du Sahel, Eric se lave les mains avant de
joindre le reste de la famille au petit-déjeuner. La deuxième tente est hors de
vue.
Martha
and I had been married in London only a few days earlier. I had met her in
Colombia the year before. Barbara and Eric were my children from a previous
marriage. The African journey was Martha’s idea.
“Spending a few months with your children will give us a chance to
get to know each other well,” she had suggested. This had been music to my ears, and
at 39 I had the maturity of an adolescent, which tends to help see everything as simple and easy. I once heard my father-in-law whisper that I was a boy scout
who would never grow up. He may have been right.
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Martha et
moi venions de nous marier à Londres. Je l’avais connue en Colombie un an plus
tôt. Barbara et Eric étaient mes enfants d’un premier mariage. Le voyage
transafricain était l’idée de Martha.
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Within a few days of
signing our marriage certificates we had gone to Solihull to buy a Land Rover
directly from the manufacturer--free of taxes because we were taking it out of
the country.
I
drove it first to Brussels, to the house of my brother Jean-Pierre. My children
had just arrived from New York, where they had been raised. Here Martha met
them, as well as Jean-Pierre, our parents, his wife, and their two teenage
daughters. A few days later we were on our way to an Africa I already knew very
intimately.
Quelques jours après avoir signé notre acte de mariage nous sommes allés à
Solihull acheter une jeep directement de la compagnie Land Rover—libre d’impôts
car nous la sortirions du pays.
Je l’ai conduite à Bruxelles, à
la maison de mon frère, Jean-Pierre. Mes enfants y étaient arrivés de New York,
où ils avaient grandi. Martha y a fait leur connaissance, ainsi que celle de
Jean-Pierre, de nos parents, de sa femme et de ses deux filles adolescentes.
Quelques jours plus tard nous partions pour une Afrique que je connaissais déjà
très intimement.
Morocco. Marrakech. Djemaa elFna Square. Storyteller.
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Maroc. Marrakech. Place Djema-el-Fna. Conteur d’histoires.
This was not my children’ first journey. With their parents they had explored parts of Belgium, France, Spain, Canada, the United States, and Mexico. Eric had also seen Algeria, and Barbara Peru.
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Eric, à neuf ans, explorant les montagnes de l’Aurès berbère en Algérie. Seul le sac khaki était nôtre.
Le reste était de la marchandise que notre guide berbère projetait vendre dans
l’un des villages que nous traverserions.
Barbara, at 14, spent a few days with me among the Morochuco. Here at Machu Picchu.
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This time we would travel from Brussels through France, Spain, Morocco, Algeria, Niger, Benin, Ghana, and back to Niger. There, from Niamey, my children would fly back to New York. Martha and I would go on through Nigeria, Chad, and Cameroon, to Bangui, in the Central African Republic. On the return journey, in N’Djamena, Chad, we would sell our used Land Rover for what we had paid for it new. We would travel back to Algiers on the crowded tops of trucks, and on by plane to Brussels and New York.
I wasn’t worried about missing classes. My kids would learn things no schools
teach. The school principal understood it so well that he would not force them
to repeat the year. And by their return to New York they were speaking
Spanish fluently, besides English and our family’s French (Barbara would
eventually teach Spanish and French in a Chicago high school. As for Eric, he would end up marrying one of Martha's younger cousins). By then, Martha was now speaking French, which she had had to
use not only with my kids, but also with people of French Africa.
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Cette fois nous voyagerions de
Bruxelles, à travers la France, l’Espagne, le Maroc l’Algérie, le Niger et le Benin,
jusqu’au Ghana avant de retourner au
Niger, d’où mes enfants reprendraient l’avion pour New York
Plein sud de nouveau, à travers le Nigeria, le Chad et le Cameroun, Martha et
moi irions jusqu’à Bangui, en République centrafricaine.
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République centrafricaine. Forêt près de Mbaiki. Couple
de pygmées Baka
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But let's return to the beginning. --Mais revenons en arrière.
Morocco. Fez. Stocking on fruits, dates, and
vegetables.
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Morocco. Ziz valley at Er-Rashidia. Sunrise over the Meski’s Blue
Sources.
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Maroc. Vallée du Ziz à Er-Rashidia. Lever du soleil sur les Sources bleues
de Meski
Algeria. Sahara Desert. Reggane Oasis at sunrise. Folding tents after
breakfast.
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Algérie. Sahara. L’oasis de Reggane au
lever du soleil. Pliage des tentes après le petit-déjeuner.
Algeria. Sahara Desert. Ahaggar Mountains.
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Algérie. Sahara. Montagnes de l’Ahaggar
Algeria.
Sahara. While in Morocco we had bought a big split rock whose inside displayed
beautiful crystals. Armed with a hammer during a halt, Eric went breaking rocks
and stones hoping to find more crystals. He did not find any.
Algérie. Sahara. Au Maroc nous avions acheté un morceau de
roche contenant de jolis cristaux. Armé d’un marteau durant l’une de nos
haltes, Eric s’en fut briser des pierres en quête de nouveaux cristaux.
Malheureusement sans succès.
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Algeria. Sahara. Wearing a sarong I had previously used in Indonesia, Martha is
cooling off in the light shade of a thorn tree.
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Algérie. Sahara. Vêtue d’un sarong qui m’avait maintenu moi-même au frais
en Indonésie, Martha se repose, pensive, à l’ombre pâle d’un arbuste
épineux.
Bogged down. Eric was running to get some stones
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Niger: Agadez
I embarked on this journey with a single National Geographic assignment. The editors felt uneasy giving me work that I would have to share with the responsibilities and distractions of a young family. Still, they would end up publishing three stories of our journey.
The first story, assigned
before the journey, was a chapter, text and pictures, for a book, PrimitiveWorlds. The subject would be the Somba tribe of north Benin, whom I
had proposed. I had already photographed those people twice in the past.
By the time we reached my Tuareg
friends in the Sahara and Sahel, a great drought had started to decimate tribes
and animals. Since 1964 I had spent, in repeated visits, many months
sharing their lives and extraordinary freedom. To have to watch them going
through such agony broke my heart. We helped them with food and water. And I
told their story, the second of the three, in a National Geographic article. I’ll let you
know about the third story below.
Months later, National Geographic returned 3000 of my pictures covering much of our journey between Morocco and Niger, and they got lost along the way, leaving me only a few of them. Fortunately, the editors had already picked those they would use.
Months later, National Geographic returned 3000 of my pictures covering much of our journey between Morocco and Niger, and they got lost along the way, leaving me only a few of them. Fortunately, the editors had already picked those they would use.
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Tout ce que j’avais au départ pour m’aider à payer ce voyage de famille
était la production d’un chapitre du livre Primitive
Worlds de National Geographic. Le sujet, que je leur avais proposé
pour l’avoir déjà photographié durant deux voyages précédents, était la tribu
Somba du Benin. Craignant que mes responsabilités et distractions familiales
incideraient négativement sur mon travail, les éditeurs n’avaient pas voulu
risquer davantage. Malgré cela ils termineraient par publier trois histoires de
notre voyage.
A notre arrivée chez mes amis Touaregs du Sahara et
du Sahel, une terrible sécheresse avait commencé à décimer les tribus et
troupeaux. J’avais, depuis 1964, passé tant de longs mois en visites répétées à
partager leurs vies et extraordinaire liberté que de les retrouver dans
pareille situation m’affecta durement. Mais nous ne pouvions que partager avec
eux nos vivres et les transporter aux puits. Ce fut ma seconde histoire,
J’expliquerai plus bas quelle fut la troisième.
Plusieurs mois plus tard, National Geographic me renvoya 3000 photos couvrant notre voyage du Maroc au Niger et elles se perdirent en chemin, me laissant très peu d’elles. Heureusement, les éditeurs avaient déjà fait leur choix.
Niger. Sahara. Observed by Eric, little Tuareg girls
braid Martha’s hair.
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Niger. Sahara. De petites filles Touarègues tressent les cheveux de Martha.
Filling jerry cans at the well
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Faisant provision d’eau
A Tuareg teaches Eric to chip a sugar loaf with a small tea glass without
breaking the glass.
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Tuareg wrapping Eric’s head inside a tagelmust
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Touareg enveloppant la tête d’Eric d’un tagelmust
Barbara, Eric, and a Tuareg playing in the sand a checkers-like game.
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Barbara, Eric et un Touareg jouant dans le sable un type de jeu de dames.
Following the example of Tuareg women when they celebrate visitors,
those little girls have stretched a wet goat skin over a mortar to turn it into
a drum. They fixed cross bars to the mortar to sit on. And while the one
on the right beats the drum, she and the other girls sing.
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Suivant l’exemple des femmes Touarègues quand elles célèbrent des
visiteurs, ces petites filles ont étiré une peau de chèvre mouillée sur un
mortier pour en faire un petit tambour. Elles ont attaché deux barres au
mortier pour s’y asseoir. Et tandis que celle de droite bat le tambour, elle et
les autres chantent.
At the well
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Au puits
In the Sahel, at
Tchin Tabaraden, Martha is sitting surrounded by noble Iullimiden Tuareg. Those
Tuareg were wealthy and suffered much less from the great drought. They lived
surrounded by people of lower castes, all at their service, though in exchange
for military protection. Those castes included those of Moslem clerics,
vassals, artisans, and servants.
Though those Iullimiden preferred to live under their vast tents, they owned
houses in Tahoua and were rumored to be very heavily armed. Mohammed, the head
of their family, wanted to buy our jeep. He could have paid in cash, had we
been at the end of our journey.
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Au Sahel, à Tchin
Tabaraden, Martha est assise au milieu de nobles Touaregs Iullimiden. Ces Touaregs,
très riches, souffrirent beaucoup moins de la terrible sécheresse. Ils vivaient
entourés de Touaregs de castes inférieures, toutes à leur service, quoiqu’en
échange de protection militaire. Ces castes incluaient celles du clergé
musulman, de vassaux, d’artisans et de serviteurs.
Quoique ces Iullimidens préféraient vivre sous leurs vastes tentes de cuir, ils
étaient propriétaires de maisons à Tahoua. La rumeur courait qu’ils étaient
armés jusqu’aux dents. Mohammed, le chef de la famille, voulait acheter notre
jeep. Il aurait pu la payer comptant.
On
reaching Niamey, Niger’s capital, I found a National
Geographic cable asking me to
fly to Kenya, on the opposite side of the continent, to go photograph the
Turkana nomads for the same book on primitive people.
I was investing all my capital in this journey and needed the money. It forced
me, over three weeks, to leave my young family to keep learning to communicate
among themselves. A Belgian official kindly found them a nice house to stay in,
and they spent much of their time at a hotel’s swimming pool.
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A notre
arrivée à Niamey, la capitale du Niger, j’ai trouvé un télégramme de National
Geographic. Il me demandait d’aller photographier les nomades Turkanas du
Kenya, de l’autre côté du continent, pour le même livre sur les peuples
primitifs.
J’avais investi tout notre capital dans notre long voyage et ne pouvais refuser
cette occasion d’aider nos finances. Je dus donc abandonner Martha et mes
enfants durant trois semaines. Le consulat belge leur trouva une maison
confortable où se reposer du voyage durant mon absence. La piscine d’un hôtel
voisin les rafraichirait chaque jour de la chaleur.
Eric and
Barbara cooling off in the Niger River under the white midday sun
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Sous le ciel blanc de midi Eric et Barbara échappent à la chaleur dans le
Niger
Kenya : Wife of a wealthy Turkana elder
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Kenya. Femme d'un riche Turkana
Sunset on the Niger River
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Niger. W National Park.
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Niger. Parc national du W.
Chameleon
BurkinaFaso. To each culture its own
jewels—Here, shiny coins
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Burkina Faso. A chaque culture sa propre bijouterie. Ici, de brillantes pièces
de monnaie.
Burkina Faso : New friends
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Burkina Faso : De nouveaux
amis
We were not on the move constantly. I stopped often to
photograph, while my young companions found other things to do. We spent some
weeks among the Tuareg and the Somba. And after resting in Niamey my family
rested again in Accra. while we holed up in a hotel there. While I wrote rough
drafts of my stories they sought the coolness of the sea.
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Nous ne
roulions pas constamment. J’arrêtais souvent pour prendre des photos. Et durant
ces haltes ma famille s’occupait d’autre chose.
Et puis il y eut les semaines passées entre les Touaregs et les Sombas. Et le
repos de Niamey fut suivi plus tard par celui d’Accra, capitale du Ghana. A
l’hôtel durant quelques jours, je travaillerais aux brouillons mes histoires tandis que le reste de la
famille se rafraichirait dans la mer.
Benin. Near
Boukombe. Atakora
Mountains. Somba house and ancestors' phallic fetishes.
White drippings on fetishes speak of animal sacrifices.
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Benin. Près de
Boukombe. Montagnes de l’Atakora. Maison Somba et fétiches phaliques
d’ancêtres. Les trainées blanches sur les fétiches sont autant de marques de
sacrifices d’animaux.
Benin. Near Boukombe. A Somba elder welcomes us giving
Martha a couple of live chickens.
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Benin. Près de Boukombe. Un personnage Somba nous signale
sa bienvenue en offrant a Martha un coq et une poule vivants.
Spears and fly chasers, male attributes, signal the new higher class of
girls parading in their dikuntiri (initiation). Recognized as adults, they may
formally join the husbands to whom they were legally married in childhood.
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Lances et chasse-mouches, attributs masculins, signalent la classe
nouvellement élevée de filles dans leur dikuntiri (initiation). Reconnues comme
adultes, elles peuvent formellement se réunir avec les époux auxquels elles
furent mariées durant leur enfance.
Benin. Grand Popo. Ewe fishermen
at dawn on their way to drop seine nets.
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Benin. Grand Popo. Pêcheurs Ewés à l’aube allant
placer leurs filets.
Chad.
Near N'Djamena. Chari River ferry boats.
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Chad. Près de N’Djamena. Canots faisant la navette à travers le Chari.
Cameroon. Bamenda Highlands. Moslem Bororo (Fulani) man and boy riding in early
morning mist.
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Cameroun. Haute savane de Bamenda. Homme et garçon Bororos (Peuls) à cheval
sous un brouillard matinal.
Cameroon. Bamenda grasslands. Koranic school. Bororo (Fulani) girl copies a page of the Koran onto a wooden slate.
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Cameroun. Haute savane de Bamenda. Ecole coranique. Fillette Bororo (Peule)
copiant une page du coran sur une tablette de bois.
In 1976 Martha gave me
another son, Jean-Pierre. And 18 months later another one, Philippe.
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En 1976 Martha m’a donné un
nouveau fils, Jean-Pierre. Et huit mois plus tard un autre, Philippe.
One day a donkey appeared
in our garden-- uninvited but welcome.
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Un jour un âne apparut dans notre jardin—bienvenu quoique pas invité.
Absolutely marvelous! Many thanks for sharing these photos and your wonderful adventures.
ReplyDeleteVictor encantados con todas estas historias y esas bellas fotos que lo hacen sentir a uno de correria contigo. Es increible los maravillosos lugares y situaciones vividas.
ReplyDeletePatricia
Hi Winslow. Thank you for letting m know you enjoyed the post. I'm honored.
ReplyDeleteI met Victor in 1962 and found him many years after collecting his photos in books and magazines. I encouraged him to write his memoirs and here they are. I am really saddened by death. Amanda S. Stevenson
ReplyDeleteOn a jeep, with the family and across an arid desert, what a bold adventure. It was years of peace, but now it is impossible to make a similar journey.
ReplyDelete