How I Risked Cutting a Journey Short for the Sake of a Photograph
The
divine act behind that photograph
In 1971, I spent seven months traveling
around Latin America, from Mexico
to
Argentina and Brazil. At some point, pressed among a crowd of Indians at
the
back of a dilapidated bus, my itinerary was taking me from Ayacucho to
Cuzco,
in the Peruvian Andes, an endless two-day ride. Holes and stones in the dirt
road shook
the
bus in a cloud of dust, and a pot flew off the roof. The driver stopped, and
a
passenger ran to pick up the pot.
I looked at it as God’s mercy. Less than
a minute earlier, I had caught sight, sitting along the road by herself, one of
the cutest little girls I had ever seen anywhere, and could have cried with
frustration for being unable to get a picture of her. After all, I was a
photographer. The bus’ central aisle was crowded with Indians sitting on
bundles, but I scrambled over them toward the door, just as the passenger was
returning with the pot.
“Adonde estas corriendo?” the driver
shouted. “Where are you running?”
“To urinate,” I lied, almost unconsciously.
And
I ran with a Leica in hand. By then the little girl was already far behind.
“This is not the moment!” the driver
yelled.
“But what the devil are you doing? Come
back!
“…All right. Stay here and wait for
tomorrow’s bus.”
And
having said that, he pulled off.
My luggage and most of my film were on
that bus, but I refused to worry
about
that just then. First, I had to get that picture. I gave the little girl an
avocado pear I was carrying in my camera bag and quickly shot three pictures of
her. Then I ran back. The bus was very far now, though not going very fast, and
I was a runner. Even so, my heart was in my mouth by the time I got back on
board.
The passengers applauded me and the driver
shrank in his seat. I stared at him not knowing how to deal with him. But I
decided to leave the matter there, and I returned to my seat. I was more angry
with myself than with him, as it had just occurred to me that for a small tip he
would have given me all the time I needed. How had I not thought about it? That
lesson would serve me well on future occasions.
My picture of the little girl was soon seen
around the world, everywhere melting the hearts of women. To this day they keep
ordering prints of it. That journey netted me much more than a best-selling
picture. Earlier, passing through Colombia, I had met the girl who would become
my wife.
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