Thursday, December 4, 2014

Peru: Lima Newspaper Boy


In this 1971 photograph of a street in Lima’s Cerro San Cristobal slum, a newspaper boy is showing me the latest news. It says, next to the picture of a military cap topping an iron fist, Low Blow to Workers. The military were in power then.
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Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Peru: Little Q'ero Boy Of The Andes Mountains


At the freezing heights of Peru’s Andes Mountains in Cusco Province, this little Q’ero boy is playing with a rope outside his family’s windowless stone house. All his clothes had been woven and knitted at home, using the wool of his family’s alpacas and sheep.
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Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Sahara: Tuareg Woman Processing Goat Skin


In this 1970 picture taken in the Sahara’s AÏr Mountains of Niger, a Tuareg woman sitting in the shade of a thorn tree is processing a goat skin with vegetal tar to help it waterproof it. Her family will use it to hold its water and, every few days, to refill it and other goatskin bags at a distant well. Two water-filled goatskins hang from the tree   behind her.
   The processed skin will remain somewhat porous, allowing some water loss. At the same time, evaporation through the skin’s pores will maintain the water cool even in scorching heat.
   Though water is essential to the survival of the Tuareg, they camp far from wells. They camp where they find enough vegetation to feed their herds. So many herds are watered at wells that they don’t leave as much as a blade of grass standing over large surrounding areas.  Staying away from wells also protect the Tuareg’s privacy.
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Monday, December 1, 2014

Sahara: A Glimpse Into Tuareg Life


For ten years, between 1963 and 1973, I paid repeated visits to the Tuareg nomads of the Sahara and Sahel, nearly always for several weeks or months at a time. I did this once for a Venture and Argosy magazine article, three times for National Geographic articles and book chapters, and once for a children’s book. I developed friendships with the Tuareg of the Sahara’s Tamesna plain, Ahaggar Mountains, AÏr Mountains, and of the Sahel’s Azaouak Valley. To the point that I was everywhere invited into the intimacy of the tents.

In this 1965 picture taken inside a tent, the woman is being deloused by a niece. Living as close to nature as those people do makes lice inescapable. And they passed them on to me, though not to worry. Once in a while, in the middle of a conversation or shoot inside a tent, a woman would grab me by the hair, pull my head down in her lap, and start a search-and-destroy operation.

My fascination with the Tuareg started in 1957, when at 24 I rode a small Vespa scooter from Brussels to Cape Town across the length of Africa.
In the Sahara I had to ride inside truck tracks because the sand outside them was too deep for my small wheels. But veiled Tuareg, their wide robes inflated by the wind, appeared from nowhere riding white camels to disappear again beyond any point of the bleak horizon. They became to me the embodiment of freedom.

Already the father f two, it would take me six years to save enough for my next African journey and enjoy the first of two thousand-kilometer camel rides, the second one two years later, with a salt caravan. I owe the Tuareg my career as a documentary photographer and writer. But in 1973, watching the Tuareg world disintegrate with the first of two great droughts that would kill many of my friends and considerably more of their animals, I did not find the heart to return to their once wonderful world.


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Sunday, November 30, 2014

Sahel: Setting Sun On A Wodaabe Nomad Scene


Resting on a stick under a setting sun, a Wodaabe nomad is watching her mother milk a zebu cow. After her mother will be done, the girl will untie the calf behind her from a calf rope and bring it to the cow behind them. The suckling calf will get the milk flowing, and after a while the girl’s mother will take her turn milking that other cow.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Sahel: Wodaabe Girls Working On Decorative Item

In the shade of a tree in Niger’s hot Sahel, Wodaabe nomad girls are turning odds and ends into simple jewelry.
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Friday, November 28, 2014

Sahel: Wodaabe Girls Riding Home From The Well

In Niger’s Sahel, girls from the nomadic Wodaabe tribe are riding home with water from the well. Stored inside goat skins, the water hangs under their donkeys’ bellies.
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Thursday, November 27, 2014

Sahel: Natural Grace Of The Wodaabe Nomads


In the Azaouak Valley of Niger’s Sahel, two Wodaabe nomads cousins are waiting their turn to pull water at a well. Like all African nomad they move with natural grace. (©1970).
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Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The Wodaabe : Nomads of Niger’s Sahel


Niger. Sahel. Wodaabe (Bororo/Fulani) nomad examines a sick cow after bringing it down on its side. His daughter behind is bringing a calf to its mother to suckle.
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Tuesday, November 25, 2014

South American Markets Bare their Countries’ Souls



Market in Pisac,  an Andean village in the Inca Sacred Valley of Peru’s Cusco Province.

View many more pictures below, at the end of the following article. 

Markets are great windows on foreign cultures. There, among country people who dress and behave and speak in ways less subject to outside influences, I have learned much of what I know of the world.

South American markets are among my favorites. They are as different from each other as are their villages and people. They vary more over any hundred- mile stretch between Colombia and Argentina than they do between any two points of the immense Canadian-American territory, or between any European countries. Such great differences are due to the varied geography, climate (determined by latitude, altitude, or both), races, cultures, and dress. But also in the agricultural and manufactured products sold and the type of vehicles or animals used for the transportation of people and merchandise.

Markets in South America may offer horse saddles and bridles, donkey packs, and lassos (distinct styles between Mexico and Argentina); colorful textiles and rugs; Panama hats; jewelry; llama wool and fat; coca leaves; dolphin-sized fish, and an impressive array of grains, vegetables, fruits, and spices. Baskets and hats have all regional designs.

Not all markets offer varied products. In Colombia, for example, Armenia has one dedicated only to plantains, while that of El Peñol only offers cases of tomatoes. Yet they are as quaint and striking as any. Their own colors come from the looks of their chivas, shiny refurbished World-War-II Willys jeeps, and their people attire.

The chivas are rural buses built of artistically painted wood over truck beds. The passengers who do not fit inside, on way too tightly spaced wooden benches, crowd up on the roofs over fifty-kilo bags of coffee and rice.  The Willys sway dangerously under awesome loads tied with ropes and of people precariously balancing at the back. And the typical male campesino has his own distinctive way to dress—sombrero, ruana (poncho), a sheathed machete on his belt, and, hanging from his shoulder,  a leather wallet big enough to hold a couple of books.  Those Paisas, as they are known, may occasionally be as blond and tall and wealthy as the average German, and yet walk the streets barefoot.

At any market down south, you'll see more than one opportunist. At that of Sevilla, another Colombian town, I saw a horse wearing a sign that said that it would be raffled on the day and for the same winning number as that of a national lottery

  Not accustomed to seeing many foreigners, Colombian markets are among the friendliest. Vendors and shoppers always call me over for a chat. And though not rich, they often insist in buying me a beer or a Coke.

Traditionally, markets have been held in town squares. Some towns, like Riobamba, Ecuador, hold them in seven different squares on the same day, according to the product. Others, in the same country, like Ambato, sprawl them all across town, closing many streets that day. Yet others, like Quibdó and Bocas de Satinga, in Colombia's Chocó rain forest, hold them in dugout canoes, on the banks of their rivers.

Markets dealing with animals can be the most comical, though they are often less colorful and sweet-smelling. There the locals, surrounding by idlers, get so involved bartering over a cow or a pig, vehemently defending their individual interests at a foot from each other's faces, that they make me feel invisible. And there is a whole study to be made on the way sheep and pigs are brought to market—tied to, or pulled from, a bicycle; held up by their rear legs and pushed as wheelbarrows; carried on the back in ponchos or on the head in baskets; hung by the legs, head down, on the side of those dreadfully uncomfortable chivas, or ensconced among packed passengers. I have seen twenty chickens inside a tied plastic bag, each head emerging from a tiny hole given her to let her breathe. Surely the chivas' owners have never ridden in the backs of their vehicles. No doubt the farmers have never paused to study the near-human fear and indignation painted on the faces of those poor animals. It would move them more deeply than even their loudest protests.

And there is more, for South American markets can also be great occasions for celebration. For many South Americans, markets are not only places to buy fresh food and barn animals, but also to see the healing-herb peddler, the lottery vendor, the fortune teller, the card trickster, the snake handler, the cock fight, and of course your old friends, often with accompanying music. When liquor gets into the mix, a woman will take off her husband’s hat and place it on top of hers. Hats are always the first things that drunkards lose.

If there is any place outside home where food can be called homemade, it's at the South American market.  And it's the kind of food your grandmother used to serve. Fresh and hot and wholesome—and aromatic as the herbs and vegetables that go into their preparation. And clean too, for the women prepare it in front of you.  At those markets there's always a chance to try something new, like the meat of llamas, goats, or guinea pigs—or tacos, tamales, arepas, sancochos, chupes de chivo, empanadas, locros, and papas a la Huancaina.

South American markets have evolved with the times and with the fortunes of their countries. Some markets, as in Otavalo (Ecuador) and Pisac (Peru), have become so popular among foreign tourists that much of their wares are increasingly focused on the needs of the newcomers.  No matter, like all markets, they say much about their countries.


San Telmo Antiques Market in Buenos Aires, Argentina.


San Telmo Antiques Market in Buenos Aires, Argentina.


Carrying Sheep to market near Potosi, Bolivia


Quechua Indian vendor inside village market stall near Potosi, Bolivia.


Village market near Potosi, Bolivia.


Buying crabs at market in Salvador, Brazil.


Plantain transported by canoe from a houseboat on Brazil’s Rio Negro at Manaus is then carried on men’s backs to the market above the river.


In Silvia, a town of Colombia’s Cauca Deprtment, a Guambiano mother and daughter are walking to the weekly market.


At Silvia, a town of Colombia’s Cauca Department, tipsy Guambiano Indians return home from the market singing their happiness. The man on the right carries a bottle of aguardiente, a sugarcane liquor favored by most Colombians.


At Indian markets in South America, many men get drunk. As the first things  Guambiano Indians lose there are their hats, their wives or daughters snatch  them off their heads on arrival and keep them safely over their own hats. Like the previous picture, this one was also taken in Colombia’s Silvia.



Standing at a corner of Colombia’s Silvia market, Guambiano Indians observe the action there.


Bringing a pig to market in a village of Colombia’s Huila Department.


Taking a horse to market in Sevilla, an Andean town in Colombia’s Cauca Valley Department. The sign on the horse says Me Rifan con Libertador, meaning "They raffle me with Libertador,” a lottery. That is, the Libertador lottery's winning number will also decide who wins the small local raffled horse.


In Antioquia, a small Andean town in Colombia’s Antioquia Department, a man carries home his market purchases on an ox past other people waiting for a bus with their own adquisitions.


At the tomato market of El Peñol, in Colombia’s Antioquia State, farmers await buyers while chatting over their crates. A ruana thrown over each man’s shoulder like the napkins used by restaurant waiters, is always useful, even if only to wipe the sweat off their brows.


Talking business outside a café at the market of Fredonia, a small Andean town in Colombia’s Antioquia Department.


Hat vendor at the plantain market of Armenia, a big Andean town in Colombia’s QuindÍo Department.


Plantain market at Armenia, a big Andean town in Colombia’s QuindÍo Department. Refurbished World-War-Two Willys jeeps are the vehicles of choice. They can be filled to their arches with plantain of coffee while giving six or more men enough bars to hang on from the outside.


Near the Salvajina Dam, in the mountains of Colombia’s Cauca Department, a chiva, or rural bus, built of wood over a truck bed, is on its way to Cali with passengers and bundles of coffee.



Corn vendor circulating around the market of Colombia’s Caribbean city of Cartagena.


On the way to market, this man is poling a coconut-filled canoe on a mangrove-lined estuary on Colombia’s Pacific Coast near Guapi, in the Cauca Department.
      

At the floating market of Quibdó, on Colombia's Atrato River in the Chocó rain forest, Afro-American farmers are selling sugarcane, plantains, pineapples, and coconuts.


At the floating market of Quibdó, on Colombia's Atrato River in the Chocó rain forest, Afro-American farmers are selling sugarcane, plantains, pineapples, and coconuts.


On market day at Otavalo, an Otavalo indian town in Ecuador’s Imbabura Province, a tarot reader enhances his worldliness with a fake reduced Jivaro head under a lamp globe. To the Andean crowd around him, Ecuador’s Jivaro are as mysterious as Australia’s aborigines.


Melancholy seems to affect this Otavalo man and the piglet he bought at Ecuador’s Otavalo market as they wait for a bus to bring them back home.



A snack-eating Otavalo Indian woman of the Ecuador town of Otavalo, in Imbabura Province, peeks outside the tapestries she is selling at the local market, which tourism has turned into Latin American’s largest and most popular.


Sitting outside a church at Ecuador’s city of Cuenca, Indian women are watching the activity of a market.


Fruit and vegetable market in the Ecuador town of Cañar, in Cañar Province.


Fruit and vegetable market in the Ecuador town of Cañar, in Cañar Province.


Animal market in the Ecuador town of Riobamba, capital of the Chimborazo Province.


Pulling alpacas to market, two native women walk past an ancient Inca wall in Cusco, Peru.


Market scene in Pisac, an Indian village in Peru’s Cusco Province.


Food vendors at the weekly market of Pisac, an Indian village in Peru’s Cusco Province.


Little brochette-munchingIndian girl inside an improvised corral at the weekly market of Pisac, an Indian village in Peru’s Cusco Province.


Bananas and a little Indian girl share the cart of a street vendor in Lima, Peru.