Colombia: Barefoot Cowboys

Barefoot cowboys riding over the Eastern Plains, or Llanos Orientales, in Colombia.

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Cowboys aux pieds nus a cheval dans les Llanos, l’mmense plaine orientale de la Colombie.

Indonesia: Toraja Ancestors Cult

Indonesia. Sulawesi. Toraja mausoleum. Effigies of dead ancestors look out of a cliff balcony over the village that saw them grow up.

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Indonésie. Sulawesi. Mausolée Toraja. Des effigies d’ancêtres haut perchées sur une falaise dominent le village qui les a vus grandir.

Same mausoleum. Coffins hide in rock-hewn niches behind small doors.

--

Même mausolée. Les petites portes de niches taillées dans la roche cachent des cercueils.

Same mausoleum. Ancient coffins were removed from their niches to make place for new ones. Irreverent children aligned the sculls as a game.

--

Même mausolée. D’anciens cercueils ont été retirés pour faire place à des nouveaux. Des enfants irrévérencieux se sont amusés à les aligner.

Kenya: Turkana Virtual Beauty Parlor

Kenya. Near Lake Turkana. Turkana women's hands braiding the hair of a woman lying on her side on the ground.

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Kenya. Près du lac Turkana. Mains de femmes Turkana tressant les cheveux d’une femme couchée de côté sur la terre.

Peru: Drugged Amazon Campa Indians Dancing

Peru. Amazon rain forest. GranPajonal. Drugged Campa Indians dancing.

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Pérou. Amazonie. Gran Pajonal. Indiens Campas dansant drogués.

Niger: Tuareg Women And Baby

Niger. Sahel. Under a tent Tuareg women marveling at a baby.

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Niger, Sahel. Sous une tente un bébé émerveille des femmes touarègues

Algeria: Moving Sand Dune Threat To Beni Abbes Oasis

Algeria. Sahara at sunset. Sand dune threatening to engulf the Beni Abbes Oasis.

--

Algérie. Sahara au coucher du soleil. Dune menaçant d’ensevelir l’oasis de Beni Abbès.

Travels In The Marquesas Islands

Ua Pu Island

--

Ile de Ua Pou

Travels in the Marquesas Islands

Hereafter is another extract of the chapter I wrote for the 1982 National Geographic book, Secret Corners of the World,  I posted the first extract on this blog on August 1, 2013.

http://victorenglebertphotography.blogspot.com/2013/08/adventures-in-marquesas-islands.html

I must leave Tahuata by speedboat--the taxi of the Marquesas today ­to catch the weekly plane from Atuona to Ua Pu, next island on my route. In July, unfortunately, the sea is rough on any day, and often worse. The speedboat trip takes only an hour, but over the mad billows of the Bordelais Channel, a narrow corridor between Tahuata and Hiva Oa. Here waters that have gained unchallenged speed in their long race from South America must suddenly meet waves surging back from the coasts.

The waves heave us up and drop us and drench us.

The pilot speeds up to avoid the biggest ones and slows down as we drop in seemingly bottom­less hollows. Sometimes he cannot muster enough power from his motor to pull us over these mountains of water; he must veer horizontally below the crest. Off Teaehoa Point he almost loses control of the boat. Coming from every direction, the waves toss it about like a nutshell and almost swamp it twice. If the motor fails, they will break us on the rocks, for the pilot runs close inshore. Marquesans do this to limit the swimming distance in case of shipwreck--thus increasing the risk of capsizing. But soon we are in normal sea again. Heavy, but predictable, sea.

     With volcanic towers, pinnacles, and spires, Ua Pu emerges from sea and clouds like a fairy castle. No forests shroud its valleys, for it lies in the rain shadow of its sister islands, but it will provide incidents as varied as those of a folk tale.

     On the landing strip, a young man in a jeep radios to the French pilot the speed of the wind, often too strong for landing. Then he drives up and down the strip to keep 23 horses off of it. He takes me down to the village of Hakahau, where his mother, a sturdy matron called Rosalie, will give me pension--room and board.

     She serves the meals at one end of a large terrace, by a big color TV set that attracts thirty or forty viewers every night. At the other end stands a small altar, with two statuettes of the Virgin Mary garlanded with flowers and shells. Here at 6 a. m. the family prays for half an hour each morning.

     Every house in Hakahau seems to display such a shrine. So strong is Roman Catholicism in the Marquesas that some have called this group "the Spain of Polynesia," and in Ua Pu the French priest is especially active.

     Now Hakahau is preparing for Bastille Day. Four wooden structures are rising next to the town hall, to house restaurants and a ballroom.

     Taporo II, a sailing vessel, arrives and stirs a burst of excitement. A dinghy shuttle runs to the quay, where a jeep shuttle takes over: canned goods, wine, soap, a bicycle-all the necessities of modern life. Then the jeep brings copra for the schooner to take to market. A French couple tell me that if two or even three schooners arrive at the same time, a mad competition for copra begins. Rumors are spread, destinations become secret, and passengers are accepted for one island when the boat will go to another.

     Bastille Day comes at last. As I sit eating dinner, a man who has already celebrated freely comes up shouting that he wants a word with the stranger. Rosalie rebukes him. He insists. She fends him off. He comes back. I am amused, but Rosalie loses patience. She strides up to him, lifts him in her strong arms, carries him to the street, and dumps him on his face. The TV viewers cheer. I think it tactful to slip away.

      As I stroll down to the town hall, another drunk approaches me.

     "You look German," he says. "Heil Hitler! Could you then explain to me what Hitler meant by 'To be or not to be'?"                                                                                                

I tell him that he has his authors mixed up, and leave him cogitating.

     Inside the ballroom, colored lights and blaring American music seem to make the girls shyer than ever. They refuse to leave their benches; the boys, undaunted, dance together. Outside, children and dogs enjoy themselves tremendously. The children are fascinated by the glitter, the unusual festivity. The dogs sniff the air eagerly; I watch four of them nibble at the meat of a brochette vendor absorbed by the dancers' antics. By ten o'clock even the girls are dancing. More people are coming in all the time. And everyone, generally so distant, greets me with surprising warmth. It seems appropriate, on this fairy-tale castle of an island, that people should throw off their deep reserve for one night in the year.

This young woman interrupted her cooking to greet me

--

Cette jeune femme interrompit sa cuisine pour me saluer

Trimming a hat this young woman wove from pandanus leaves

-

jeune femme Finissant un chapeau de paille de pandanus qu’elle a tissé

Shopkeeper ironing a man’s shirt

--

Epicière repassant une chemise d’homme

Pulling baguettes out of a stone oven. They are as good as any in Paris. And so are those I ate in several French West African countries. Why can’t America produce any worth the name?

--

Retirant des baguettes d’un four de pierre.

Finishing a mat she wove from pandanus leaves

--

Finissant une natte qu’elle a tissée de feuilles de pandanus

Hakau Bay. Weighing bags of copra that will be loaded on a visiting schooner.

--

Baie d’Hakau. Pesant du copra a charger sur un voilier de passage.

America: Thunderstorm Over The Rocky Mountain National Park

Colorado. Thunderstorm at a hilltop of the Rocky Mountain National Park.

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Colorado. Orage sur une hauteur du Parc National des montagnes rocheuses.

South Africa: Sculptural Zulu Girls

In 1957, while crossing Africa lengthwise on a Vespa scooter, I came across those two sculptural young Zulu women on their way to the enthronization of a new Zulu king. I was using a Belgian Gevaert film. My battered camera had seen Saharan sandstorms and was scratching my film. I was still a few years away from starting to live from my photography.

--

En 1957, traversant l’Afrique à Vespa de Tanger au Cap de Bonne-Espérance, j’ai photographié ces deux jeunes filles zoulous en chemin pour l’intronisation d’un nouveau roi zoulou. J’employais un film Gevaert, produit en Belgique. Ma caméra, qui avait vu des tempêtes de sable au Sahara griffait mes films. Mais je ne vivais pas encore de ma photographie.

Colombia: Gnat-Protected Coffee Picker

Not a terrorist. Only a coffee picker protected against gnats as he is starting to work. Colombia near Sevilla (Cauca Valley).

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Pas un terroriste. Seulement un cueilleur de café protégé des piqûres d’insectes. Colombie près de Sevilla (Vallée du Cauca).

Beauty Hides In An Oil Spill

Oil spill

--

Tache d’huile

America: Autumn Leaves Are For Fun

USA. New York. Kissena Park.

Burkina Faso: Black Fulani Girls

Burkina Faso

Colorado Springs' Red Rocks

United Sates. Colorado. Colorado Springs. Garden of theGods.

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                    Etats-Unis. Colorado Springs. Roches rouges du Jardin des Dieux.

1972-73 Family Trans-African Journey

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.

--

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.

--

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.

--

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.

     « Passer quelques mois ensemble nous donnera une belle occasion de nous connaître, » avait-elle suggéré. L'idée m'enchanta. Et à 39 ans j’avais la maturité d’un adolescent, ce qui aide à ignorer les difficultés. J'entendis un jour mon beau-père dire que j'étais un boy scout qui ne finirait jamais de grandir. Je me suis longtemps demandé s'il avait raison. 

--

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.

--

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.

--

Ce n’était pas la première fois que mes enfants voyageaient. Ils connaissaient déjà des régions de Belgique, France, Espagne, Canada, Etats-Unis et Mexique. Eric avait aussi vu l’Algérie et Barbara le Pérou.

Eric, at nine, exploring Algeria’s Berber AuresMountains. Only the duffel bag was ours. The rest of the mule’s load was merchandise our Berber guide planned to sell in one of the villages he would take us to.

-- 

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.

--

Barbara, à 14 ans, passa quelques jours avec moi entre les Morochucos. Ici à Machu Picchu.

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.

--

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. 

     Au retour, passant par Ndjamena, au Chad,  nous vendrions la jeep au prix que nous l’avions payée neuve. Du camion stop nous conduirait à Alger d’où l’avion nous ramènerait à Bruxelles et New York.

     Je ne me préoccupais pas au sujet des mois d’étude que Barbara et Eric allaient perdre. Le voyage leur donnerait des leçons qu’aucune école n’enseigne. Le directeur de leur école le comprit si bien qu’il ne les obligerait pas à répéter leurs classes. Et n’avaient-ils pas, durant cinq mois de conversations avec Martha, ajouté l’Espagnol à  l’Anglais et le Français qu’ils parlaient déjà ? (Quelques années plus tard Barbara enseignerait le Français et l'Espagnol a des classes secondaires de Chicago. Quant à Eric, il épouserait l'une des jeunes cousines de Martha). Martha, de son côté, terminerait le voyage parlant le  Français. Durant huit mois elle avait dû le parler non seulement avec mes enfants, mais aussi avec les Africains de langue française.  

Central African Republic. Rain forest near Mbaiki. Baka Pygmy couple.

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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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Maroc. Fez. Achetant réserve de fruits, dates et légumes.

  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 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.

        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

--

Enlisés. Eric courait à la recherche de pierres.

Diary time under the jeep's light. 

--

L’heure du journal, à la lumière de la jeep.

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.

--

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.

Mirage

Niger. Sahara. Observed by Eric, little Tuareg girls braid Martha’s hair.

--

Niger. Sahara. De petites filles Touarègues tressent les cheveux de Martha.

Filling jerry cans at the well

--

Faisant provision d’eau

A Tuareg teaches Eric to chip a sugar loaf with a small tea glass without breaking the glass.

--

Un Touareg enseigne à Eric à rompre un pain de sucre avec un petit verre à thé sans casser le verre.

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.

---

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.

--

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

--

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.

--

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. 

Sahel. Sandstorm.

--

Sahel. Vent de sable

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.

-- 

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

--

Sous le ciel blanc de midi Eric et Barbara échappent à la chaleur dans le Niger

Kenya : Turkana elder

--

Kenya. Turkana

Kenya : Wife of a wealthy Turkana elder

--

Kenya. Femme d'un riche Turkana

Sunset on the Niger River

--

Coucher de soleil sur le Niger

Niger. W National Park.

--

Niger. Parc national du W.

Chameleon

BurkinaFaso. To each culture its own jewels—Here, shiny coins

--

Burkina Faso. A chaque culture sa propre bijouterie. Ici, de brillantes pièces

 de monnaie.

Burkina Faso : New friends

--

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.

--

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.

--

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.

--

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.

--

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.

--

Benin. Grand Popo. Pêcheurs Ewés à  l’aube allant placer leurs filets.

Chad. Near N'Djamena. Chari River ferry boats.

--

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.

-- 

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.

--

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.

--

 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.

--

Un jour un âne apparut dans notre jardin—bienvenu quoique pas invité.

 Martha and I, as we looked in 2010

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Martha et moi, photographiés en 2010