Childhood Memories in Edirne

Edirne, Turkey. November 2009

My dad was born in Edirne, Turkey. No one knows exactly the date or the year. At 1944, when he was about 12 years old, following his Zionist passion, he left his family in Edirne and came to Israel. His cousin did the same a few years before him. We learned very little about their lives in Edirne as kids, no matter how much we had tried to inquire. But one story we all remembered, saying goodbye at the train station to families they had never seen again.

When I came to Turkey the first time and found myself at the old train station in Istanbul, I had mistakenly thought that this is where he had seen his dad in the last time. I sat aside and cried like a baby. Only later did I find out that this was far from being the right location..

My dad and his cousin refused to go back to their home town for many years but we have finally managed to convinced them last year and joined. All their kids. 65 years have passed but within a very short time they started to speak Turkish which they thought they had forgotten. They run around the streets looking for shreds of their childhood and finally, in one fogy morning, we went to the train station. That always seemed to me as the most emotional spot of their lives. It was the place where they had realized the meaning of their decision for the first time, the place where they said their last goodbyes, to families they were not going to see again. One can hardly imagine such a moment.  

When we got to the station, us the young generation, felt like we were stepping on stones of their painfull memories so we walked carefully. We couldn't bring ourselves to leave the place and took quite a lot of photos. But when we have finally managed to get over our excitement and look at my dad and his cousin,  we saw that the excitement was entirely ours. They didn't seem like the place meant to them what we thought it did. Looking at them from the side I thought that this is where their childhood ended and their journey began.

Natural Born Model

Zanzibar. November 2001

I had lived in Kenya 5 years before I finally crossed the border to Tanzania. 10 years before that, when backpacking through Africa- East to South, Tanzania was still closed for Israelis so it was always the unknown part of East Africa for me.

Living in a Masai territory was quite frustrating experience photography wise.  The wildlife was fairly cooperative but the people…that was another matter altogether. Masai people don’t like to have their photos taken and one should respect that and forget about photography unless organized and prepaid for.

5 years in Masai territory have passed and there I was, walking through one of the small villages in Zanzibar's east coast. I had my camera on me but as a habit was not even thinking of using it, until I noticed that gorgeous kid trying to get my attention and posing for the camera. It was before we had the ability to show people their photos right away and she was not asking for anything. She just had a great time having her photograph taken, and so did I.

Like Tel Aviv in Summer Time

Biograd, Montenegro. September 2008

Montenegro is an amazing place with beautiful landscape and great playground for tracks and 4 by 4 tours.  Mountains are not high, but impressive. People have horrible reputation yet very welcoming and pleasant. Weather tends to be friendly, when you pick the right season. But whether or not you get good weather in autumn, well… that is entirely a matter of luck. All one can do, is get the right gear and hope for the best.

When people ask, I always recommend- trust no one and get prepared for the worst. That is, when they ask me.

The autumn of 2008 was quite rough in Europe and I was waiting for a group in Podgorica's air port. They came down from a warm Israeli weather, and knew nothing of the cold wave that was running through Europe. They said my boss told them that Montenegro is just like Tel Aviv in summer time. We drove up the mountains that week, on iced roads. Photographing frozen plants and snowy picks. We bought warm cloth everywhere we could, and every evening sent photographs of frozen people to my boss, under the title - Tel Aviv in summer time…

Memorable Trees

Masai Mara, Kenya. April 2002

I had lived in the middle of one of the widest savannah of Africa for 6 years. A sea of grass wherever your eyes can see. Spectacular wildlife sheltered by endless sky. For me it was a great place to get lost in order to find myself, and so I did.

Finding your direction in such a place may be a tricky thing. You mark yourself rocks and trees that may help and learn the language of the bush- names that the local drivers and guides have used for years. Very close to leaving the reserve I had noticed that I base all my directions on trees that reminded me of people. As if I was driving in a book telling the story of my life there. One morning, going with a friend to one of the areas of the reserve that I knew less, we drove into a thick fog and that got worst very fast. We had 2 compasses; every one of those had another idea as for where north might be. So I drove until I found a tree that I knew well, and that pointed me to the right way back to camp.

Just before leaving the reserve at 2002, I set to photograph all those trees and wrote the stories of the people they reminded me of. I had a feeling then, that those people are treasured in their branches and will live there forever.

A Magical Morning @ the East Coast of Zanzibar

Zanzibar, East coast. March 2009

It was my last morning Zanzibar. All was already done. Group's bills paid, gear packed away, goodbyes said. But I had another photograph to take- the women at the algae farms. The low tide enables interesting farming in the shallow water- growing algae- Gracilaria. Zanzibar women go to the shallow water in the low tide, singing their way to work, bending over the sticks to which they attach the algae.

The sky was perfect that morning and I walked into the water under an amazing cloud. It was a magical time to say goodbye to this peaceful island. I approached one of the workers and wanted to ask her to if I can photograph. In Africa, as in many places around the world, the answer is normally a price. And I had no small change with me. As she rose from her work to answer, I was surprised to find that this flexible woman was quite old. Shikamo, I greeted her in Swahili, the way you should greet an old person.
That caught her by surprise.
A muzungu tourist (Swahili nick name for white people) that speaks Swahili. She smiled a wide toothless smile. I have asked her whether I could photograph and she hesitated as she answered that it'll cost me money. She was more asking then saying but I went on asking for her price. 500 shilling she said, again more asking then saying. At that time this amount was less than half a dollar. I told her I don't have that much and her smile was still there. She asked how much do I have. There was something amazing in this woman's eyes. They were smiling.
Pole mama, mimi niko na 10.000 shilling too. Sorry, I said, I have only 10.000 shilling.
Sawa sawa hamna shida, she replied- it's ok, no problem.
To her absolute surprise, I handed her with the red note. She was laughing dancing and singing, calling all her friends to look at this crazy muzungu that has just paid her about 20 times what she had asked for.
 I knew it was going to take quite a while till I will be in Zanzibar again and that I don't need that bill, I also knew that at no other point of the last week would I have hand that note, less than 10 usd to this woman.

 That morning conversation and her reaction made me so happy that I wanted to dance with her. Instead, I thanked her dearly and started to work with my camera.

It's all a Matter of Timing

Sahara, Morocco. March 2010

I have started to guide in Morocco early 2010. Guiding long days in this huge country, having to cover too many kilometers per day, made me work hard on the timings. Because sometimes it is all about timing. Sahara was one of these places were timing was crutal. You don’t want to get to camp too early because of the heat, and you don't want to miss the sunset. During the second trip I have guided we came to Naji's camp in Shegaga, the dunes section of the Sahara, right on time. We took our shoes off and climbed the highest dune above our camp just in time to see the sunset above the dunes and went down to camp. The evening was nice and cool, and I was sitting with my group chilling  out when one of Naji's handsome relatives started to prepare the candle holders for night fall. He was dressed up with the traditional Galaba and shash, and the light of the candle was gently showing his beautiful face. I have managed to click about 3 clicks before the moment was gone.

Never mind, I thought to myself, I will be here at least once a month in the next few months, and every evening one of Naji's handsome relatives will have to light the candles, and I shpuld be coming in with my groups ata bout that time.

But the opportunity was never there again. I was there every month, climbing down from one dune or another, and Naji's relatives were lighting the candles ever evening. Still, in a funny way, it was never there again. It is all a matter of timing after all...

A friend suggested to start blog my traveling. As much as I could relate to it I was under the frustration that when I do interesting stuff, I have no time, and when I have the time there is normally very little to write about.

I have been traveling, photographing and writing for many years now. I know that when I don't write the world can just pass by me, so I have decided to collect small moments that were photographed, and write the small stories behind them. Because writing, as steel photography, is saving those small moments that would have been gone unnoticed.

You are welcome to join.