Until Friday, April 18th 2014, I am making a newly published eBook available for free! It’s an electronic version of “Life on the Tibetan Plateau”. This e-version has an added bonus of the text that was printed in the Brooks Bugle.
You can download from here: Life on the Tibetan Plateau
Also, last week a collection of 139 Uyghur photographs were published into an eBook as well. You can download by visiting: Uyghur
…dinner was being prepared in Kashgar.
Last 50km into Kashgar was fantastic, hundreds of donkey carts, horses, and of course, the few camels. You can see these majestic beasts a half a kilometer away, their hair swaying back and forth.
This is Alim, he is a local Uyghur of Kashgar. We met last night when I was a bit lost and impressed by his English skills, and not to mention his adorable’ness…we’ve become fast friends.
I spent the day at the hospital visiting his grandparents. The room of women told me my headscarf “makes” me “beautiful”.
When I strange man came into the room, a husband of a roommate, his mother quickly covered her face with her own scarf and then arranged herself to sit with her back to him. I am finally understanding what this is all about. It’s not shame, but rather not letting every strange man enjoy looking at your beauty.
It’s taken a little time, a little discouragement…but I’m really beginning to love these people.
The little girl was very curious of my camera. So I took her photo and shared with her. Little Uyghur girl’s hair is kept short. Alim told me this is just based on traditions.
Kashgar, I will have to leave you in a few days…but by all means…I will be returning to work you and Hotan for everything its worth. With fresh eyes and a break from China.
…because I’m a woman. (Ironically enough, it’s Woman’s Day and I caught myself kicking my feet in the sand, breathing in truck exhaust, on my way to try and get some photos…damning myself for being a woman with these expectations.)
Forget about getting portraits out here…or anything like the work I did in Tibet, without a fixer or a local to help.
I’ve been slowly working my way into this Muslim culture, the “Invisible China”, for the past 2 weeks and arrived in Hotan with complete culture shock. Nothing like I’ve seen or experienced before.
Today, I went out with both cameras and only was successful in getting a few from stealth mode by my point and shoot.
I walked to the edge of town and there must of been a half of kilometer when I was the only woman among hundreds of Uyghur men. I returned to the part of town where there was more of a mix of men and women. I felt better and not so hopeless. The out part of town I was getting laughs and strange noises that I don’t know what they represent.
Do I feel uncomfortable? Yes. Did I tell myself I was going to walk around and shoot and own what I am? Yes. Did I? No.
I walked for about 5-6 hours today. Not trying too hard to get photos as much as trying to adjust. There were a couple of moments when my eyes may have welled up a little. Why? Because I feel like I’ve let myself down with photographing these people and culture. I really wanted to be successful at getting some great and compelling images. Telling these people’s story…but I can’t…I need some help.
When I say Muslim, I do mean women fully covered…only showing eyes. The men, some, resemble members of the Taliban. I was thinking today, would I feel as uncomfortable if Western culture had not bombarded us/me/you with images of “Muslim extremists” or “the enemy”. I will deny that has little to do with how I view things, but I’m sure it’s somewhere in my subconscious.
Towards the end of the day I did some shopping. When chatting with female market seller for purchasing my glazed donut knots, a few other women chimed in. I had been using an old hair clip for a money clip and my market lady was very interested in it. I gave it to her…should of sold it to her now that I think about it. But I would never do that, these people have very little and I have 2 dozen bobby pins in my vanity bag.
Also, some women at the bank were very kind to me too. Even a few men were curious of there are Muslims in America. I’m learning that I have to make the first move for discussion or conversation…but I also don’t know where the borders lie. Perhaps I should avoid making eye contact with the men…what am I to do?
Would I feel more comfortable with a man by my side. Hell, I’m not going to lie…yes! I was thinking about some photo moments when I was traveling with Brandon. I did feel safer and more comfortable getting into situations. I had an extra set of eyes to watch my back, my bike, and sometimes he took the eyes off of me and onto himself. When I felt safe about it, I would let him know I needed him to leave so I could take care of some photos…especially with the young nomad women.
I’ll be leaving China in 2 weeks to head into Central Asia. I hope this gives me some deflation time to think all this stuff through. Maybe I’m totally working this in vain. Maybe I need more time and funds to afford this hearty task. Allah! Please send me a Uyghur fixer or two…or a dozen.
I also question, why am I trying to photograph city life? In the best photo work I’ve completed on this journey…it’s OUT of the city. When I ride, I usually only use cities for supply refills. So why am I so hard on myself thinking to get something good out of city life. It’s not my forte…it’s not even really what I want. I need some time to let all this soak in……
Do you want to know if I cover my hair? Of course. I wear a neck warmer up to my chin and a head scarf. There is some hair that peaks out at the top, but come on…it’s not like I’m fooling anyone. It’s out of respect. I saw a French man and woman yesterday and chatted them both up. I thought it was strange she wasn’t covering her head where he had a near full beard. When I was in Urumqi, I met Theodore Kaye, a photographer…and he did recommend that I wear a head scarf. I actually feel very naked without one now…even if it’s just a bandana.
I’ve realized that not only is my face sun burned but also sand blasted.
This young man, and his friend, fed me at their little outpost off of Route 218.
