The Photograph

Recently I was able to go for my first field visit to begin documenting a pilot project the organization I am interning with is supporting, providing day care services to children under 4 years old.  On the way to the community, I saw something that really made an impression.

As we were driving out of Stone Town, we were delayed because Tanzania’s “independence torch” was passing through the area.  Each year the torch tours the country, beginning its journey each Independence Day.  This meant that the main road we were on was blocked up with traffic waiting for the music and festivities welcoming the torch to end.

As I looked out the window, I saw a group of local girls sitting on the opposite side of the road, facing me.  There was maybe 5 of them, looking between 4 – 9 years old, sitting on a wooden structure on the side of the road watching the many cars and laughing and waving at the many wazungu inside of them.

Soon when I looked out, I saw them still sitting together, looking straight ahead at the traffic, completely unaware of their new visitor.  Crouched beside them, silent so as not to disturb, was a male tourist with his big, black, fancy digital SLR camera pressed to his face, peering closely at the unsuspecting girls, finger pressing rapidly on the trigger.

All of a sudden, one of the girls saw him and alerted the others.  In an instant they were all creaming and running away, leaving their visitor to stand up, smile as he reviewed the images he captured (which were no doubt amazing…the girls were very beautiful), and return to his tour bus.  I watched this in horror, interpreting what I saw as a complete disregard for these girls’ rights, for their wishes or opinions.  Though some may say I am overreacting, i think that what I saw resembled a safari of sorts: the search for that perfect image of “africa” with little to no question about its context or humanity.

This man did not ask permission to photograph these children, nor did he talk to them at all.  He just silently positioned himself  beside them, peered at them through a big camera, got up, and walked away.

Granted, considering these girls later returned after this man left and, amidst laugher, imitated what he had done, they may not have been wholly offended.  However, the image of him crouched beside a group of unaware children remains an upsetting one to me as in the brief time I have spent in Africa, in both Uganda and Zanzibar, it is a common occurrence.

I know that many of the beautiful images of African children lining mantels in the Global North come complete with stories, names, and laughs shared.  But I also know that many of them do not.  And I know that it would not be acceptable for complete strangers to photograph children in much of the Global North without requesting permission.  If unknown adults knelt beside our children on the playground in Vancouver to capture their images, would we not be concerned?  So why do these concerns not apply in Africa or other parts of the developing world?

This is a disturbing double standard, and perhaps most questionable of all is that I very much wanted to take a picture of the whole thing.

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