Two Dinar

I was sorting through photographs recently, both digital and print images.  I was surprised to find the large number of photographs which I have taken over the years of children from around the world.  They do serve as an aid to chronicle our journeys.

There were the brother and sister duo selling roses to the diners at a seaside fish restaurant in Athens, the young boys selling postcards outside of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, the young girls, not quite teenagers, selling their artwork from an alleyway in Vilnius Lithuania,  to name just a few.

While living in Turkmenistan I would set out during the day camera in hand.  Soon, in pied piper fashion, there would be a group of children dancing, jumping and doing all sort of antics to convince me to turn the camera on them.  In the evenings as Chuck and I would walk, adults would join the children, indicating that they too would like their photographs taken. Since I was shooting film, the following day I would have the images developed, making sure there were duplicate copies: one set for me and one for them.   The children would laugh with such glee when they saw their image, each one chiding the other about a pose or an expression.  No need to know the language, the message was clear.  They had never seen a photograph of themselves and were electrified to glimpse their image on paper.   One evening an entire family was waiting for us outside of the gate as we emerged from our flat.  It was apparent they had dressed up in their finest clothing waiting for their photography session.  We obliged each and every one and always made every effort to have them understand that the images would be available the following day and at no charge.

In December we  took a trip to Jordan and visited Petra,  a most spectacular place for photography and certainly there will need to be additional blogs covering that trip.   But the children need their own focus.  As soon as we entered through the gates we were greeted by children selling things; postcards, jewelry, pieces of Petra's rock, rides on horses and camels. As we have travelled  I have always been amazed by the grasp of languages these savvy street children have as they expertly compete for the tourist dollar.  Is it a skill or a job requirement? Once while in France, I remember the children selling plastic replicas of the cathedral from the steps of Notre Dame and asking in several languages until they found the one that suited the particular tourist they were trying to capture. Parlez vous francias, sprechen sie deutsch, habla espanol?

 The same held true for the bedouin children in Petra.  Obvioulsy a much visited place, the children would greet in english, spanish, french, german.  I asked a young mother of three small children, who with her sleeping husband, sold handmade jewelry from a small tent on the side of the 1000 steps leading up to the Monastery, how she learned all the languages.  Oh, easy she replied, from the tourists.  Easy.

I find myself worrying about these children, those who struggle to make a living off of the generosity of tourists.  Where are their parents, what are their living conditions, when did they last eat?  They appear streetwise, but in fact they are children.   There are people who believe that by falling for the quick charismatic smile and buying whatever is on offer, only encourages the continued begging or selling on the street.  I wish that it was so simple.

On our first day in Petra we bought postcards from a teenage girl and engaging her in conversation we inquired about school, hobbies, dating, etc.   English was an easy language for her she stated, she learned it in school.  Only later did we question ourselves why wasn't she in school on this particular day.    She smiled sweetly for the photograph I asked permission to take of her. She knew the drill and the cost of the postcards went up accordingly.   The following day as we walked through the wide streets of Petra I noticed this young boy, perhaps not even four years old,  sitting alone on the side of the road selling postcards, seemingly oblivious to people passing and certainly to the flies who were swarming his eyes and nose.  As I came closer, indicating my desire to take his picture, he held out the postcards he had been playing with and suddenly remembering his "job"  began his sales chant....potcards, two dinar, only two dinar.  I took his photograph and gladly paid him the two dinar plus a little more.  He handed me the postcards.  I returned the cards to his hands and folded mine over them.  I already had what I wanted.

Although relatively new to it, I love photography and strive to improve with each image I take.  Yet no sunrise or sunset could ever equal the expression found on the faces of these children I capture. Each one conveys a story of the place visited and becomes a cherished souvenier.