A long time ago, I started a series of “Request” photos as a (lacking) attempt to thank everybody who contributed to my D700 fund for my birthday.
Over the course of the last few days, I’ve resumed the series. This one was particularly difficult, but I’m pleased with the result. So here it is. Thanks, E. Wong.
There aren’t enough superlatives to describe the experience that is Per Se… So I’m just going to go straight to the photos…
The (beautifully) handwritten check. It’s all in the details… Continue reading…
In the spirit of Indexed (one of my favorite blogs–if you don’t read it, you need to RSS it right now), I decided to do this blog posts with index card photos to help elucidate my point.
1) Girls are looking older while I’m getting older.
My ten favorite South Africa moments in photos:
1. Khayelitsha. Being my third trip to Africa, I was hardly shocked at the poverty that can be found in particular areas; however, something you will absolutely never get used to is the astounding optimism of the people who live there. The resilience. The will to continue on in the face of overwhelming odds. It’s amazing. Don’t let the shantytowns fool you–the people living inside are as colorful and bright as the tin panel walls that shield them.
We might be poor, but we’re proud.
Nothing can really give the full emotional spectrum like seeing extreme poverty. In terms of quality, the poverty in South Africa is not nearly as bad as the poverty in parts of Uganda; however, in terms of quantity, it’s unfathomable. Along the highway, there’s just layer after layer of tinroof, shanty-esque homes–rolling into the smoggy mountains, until it just starts to turn into a sea of rusty poverty
Still, nothing can give you hope like meeting and talking to the people inside and seeing human optimism at it’s finest, witnessing how a home is more than just a building, and seeing the resilience of people (as one described to us) who might be poor but still proud–proud of who they are an unwilling to give into overwhelming opposition.
As sad as it makes me, nothing can make me as happy as playing with those kids. I have more photos, but here’s a small taste for now:
When she’s near, the New Year’s here, and there is not a resolution that I can’t do.
Today, I met Felicien.
I’ve mainly been using cabs to get around Cape Town. After paying the cab fares from Midtown to Park Slope, I’ve become jaded to overpriced cabs–as far as I’m concerned, they are just another overpriced, necessary, evil (and occasionally very convenient) method of public transportation. Over here, it’s 10 ZAR per km after the 2 ZAR initial fee.(1)
During these trips, you get to meet really interesting people. Like New York, a lot of the cab drivers are foreign. Felicien is one of them. He’s a refugee from the DRC. He’s been in South Africa for about 8 years, but only spent the last 6 months in Cape Town. His cab is kinda crappy. There’s no sugarcoating it. It was an older foreign model–I’d guess early 90s or so. The inside was dingy and it smelt like cigarette smoke. Still, Felicien works 24/7. Literally. He’s always on call. In fact, during our ride, he put our lively conversation on hold so he could figure out where his next client was. He says its necessary to work that much in order to support his family.
Footnotes:Copyright © 2009. All rights reserved.
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