Bagamoyo, Tanzania / April 2011 –

This was one of those days I was determined to photograph people. My wife and I were with her cousin who has spent upwards of 25 years living in Africa but mostly in Kenya and Tanzania. We were guests in her home in Bagamoyo. When I told her my plan for an early morning shoot, she insisted I have a chaperone who spoke Swahili. I was keen to photograph the fish market down by the water.

Bagamoyo is a tiny coastal town on the east coast of Tanzania. It’s only about a 90 minute car ride from the capital – Dar-es-Salaam. At night, you can see the lights of Zanzibar off in the distance (where we traveled to two days later by boat).

It was a beautiful morning and people started arriving before six as the sun was rising. Boat after boat started landing on the beach and laying out their catches right on the sand. Others might hold up a larger fish and ask for bids and an auction would spontaneously commence. It got very busy very quickly with transactions happening everywhere. With all the action and the colorful clothing of all the attendees, I had a photo hay day.

Part of this whole experience was that this was not a tourist spot. If anything, I was the lone tourist and the only white guy. It took at least an hour before I became acutely aware of this fact. It’s quite interesting being that much of a minority and then being totally immersed with all these very black skinned people. It was exciting being the outsider. In large crowds like that, I usually felt relatively safe but confronting people with my camera who had nothing, that lived from day to day, in a more isolated situation, is when I felt a bit of trepidation.

Further up, within two hundred feet of the beach, there were blackened corrugated tin roofed sheds where fires were constantly burning. These small fires heated large black Chinese styled woks where people paid to have their beach bought fish deep fried. Or they could just buy the cooked fish to eat right away. It was a very enterprising place.

One could also pay someone to gut and clean fish. For a price, one could hire anyone to do just about any chore. There was a unique culture to this whole fish business. I found it fascinating. It must be noted that most of these people didn’t have fridges to keep their purchases, so what they bought that morning, would most likely end up as breakfast, lunch or dinner but it would be eaten that same day, unless maybe if it was deep fried.

Observing the fish frying huts, I happened to see this fellow approaching me while packing a large bull-headed fish. I surmised that he likely bought it on the beach in one of the bidding wars. He was proud and strutting his stuff, perhaps feeling as if he had a prize. Maybe his plan was to resell it for a profit.

This fellow had a bit of a cocky attitude and I felt compelled to get his photo. So I just asked him as he approached me. He didn’t respond to my English. I always carried money, usually coins, to give children for letting me take their photos, but with this guy, I didn’t want to insult him with a candy amount, so I pulled out some paper money. Somehow, I think he thought I wanted to buy his fish.

Was I the token white guy not willing to haggle over the price? At first he smiled, then nodded his approval for an opening offer perhaps. I had already prepared my settings but like the little kids, I usually shoot first and pay later. That’s the way to get a non self-conscious genuine photo. Otherwise is comes off as posed or disingenuous. As he got a little closer, I lifted up my camera and clicked before he could react or say anything. He was not happy and it shows a little in his look. From the excitement of getting a rookie white guy to buy his fish and making an instant profit, he instantly switched to a miffed disgruntled mood. I believe I caught that moment of transition and uncertainty. Perhaps feeling he’d been tricked by a white-guy into getting his photo taken, he became pissed off. And that really showed instantly.

After the snap, I put the camera down, smiled and walked away, making sure I wasn’t within reach of his right hand. If you haven’t noticed already, he was carrying a knife in it. In Africa, and other third world countries, you really need to have acute situational awareness. I only caught on when that detail became illuminated in a split second of my aperture shutter. Handing him money would only have engaged me in an escalating demand for more money, with his weapon likely being used as a negotiating tactic. Luckily for me, my chaperone intervened while I kept walking.

Because of the facial intrigue in this photo, I believe the reward out weighted the risk of taking it. In hindsight, I was lucky. But there has been many photos I haven’t taken because at close range, with an armed and angry subject, who doesn’t speak my language, it’s not a good idea to take photos without permission, especially if one is alone.

In many backward countries people can be very superstitious of having their image taken. They feel they are being robbed of their soul. And they get offended. It’s always a sticky situation. Sometimes an expensive camera can be viewed as a prize or lottery winning. For a few, the reward of mugging or maiming a rich tourist, out weights the consequences of being caught. That’s often why poachers of rhinos and elephants take grave risks, because the reward, compared to what they make at hard labor jobs, is the equivalent to a lottery winning. And for those who dream of escaping the poverty cycle, it’s their only hope.

When it comes to these countries, sometimes I’m bold, other times I’m timid. Sometimes I’m stupid and sometimes I’m lucky. In this case, my chaperone was my body guard savior. My wife’s cousin’s back up gave me the edge of courage, until I saw the knife. Word of advice – don’t walk alone or take photos of strangers. Luck doesn’t always prevail.

There are several other photos I took that morning which will definitely make their way into this collection. Stay tuned!