Mother and Nursing Child Winter mornings are cold and dark in the huts of Otjomazeva, a kraal village in the Kunene Region of Namibia, but the people are warm and welcoming.
The Solstice (Yule or Litha – depending which hemisphere you are in) has just passed. Today is Christmas Eve here in Australia.
It makes me think of my family – scattered as they are – and of the families I have met in my travels. These families can take very different forms from the “norm” I grew up with (more on that some other day), but the core human bonds are recognisable wherever you go.
Earlier this year, I had the great privilege – thanks to photographer Ben McRae, Pedro Ferrão Patrício from Photoburst, and Namibian guide Morne Griffiths – of spending some time with traditional tribal Himba people. We were welcomed into Otjomazeva, a tiny kraal village near Epupain Namibia.
There are about 50,000 indigenous Himba(singular: OmuHimba, plural: OvaHimba) people living on both sides of the Kunene River: in the Kunene region (formerly Kaokoland) of northern Namibia and in Angola. Semi-nomadic pastoralists, the Himba quite consciously maintain their cultural traditions and subsistence lifestyle.
I took hundreds of photos during my visits to the village, some of which I’ll post at another time. Right now, I’d like to just share just a few pictures of the simple village itself, and some portraits of a Himba woman and her child.
Otjomazeva Morning Sleep – as they say – is over-rated. It was very early – quiet, cold, and dark – when we left our campsite. The pre-dawn light was pale and pink as we approached the Otjomazeva kraal.
Morning Rolls It was still dark when we entered the kraal (with prior permission, of course) and I thought the “logs” in front of the huts were piles of donated blankets we had dropped off in the village the day before …
First Stirrings … until one of them moved! There is not enough room in the huts for everyone, and many of the community slept outside, rolled in their blankets against the winter cold.
Morning Huddle Noiselessly the day slowly comes to life. People gather around meagre fires waiting for the porridge to boil.
Tall and Beautiful This young woman’s regal bearing captured my attention, as she stood, wrapped in her soft cow hide.
Mother and Child She, her wrap, and her baby girl are coloured with the ochre paste (Otjize) that Himba women wear all over their skin and hair.
Himba Mother The unique Himba hairstyle worn by married women is created by weaving long hair extensions – from goat or cow hair, and often including some of their husband’s hair – around the head, and coating these plaits with the ochre paste. Babies generally have their heads shaved, sometimes with a little tuft left on the top.
Applying Ochre Paste The women are surprisingly happy to have myself and one of my companions inside their hut as they go through their daily ritual of re-applying the otjize. It is pitch black in the huts – the only light is from the low open doorway and the odd holes in the wattle and daub walls. Even so, you can just see the sculptured sheepskin Erembe headpiece that our Angolan visitor has put back on after she re-pasted her hair.
Mixing Otjize The paste of liquified butterfat and ochre has a wonderful perfume, thanks to the resin of the omuzumba shrub. It’s baby’s turn to be rubbed with the paste, and she sits watching me while her mum prepares it.
Chatter This woman is an extended family member who is visiting from neighbouring Angola. Her time in the village is spent catching up on local gossip. When she smiles, you can see the gap in her front teeth: traditionally, both boys and girls around age twelve have the front bottom teeth (incisors) knocked out and the two top front teeth filed into an upside “V” . …
Smiling Profile … This seems tragic to me, especially considering how beautifully white their teeth are!
Mother and Child
Mother and Child
“It Takes a Village” Children in the Himba village are never far from an arm or a lap – or a comforting breast.
All around the world, families and friends gather to celebrate. Where I grew up, the celebrations this time of year were either for Christmas or Hanukkah. But, if there is one thing travel teaches you, it is that “family” and “celebration” take very different forms the world over.
So, whether you are celebrating Christmas or Hanukkah; Rohatsu or Mawlid an Nabi or Zarathosht Diso; Solstice – or nothing at all; I hope you can take the time to appreciate your family, and to make peace within your community. In the words of Charles Dickens:
[…] I had the wonderful privilege of spending time with some Himba people in Northern Namibia (see: Mother and Child; Model Shoot). The Himba are a beautiful, proud tribe who have deliberately resisted integration […]ReplyCancel
[…] are immediately recognisable by their distinctive hairstyles (see: Mother and Child; Women of the Himba; Himba Model Shoot), which are determined by their age, gender and […]ReplyCancel
[…] I had the wonderful privilege of spending time with some Himba people in Northern Namibia (see: Mother and Child; Model Shoot). The Himba are a beautiful, proud tribe who have deliberately resisted integration […]ReplyCancel
The Angel Inn – Broad St, Ludlow Originally built in the 1500s with a top story added as late as the 1700s, The Angel operated as an inn from as early as 1555.
The term “black and white village” refers to several old English villages in the counties of Herefordshire and Shropshire in the West Midlands of England.
These villages are known for their timbered and half-timbered houses, some dating to medieval times. The framework of the houses was made from unseasoned green oak, which darkened over time; painting the beams black was a relatively recent innovation. The panels between the beams were covered with plaster – or sometimes with brick – and painted with lime wash.
Ludlow, a thriving medieval market town in the Shropshire Hills with top class restaurants and around 500 heritage listed buildings, is a particularly finest example of a “black and white village”.
Every Town has a Grain Store Walking into the town centre from the train station is like walking into the past… Apparently, this old warehouse has been converted into flats. Who would know?
Walking Street Are these “brownstones”? As in: buildings made of brown Triassic-Jurassic sandstone bricks? I don’t know – but there is a real sense of stately permanence on Corve Street, Ludlow, as one walks past the Richard C Swift Ltd – “Quality family bakers since 1863” – shopfront.
The Famous Feathers The Feathers Hotel is one of about 500 heritage-listed buildings in Ludlow – and one of its best known and most-photographed. Built in 1619 by local lawyer Rees Jones, it is a Tudor-style half-timbered building.
Inside the Feathers Probably the finest old timber-fronted black-and-white house in Ludlow, the Feathers Inn is known for its beautiful Tudor architecture and elegant Jacobean refurbishment.
The Barista The young man who had made and delivered my coffee saw that I was taking an interest in the marvellous old building. He offered to take me upstairs for a look at some of the other rooms.
Ornate Plaster Ceilings The story my young guide told me was that some years ago, this ceiling collapsed because an upstairs guest had let a bathtub overflow. The artisan commissioned with the repairs was a nationally-recognised elder-relative of my young man – who was justifiably proud of his ancestor.
Fading Tapestry The corridors and stairwells are richly decorated with old paintings, furniture, and tapestries – this one dated from 1318.
Lead Windows Cast diamond glazing keeps old glass looking new – and the oak frames have also withstood time.
Stationary Shop Plenty of charming shops in keeping with the town’s medieval facade line the streets.
A Bicycle and a Post Box How quintessentially British! A stone wall, a bicycle, and a pillar box.
The Bull Hotel The 15th century medieval coach-inn, the Bull Hotel on the Bull Ring, predates the Feathers Inn across the road by some years.
King Street Historic buildings can be spotted along every curving roadway. The Buttercross, with its clock tower, sits at the top of King Street.
The Buttercross It is a beautiful, sunny, winter day as I head into the Buttercross (built 1743-46): the official centre of town.
College Street
St Laurence’s Church With Norman foundations dating back to the 11th century, St Laurence’s Parish Church in the centre of town was rebuilt in 1199 – with major expansions between 1433 and 1471. It is considered one of England’s outstanding medieval town churches.
Stained Glass Windows – St Laurence’s Parish Church
Chaplain Barry and the Misericords One of the church chaplains tells visitors to the church about the small folding seats, or ‘misericords’, designed to provide some comfort to people standing for long periods of prayer in the medieval choir stall.
Cautionary Tales The fold-down seats (mercy seats) are richly carved with cautionary tales: this one depicts a dishonest ale-wife being carried to hell by demons.
In the Bell Tower Ludlow is famous for its church bells, which are housed in an imposing 41-metre (135 feet) high tower immortalised by the poet A E Housman in “A Shropshire Lad”.
Atop the Bell Tower The 550-year-old tower is weathered …
View over Ludlow … but affords magnificent 360° views over the town and countryside.
Graveyard behind the Church
The Buildings of Broad Street Running a short distance from the Buttercross to the town-wall gatehouse, Broad Street is one of the finest stretches of “black and white” houses in England, with some excellent examples of medieval and Tudor-style half-timbered buildings.
Quality Square Ludlow is known for it’s food, and corners of town are given over to fine restaurants and boutique shops.
Another Bicycle – Harp Lane The coffee shops and markets are also a delight.
Ludlow Castle Ludlow Castle was founded around 1075 and was one of the first stone castles to be built in England. It is credited to Walter de Lacy (d. 1085), a Norman nobleman who was given extensive lands in Herefordshire and Shropshire by King William I of England.
Sir Mortimer and Lady Grey Roger Mortimer acquired the castle in 1301 and the family held it for over a century. Today, the castle is owned by John Herbert, current Earl of Powis, and is managed as a private tourist attraction.
Ludlow Castle Canon “English Heritage” lists Ludlow as “one of England’s finest castle sites”.
Dinham Road Ludlow was known as “Dinham” in its early years, and the road just south of the castle still bears this name.
Ludlow is a delightful place to visit: not the least because I had a superb lunch and bought some fine china at market prices.
It just goes to show: you can preserve your heritage and still attract visitors to a modern, thriving, market town.
[…] that houses the Black Lion Pub. The Midlands is “Black and White” country (see: Medieval Ludlow), and a few of these distinctive buildings survive in Hereford […]ReplyCancel
Sally M Edwardes -February 7, 2024 - 9:44 am
The photographs are wonderful: crisp images and nicely composed.
I have stayed in Ludlow and so it is good to see the sights again.ReplyCancel
Tomatoes Fresh and juicy – in all their shades of yellow-to-red – tomatoes have become central to cooking world over.
Tomatoes.
Salad, salsa, pasta sauce, creamy curry, pizza, ratatouille, juice, gazpacho… the list goes on.
Tomatoes have become central to cooking world over. In season, I keep them planted in my garden, and I always have plenty – large ones for cooking and sandwiches and small ones for salads – tucked in my fridge. Originally native to western-South America and Central America, and cultivated domestically in Mexico before 500 BC, it’s hard to believe tomatoes were only introduced to Europe and Asia by the Spanish in the early 1500s.
One of the things I love about travelling with photo-tours is that you regularly devote time to places other groups minimise or ignore completely. This gives me more of a real glimpse into “ordinary” everyday life. After all, when was the last time you stopped to spend time in a tomato distribution centre?
I was in Nyaung Shwe on the north shore of Inle Lake in Myanmar, with photographer Karl Grobl, local guide Mr MM, and nine other photography enthusiasts, when I had the opportunity to watch local Burmese at work.
Tomato Boats Tomatoes are grown on the floating farms of Inle Lake, and come into the distribution centre by boat.
Tomato Baskets The colours are fresh and bright in the morning sunlight.
Men Delivering Tomatoes Every step of the food chain is labour intensive.
Tomatoes The produce is bright against the dark canal waters.
Tomato Boat The long, graceful boats laden with full baskets sit low in the water.
Boxed Tomatoes
The Warehouse Inside, it is dark and cool.
Sorting Tomatoes Women sort through tomatoes of all colours from the pile on the bamboo platform.
Sorting Tomatoes Tomatoes fly into the baskets.
Portrait Workers chat and laugh as they perform their work.
In the Corner Light slants through the woven walls as tomatoes fly towards a lone basket.
Tomatoes in Baskets
Red Glow Light through the walls bounces off the ripe fruit.
Heavy Lifting
Movement
Light and Lines
The Bookkeeper All the baskets of tomatoes moving in and out of the storehouse are recorded in a notebook.
Tomatoes Warm and rich smelling, the baskets of tomatoes sit in the sun.
I loved the smell and the colour and the shape of tomatoes.
Clearly, a lot of work has gone into getting these ones to market ~
According to Google Maps, it takes 4 hours and 42 minutes to drive the 309 kilometres through the heart of Stro gateway to Namibia’s northern border regions.
Google Maps doesn’t tell you that most of this distance is on what “Maps of Namibia” calls “Main-Gravel Roads”: dusty, corrugated, white-gravel, roads with potholes that leap out without notice and where on-coming or overtaking vehicles envelope you in blinding clouds of opaque dust.
I can’t even begin to imagine what these roads are like in summer! It was August – mid-winter – when we (photographer Ben McRae, Pedro Ferrão Patrício from Photoburst, Namibian guide Morne Griffiths, myself, and four other photography enthusiasts) traversed them. Even so, it was well over 30°C outside by mid-morning, and much hotter inside the truck. Mirages danced on the roads ahead as the heat pulsated all around. The wind from open truck-windows let in the dust and sucked all the moisture out of one’s body.
As they say, “It’s a dry heat.”
We passed miles apon miles of dry, rolling veld, covered in rocks and dry grass punctuated by thorn trees. Dust devils raced across the horizon and boys in donkey carts trotted along the verges. There were horses, goats, and herds of fat cattle; clearly the sere desert grasses provide more nutrients than you would think from looking at them. The odd homestead sat well back from the dusty roadside.
We were warned: in the towns, there were to be strictly no photos taken out of the truck windows. If we took pictures without prior negotiation, the tour company could be charged an exorbitant fee. So, the houses and shops and markets we passed went by unrecorded. I felt like I was watching the cast of characters from the “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency”: professionally dressed women with elaborately braided hair and over-sized glasses teetering across uneven sidewalks in their colourful high heels; “traditionally built” women in head cloths and wildly patterned dresses sashaying through the streets; men in dark suits and shiny, pointy shoes gathering on corners; men, woman and children in bangles and beads all jostling at shop fronts.
When we stopped for supplies in one of the towns, we were warned again: don’t buy anything from the Vambo (Aawambo or Ambo) people who were bound to crowd around us begging or trying to sell gems or bangles; if we engaged with them we’d never escape.
A simple trip to the supermarket was like walking into another world: shoppers in all manner of tribal dress – including Himba woman wearing only ochre paint and leather skirts – were gathering their groceries amid aisles of products I didn’t recognise. Although the uniformed shop-workers spoke English, Afrikaans and tribal languages flowed all around like a river of Babel.
After what seemed like hours of sensory over-load, it was a relief to stop at the more relaxed roadside souvenir-stands run by Herero women. The Herero have a reputation as skilled seamstresses, and the stalls they run contain colourful patchwork cloth products. Many of the women still dress in a distinctively African adaptation of the Victorian costume foisted upon them by Germanmissionaries in the early 20th century: a voluminous floor-length dress that might comprise up to seven layers of cloth. The unique head-dress represents the horns of a cow, a particular status symbol in a culture where your wealth is measured by how many cows you own.
I admired the handiwork, made a few small purchases, and paid a small fee – well worth it to spend time making pictures and chatting with these lovely women.
Herero Woman in Blue Up until the end of the 19th century, Herero people dressed in traditional tribal fashion. However, during the days of German colonial rule, missionaries introduced Victorian style dress because they didn’t liked Herero women to be naked. Herero men started wearing German uniforms they took from soldiers killed during the conflict in the early 20th century, and may still wear uniforms on special occasions. From the time they are married, women were expected to make their own multi-layered dresses.
Woman with Herero Dolls Today, some women chose more “modern” Western dress.
Girl with Doll I loved how this girl’s balding doll has her hair so neatly braided.
Herero Dolls Herero dolls are painstaking handmade, with wire arms and hands and painted faces.
Herero Sisters Sisters in casual dress, were keen to be photographed: I could only oblige.
Smiling Woman in an Orange Headdress
Herero Woman in Brown This articulate young woman has just finished her Namibian tourism certificate, and hopes to become an official guide.
Young Girl in Black Without any coaching, young girls, like this 13 year old, demonstrate an effortless grace.
Young Herero with Patchwork
Herero Family The women’s elaborated clothes, and the crafts they sell, are carefully sewn using old manual Singer sewing machines and finished by hand.
Waterhole Our next stop, an hour and a half later, was at a small waterhole in the hot, dusty hills. Cattle have come in for a rest and a drink.
African Golden Weaver The thorn trees near the roadside are full of chattering finch and weavers.
Goats in the Dust A man guides a herd of goats though the heat of the afternoon.
We still had miles of hot, bumpy road to travel before we reached our stop for the night.
I had my Herero doll and fond memories of conversations with some interesting and engaging women who have found a way of making their traditions support their futures.
Snake Charmers The Pushkar Camel Fair is a festive affair – and not just about camels. Kalbeliya Gypsy snake-charmers are among the entertainers to be found around the extensive fair grounds.
I’ve been dreaming of camels lately…
That’s probably because the annual five-day Pushkar Camel Festival in Rajasthan, Northern India, finished earlier this week, and a number of my friends – including photographer Karl Grobl and local guide DV Singh – were there.
I couldn’t help but feel a little envious, as it has been two years since I visited India with them and enjoyed the Camel Fair myself.
Still, their return gave me a good excuse to revisit my photo-files from that trip.
Aagman Camp Hostess One of the joys India is how photogenic the people are.
Camel Carriage The Pushkar Fair attracts a fair number of international tourists and photographers in addition to the local traders.
Fair Grounds The Aravalli Mountain Range provides a backdrop for the fun-fair grounds, the livestock, and the camp grounds at Pushkar Fair. (iPhone4S)
Rajasthani Horse and Rider Pushkar Fair is not just about camels: Marwari horses – the distinctive Jodhpur-bred horses with the inward-turning ears – are a prominent feature. Horses with a white blaze and four white socks are considered lucky.
Running the Rajasthani Horse Theses horses were bred from native Indian ponies crossed with Arabian horses.
Putting the Horse through its Paces The Marwari is a natural “pacer”, with a lateral two-beat gait.
Tourists on Camels A Chinese tour group descends from their camels.
Fresh-Roasted Peanuts Food is never far away; a vendor stands ready next to his paper-cones and peanuts.
Rajasthani Colt The Marwari horses are beautiful animals, …
Afternoon Sun … bred since the 12th century for purity and hardiness.
Snake Charmers Entertainers are all around the fair grounds; the Kalbeliya Gypsy snake charmers fall outside the Indian caste system.
[…] from Pushkar’s dusty fair grounds. I have shared some pictures from the fair before (See: Scenes from a Fair and A Gypsy Portrait), but it has been a […]ReplyCancel
[…] some of the images I made there (see: A Gypsy Portrait, Faces at the Camel Fair, and Scenes from a Fair) – I still have a large body of work to […]ReplyCancel
- Performing the Ganga Aarti from Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi
- Buddha Head from Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar
- Harry Clarke Window from Dingle, Ireland
- Novice Monk Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery, Myanmar
Packets of 10 for $AU50.
Or - pick any photo from my Flickr or Wanders blog photos.
I loved the smell and the colour and the shape of tomatoes.
I hope they can continue to make their own way…
[…] I had the wonderful privilege of spending time with some Himba people in Northern Namibia (see: Mother and Child; Model Shoot). The Himba are a beautiful, proud tribe who have deliberately resisted integration […]
[…] are immediately recognisable by their distinctive hairstyles (see: Mother and Child; Women of the Himba; Himba Model Shoot), which are determined by their age, gender and […]
[…] I had the wonderful privilege of spending time with some Himba people in Northern Namibia (see: Mother and Child; Model Shoot). The Himba are a beautiful, proud tribe who have deliberately resisted integration […]