I’m sitting on a microbus minding my business. It’s just me, thirteen Indos, and a few soon to be chicken dinners heading back from town. As we bump along, I look out the opposite window. Paddy. Paddy. Haircut place. Paddy. There’s something reassuring about the constancy.
Satisfied, I turn away from the window and fish for the pocket change I’ll need to pay the driver. Out of the corner of my eye, though, something catches my attention. There’s an Indo male, late twenties(ish), looking guilty-suspicious in the back of the minivan.
It’s not that our guy is looking at me. In fact he’s not; his eyes are glued on a cell phone resting on his lap. It’s the way he’s looking. He’s got that totally absorbed, tip of the tongue face—the same one my students assume when I catch their eyes wandering during testing.
I follow Guy’s eyes down, and suspicions are confirmed. He has the phone propped on a knee, camera angled up towards my face. There’s no chance he’s either mid SMS or deep into a round of Angry Birds. The angle is just too awkward. And second, those fingers clearly aren’t doing anything.
At this point—and as I’ve done many times since, I decide to put hypothesis to test. Turning straight to the camera, I give it my best foreigner smile, and watch the guy glance up at me with a startled look, mouth agape. Nabbed in the act. We both know it.
Most don’t associate Peace Corps with technologically developed locales, but I promise Java totally busts that myth. Even though I live in a one-road village and even though my family raises livestock (goats, rabbits, and chickens), an incredible percentage of people here have nice phones. Big ones. With cameras. And partly thanks to my Bieber likeness (we’re both white), I find myself photographed both discretely and forwardly on a regular basis.
Bust it’s the opportunistic picture-taking that’s affected me most. Want to chat first? Okay. Already asked permission? Great. I’m open to people who go about photographing the right way. But I’ve clearly drawn a line between those people and collectors. To the latter, I might as well be one of the worn out llamas at Machu Picchu, destined to become a Facebook upload, quaint snapshot, or photo album fodder. The captions to these photos will all be inevitably blank. Or worse yet, they’ll be left to their photographers’ imaginations.
“But whoa there DP. it’s just a photo…”
I might’ve agreed in 2010, but after ten months of livin’ la vida rockstar, I don’t anymore. Sure, the temptations are still there. Five Indos on a motorbike, ninety-somethings plowing rice paddies–great shots present themselves every day. But I’m trying to stand fast, and luckily, a year of being llama’d by others is good for discipline. If I want a personal photo now, I’m sure to ask for it (little kids withstanding). And it’s easy to see just how much a single sentence or gesture means. People feel validated and not superficially so. Communication truly is synonymous with respect, and respect humanity. Pardon the cheese.
***
An aside…
Two college amigos, Brian and Emily, got married a few weekends ago, and they’ve become viral YouTube sensations thanks to an amazing Justin Bieber cover by the groomsmen. With over 4,000,000 views already, the story has been covered by HuffPost and Billboard among others and even been Retweeted by the Biebs himself. It’s worth your time.
