No other part of the world that I’ve visited has stimulated me more to take photographs than in Africa. Now, I’ve only set foot in 5 African countries, and hopefully I’ll have the chance to travel again on other continents, but what I’ve seen in East and West Africa thus far has inspired photographic ambitions. Unlike in Europe, where photography tends to be directed towards historical sites, architectural constructions or works of art, I’ve found that in Ghana what makes for the most interesting photographs are pictures of actual living scenes. The colours of the markets, the chaos of the lorry stations, the rhythm in the nightclubs, and the energy of the children, create such vividness to life that almost compels you to capture it on film. Yet unlike Europe, where tourist sites are photographed so often that it leads to their corrosion, in Ghana, taking pictures of such ‘living scenes’ is often very difficult to do. People are central to these pictures of course, and whereby the photographer may view taking a photo of a lively market as the benign action of a curious tourist, many local people do not see it as such.
Arusha, Tanzania teems with tourists, as it is the launching point for Serengeti Safaris and Kilimanjaro treks. When I was there a few years ago, I remember seeing someone who was clearly a ‘just off the boat tourist’ roaming around town taking pictures indiscriminately. With his very expensive camera he snapped some of the more desperate images of beggars and people selling goods on the street. A poor woman who sat on the pavement with her child became very upset with the man and demanded in Swahili that he give her money for the photo. The language barrier seemed to prevent him from understanding what she wanted, but after much commotion, and someone translating for him, he apologized and gave her a few Tanzanian shillings. I had a somewhat similar experience during one of my first weeks in Ghana. I went to James Town, one of the poorer areas of Accra, and home to a beautiful old fort, and roamed about taking pictures of the coastal surroundings. The pictures I was taking were mostly landscape- with a few including broad shots of a nearby shanty village- and I didn’t think much of my actions. Yet, as a stood on a hill to get a good perspective on the village below, I was accosted by two men who angrily told me to stop. If I wanted to take pictures, even landscape photos, they told me, I would have to pay.
There are a variety of reasons why many local people here oppose picture taking. Some, particularly in the villages, are superstitious. They think when you take a picture of a person you capture the person’s soul in the camera. Others think that the photographer may be trying to exploit local people. There exist what are commonly referred to as ‘briefcase NGOs’, which are run by one person out of a briefcase, armed with charisma and a supposed cause. These people use pictures of poverty and hardship to play on peoples’ sympathies to secure donations for their imaginary organizations. Finally, some see tourist photography as a way to acquire extra money, and will actually encourage you to take photos of them, or of their home, but only for a price.
How does one resolve this issue of having so many beautiful and novel images to capture but being wary about peoples’ reactions? Well, sneaking pictures rarely works. Because I have white skin I tend to stand out in many of the areas that are not tourist centers. There’s typically always some curious person watching me, and as soon as a camera flash goes off, people tend to take even more notice. Some use the trick where you pretend that you’re taking a picture of your friend, but actually zoom in to an image beyond where your friend is standing. Certainly not the most ethical way to take photos, and it doesn’t work if you’re alone or trying to take a picture from a bus window. So why not ask permission? Of course! Well, actually, it’s not always that easy, especially when you are trying to take a picture of a busy market where there may be hundreds of different sellers captured in a single image. It’s not practical to ask every person, but if you take the picture without permission you risk being the center of some very negative attention.
So what to do? The guideline I follow is to ask permission when possible, but otherwise to be very discrete; and certainly not take a photo when permission is not granted. Often it can be very disappointing to miss out on that ‘perfect shot’. Cityscapes awash in a mismatch of colours, a lone mud hut floating in a field of grain, a beautiful mother wrapped in kente fabric with her sleeping child on her back- these impressions, like illustrations, seem to long to exist as something more tangible. For fear of forgetting, for fear that the impression is perhaps too shallow to sustain itself in my mind once I leave this place, I find it so difficult to resist capturing these images on film. Yet, perhaps so much of the beauty in these scenes lies in their uniqueness and novelty, in the idea that these images still remain distant, unspoiled, and not commonly circulated. Thus, maybe it’s not as dreadful to miss out on that ‘perfect shot’ as it seems, but instead it’s more important to focus on capturing the picture in your mind. It’s probably the case that a person’s internal canvas of experience, which absorbs these images, is more powerful than a high-powered zoom anyhow.
