The Well, Katsan Town.

This was probably my favorite image from the entire trip up North. There

is something about it that appeals to me. Maybe, it is the calm serene

scene of a mother and daughter engaging in the mundane routine of their

daily lives. Perhaps, it is because it was such a difficult image to make

from the window of a car stuck in traffic, and also had to be made

surreptitiously, as taking pictures of strangers in Nigeria is oddly

hazardous to your health. I avoided being lynched a second time in

Lagos on August 30 this year, for taking a picture of a marketplace in

Igando, Lagos because I was able to convince them I was not a terrorist

by offering that I would willingly walk with them to the police station, only

to be arrested and detained by the police when we got there for

"engaging in a course of conduct likely to lead to a breach of the peace."

The complaining witness even signed a statement and I had to sign my

own sworn statement and was told I would be jailed and prosecuted, and

that I had to get a local person who knew me to try to bail me out. After

several hours of detention, I was saved the indignity of a court trial (or,

more likely, bribing some corrupt official) by the intercession of a

journalist I had written a story for on my last trip, and her acquaintance

with the second ranking police chief in the state, in the course of whose

phone call to the station, my hitherto recalcitrant detainer dissolved into

a chorus of "Yes sirs" like a snail that ran into a pinch of salt and

withdrew back into its shell. It was a most galling ordeal after which the

officer deleted every picture in my memory card in an act of unbridled

and wanton vandalism. So, almost all my pictures, save the images at a

school in Togo, and children playing in the neighborhood where they

knew me, all these images were made with stealth, often from the

window of a moving car during which the owner of the car and my own

family members cursed me under their breaths for ruining the air

conditioned peace of the trip by insisting that I keep the window open.

Ah, the memories!

And I thought street photography was dangerous in The States. I can imagine your dilemma, Emmanuel, caught between a constant array of scenes that beg to be photographed and the possible dire repercussions of your actions. What did your wife think of your surreptitious shooting? I imagine it was pretty worrying. But like any "combat" photographer, in the end I imagine it was worth the danger. Certainly the pictures you were able to save are extraordinary, including this one of the villagers collecting water in the gentle light of morning or evening.

The first day, my wife was there with me at the police station and gave them holy hell! The Officers were so scared of her that they let me go. The second time, I was sent to go to the market to change money and I took my camera with me, of course. When I called her to tell her that I was being detained by the same officers after I was attacked by a mob, she was so angry that she told me I would never be allowed to leave the house on my own again! It was actually a humiliating experience as we had to make like 30 phone calls to finally reach someone who could do anything. I was so adamant that I would not pay anyone anything in bribes that I was determine to stay in custody until I went before a judge. Someone later asked me why didn't I just contact the US Consul, and I realized then this thought never entered my mind. The short story about my last mob attack was written last year, and I intend to publish it on my Instagram page, along with a collection of short stories and novellas I had written following my trip in 1994, only one of which was published in 20 years. 

excellent documentary shot...regards.

Sorry for your troubles.   

This shot is my favorite also because of the human element and the warm light which effectively contrasts with the cool blue light on the left.

 

Re street photography, I have developed the art of seldom bringing the camera up to eye level but taking the shot at waist level but this is only if I am walking. I also avoid taking images of one or two children but go for it if it is a medium sized or larger group.  Very recently in downtown Montreal, I was on the street taking a photo of a commercial building and a private security guard came out and told me that I was not allowed. I was bold enough to tell him that I needed to take one more photo and I would take it while he walked back to his post and then I would leave. He had nothing more to say and he left and I did what I said I would do.

 

Avoid taking photos in the luggage carousel section at our International airport here in Quebec. I saw the authorities deleting images from the offending camera.

 

Yes indeed, street photography can be dangerous.

 

 

A remarkable photo, both in lighting, subjects and conditions.  We take our freedoms so lightly that when faced with repressive evil it's hard to comprehend.  Good for you that you resisted the common practice of buying your freedom... Mike

 

Deleted files are not really gone, just out of sight.  I hope you were able to retrieve some files from those cards ;-).

Emmanuel,

  Beautiful image with magical lighting & colors.  I am so sorry that you had to go through such a terrible ordeal.  As Mike said we take our freedom for granted.  Thanks for letting us know how blessed we are, I think we need to be reminded sometimes.  Take care, Patsy

Gee Emmanuel, all this time, and judging from the happy children faces looking straight into your lense, i thought this was an easy procedure. Trast me i would have done the same with you, i know the adrenaline rush when you see a great theme "begging" to be photographed.

Keep on shooting!