New York City | Dancing Underground

I apologize for this late post as it is a series of photographs from my recent trip to New York City this past summer where a chance encounter led to an amazing experience. To my defense I have been extremely busy working on a variety of projects here in Calgary and committing to a total renovation of a home I recently purchased. Again my apologies and I hope you enjoy this post. It was July 13th and I was leaving New York City in three days after already spending an incredible three weeks in the big apple. I was taking the express train from Harlem into Manhattan to return a set of stands that I had rented for a previous shoot for a Tap Dancing Company a couple days prior. As I made my way onto the train squeezing myself into any available space I could find, I jammed myself up against a door mid way down the cart, with my stands tucked between my legs trying not to injure anyone in the process. As soon as the train started to proceed to the next station, there was this sudden "WHAT TIME IS IT?" at the top of someone's lungs immediately followed by "IT'S SHOWTIME" from what sounded like a few other young boys. Then again the same words repeated"WHAT TIME IS IT?" ....then "IT'S SHOWTIME". That's when it all happened. A group of five young boys started dancing in the middle of the train cart accompanied by a very loud portable speaker system that was strapped to a make shift grocery dolly playing some old school funk. In the span of 3 minutes these boys took turns dancing in a space that was no larger than six feet by six feet successfully landing and performing head-spins, front flips, freezes, floor work, table tops, and even gymnastic flares. Their feet, hands, and bodies came within centimeters of the commuters where even the slightest change of their positions would have left someone severely bruised or badly injured. Some people watched in absolute amazement, others did not even look to see or acknowledge what was going on. At one moment one of the boys jumped above someone sitting down where he grabbed the hand rail above the woman then threw his body into a complete flip pushing himself off the bar and landing back on his feet in front of the same woman sitting down. She did not even flinch as she was on her phone.

Once the music stopped, some people started clapping, cheering, and began taking photographs with their phones. The group of boys thanked the crowd and made their way around the train cart with an empty baseball cap in their hands accepting any cash people were willing to give. I waited till one of the boys came past me where I handed him five dollar note. Immediately I thought to myself I have to follow these guys around for a day. The train was about 30 seconds from the next stop so I quickly pulled one of the boys aside and told them who I was, what I was doing in New York, and if I could photograph the five of them for an entire day. They gave me their number and told me to call them that night to set up a time.

The next day I met up with the five boys; Angel, Ouba, Aidan, Josh, and Stefy. Angel and Josh are brothers and the other boys came from other b-boy crews where they  created their own called "2 Real 2 True 4 Breakin". The boys do not just choose any train to dance on, they choose to ride the same route all day getting on only the express line and returning to the loop over and over again which allows the group to dance longer with fewer stops. Once the group arrives on the platform they quickly choose their commuter cart carefully looking for the group size of commuters to generate more tips but not to many so they are unable to have room to dance. Once we got onto the train and the doors closed, the boys immediately sprang into action. Josh immediately shouting the same words I heard the day before "WHAT TIME IS IT?".... and the rest of the boys responding "IT'S SHOWTIME". The music starts, they clear the space, and they waste no time and start performing as people are still trying to figure out what is happening on their daily commute. Each of boys takes a turn dancing, showcasing their moves while anticipating the trains movement so they don't fall or accidentally collide with any bystanders. The song finishes and they proceed through the crowd collecting any cash they can before the train reaches the next station. We get off and wait for the train to take us back the other way. We complete this cycle over and over again over a span of 5 hours running from car to car to find the best train cars to dance on.

Sometimes when trains are running late the boys will practice moves and techniques on the platform, listen to music, count the tips they have made, or chat with other crews that are also dancing on the subway to earn some extra cash. On average the group earns about $250 in three to four hours and all money is divided evenly amongst the group. The five of them are all born and raised in New York and they live in Bronx. Some of the boys parents support what they do, others do not as they are are encouraged to pursue other avenues of earning extra cash.

Love: Stranger Series New York City

There is something to be said about going for a walk. I find walking alone especially with a camera can be one of the most calming and exhilarating experiences as a photographer because you never know who or what your going to run into and it forces you to slow down and really look at your surrounding environment. On one particular day as I was just spending the day... you guessed it... walking, I came to the intersection of Tillary street and the entry route onto the Brooklyn bridge. At this intersection I noticed a man walking from car to car as they were stopped at the intersections red light. As I walked a little closer, I noticed the man was quite well dressed and in one arm he had a hand full of the newspapers and in the other hand a stack of ready made six inch pies. Now I have seen people in other countries selling flowers, fruit, and even tombstones to people in parked cars but never pie and the daily news from a single person. As I made my way over to the side of the road where he was conducting his business with the temporarily stopped cars, it was surprising to see he was making quite a few sales in the short amount time I had since noticed him. The street light turned green, the cars drove away, and the man waited patiently along the side of the road for the next set of traffic to stop at the lights. I walked over to see this man and asked him what he was selling. It turned out to be sweet potato pies and the local newspaper. When I asked for his name he stumbled his words and said "Ahhh... My name is Love". I was surprised by the name but didn't question how or where he got his name from. I tried asking him more about his life but he insisted right away he did not want to talk about himself, so Instead I asked if I could take his picture. Again his demeanor changed instantly from the smiley happy pie and paper salesman to becoming a little anxious and questioned me why I wanted to photograph him. I told him what I was doing, where the photographs would end up, and for more peace of mind I gave him my business card. By this time more cars had stopped at the intersection and I told him to think about it and go look after his customers. After the light had turned green, Love walked back to where I was standing and happily agreed.

Ahmed: Stranger Series New York City

As I was walking the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City this past summer (2013), I noticed a elderly man on the pedestrian path was selling water out of a portable cooler on a dolly. Now if you have never been to New York City in the summer time it gets ridiculously hot especially during the heat waves, and just my luck the entire three weeks I was there it was 35 degrees every day. As soon as I heard this man shout out "COLD WATER.... ONLY ONE DOLLA" in his Arabic accent I could not resist. Gulping down the water as quickly as I gave the man my money I decided to see if he would allow me to take his photo. The man graciously said yes and we exchanged names. His name was Ahmed and he had been in New York for the past 6 weeks and was headed back to Egypt to see his family at the end of the summer. After our small and brief conversation Ahmed immediately asked a passing tourist to take a photo of the two of us on his mobile phone. We thanked each other for the encounter and we went our separate ways.  

Lilly

I recently went to New York City for three weeks for a project that I am working on involving the New York City dance community. Usually when I travel for an extended period of time for a specific project, I try to allocate a few days where I just walk with my camera photographing only what I see in that moment with no prior intent, concept, or idea. These are some of my favorite experiences I have when traveling because there is no set destination and there is no pressure from any outside influence; it is just me, my camera, and the outside elements. On one particular day I decided to walk North from Brooklyn at 4:30pm and after 15km in 40 degree heat, I came across a woman who I noticed was collecting bottles from trash bags that were placed on the curb/sidewalks in front of what looked like an upscale restaurant in mid town Manhattan. As I walked by, I briefly made eye contact with the woman where we both exchanged a quick smile and as quick as she looked up her attention was back to the task at hand, collecting bottles out of the 12 or more large bags that engulfed her tiny body. As I kept walking, I stopped just over thirty feet past her casually leaning against the adjacent building watching her activity intently. After about five minutes this tiny woman starts carrying one of the large plastic bags that she has filled with aluminum cans and drags it to a shopping cart next to her. She struggles to tie the bag of cans to the already hanging six or so bags of cans and bottles that have swallowed her shopping cart. Noticing her dilemma,  I quickly walk over and offer some help by tying the full bag to anything that would hold it's weight without it's contents spilling onto the street. Once the bag was secure the woman looked at me and gave me the biggest smile and in broken English said "Thank-you". I realized this would be a great opportunity asking her to take her photo. Given my experience of being denied photographing woman in similar circumstances, I was surprisingly shocked when she immediately agreed where I then snapped off ten or so frames. After I finished the last frame, she gently tapped her chest and said "Me... Lilly". We both smile, I tell her my name mimicking her hand to chest motion and end our encounter with a friendly handshake and we go our separate ways. It was only after I had walked 50 feet that I quickly turned around and went back to ask Lilly another question seeing the potential in our chance encounter. As I came around the corner and coming face to face with my new friend, I asked her if I could follow her for an entire day photographing her daily life and activities. Realizing that she spoke very little English and only Mandarin, I was quickly faced with difficult language barriers I had in Bangladesh re-living that sense of helplessness and in a city where English is one of the first spoken languages. After many attempts at trying to find out where she would be in the afternoon the next day, we both realized and knew the language barrier was too great. Not giving up, I asked for her mobile number in very poor hand signals in hopes of calling her the next day to try again. She agreed and gave me her number.

The next day I called Lilly at noon asking her where she was and within minutes it was the same scenario from our first encounter the day before. Neither of us could understand one another and we were both reluctant to hang up the phone but we knew it was inevitable and after a a couple minutes our phone call had ended. Sitting on the sidewalk with my back to a building, I knew I could make this meeting happen. I looked up and saw a food truck. Never denying myself food and always being able to think better with something in my stomach, I decided to eat as it might be a good idea so I can come up with a different approach to meeting up with Lilly. As I glanced at the menu from the hole in the wall food truck, I ordered my chicken paratha (South Asian oily flat bread). Waiting for my order, I noticed an Asian man walk up behind me also wanting to place an order. I immediately turned to the man and said "I know this may sound crazy but do you happen to speak Cantonese or Mandarin"? The gentleman looked at me a bit puzzled, then smiled and said "I actually speak both languages fluently but I am Malaysian". I then told him who I was and that I wanted to photograph this woman but was unable to communicate with her. I suggested to the man I call Lilly from my phone and from there he can immediately take over the conversation and essentially be my translator and get her location. The friendly man agreed. I quickly dialed the number, Lilly answered, I tell her it's Jeremy, and then I pass the phone to the gentleman. After 20 seconds he starts talking with her and within 2 minutes Lilly tells the man her location and the conversation ends. I thank the man offering to pay for his meal, he declines, we shake hands, he wishes me good luck, and I am off running towards the nearest subway, chicken paratha in hand making my way down to West 4st.

Once I make it down town I had no problems finding Lilly. She was just as smiley and friendly the evening I met her. I tried explaining why I wanted to photograph her that day but again the language barrier was to difficult and I was yet again on a mission in search for another stranger who could speak Mandarin for me. After many "no's" from various foot traffic, I finally came across a woman who was more than willing to help translate some questions I had for Lilly. Within 10 minutes or so everyone was on the same page and Lilly was more than happy to let me follow her around photographing her daily routine.

Lilly is 58 years old and comes from a small village in China. She lives in New York City with her husband and has for the past 13 years. Lilly used to work in a restaurant in China Town, however the restaurant has shut down and she tells me it is hard to find work because she does not speak English. She spends her days collecting glass bottles and aluminum cans from various store fronts and apartment buildings where the owners and general public greet Lilly as if she were their closest friends. Back in China Lilly has two children where her daughter is in her 20's and is a house keeper and her son is in his 30's and is a driver for a local company. I could not help notice the amount of recyclables Lilly collects on a daily basis and I was curious to find out how much she makes on a average day. It turns out she collects $20-$30 worth of cans and bottles in a 10 hour day.

Intimate Interviews in Pabna: Portraits and Words From Two Sex Workers

Posted: 05 Jan 2012 03:32 PM PST On the bus to Pabna I met two fantastic Bengali’s who offered to take me around the town of Pabna by getting me access to anything I so curiously decide to photograph. In my previous blog post you had the opportunity to see inside the mental institution where Reza and Licholn were able to volunteer their time and them-selves helping me gain the access I needed. Reza and Licholn also work for a local initiative where basic health education, STD testing/treatment, condoms, and support is offered to the thousands of sex workers (8,000-10,000) that call Pabna and the surrounding area home.

This blog post is dedicated to the woman and children that are continually being exploitive around the world through trafficking, prostitution, and abuse. This is a topic that has always interested me. I do not know exactly what specifically it is about this topic that interests me but I can not help but think how sex workers have no alternative choice in a life when there are no other options available.

One evening Reza, Licholn, and I were walking through one of the markets after dinner talking about the organization they work for. Suddenly, a woman came up to the two of them and started enthusiastically joking with them. She was short, wearing a beautiful dark maroon Sari that was covered in sequence and gem stones. Her hair was beautifully curled and her make-up done as if she was about to take part in the next up and coming Bollywood film. Suddenly Reza opens his bag and hands this woman what looked like to be about 20-30 condoms. After the three of them saw my reaction they immediately started laughing and told me that she was a very close friend, she was also a sex worker in Pabna.

This woman was smiling, laughing, and I could not help but notice how confident she carried herself through her posture, body language, and how open she was open about her sexuality in a Muslim society as she joked around with the three of us, Reza obviously doing the translating. My curiosity got the best of me and I couldn’t help but wanting to seize an opportunity asking her if she would be open to an interview, followed by having her portrait taken, and if she knew any other woman that would be open to this suggestion. Without hesitation, tilting her head to the side with a cheeky smile letting me know she would be more than happy, not before expressing how excited she was to get all dulled up for a photo-shoot and having her photograph taken. We agreed on a time, date, locations, we then said our goodbyes, and parted ways until the interviews the following day.

The day of the interview, Lobani (Woman I met at the night market), Reza, Licholn, Bornna (Lobani’s friend and sex worker), and I went to a guesthouse where the owner of the guesthouse gave us a meeting room free of charge. When we entered the room there were couches and chairs surrounding one main table in the center with two windows offering ample enough light to take photographs. I briefed Reza and Licholn before the interview on what I was going to ask Bornna and Lobani and what I needed from them in regards to translating. As always they were SUPER awesome, supportive, and cooperative.

I sat Lobani and Bornna down and told them what my intentions were behind the interviews, asking them to answer the questions honestly, and to not feel obligated to answer or talk about anything they felt uncomfortable with. I wanted them to be as comfortable and open with me as much as they would allow me to.

When I first met Bornna she had a stone cold sarcastic attitude about her. She was very direct and to the point. She walked with confidence and would speak her mind without hesitation to anyone her challenged her, including men. I found loyal characteristics in her personality surviving on her “treat me as how you want to be treated” attitude or you will feel this woman’s wrath…. Literally.

At first glance Lobani is very short in stature with curves similar to Aretha Franklin. Her eyes are bright allowing her to smile with her eyes like a shy eight year old with a subtle carefree softness to her personality. I found her a bit mysterious yet her smile and child like attitude could melt anyone’s soul with pure love.

The interviews lasted about 1.5 hours, which included a list of questions that I asked both Lobani and Bornna.

The following text will go through the interview so you have an idea of what was asked and how they responded.

LOBANI INTERVIEW:

How old are you?

L-I am 32 years old.

Are you married?

L-I was once married but my husband left me. He left me for another woman when I was 19.

Do you have any children?

L-I do not have any children.

How long have you been a sex worker?

L-Ten years.

Lobani immediately breaks down and we take ten minutes so she can regain her composure.

Where are your parents?

L-My parents have passed on.

Who are the men that come to you for sex?

L-Police, politicians, husbands, NGO executives, charity workers, and single men.

Where do you live?

L-I live alone in town and usually every two months or so I have to find a new place to live, as my landlord does not want a prostitute living in his building.

How much are you able to earn from each man that comes to you for sex?

L-I make on average about 300-500 taka per session ($3.50-$6.50) it works out to be around 10,000 Taka per-month ($125.00)

Do you see yourself getting married again?

L-No

Why not?

L-I have lost faith in ALL men, and I will never trust another men as long as I am alive.

BORNNA INTERVIEW:

How old are you?

B-I am 27 years old.

Were you ever married?

B-My husband left me just like Lobani’s husband left her for another woman.

Do you have any children?

B-I do, her name is Shonile and she is nine years old.

How long have you been a sex worker?

B-Eight years.

How often do men come to you for sex?

B-It depends; some months and weeks are busier than others. It is never consistent it’s always up and down.

Where do you live?

B-I live with my mother.

Does she know you’re a sex worker?

B-NO.

What would your mother do or how would she react if she found out about your situation?

B-…(Making a choking action with her hands).

Have you re-married?

B-No and I will never get married again.

Have you ever suffered from any physical abuse from the men that come to you for sex?

B-Every week.

What exactly do these men do to you?

B-Spit on me, kick me, punch me, call me names, and rape me when I don’t want to give them sex.

How many times have Lobani and you been raped?

B-It happens about twice a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. On some occasions groups of men will come where only one person commits to payment and the rest of them will rape me.

What do you Lobani and Bornna hope for in life?

B-We pray for when life will get better, to stop doing things we are ashamed of, to live a life with happiness.

Lobani.

Lobani.

Lobani.

Bornna.

Bornna.

Bornna.

Bornna & Lobani.

Reza.

Licholn.

Bihari Refugee Camp

Posted: 12 Dec 2011 04:24 AM PST This series of images is of the Bihari refugee camp in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Having trouble getting detailed information from some of the residents, I did some research and found a fantastic article on this particular topic. Now I have never been in a refugee camp and from what I have seen from other photographers images, media, etc. this particular camp is more of a local community/town rather than a camp. Their are schools, markets, businesses, and even entertainment where daily life seems to be manageable within this community, not to mention many smiling faces and the most amazing hospitality… but that is is pretty much what to expect anywhere in Bangladesh..HA!!

Article:

The word ‘Bihari’ literally means a person who belongs to the state of Bihar of India. In Bangladeshi context any one who speaks Urdu is considered to be a Bihari whether that person comes from Bihar or not. Before the Bangladesh Liberation war in 1971, Pakistan Biharis came to East Pakistan in different phases. They were considered as citizens of Pakistan. After the independence of Bangladesh, the Pakistani army evacuated and these Biharis were left behind. Bangladesh scorned the Biharis for having supported the enemy and an anti- Bihari sentiment instigated political persecution and their homes and properties were taken over by the Bengali’s. After the creation of Bangladesh, almost all Biharis were fired from their jobs on various pretenses. Bihari children were expelled from schools. Bihari pensions, bank accounts and investments were seized. Most Bihari homes and businesses were declared abandoned/enemy properties and therefore confiscate under cover of law. Several Government promulgations facilitated the dispossession of Bihari properties. As a result, by mid 1972 nearly one million Biharis found themselves in temporary camps set up around the country.

Bangladesh Government announced the Presidential Order 149 in 1972- as a step towards offering the Bangladeshi citizenship to these Bihari people. According the Government sources nearly 600,000 Biharis accepted the offer. Later, these people assimilated with the larger population and settled down properly. But at that time, a survey was conducted by the ICRC which found that 539,669 Biharis wanted to go back to Pakistan as it was their country of nationality. ICRC started registration for the repatriation of these people without any legal sanction from both the countries.

Later, Pakistan refused to recognize all these Urdu speaking people as her bona fide citizens who already declared themselves as Stranded Pakistanis by registering with the ICRC. Islamabad showed little interest in repatriation because to them they were basically Indian refugees. During the first year of post liberation period this community was quite confident that Pakistan would welcome them as their loyal citizens. From their side, all efforts were made through ICRC and other sources to influence the concerned authorities that the only solution to this problem was repatriation to Pakistan.

In December 2008 general election in Bangladesh, a portion of these Bihari people who were born after 1971 were able to cast their vote for the first time as the citizens of Bangladesh. They are also registered for the National ID card which is associated with getting many benefits in social, economic and political life. In September 2008, Caretaker Government of Bangladesh took this laudable step to reduce their stateless situation.

TO READ THE FULL ARTICLE PLEASE VISIT: http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=9&ved=0CGEQFjAI&url=http%3A%2F%2Fakira-foundation.org%2FDocuments%2Ffellow%2520product%2520%28Tasmia%29.pdf&ei=Yt_lTr-XNY3prQeDl7CXCA&usg=AFQjCNF-ThfA4NULaIllXmxmF43yMEOPgg&sig2=h8h3P4EMPtb0s1i-b1XJPw

Pabna Mental Institution.

Posted: 30 Nov 2011 01:20 AM PST The festival of Eid was just coming to an end and I thought it would be a great time to head out of Dhaka for five days and do a little exploring. I took an overnight bus from Dhaka all the way up to Tetulia which is located in the far North about 20km from the Indian border. After a few connection buses, some hot cha (Tea), a decent night sleep surprisingly on a crazy bus, I finally arrived at 10 am (12 hours later) in Tetulia. I quickly found a guesthouse and got my self settled followed by a quick two hour nap to catch up on some sleep.

When I woke, the sun was shining, I packed my gear, and headed out to do a little exploring and to find the tea plantations. Tetulia itself is a very small town that is surrounded by wheat fields, rice fields, and tea gardens that span for hundreds of kilometers throughout the country side. After about an hour of walking I found a couple tea estates that produce the tea I was looking for, but to my dismay there were no workers in the fields. Puzzled and a little confused, suddenly a young Bengali boy riding his bicycle approached me and asked me what I was doing and in PERFECT English. After introductions he told me that the woman workers would not be returning to work until Sunday. As it was only Thursday, I didn’t like what I was hearing because if you couldn’t tell I like to have people in my photographs and had no interest in photographing trees all day… HAHA. The young Bengali boy asked if I wanted to join his family for lunch and as it turns out his uncle owned the land I was exploring on. Lunch as always is amazing in Bangladesh with a variety of food, meats, spices, and of course unnecessary amounts of rice. After lunch I thanked the family for their company, lunch, their hospitality as I had to keep exploring, and the family had to head back to their village. We exchanged our contact information and all of us went our separate ways.

Realizing that I didn’t want to spend three days waiting for workers to return to the tea gardens, I decided to head to a town called Pabna where about a month ago, I was doing research on a mental hospital and thought it might make for some interesting visuals and possibly a great story. The next morning I was up at 7am and caught the first bus out of town. Nine hours later and two bus rides, I arrived in Pabna. On the bus to Pabna I met a two Bengali boys Reza and Likhon that spoke decent English and offered to take me to a reputable guest house in town as they mentioned prostitution in Pabna is very prominent making it difficult to find accommodation where your not going to be solicited (Another story/Blog post coming soon…). We hopped off the bus and within 5 minutes I was at my guest house. Reza and Likhon said they could meet me the next morning and would be more than happy to help me gain access in the mental hospital. I booked my room which was about $4.00 a night that included waking up to several two inch size cockroaches crawling on me throughout the 3 days I spent in Pabna, despite my efforts using the mosquito net to keep them out…. Hey it’s better than the rat incident in Bhola…HAHAHAHA.

The next morning I met with Reza and Likhon and we headed for the Pabna Mental Hospital. All the research I had done previously on this institution mentioned they were desperate for funding, more qualified care workers, lack of facilities, etc. We arrived at about 11am and I asked to talk to the person in charge. The man that was supposed take me to the head boss was on edge the entire time as he offered to give me a tour, always whispering, and looking around as if he was being watched. He took me around the hospital letting me view the patients but would not allow me enter their rooms where they were being held. The rooms were very large about 40′ x 100′ where up to 30 patients were kept in one room. I kept asking him if I could take photo’s but he said it was not allowed until we were alone in one area and suddenly he said I could quickly take one photo but it had to be quick. This guy completely rubbed me the wrong way and I had enough of this sneaking around as if we were walking on egg shells. I stopped him, told him I wanted to see and talk to the person in charge. He said it was not possible. So I asked him again, and this time Reza stepped in and told him exactly what I wanted because tip toeing around a government hospital randomly taking photo’s without permission can create a bad situation. After much convincing, I finally met with the head doctor and told him my intentions and the type of access I was looking for. Within five minutes I had the permission I was looking for, however was not able to get access to the woman’s ward.

The last thing I want to do is put a bad taste in anyone’s mouth from any topic and/or subject matter I choose to photograph. From the research that I had done on the Pabna Mental Hospital it seems they were genuinely wanting to improve conditions. However from what I witnessed with my own two eyes, speaking to patients, and the attitudes from some of the staff, this cry for help couldn’t of been farther from the truth. Mentioned earlier in the post, there were 30 patients in locked in one room wards, human feces  in areas throughout the rooms, staff sitting around doing nothing, and staff screaming at patients for no apparent reason.

As I entered one of the communal rooms where the patients are locked up 20 hours of the day, I asked to photograph one of the patients and he enthusiastically was willing. Suddenly he started to sing and within 2 seconds one of the staff members starts shouting and approaches him ready to smack the back of his head to stop him from singing. I looked back at the staff and told him to be quiet, back off, and let the man sing as it was not harming me, him, or anybody else. Another instance I asked a patient why he was here. He responded in PERFECT ENGLISH and said his father in-law admitted him without telling him. His father in-laws reason was he talked to fast. His father in-law assumed he rapid speech must make him a drug addict so he sent him to the hospital for one month. I didn’t know who to believe.

Now after being in Bangladesh for almost five months I have realized there is ALWAYS two sides to every story. I decided to head to the office where they admit patients where they do the psychiatric assessments. As I entered the building there was already a steady line of about 30 people waiting to enter a room at the end of the hall were a medical curtain blocked anyone’s view from the office. People were entering the office and within about four minutes they exited and were taken away by staff. I asked Reza what was going on, and he said the doctor was assessing. Now I don’t know how assessments work in the medical field but can you really assess someone in four minutes?? In this line outside the office, I encountered a man that had chains around his wrist and a woman holding the other end of the chain as if to make sure this man was not going to escape from her sight. On the other side of the man was another older woman. It turns out that the woman holding the chains was the man’s aunt and the other woman was his Mother. I asked for permission to photograph the three of them and they graciously said yes with a slight nod to the side. Within minutes the mother started to cry and speaking in Bangla. Reza said she was extremely upset over her son as this was the third time she has admitted him because of his violent outburst at home and unable to keep a job to help support the family. As she continues to talk the son suddenly starts saying random things and staring into what seems to be nothing with no reaction to me, or anyone else surrounding him. After more questions the son starts to break down in tears, saying he doesn’t want to go back, and just as fast as he cry’s out for help, he quickly loses focus and stares into the oblivion.

The doctor now comes out of his office and suddenly the son grabs the doctors hand as he walks by and again cry’s out pleading with him that he is fine, and that it will never happen again. The mother and aunt tell me they have no more energy left. They have spent all their money on treatment from the hospital, the mother continually has to watch his son just in case he gets arrested or causes any harm to anyone else, and they don’t know what else to do as they have no where or anyone else to turn to.

This is a photo of the man who was going to be smacked for singing. His voice was actually very comforting and it seemed to calm everyone down in the room. Some other patients even started to sing along with him.

A patient quickly enjoys a cigarette before being told to return to his room/cell.

A group of patients enthusiastically pose for a photograph. The staff said it was dangerous to enter the room and they might be right. However they were so gentle with me and most of them even knew a little English. We had fun taking photographs and singing.

The Aunt, mother, and son waiting to be assessed by the head doctor.

The son breaking down into tears as he realizes what is about to happen to him.

The mother cries as she is extremely upset over her son's condition, situation, and that nothing seems to be working given that this is her third time in this circumstance.

Son being taken away to the psychiatric ward.

EID al-ADHA (WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC CONTENT OF COWS BEING SLAUGHTERED)

Posted: 16 Nov 2011 08:24 AM PST Before I write anything I just want to warn EVERYONE that this particular post is EXTREMELY GRAPHIC AND CONTAINS CONTENT THAT MIGHT OFFEND SOME PEOPLE.

I feel it is important for people to see these images because nothing should be censored when it comes to a countries customs and traditions. I am posting these photo’s specifically from a viewers perspective, my intentions are NOT to criticize, exploit, or create a false sense of the Muslim culture and it’s people.  My friend Minhaj invited me to his families home to experience and partake in the Eid al-Adha festivities. It was an amazing experience and one that I recommend ANYONE to see and experience.

Now I am not going to explain Eid so I found some info and decided to post it because it does a WAYYYY better job at explaining the festival than I do.-> Read Below…

Eid al-Adha- “Festival of Sacrifice” or “Greater Eid” is an important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide to commemorate the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son Ishmael as an act of obedience to God, before God intervened to provide him with a sheep— to sacrifice instead.

Eid al-Adha is the latter of two Eid festivals celebrated by Muslims, whose basis comes from Sura 2 (Al-Baqara) Ayah 196 in the Qur’an. Like Eid ul-Fitr, Eid al-Adha begins with a Sunnah prayer of two Raka’ah followed by a sermon .

Eid al-Adha is celebrated annually on the 10th day of the 12th and the last Islamic month of Dhu al-Hijjah of the lunar Islamic calendar.Eid al-Adha celebrations start after the Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia by Muslims worldwide, descend from Mount Arafat. The date is approximately 70 days (2 Months & 10 days) after the end of the month of Ramadan, i.e. Eid-ul-Fitr. Ritual observance of the holiday lasts until sunset of the 13th day of Dhu al-Hijjah.

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In the markets with Minhaj and his family choosing the cows that will be slaughtered for the Eid Holiday.

NO part of the cow gets wasted.

The poor line up in front of the wealthy people's homes where 1/3 goes to the poor, 1/3 to your neighbors, and 1/3 for your family.

Ship Building And Repair Yards Part 2

Posted: 29 Oct 2011 01:48 AM PDT The ship building yards have always seems to reveal the most random situations and experiences each time I visit this place. The environment is constantly changing and my reasons for returning each time are more out of curiosity than anything. I am not trying to focus on any social stigma, human exploitation, or anything along those lines in these images. This is a place where people come to work so they can support their families just like everyone else in the working world. Each time I return, I am ALWAYS welcomed with generous smiles, a friendly cup of cha (tea), and eager workers pulling me into the most intriguing and intimate areas. It is an interesting place filled with many amazing experience and photographic opportunities that I thoroughly enjoy and one I will keep coming back to.

I thought I would keep this post short as I know in the past a have made everyone do a lot of reading. I hope you enjoy the images and thank-you again for all the support!!

If your on Facebook and/or Twitter, drop me a line, an e-mail, or even just to say “HI”, always love to hear from you guys.

http://www.facebook.com/jeremy.fokkens

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jeremy-Fokkens-Photography/110365682318662

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Cheers,

Jeremy

Gulshan 1 & 2

Posted: 16 Oct 2011 03:24 AM PDT Over the past few weeks I have been working on a series in Dhaka photographing beggars that frequent an area called Gulshan One and Two. Gulshan is the major banking sector in Dhaka where some of the wealthiest people live and do their business. Gulshan One and Two are completely separate areas each having their own major intersection where shops, banks, markets, and street stands surround the intersection circle where many beggars congregate.

The traffic in Dhaka is a REAL PROBLEM and that is an understatement. To give you a comparison, I traveled by local bus from Saderghat to Banani which is about 12km. Now in any western city to cover this sort of distance should only take maybe 30-45 minutes on a bad day. Now imagine 2.5 hours… and that’s EVERYDAY in Dhaka. It gets even worse during Ramadan where it took on several occasions 1.5 hours to travel 3 km.  You ask why don’t I walk… after those instances, I now do.

The reason I bring up the traffic is because when traffic builds up; which is a ALL the time, these beggars in the street capitalize on the traffic situation; especially in the wealthy areas which allows them to walk between the cars hitting up about 40 cars in a single session before the light turns green.

These beggars work in teams using any possible way to make a quick buck selling everything from balloons, stickers, maps, and even using elderly people to gain the sympathy card.  You will also see beggars with severe deformities begging from the side of the road trying to get money from any person who walks by. Some of these beggars are on their own, some are homeless, and surprisingly some even go to school. I was shocked when I met 11 year old Rubina who attends school during the day but comes to Gulshan two begging for money at night from 4pm-10pm. When I asked why, she responded by saying ” Dad has no work and Mum is gone, I need to take care of dad, he is sick”.

Everyone that begs in Gulshan has a similar story. I met Irene who has three children and her husband works as a rickshaw driver. She recently was arrested because the police started cracking down on the majority of people begging in Gulshan One and Two circle and Irene now stays at home until the police situations begins to calms down.

In this series I’m trying to photograph the contrast between the rich and the poor. I want to capture each individuals personality where their situation in life does not hinder the energy that comes across in each photograph.

Thanks for reading…

Cheers-> Jeremy

Irene and one of her two sons.

Rubina begging on the streets.

Johnny and Kobita.