Money, ethics, poverty.

So the other day on one of our photo excursions a very strange thing started to occur. As the teenagers and I wondered through the narrow dusty stone walkways and around the crooked brick buildings of Nagwa (the slums where the teens are from), the usually smiling people started to retreat into their homes as soon as they saw us coming. The saggy skin on the beautiful brown faces of ancient women and men did not tighten into their usual smiles. Instead they stared fiercely back at our little wondering group and stepped into the darkness of their doorways. Women out in the walk ways cutting onions whose juices brought tears to a passerby's eyes suddenly scooped up their vegetables and turned away from us. When the people heard us coming only the faint smell of curry and sounds of scattering footsteps clued us in to the fact that there was presence of life in the same spot only a moment earlier. I could not understand this sudden change. We were walking through Nagwa, these people were the teenagers neighbors, their community, their 'family'.

After the outing we sat in the brightly lit office and reviewed the excursion. I turned to the translator Ashkay and asked him to question the kids about how they thought it went, was taking photos in Nagwa easier or harder than usual? The kids were silent and their faces expressionless. I repeated the question again, nodding my head in encouragement. "So was it easier, harder, the same?" One of the braver teens, Dhiraj slowly tilted his head and looked directly into our faces. His dark skin made his eyes especially bright and they glittered and danced angrily while he started his explanation.

"The people of the village are angry. They have found out that for every picture chosen we earn 5,000 rupees. They think we are using them. Using their faces for profits. They also think we are making a mockery of their poverty. We are showing the world how India is poor and suffering. They say to us, 'who do you think you are! Now that you have a camera you think you are better than us. You are one of us! You are betraying your community and stealing from us by making us look like fools.'"

The rest of the teenagers avoided eye contact but all nodded their heads in agreement. Then Anil piped up adding,

"They think we are doing nothing and are jealous. They say, 'anyone can take a picture' you have no skills. Why should you be getting 5,000 rupees for doing nothing!'"

These answers were quite confronting. I was immediately taken aback. A knot started to grow in my stomach. Yet, I knew I had to act quickly to keep the morale of the group going. I did not want these stabbing accusations to sever the artistic and personal growth of the group. As these thoughts rapidly ran through my head and sunk to the depths of my thoughts the tight knot in my stomach was suddenly ignited. I felt my face grow red and hot, not from the heat but from passion and anger. Immediately I emphatically explained that they were not "doing nothing". I asked them to remember how shy they had been in the beginning, how they were afraid to press that little silver button at the tops of their cameras. I reminded them how much they had learned, how their skills confidence had improved. I told them that they had come to class for hours every week. They had sacrificed their time to learn the art of photography, camera maintenance and care. Now they knew how to beautifully capture their world through the magic of pictures. This was amazing. THEY were amazing. As visual proof I hit the start button on the large office computer and a few moments after the characteristic chime signalling the computer was up and running the silver screen was filled with the bright colors of their photographs. Each spectacular reference to a moment of time that they had preserved flashed on the screen. I showed them how beautiful their photos were and reminded them how hard they had worked to capture these moments so perfectly.

After my outburst the lurking half smiles on their faces showed that my mini rant had for the time being succeeded. However I knew that this battle wasn't over. Here we were trying fight poverty and give the kids opportunities they would never have and yet the war was much more complicated than I had ever imagined. How would it feel to have the people you have spent your lives with, grew up beside, and had shared all your secrets suddenly turn against you because of jealousy? What would happen as the teenagers became more and more successful when more of their photographs became postcards? At the moment they were only being verbally abused but would it turn physical? How far would the people take their misgivings? Of course the whole situation is complicated by the fact that they are indeed teenagers. These kids are at the awkward stage in their life where people's opinions of them are all the more potent as they have the added burden of trying to come to terms with who and what they are. Now they had to deal with two important competing forces--community acceptance or working with an organisation with the potential to change their lives in many ways.

These thoughts floated through my head as I tried to get a decent grip on some sort of solution. However the more i tried the more I became lost in the fog. Suddenly I remembered a story I had come across in one of my anthropology classes. It was about this women who was conducting research in a small South African village. During her stay she witnessed and been part of a very morally disturbing event. The story goes that a group of three deviant teenage boys had created some trouble. I cant recall exactly what they did but it was a relatively minor offense like throwing stones at a window or stealing candy from a general store. However there was a tradition of very strict social punishment and as a result of their mischief the boys were to be 'necklaced' in front of the town. Being 'necklaced' meant having a tire filled with gasoline placed around your neck and set on fire. As a result of this punishment the boys of course were badly burned and their wounds had put them close to death. The anthropologist who was present was shocked and horrified by the chain of events. She took it upon herself to take the boys to a hospital and essentially saved their lives. However upon returning to the village she received a very unexpected reaction. The town was extremely angry with her. They felt that she had betrayed their traditions. The boys were meant to have suffered and the suffering would have taught them a lesson. Now she had made them weak and they would not have learned their lesson. Worse, the boys own mothers were the most upset. They thought that the anthropologist had taken their boys as 'weak' and insulted them. The mothers refused to take their children back because they would never be men. How was the anthropologist to deal with this complicated situation? By saving the boys lives she had basically made them into social outcasts. Had she really 'saved' their lives or would they had been better off struggling to recover and at least being accepted by their community.

The situation here in Varanasi with my teenage photographers isn't quite extreme but has been quite morally troubling. The occurrence has especially been on my mind lately because I am very close to completing a photo book using the teenagers pictures. I am currently attempting to decide how to distribute any profit that the book incurs. My first reaction was that the photos were the teenagers photos so 100% of the profit should go to the artists. Sure I have put in a lot of work, but my thoughts were that I am lucky enough to have a United States citizenship. I can work in a country that has a strong currency, working conditions and minimum wage. A mere two months of a basic U.S.A salary can fund a year of living in India. I thought I don't need the profit from the book, they do. They cannot earn the wages I can. However now i realize the impact wealth and profit can have. What effect will it have if all of a sudden the kids became quite wealthy? How would they know how to spend it, to manage it? Also there is the issue self-reliance. If we gave everything to the kids perhaps they would just think 'oh well i don't have to do anything some kind NGO will do everything for me'. It is a bit important to understand that others work has contributed to the end result--to teach them not to be reliant on hand outs.

In the end Jenneke and I have decided that if indeed the book does get published and make a profit 40% will go to the kids, 30% to fairmail and I will earn the other 30%. I am still unsure of how I feel about this, but for now this is where it sits. There are still many questions to be answered of course. What about the people whose pictures are in the book? Should they also get money? Should some of the profit go to the overall community? Should we tell the kids that they have to spend it on education and cannot use it to fund, for example bride wealth, or a new tv? The entire experience has been a powerful example of money's potential influence. Change can be as good as it can be bad. Ideals are wonderful but the realities of poverty, attitude and Importance of community can never be forgotten or disregarded.