Fınal entry from Van

Been a couple of days since last entry..been a little crazy here in what I thought was to be quiet and sleepy Van. There have been several power outages..nearly every day for a few hours...never predictable and always a pain when you want to upload images or need to charge batteries.

The above image is of an old Kurdish man, Çindi,(Chindi) who is the Grand Uncle of a person I met here in town. Decided after an unsettling trip up into the mountains to sort stay closer to home and see who/what I could find. Ill explain.

A few days ago my guide and I went on a hasty day trip with a friend and dolmuş driver to his town Çatak, and his nomadic village WAY up in the mountains next to a village called Nahir. When I say way, I mean WAY, like 4x4 pickup truck material. The mountains are exactly like those of Los Alamos and the Jemez; harsh nude volcanic mountains that just rocket up into the sky with deep rugged canyons. I think it was a good hour or so up switch back trails to get to the nomads. We spent time with the Shepard’s, and some of the men sheering wool. We then went down a canyon by foot to a plateau where the yurt tents were. The location was breath taking and very extreme..almost impossible to capture in photographs. We met the villagers who are not so distant relatives of our driver, Dirviş.

The Kurds are from tribes, like our Native Americans. Dirviş is from the Xawişta tribe...nomads..raise sheep for wool and food, they have a few cows and some horses, as well as a few crops of vegetables. Their land is expansive and seems to have no real defined boundries with fences or markers..but they know what is theirs. Very nice people displaying the typical Kurdish hospitality of yogurt, bread, cheeses, tea and conversation. I really enjoy some of these rituals and have been learning how to move within them and use them to my advantage. The following is why.

It can be very difficult and awkward to be white, blonde and blue eyed, as well as large compared to these people. I am watched and gawked at more than I am able to observe and study the people. They are more curious as to why a man, an American man would want to visit them and their town or city or village. Everywhere I go I would be followed by mostly children and a few woman and men to see what I was looking at, photographing, what I did, how I responded, as well as wanting to practice the 5 words they learned in English. It can be exhausting at times. This time I thought I would work more with-in their system and culture: that was actually the whole point of this trip!

We decided to go midday and sit with them..have tea and talk and let them get use to me and ask all of their questions, which there were many! I was able to make a few simple images as we walked into the village and found the chief of the village and were invited into the gathering tent for food and tea. We sat for a couple of hours while they showed us their various tools, the wool, some of their ceremonial cloths, ate some of their cheeses and yogurt and bread. One gentleman, a village guard even showed us his uniform and their weapons.... which struck me as odd...not sure why. In these situations, I always ask but will defer to NOT photograph..again to let things get settled and let everyone get to understand each other, especially if I am within someone’s home or yurt...it can be considered insulting. So I hide the cameras till later. Tahir, my guide told me that it was permissible to photograph him if I wished, so I did. He, and everyone else liked this idea very much. At that moment one of the younger village men heard of me and ran into the tent to say his Turk/English -hello how are yous- and sat next to me. He wore new cloths, like a young soccer player, and had clean shoes. I even teased him about it since he is at least 3 hours from civilization and works like...well... a nomadic villager. He laughed and proudly said he was a strong village guard like the man I photographed. My guide, Tahir picked up on something, and said it might be time to move on..make 4x5 images and leave. The light was still bad..so I just walked around the village with 3/4 of the people I was to photograph following me everywhere. I walked up the hills to do an over view with the soccer guy leading the way, and Tahir yelled at me to come down...it was time to go. I snapped back and said I HAD to make 4x5 images first..that was what I paid for. We did finally..only 3-4..and not that great....something was off, just not there. This happens sometimes, just not the right light or subject or time..cant always have winners. I noticed that soccer guy was always near me, saying the 5 English words frequently..and I noticed Tahir and Derviş were not around. Well, I finally, after 4 weeks of traveling alone into bizarre areas and situations..got nervous. You have to envision that when I make these images, there are at least 30 people huddled around me as close as they can get to see and watch...it can be cute...at times...just not this time. I yelled for Tahir, and he came running. He said sharply in his Napoleonic way that we had to leave..NOW. Derviş came around the corner on a donkey with food and wool for his family, Tahir grabbed my bag from a kid that was helping me, and we walked briskly from the village up hill, through the next little tent camp and farther up the mountain where we left the van. Honestly, I really didn’t think anything was wrong...I was actually pissed that the light was getting good and they wouldn’t let me stop to make portraits. Tahir would have none of it...we had to go..It would be dark quickly and the mountains are unsafe at night. We left, quickly, with me pissed and fuming in the middle of the van.

We got to the bottom of the mountain and found a spot to refill our water bottles and wash up a bit for the ride home. Tahir and I had words about the trip and how disappointed I was. Tahir apologized profusely, and explained that he did not feel well, and felt unsafe in the village. My understanding was that these were his people, his culture, and his nation. He informed me that they were Dervişes people...his TRIBE. We spat for a bit, but I let it go..It’s not my town and not my business.

The next morning Tahir and Derviş met me for morning tea. Derviş speaks no English, so Tahır and another man would explain in tandem when someone spoke to me, as they did with Derviş. I honestly trust these people, they have helped me everyday to learn and study and photograph, I really do trust them...I have to. Derviş immediately proceeded to explain to Tahir and I what happened yesterday, and why things were so odd, apparently for all of us. Tahir and Derviş are from separate tribes of Kurdish people. Their villages are a few miles apart over the mountains that Tahir showed me in the village. Apparently a couple of weeks ago one of Tahırs tribe had killed one of Dervişes. I think we all know how this progresses...i.e. Hatfield/McCoy. Hang on, cause this is the twist...the person was killed because he was a military informant against the PKK..the Kurdish Workers Party.

Each village has its own guards to police and protect. They are village appointed and only applicable within that village. The military knows this. The PKK are backed and protected by these outer lying nomadic villages, like the Al Queda in the mountains of Afghanistan. The PKK are fighting to help the Kurdish gain independence. The Gendarme, or military has figured this out and has taken to bribing the village guards for information and the movements of the gorillas. The man killed was one of the informants. The guy with the soccer cloths was also an informant, but a very stupid one. Tahir figured this out, and lied to him to protect me, as well as himself. The guy could have killed Tahir for being from the tribe that killed his friend/relative, but he was more interested in me, and being a model, and had not heard what tribe Tahir was from, and wanted to be my friend. For once, dealing with vain idiots seems to have protected me from a slightly awkward situation.

Everything turned out fine and there was no immediate danger, but very good lesson to listen to your instincts...but more importantly to your Napoleonic friend and guide!

I leave tomorrow morning for Istanbul for another two days..and then back home to the USA, although it will be Oregon for rest, relaxation and re-entry into America. I am very sad to be leaving...but I will come back.