The old men had gathered to celebrate a wedding. Two men in their twenties; a bunch of young boys and girls some distance away. The women were elsewhere. As we left, the old men began singing, dancing slowly. In a decade or two, these rituals might be nothing more than memories; the stories those young boys and girls laughing and playing over there in the shade might tell their children. "I remember one day when the old men were at the wedding a foreigner arrived. He had long pale hair and a big camera. Now we don't get married like that. No one knows how to do the ceremonies properly anymore. But there are lots more foreigners."
All content © 2008 Pete McGregor