Idiot Village*

I will never call someone an “Idiot” because his/her mental capabilities could be judge as shorter, or because a person have expression problems or any incapability physical or mental. In Karangpatihan, a small village in Ponorogo (Java, Indonesia), “Idiots” are the kids, the husband, or the father or mother who can not take care of their self by their own and the ones who have not full conditions to work. A word, “Idiots”, which it’s not disrespectful to these people, or it is not judging them, it is just a way to categorize; same as when I am in Indonesia I am a “bule”, or “le blanc” in Gabon, “el gringo” in Guatemala o “Mister” when the kids want to ask me something.

In November 2011 I watched in the local news from Java (Indonesia) a reportage about a village, the Idiot villages who had many mental retired; I decide to take a look in the area by myself, and see what was going on there.

Four hours by car from Yogyakarta, in the area of Ponorogo (Java), lost at the end of a really small road who ended in a mountain range, we found Karangpatihan; no electricity, few water and just enough signal to use portable phones in some areas. The main Idiot Village.

It took as two coffees of conversation to get the approval of the village’s Major to start a photo reportage in the area, we were introduce to the heads of the community and during the next 3 days we did a full time photoshooting in Karangpatihan.

Desa Karangpatihan is a 450 people village, South East from Ponorogo in Java Timur. During 1963 to 1973 a rat pest due to a dry season left the village with out food; the rats were eating all the fields. During those 10 years the village-dwellers poison the lands until they kill the pest, but they also poison their people. After 1973 many of the new births had mental problems, it was so dramatic that in the year 2000 from 520 village-dwellers 112 were mentally handicapped (almost 22% of the population). Now a days, from 450 people there are 69 “Idiots” (15% of the habitants), 15 are under 19 years old, and 54 people are between 20 to 40 years old. Usually the “idiots” die before the age of 40.

I was talking with Karangpatihan’s Major, taking notes, but after some minutes I had it to stop and ask him why he call the mentally retired people “Idiots”; he just said: “they are idiots, that’s the way we call them”, I asked him if they did not want to use another word who was less offensive and a way to do not discriminate them by the language, he answered: “we call them “Idiots”, because they are “Idiots”, but we do not discriminate them, they are our sons and daughters, all the village respect them and treat them as a normal village-dwellers, but we know they can not do all the things as a normal person can; it is just the way we call them, that’s it”. Sometimes we (occidentals) try to be polite by the way we talked, trying to do not discriminate anybody by the languages, but then we act in real life stepping in and discriminating who is different (that’s call hypocrisy), Karangpatihan habitants use the word “Idiots” as a name, understanding that it is not an insult or a disrespectful way to the mentally handicapped, because their acts in the real life are polite and gender, respecting them as a another village-dwellers.

The economy from Karangpatihan are the rice fields, potatoes, some pulse and the ships and chickens; they also use cows as a way to buy lands or save money. The village have a middle school, a muslim mosque and two almost dry rivers ( two big river’s bed, coming from high mountains, but really few water on it…I asked a bout the issue, but I did not get any answer, they just told me there is no more water coming).

The Major told me that all human being must be accept by the Muslim believes, that’s why when many “Idiots” were  given birth during the 70’s all the families accept them as a part of them. Thanks to it, “Idiots” walk freely in the village, they feel happy and if they are capable they help their family in the fields.

Most of the families who have a first son or daughter who is mentally handicap, they know that more will come. As Karangpatihan Major said, all the families who have an “Idiot” they will have at least one or two more, in the other hand, there are families who do not have any mentally handicap daughter or son.

In Karangpatihan there is no doctor, there is no one to tell the families their chances, the activities or the way to help their handicap children; actually when a one year old kid can not talk or listen, they will do an early diagnose of mental problems, but until the age of 14 they will not know it for sure. This lack of doctors and social employers make the “Idiots” to be unable to develop to increase their knowledge and to live a better life. Some years ago the village-dwellers took their mental handicap kids to school, but the kids couldn’t follow the lessons and also couldn’t follow year by year the grade loosing his class mades, so they did not want to keep in school, since then, no “Idiots” going to school.

To conclude, Karangpatihan it is a pretty village, with really poor families who try to work in the dry lands, earning sometimes just 5.000 Rp (0,04 euros) per a full day work at the fields; thanks to a great community who work together and solve the problems together the life style it sane, but it is absolutely unacceptable to leave this community alone when the problems they are suffering are out of their comprehension and due to an exceptional reason, like it is poisoning their own land and their own community.

Sadiman (73 years old), husband of Mesinem (66 years old) have a daughte called Tuni (35 years old) who is mentally handicapped. They live all together in this house and have a small profit by the incoming from a small land they have in front of the house. Tuni is widow and have one kid who was shy to appear in the photos.

Boiran is 35 years old, the youngest of two brothers; son of Lamin (65 years old) who got blind in 2009 because of cataract. Danem is the mother and wife, who is 55 years old, but was working in the moment we took the photos, she is the only one who bring money to the house.

Jaminem it is a 49 years old woman who can not work, her parents are death; two of her brothers died in 2011, they were also mentally handicap. Now she lives alone with her last brother who also have mental problems and work in a small fields in front of their house.

Jedeng it is a 40 years old man who lives with his parents, he can help working in the fields.

Jamun (37 years old) and Bodong (40 years old) are two brother, the only kids of a widow mother who is 60 years old and who was working in the moment we took the photos, she is the only one who brings home money.

Lestari is 23 years old, she lives in her grandparents home (Ginem, 75 years old and Miskam, 81 years old). Her mother it is a widow worker who works on the fields bringing all the money for the entire family.

Toiran (42 years old) and Pairah ( 38 years old) are a married couple, both of them are mentally handicaps and are raising a 8 years old kid called Nyomo who goes to school and so far it is going perfectly.

Nemplek it is a 65 years old widow mother, she lives with Cikrak (33 years old) her only daughter who can help very few in the small piece of field they can work in front of their house; they also have 5 goats.

When Gareng (38 years old) was a kid, her father died, three years ago she become blind.  Now a days her mother, Toimah (64 years old), takes care of them, working in some one lands for 15.000 Rp (1,2 Euro), but she is to old to work everyday, so many times they just have plants from the mountain to eat.

Gondar (60 years old) is another widow mother, her son is Gimun (40 years old). They work together in a little land they have behind the house. Gondar’s husband died when the son was a baby. I asked Karangpatihan’s Major why all the widows who lost their husband when they were still young did not married again, and he answered: “If the woman married again, no one from the village will buy her products from the land”

Dila is a 13 years old girl, she is the daughter of Katina, the only mother of the village who is divorce from another husband. Katina has two daughters (from her other marriage couple) working in Singapore, thank’s to that they are one of the most wealthy family from Karangpatihan.

Wandi (35 years old) and Mentil (30 years old) are an “Idiot” couple, they married 2 years ago with the agreement of the village-dwellers because both of them are able to work and raise a kid. Their son is Agung, unfortuantley it looks he also have mentally problems.

For this essay I had the help of Kiki Putra as an assistant and Febrina Aritonang, thank you!

Some behind the scene:

Behind the scene photos by Febrina Aritonang

Ángeles City se encuentra a una hora y media en autobús desde Manila hacia el noroeste. Es una ciudad prospera porque hay un aeropuerto internacional, re-construido por el gobierno a principio de los 90’s después de que el volcán Mount Pinatubo asediara la zona evacuando a 60.000 civiles y a 18.000 militares estadounidenses que trabajaban en la base militar que allí fue construida a principios de siglo. Tras la erupción del volcán y el desalojo de la ciudad el gobierno de los Estados Unidos no volvió a habilitar la base aérea, tampoco construyeron otra base en Filipinas ya que el Gobierno Filipino no renovó el tratado que permitía a las fuerzas militares norte-americanas tener un control militar en el país.

Dos años después de la erupción, en 1993, cuando la ciudad estaba deshabitada y toda las empresas habían decidido que era una zona de alto riesgo para invertir, el gobierno reconstruyo la base en aeropuerto, tratando de atraer las inversiones de nuevo, y así fue, dando como resultado una de las ciudades más prosperas de Filipinas para cerrar negocios, para el turismo y para el juego.

Cuando aterricé en Manila y cogí uno de los autobuses que pasaban por Pampanga, la provincia donde se encuentra Ángeles City, sólo sabía que era la ciudad del turismo sexual más barata y aconsejable para tener sexo rápido. Información que provenía de diferentes foros de Internet donde turistas sexuales cuentan sus experiencias al mundo, comparan destinos y dan consejos con aires de conquistadores a los novatos ansiosos por iniciarse.

En la estación de autobuses cogí un moto-carro e indique que me llevase a varios hoteles que había buscado por Internet; la oferta de habitaciones nada tiene que envidiar a la que hay en Benidorm, desde habitaciones baratas  con cama y ventilador hasta lujosos hoteles donde las habitaciones vip cuentan con jacuzzy, barra de bar y piscinas. Hasta que di con el que definitivamente fue mi hotel por dos semanas me cruce con varios turistas sexuales; eran las 10 de la mañana cuando un anciano se despedía de dos chicas jovencitas, sonriente él y sonriente ellas, bromeaba y las pagaba un “trike” (las motocicletas con carro que hacen servicios de taxi) de la misma manera que un abuelo da la propina a sus dos nietas para que se compren un helado. En el Marquis Hotel un hombre australiano charlaba a carcajadas con la recepcionista, una noche de hazañas sexuales había terminado y un nuevo día de conquistador comenzaba parecía trasmitir su sonriente y blanquisima dentadura. Al interrumpir con mi llegada y antes de que pudiera quitarme la mochila, el ex-marine australiano enérgicamente me pregunta mi edad, respondo que 28 años, el se ríe y me felicita por haber descubierto el paraíso tan joven; tres días después recuerdo la conversación cuando tengo que salir de uno de los clubs con las tripas saliendo por la boca  (arcadas)  por ver una felación de un niña de 18 años a un hombre de 60 a las 2 de la tarde.

Son las 12 del mediodía, el calor es insoportable y recorro sin orden las calles de Ángeles City mientras pienso en las normas que tiene el hotel y que me ha enumerado el mozo de llaves. La primera es que mi habitación no da derecho a llevar a más de dos chicas a la vez; la segunda es que ninguna mujer que haya entrado conmigo podrá salir del hotel sin que yo antes de mi aprobación a través de una llamada de teléfono a mi habitación; y la tercera es que sólo tengo derecho a un cambio de sabanas por día. Sin darme apenas cuenta estoy de lleno en el parque de atracciones del sexo, donde todo esta reglado, donde todos los clubs tienen un modus operandi común, donde todas las atracciones tienen un precio y donde me puedo montar en las que quiera y cuantas veces quiera.

La bienvenida al distrito de Balibago te la dan las relaciones publicas de los clubs; enfermeras en minifalda, conejitas estilo playboy, chicas en bikini y vestidos de noche hacen su trabajo cobijadas bajo la pocas sombras que el sol de mediodía deja. Inocentemente siempre había creído que el consumo del sexo se hacía por la noche, cuando la oscuridad protege de miradas indiscretas, pero Fields Avenue (una calle de apenas 900 metros con más de 50 prostibulos) abre todo el año a todas horas y no existe nada que despierte la conciencia del cliente, es su satisfaciendo la que prevalece cualquiera que sea la hora. Abrumado y nervioso por las llamadas, los coqueteos y miradas lascivas de las relaciones públicas decido entrar en Tresure Island, donde no había chicas que te recibiesen con sus juegos. Para mi sorpresa, descubro tras la puerta un local minúsculo donde 20 chicas en braguitas y camisetas blancas recortadas a tijera cubriendo lo justo para tapar los pezones vitorean mi entrada con un saludo al unísono que no comprendo. Atravieso el club en 20 pasos hasta llegar a la barra. El trayecto se me hace eterno mientras me veo reflejado en espejos que cubren por completo las paredes de los 50 metros cuadrados de local y noto las miradas que me siguen y analizan cada paso. “Una cerveza, por favor.”

Peter, John y David son tres ex-marines retirados, dos de Australia y uno de Estado Unidos. Conocieron Angeles cuando estuvieron destinados en la base militar de Clarks, creada durante la segunda guerra mundial para desplazar a las tropas japonesas que habían tomado Filipinas. Ya entonces consumieron sexo, después encontraron el amor de una filipina cuando decidieron volver como turistas y por último se juntaron para abrir dos locales el Lollipop y Tresaure Island. No son grandes emprendedores y tampoco tienen una visión de negocio innovadora, tan sólo copiaron lo que allí ya había y lo que los clientes han ido moldeando como su paraíso durante más de 40 años. Una vez conocido un local y una vez conocidas las reglas iguales para todos el parque de atracciones de Fields Avenue te abrirá sus puertas, ya tendrás el doctorado para consumir todo el sexo que seas capaz. El objetivo son las chicas y la mediación es el alcohol, edulcorado con nombres románticos evitando siempre la palabra prostitución ya que en Filipinas esta prohibida y esta castigada con penas de cárcel.

Local Drink (1 €) El cliente toma asiento delante de la barra de baile resguardado por la cerveza que acaba de adquirir, las chicas comienzan a interpretar su papel de seductoras, contorneando su cuerpo, mirando coquetamente a los ojos del cliente y de vez en cuando mostrando un nerviosismo infantil haciendo que el cliente se sienta especial por haber despertado la atracción de una de las chicas. La mamasan hace su aparición, ella es la jefa de las chicas, y su cometido es hacer de enlace entre el cliente y la niña. Es entonces cuando comienzan los diálogos rutinarios que no despertarían las neuronas de un preescolar y que se repetirán hasta la saciedad en todos los clubs: “Como te llamas?, en que hotel te hospedas?, de donde eres?, vienes de turismo o por negocios? Una camarera interrumpe la conversación para ofrecer más bebida, aprovecha para sentarse al lado contrario al que ocupa la mamasan y comenzará de nuevo con el diálogo rutinario. La  mamasan y la camarera te incitaran a que elijas una de las guapas chicas que bailan.

Ladies drink (2€) será el peaje a modo de invitación a una bebeida para que la bailadora se siente a tu lado desplazando a la camarera que ya ha tenido su oportunidad con el cliente, porque efectivamente cualquier mujer que este dentro del local tiene su precio. Al igual que todas tienen la obligación de llevar colgado de manera visible dos tarjetas identificadoras, cuando no una tercera con un número para facilitar la elección del cliente como si de una carnicería se tratara. El primer ID  se actualiza semanalmente y certifica la inspección técnica de sanidad que todas las chicas han de pasar, el segundo recoge los datos personales con una fotografía y un V en el caso de que sea virgen, allí se las llama cherry’s girl y junto con la mamasan decidirán a que precio vende su virginidad.

Diamonds drink (20€) es el nombre edulcorado y oficial que se le da a la consumición que permite llevarse a la chica del local, aunque es Bar Fine (multa del bar) el que se utiliza realmente y el que sin duda describe la hipocresía de los managers de los clubs, pues como literalmente se traduce será la multa que el cliente paga al bar por llevarse a una de sus trabajadoras; multa? No están allí para eso. La sanción se repartirá a medias entre la chica y el local, lo mismo que ocurre con las Ladies Drinks.

A las 7 de la tarde de mi segunda jornada en Ángeles me reúno con Peter, uno de los managers que conocí el primer día. Tiene la oficina en el club Lollipop, en el almacén. Allí me recibe en pantalones cortos, camiseta hawaiana ancha y una coletilla de pelo blanco que bajo su punto de vista le otorgará una juventud de la que carece. Hay una mesa llena de papeles apilados donde descansa un ordenador viejo y apagado; el esta firmando permisos del bar. Me explica que mientras las chicas no estén desnudas en el club, podrá seguir actuando como si de un bar normal se tratará. “Los clubs han traído dinero y desarrollo a Angeles, la hemos hecho prosperar; desde que estamos aquí hay servicio de transporte, hay clínicas, hay un centro comercial y supermercados abiertos las 24 horas” Efectivamente, también hay hoteles de 200$ la noche, casinos, veladas de boxeo, fiestas de champan y 10.000 chicas provincianas con las que tener sexo. “Ni siquiera me tengo que ocupar de traer nuevas chicas, son las primas, las hermanas o las amigas de las que ya trabajan aquí quien las traen”. El sueldo de una bailadora son 130 pesos (algo más de dos euros) y 100 pesos las camareras por día de 10 horas de trabajo; un sueldo de un fast-food en Angeles son 200 pesos que se triplicaría si fuese en Manila. Las cuentas son claras para Peter: “por cada hombre que se tome dos cervezas (2€) pago la jornada de una chica, de ahí en adelante será la chica quien tendrá que conseguir Ladies drinks poniendo caliente a los clientes; cuantas más se beba ella más dinero conseguirá, más desenvuelta actuará y más caliente pondrá al cliente; y cuando el cliente se calienta la mitad del dinero va para el bar que es mío”. La otra mitad va para la chica quien se ve capaz de triplicar en una sola jornada un salario de empleado medio y cuando ella aparece en su provincia vestida de chica de ciudad, y con dinero con el que ayudar a la familia, los primeros en no oponerse a la prostitución son los padres, que se escudan en el desconocimiento, pero el cura tampoco se altera, ni da charlas de moralidad cuando todos van a misa cada domingo, ni la vecina que deja marchar en el siguiente autobús a sus dos hijas para traer dinero de Ángeles City; en realidad son como el gobierno Filipino que prohibe la prostitución con un cartel bien grande que dice: “Welcome to Angeles City” disfrute de sus negocios y de la divertida nightlife de nuestro parque de atracciones sexual.

Recuerdo haber contenido la risa más de una vez al escuchar atentamente de boca de un jubilado turista sexuales afirmar rotundamente que él, al ser blanco es para las filipinas como Bratt Pitt o Leonardo Di Caprio ó que las chicas gustan las narices grandes porque hacen al hombre blanco mucho más atractivo. La situación pasa de lo gracioso a lo deprimente cuando los clientes te aseguran que ellos despiertan la atracción de las chicas, que cuando llegan a Angeles se sienten más machos y más conquistadores, que en su país no levantan las miradas de nadie, pero aquí en Ángeles si. Y es por eso que hay pocos forasteros nuevos, casi todos son jubilados que llevan dedicando sus vacaciones de los últimos 10, 15 o 20 años a consumir sexo durante un mes en esta polvorienta ciudad sin más atractivo que el del sexo fácil y barato. Esa supuesta felicidad que me trasmiten se desmorona cada vez que me cruzo por las calles con un blanco, que cabizbajo deambula por la calle, inexpresivo, inalterado, desviando la mirada si esta se cruza con la mía. Con un paso cansino y rostro aburrido como queriendo decir que ya no existen sorpresas para él.

En el Cherries Bar conozco a Gina, una chica de 22 años que ya es una veterana de Ángeles, ella sabe que su fecha de caducidad esta próxima, que a pesar de estar tersa y afirmar que su puki (vagina) sigue prieta carece ya del brillo en los ojos de las niñas nuevas que llegan a la ciudad. Invitado por ella puedo acompañar a un grupo de las jornaleras del Cheries una vez que este cierra a las 10 de la noche. Me sorprende seguirlas a los locales de una calle paralela a Balibago ( donde más establecimientos de prostitución hay); los locales son minusculos Karaokes donde hay filipnos jovenes atrayendo las visitas de los transeúntes. El desmadre comienza para este grupo de 6 chicas, las mesa de plástico se llena de cacahuetes hervidos, rodajas de pepino con salsa picante, brochetas de patas de gallina y mangos acidos con sal gorda y guindilla. 7 cervezas locales, la “Red horse” de alta graduación y la que menos se ve en los clubs de alterne, pero que las chicas beben con ansia en vasos con hielos y un micrófono recorre las diferentes mesas de mano en mano donde sólo hay niñas prostitutas. De repente, los filipnos jovenes que atraían  clientela en la entrada a los karaokes se juntan para bailar sensualmente en el centro del local; las chicas se desmadran, gritan y finalmente alguna invita a una cerveza a uno de estos chicos que se sienta a su lado y furgurazmente se convierten en una pareja cariñosa y romántica que dura lo que la Red-Horse aguanta en el vaso hasta ser bebida.

Se convierte en una rutina, cuando termino mis visitas a otros locales cámara en mano tratando de retratar a las chicas, me desahogo junto a mis “nuevas amigas” del Cherries Bar. Con confianza suficiente pregunto a Marneli, una provinciana de 18 años, por la noche anterior cuando ella no vino al karaoke:
Estuve con un cliente
Te trato bine?
O o (Si!)
Era guapo?
O o (Si!)
Pero, es que era joven?
No! Mayor!
Y no preferirías uno más joven?
No, los jóvenes mucho “boom boom”, con los mayores sólo con la boca y la mano y sólo una vez.
Mi sonrisa de afirmación esconde una gran lastima, veo fuera de mi alcance poder entender una mínima parte de lo que esta chica sentirá, pero puedo hacerme una idea de que el sexo, el pene, los besos, las caricias son simples acciones que nada tienen que ver con la atracción, el cariño y mucho menos el amor. Como trasmitirán ellas el cariño y el deseo? Es un pregunta de la que nunca obtuve respuesta. La noche acaba como tantas otras. El Cheeries Bar esta apagado, dentro se apilan los taburetes y los sofás están cubiertos de sabanas, una biblia junto a un vaso y el movil ocupan parte de la superficie de la barra de bar que hace a su vez de mesilla de noche. Gina enciende las luces, el sonido de los focos de colores en movimiento y los flashes de luz blanca llenan la estancia de luz; no suena la música y las chicas no se despiertan, pero tengo luz suficiente para poder retratar el descanso de estas niñas.

Algunas mañanas paso por una peluquería que esta justo en la salida de mi hotel, donde Lurada una madre filipina con negocio propio y tres hijas me afeita. No hay mañana que no me pregunte alegremente si ya he encontrado una novia guapa filipina. La respondo que no la estoy buscando y que lo que pretendo es hacer un trabajo; ella ríe desacreditando mi respuesta. “Aqui las chicas son muy bellas, seguro que te lo estas pasando muy bien por las noches junto a ellas” Sigo argumentando que no estoy interesado en la prostitución y le pregunto que opinión tiene sobre ella; su rostro cambia y su sonrisa desaparece, he pronunciado prostitución y aquí en Filipinas es ilegal. Me dice que a ella no le gusta el “ligue hombre viejo blanco – niña filipina”  (diciendo ligue en lugar de prostitución), “antes parecías estar a favor” la respondo. Con seriedad me dice que traen mucho dinero a la ciudad, que la mayoría de sus clientes son forasteros blancos. “Van tus hijas con chicas provincianas de los clubs?” Responde que ni hablar, que no permite que sus hijas se junten a ninguna de las que alternan con los clientes, que sus hijas estudian y van a tener un buen trabajo; sin embargo las prostitutas provincianas a las que no quiere que sus hijas se acerquen nutren su peluquería de clientes blancos a los que ella recibe con alegría. La misma hipocresía sucede con el gobierno filipino, con la iglesia de este supuesto país católico y con todos los negocios que se aprovechan del turismo sexual para hacer caja, creando una falsa apariencia, negando lo que pasa ante sus ojos,  para no afirmar que se están enriqueciendo gracias a adolescentes prostitutas. Y las que se llevan la peor parte del pastel son las niñas de provincias, quienes agasajadas por el dinero fácil aceptan y siguen a sus primas, vecinas o hermanas para acabar en Ángeles City, donde nadie las juzgará, ni las criticará directamente, al revés, aquí se rodearan de una atmósfera falsa donde la gente las aprueba, las ignora también, pero las ponen en los clubs de la calle Balibago a hacer mamadas, a dejarse manosear los pechos, a besar a jubilados y a acostarse con ellos; con tal de que en sus vidas siga entrando dinero de los turistas sexuales.

La serie de fotografías “Desangeladas” tiene el premio Luis Kasado 2010 de fotoperiodismo, valorado en 6.500€

Gracias al premio ahora estoy en Indonesia, haciendo reportajes donde los protagonistas me enseñan modos de vida que nada tienen que ver con vidas triunfadoras, pero que son un claro ejemplo de lo que es sobrevivir.

Texto y fotografias: Diego Vergés

Early May I went to Surabaya, via Yogyakarta, from Jakarta, where I have my small rent house.

I went 15 days earlier the date of a private workshop was going to be done the 14th and 15th of May to do a first meeting with the organizer who wanted me to teach some photography. The first meeting was perfect and we set up the toppings and the schedule of the two days workshop.

In the midd time I wanted to do a new essay of the Sulphure mine in Ijen Crater. From Surabaya, Ijen it’s quite near. You only need to take one bus to Bondowoso and a private car to Post 1, the village wich is more closer to the top of the volcano.

This time I was working with Sonny, a great young man interested in photography, who came from a village 10 hours by motor bike just to met me in Surabaya and work together with me for a couple of days.

We start the trip early morning in Surabaya, friday 6th of May. We had 164 Km to Bondowoso, wich take us only 7 hours in a public bus, hot and full of passangers like hell. When we arrived to the place a we took a second bus to the crossing roads where one goes to Post 1, in the top of Ijen. We had to rent a small pick up van to do 60 km to the top. The way was rough and the engine of the van was weak for the big slopes ahead. So we did the 60 Km in 4 hours, arriving to the top of Ijen at 22:00 at night, just 14 hours of buses and van.

In the top of Ijen you can find a small village where there is a hotel and a couple of kantinees, where few really nice people live. We went straight to drink a beer and have a nassi goreng special for late dinner and we started to arrange the working for the next day.

Pak Sansudin was the owner of one kantinee, the place where we ate all the meals, the place we only ate nassi goreng special…I think up to 6 times we ate the same. He started to tell stories about the suphure and the workers who carrie the sulphure from the down of the crater, to the top of the mountain and then all the way down where the track pick it up.

I was excited to start, so we arrange a guide, Pak Sri, and we decided to start next morning at 4:00 am. After a few hours of sleeping in a small and really cold room full of blankets we started the way to the sulphure, the smae way 120 workers do 6 day per week.

From Post 1, the small village where is the last hotel in the way to the top of Ijen. You have to walk 2 km to Post 2, where you find another small kantinee where the workers weight their sulphure they have pick from the inside of the crater and have their meals. Also the tourist who arrived up to Post 2 usually enjoy a Coca Cola or a hot cofee.

It took us one hour of solving big slops to arrive to Post 2, it was a really foggy day and at 5 am the first early morning lights where coming out. I took my first pictures of a 55 years old man who was weighting his load of sulphuer. I was delight looking at the bright yellow sulphure, which looks like gold. Amaze to be in the place some years ago the great photographer Mitchell Kanashkevich did a magnificant work of this workers; and ready to come up with my own point of view from one of the most toughest work done in the world right now. The sulphure carriers.

From Post 2 we had to make it to the top of the mountain, one more kilometer of slopes. We did it in 30 minutes, but at the half of the way the rain forest of East Java, becomes in a desrt, we started to smell the strong sulphure and no more plants or animals were there, just the carriers coming up to the mountain with empty basket, and some coming down with the buckets full of sulphure.

The day was completly foggy, we couldn’t see two meters in front of us, but I tried to take pictures giving a little bit of extra light with a speedlight and a softbox. I was happy to see…well to betrayed how Ijen looked with foggy, becaus in my research of photographers doing works there, it was the first time I seen the weather condition like that, everything covered with a big cloud.

From the top of the mountain to the bottom part you have to walk one kilometer, but the slope down it’s a hard and carful trek with high views and not suitable for unexperts trekkers. Many tourist can not make it to the bottom of the crater afraid for the big slopes and afraid of the danger of the sulphure smokes, wich really hurts your through.

After one hour of shooting and walking down we made it to the mine. Incredible view! A blue lake give the contrast to the big cloud of yellow smoke coming from the sulphure when it linguee in the surface. First time in the mine is scarring, because of the strong smell, the big cloud of yellow smoke and the danger of being inside of a crater, but also beautiful to see the beuty of the landscape and the beauty of the tough workers breaking the solid sulphure in pieces to carrie to Post 1, 1 kilometer up and 3 kilometers down of dangerous slopes.

The workers, after they break in pieces the sulphure who becomes thick after it comes liquid from the insdie of the ground, they prepare their carrying  basket, like a puzzle they full the basket until they weight the same. They carry up to 90 kilos! Then with patient they start to go up one kilometer and down another kilometer to Post 2, where they will weight how much sulphure they have extract from the mine, and then a finall two more kilometers to Post 1 where they will put the sulphure into a track. This proces they make it at least twice per day, and no always they do the entire process at once, usually they will prepare two basket and keep carrying both in different stages.

Ijen workers get payed per kilo of sulphure they bring to the track, the price per extracting and carrying one kilo to Post 1 (in the small village, where my hotel was) it is 650 Rp. or 5 cents of a Euro. They usually carry an average of 80 kilos per trip whic it’s 52,000 Rp or 4 euros as they usually do two trips o the mine means they make per day 8 euros, which, under my point of view, is nothing compare to the effort they make in every trip.

Sonny, Pak Sri and me arrive back from the shooting at 11 am to Post 1. we had our nassi goreng special, we download the pictures and we arrange the next day of work. We planed to start the treking at 12 mid night, to arrive at the mine at 2 am at night and be able to see the blue light the sulphure irradiate when is coming as liquid from the inside of the earth. But we failled! We both set our alarm clock at 12:00 in the morning and not at night! I think we were both very tired and unconsciously makes us set the alarm clock that way.

Fortunatley, after sleeping the entire day, we woke up frech like lettuce at 2:00 am, still at night and we strated the trekking. We make it to the mine at 4:00 and the blue light was there. Incredibly pretty! I was fascinated by the blue halo in the middle of the night.

To do photos at night we used one speedlight with its softbox and using also the available light provide by head tourch weared by the workers. I was dissapointed because the minners don’t use any more fire torch and they have change to normal electric torches, whcih should be more confortable for them, but less powerful in the photos. We waited until de sun rised and at 5:30 it did, not foggy this day, a beutiful sun rise in a beutiful place with minners were breaking the sulphure in pieces near a strong yellow smoke to carry it later. I really enjoyed the shooting and that morning, knowing that the big effort of strating a trekking at 2:00 am was absolutley worthy!

We followed the workers until Post 1, where we ate another nassi goreng special at 9 in the morning. With the work done we enjoyed the last morning in Ijen, admiring the landscape and at the end of the morning we started the way back to Surabaya.

To check all the photos

The story of my Ludruk essay started exactly one year ago. I was doing an interview for The Light Magazine with Ignatius Untung as journalist at the end of my first trip to Indonesia, in 2010. He suddenly started to talk about different powerful photo stories and one of them was Ludruk.

I suddenly felt in love with the idea of an entire theater doing a traditional show performance by Lady boys. Was it more interesting when Ignatius told me that the Waria (transvestite in bahasa Indonesian) lived under the stage of the theater. I imagine and dream an entire essay telling the story of this small community.

One year later, in April 2011 I was again in Indonesia, in Surabaya. Ready to take a look at the theater, the performance and the subjects of my future essay. For this work I was helped by Ali Nurdin and Roy Goenawan, who made as assistance and translator of Javanesse language, the local speaking in Surabaya. First trouble was that no one of them had visited Ludruk theater for the last two years. I started to think the worst: No more theater, no more shows, impossible to do the photos. And was kind of like this, when the first night we went to the theater, was close. I was really disappointed.

We asked the neighbors of the area and we had the news the company moved to another bigger theater, so we head to the new theater. When we arrived four Waria were living there, not the entire group of actors; Mak Yah was the the chief and one of the actors in the show. He let us take a look everywhere and we held an interesting meeting talking about my photography thoughts to do with them. He agreed.

Next day we started to work, we could only worked the days the show was on, that mean thursday night and Saturday night; the lady boys didn’t live anymore under the stage, I am glad if they had found something better than just a simple matrices in the stage, but I was disappointed because I couldn’t tell anymore their life style in a small cultural community

During 4 days of show we worked hard to do an essay with 4 parts:

Portraits of the before and after make up of the Waria, in black and white shouted at f1,2 with a 85 mm lens and two strobes plus reflector set of lights.

Before the show preparatives. How the actors make up and the behind the stage activity. Shoot this series with 24 mm, 50 mm, available artificial light plus on speedlight

My view of the show with a white studio background and a set of 4 strobes.

Color and powerful portraits of the before and after make up from the Waria to end the series, with high details of the textures of the skin and make up. Shoot with 85 mm in f1,2 and two strobes plus reflector as the set up lighting.

The waria.

I was very interested in my subjects and in the show. Ludruk it is an old traditional show who tells daily life stories about love and working activities in a humor way. Why this Ludruk show was acted by she males? The answer comes from far in time. Before, the show and entire theater was going from one village to another, just a couple of shows in one place and then, like the circus now a days, move to another point. To carry all the equipments to build the theater were needed strong hands and as it was a popular entertainment there was no many benefits, so the same people who carrie the staff from one village to another, were the same people who later acted, in conclusion: porters and actors the same, needed of male, stronger than woman to carry all the equipments.

Now a days some of the Waria follow the old tradition, making up like woman to performance female characters, but even further: the Waria are also from the homosexual community in Indonesia and they make their transformation one step beyond over the make up. Some of the she males are surgery, but undercover surgery. I couldn’t make a deep research on it, but my she males subjects come from the low class; to look more feminine the inject silicon with undercover surgery methods. It is highly damage for their health and the result in many case are terrible.

She males from the show don’t get a benefit from their actuation, they just get 7.000 Rp. per show which it is less than 1 euro. The entrance to the theater is 5.000 Rp. (0,40 €).and the average pubic it’s 15 viewers. The she males also spend around 50.000 Rp. (4 €) in make up every month and the costumes are provide by the theater company, by our friend and chief of the show Mak Yah.

So the show was not a good business, my thoughts about this theme are very particular. Under my opinion, the group of 15 she males actors enjoyed the twice weekly show to feel as real female for two days in a week. A space were they could make up, dress pretty dresses and act like women in public with out the critiques of the average street people. The Ludruk it is not just an old traditional Indonesian show kept by waria, it is also a place where a community fits perfectly being as they are, with out to hide anything.

To end the story I want to talk about Margono. The first days I was taking portraits I saw an old man, sitting in the stage. When I passed by him he sayd “Syaya sakit” (I am ill), I didn’t understand, but I asked him to get a portrait in the small set my assistance and me did. He came slowly, thin as a paper, moving slowly, trying to smile to where the lightings were and I took him three portraits. In the third one he was going to caught but the caught didn’t arrive for 10 seconds. 10 seconds I thought this man was going to died in front of us. Finally he caught.

My assistance Ali Nurdin told me he was going to take Margono to the hospital, usually I don’t act like this, because in all of my trips I see many people who needs help, and how to help everybody? But as Ali told me “As a good muslim I will help the others with out expecting nothing back, and I will help Margono until the end of his days”. I decide to share the expenses with him. We took him to the hospital; the doctor send him to make blood test and x ray, Margono had many siknes: turbeculosis and hepatitis were the more significants. We bought him the pills he needed and we took him again to the doctor with the results. I made a small NGO with my family asking them to help me with just 10 € each to pay the 100 € total  bill from the doctor.

Unfortunately, 5 days after I left the Ludruk theater, Margono, the big drums player of the live music show of Ludruk died

An Interview with Diego Vergés for PhotoCreator/Advanced Images by Steve Chong

1.    What does photography mean to you?
Now a days photography means most of all I do everyday. That is because taking pictures give two very important things.
In one way it is a challenges to create. I have the issue, I have the camera and there stars the opportunity to show what I see using photography technique. For me the technique is really important, it is a huge field full of things to learn, from the gears to composition. That makes me keep learning and studying from different people; reading articles, looking at photographers work, feel inspiration and wish to create.

In the other hand I have been traveling for the last two years, trying to show what I learn and what I see in the different places I have been. Since I was young I traveled in a mobil home and I found out it was incredible to reach cultures who solve average daily situations in different ways as I am used to. Since I started with photography I could tell all this, and what is more important, with the camera I felt I could go more deeply. With the desire to see and to tell with photographies I got more close to the people, I spend more time in the places where the communities lives and I learn and learn and learn.

1.    What did inspire you to photograph the native people in West Papua?
Usually I research in Internet different cultures, incredible places that makes special one area. I went to Indonesia because one my good friends was studying in Flores Malaria treatments and he told me that places was powerful because of the culture, the landscape and the people. So I decide to re-search all the areas of Indonesia. I made a planning of four months backpacking journey across this archipelago. I started in the West with the Mentawai and finish in Philippines. So west Papua was one of the eight stops I did, and what really inspire me was to contact this incredible people that only wear koteka while walking in the highlands, I was really excited to see them and be able to look at them and share everything they would allow me to.

I spent one incredible month in the highlands of West Papua, only reachable with a small plane or by three weeks hard trekking. I chose the plane. I almost kiss the first native man I found in Wamena, the city that has the airport in the highlands. Once you see them you do not need many inspiration to photography them, just look at them it inspire you.

1.    How did you come into contact with the locals?
I find easy to get in contact with the locals, maybe because I am a joyful person and I respect everybody and treat them kindly. I usually like to travel by myself and with out a guide, which it makes me more vulnerable and that makes people to get closer to me, but there are some areas that it is impossible to reach without a guide, usually because it would be dangerous to walk alone in the jungle or in the mountains or maybe because the town I wish to visit are reachable only by car.

Native people likes when a foreigner come to visit them, they feel special because someone from far have decide to get to know them, so if you are an open person it will be easy to share some chatting, some coffee or a cigaret that will give me the opportunity to get closer to them and will open a door to see the way the live.

1.    How long were you there?
I started my trip to Indonesia and Philippines the 7th of December 2009 and I arrive back home in Madrid the 13th of April 2010, so it was four months. I visited 8 different areas. I love to spend as much time as possible with the culture I am with, to understand them a little bit, I think it is the way to do a good photography work. So I spend 15 days with the Mentawai and 30 days in the highland of West Papua, in Baliem Valley.

1.    Were you working alone?
I started the trip alone, but I never feel alone because I usually find some one who comes with me while taking pictures, sometimes a new local friend I make or a guide. Many people loves to take you around in their place to introduce you his/her friends and to show you the beauty of their area. So I never feel really alone.
After the first month one friend from Spain, Laura Maroto, a producer I used to work with, came to spend two months with me. That makes easier to travel with all the camera gears and makes things like finding a hotel or take a taxi much easier.

The last month I was again alone, it was the month I decide to do a social issue about the prostitution of Angeles City (Philippines), a city which all the incomings come from the sexual tourist that arrive because of the industry it has been building there to get local young girls, it was really sad to see and hear many of the stories of this young girls, but is the project I learn the most.

1.    What equipment did you bring for this project?
I took a big backpack of 16 kilos with two cameras, three lenses, two small flashes, filters, batteries and the laptop. One hard case of 17 kilos for the lighting, with the battery supply for the big flash, and one big 20 kilos bag with the softbox, tripods, medicines and few cloths.

The backpack with the camera gears I took it with me as hand bag in the planes, sometimes there were problems because it had 6 kilos overweight. The other two bags I checked in paying in every flight overweight, which made everything more expensive, because I took 17 local flights plus the ones Madrid-Jakarta and Jakarta-Madrid. But the worst flight was the first one, London-Jakarta, where I payed 500 dolars just for 10 overweight kilos, that made feel so bad, it took almost the 10% of my budget for the 4 months trip!

1.    Can you share with our readers the challenges you faced while carrying out your projects in West Papua?
West Papua was incredible and they were many challenges I face everyday. It is becoming a tourist place, but it has very few infrastructure, which makes it really expensive. For example a bottle of water there is 25.000 ruppies and in Jakarta is only 3.000 ruppies.

The most challenge was the 10 days trekking, it was difficult to prepare it and to do it. When I prepare the trek with my friend Laura we had to think about many things: police and military permits, local guide, transport, porters, money, food, water…First of all we got the permits and then we started to interview different local guides to get someone who could understand what we were looking for and make us a good price, as is getting a popular tourist place and it has few roads the prices are 5 times the ones in other areas in Indonesia. Once we decide the guide, Kasper, we met the 6 porters and the cook man. Yes, we needed 7 people to do the trekking, because we had to transport in the mountains all the equipment and all the food for 10 days.

While the trekking we made an average walking of 6 hours per day and we used to sleep in local hutch; during the 10 nights I woke up every morning with itchy flea new bites and then, when we arrived back to the hotel in Wamena I woke up again with new bites, the fleas came with us in our sleeping bags.

I did not feel danger while walking in the mountains, but there have been some problems with tourist, because there is an independent movement that kidnap foreigners, that is why you need the permits from the police and militaries. Everywhere you go, every time you need a new stamp, so that way the police knows exactly where you are in case they have to rescue you.

Then walking in the highlands it is not easy, there are big big slopes and usually it is very slippery, but the worst for me are the hand made bridges. There is one which cross the Baliem river, 40 meters long bridge made with wood and while you walk you see the powerful white water running down the mountain at the same time everythings moves a lot, that was scary! Our guide told us that last year one Japanese tourist with his guide fall down in a windy day in the same bridge and both were found death; fortunately the bridge was rebuild some months ago we pased trough it, no because of that problem, because they built a new christian church at the other side of the river.

1.    Being a westerner, who is totally an alien to the natives, what kind of reception did you receive?
Actually native people is used to tourist, since 10 to 15 years ago started to arrive many tourist during the month s of july and August, now they are used to them and in many cases they are spoiled by tourist, because they only welcome you if you bring them roco-roco (cigarettes) or gula-gula (candies). I like to share when I want to do it, but I do not feel good when people just come to me to get something.
I have felt more like an alien in some areas of Gabon in equator Africa, in Sumba (Indonesia) or also in a rural village close to Kolkata, when I spend three days with Abdul doing a issue of this leprosy man; in those places people make a circle around you and you see the young kids that approach towards you to touch your skin. For me is fine and funny to see how people look at every movement you do, it makes you feel special and strange.

1.    What was the most profound memory from the project?
During all the trip I have met many people, I have made good friends and I have learned a lot. For me the most important thing is all the new knowledge I get in each journey. For example, I spent the new years eve with the Mentawai, they did not care at all about the new year, I remember I was playing dominos with the locals and suddenly the alarm clock of Ricky, my friend and guide in Siberut, gave me a hug telling me “New years eve, bro!”. No one of the table who was playing dominos cared about that important date for the occidental world. They also do not care about the day they are in, most of the Mentawai have no idea about their age; every day is a new day, or every day is the same as yesterday.
I remember listening one night the chief of a big community near Waitabula in Sumba. He was telling the story of his life and his wife. He kidnap his wife from a man, during many years he had to pay the family of the man he kidnap the wife. Finally he bought one woman to him and he solved the problem; the funny thing was when I asked him who was the man he kidnap the wife from, it was an old a tiny man sited at my side, his neighbor. Those things make you think a lot about what is life and what should we look for to be happy, which is the most important thing for me, being happy always.

In Bali, while I was driving a rent car with my friend Laura we saw a big celebration close to the beautiful rice terraces, we stopped the car to check what was going on. A friendly young man invite us to take a look and we left the wedding party that was going on 48 hours later. We were welcome to join the ceremony and spend the night over the groom’s family house, big unstop party.

Every place I have been there are stories that make you learn and get more knowledge, maybe there are simple things like having an Ubi (kind of a sweet potato which is the main food Papuan people eat) with a papuan teacher in a remote village in the highlands where there is no electricity at all, no telephone signal or running water; but there is freedom and a really happy way of community living.

But my most profound memory has been the 15 days I spent in Angeles City, a prostitution village close to Manila in Philippines. Gina gave me the chance to feel alive in a decadent village full of ex-marines that travel from United States and Australia just to have sex with young province girls. Gina was a 21 years old woman who opened to me a door to see how this girls live a part from the prostitutions clubs, how she enjoys with her friends and how is her relationships with her family. Those days were hard working at the clubs looking those all men hanging out with really young girls, for sure I couldn’t made it with out the help of Gina who gave me fresh air everyday.

1.    I noticed that some of the images were assisted with articial light, can you share with our readers your lighting setup in the fields?
I have carried a power battery supply for a 1600 watts head flash. Usually they are very expensive, but there is a brand called “AlienBees” who have a really decent price and really good quality. I also carried a big softbox with a grid that makes a pretty soft light in the characters.

I liked the idea to prepare an scenery with a character from a remote area and used the flash to gave an spectacular looking to the pictures. I learn how to setup the lighting with some of the works I do in Spain with models and weddings. It is really interesting mixing ambient light with artificial light, once you tried you really wish to use it all the time. There is just one problem, you loose spontaneous actions, that is why depends in the theme I am working on I use it or not.

1.    Can you describe a typical shooting session while you were shooting the Mentawai people?
The Mentawai people lives in Umas, which is a house in the middle of the jungle where a family lives, those Umas are spread in the jungle. The Umas are far one from another, because they get the food from the jungle, they do not make plantations, they just eat what they found. There are also Government Villages, that provide a school, a small clinic, a catholic church and some food shops to the families that live there. I spent time in both areas.

The project was to show powerful looking characters in their context (maybe the Uma, the river or the deep jungle). Usually when you travel you see those people in their house and when you do the trekking you see spectacular areas. Once you go back to your home, your subconscious mix the character with the amazing landscape, but most of the time you were not able to really see that. So my idea was to make it true.

The daily work was to reach the character, spend time with them and share some tobacco, cookies or a glass of tea. Once they were willing to do the shooting I used to do some scouting of the area and setup three or four backgrounds. Once everything was in my head, my guides Ricky and Pedro helped me with the lighting and with the character in the different backgrounds. The Mentawai people used to enjoy the shooting, because it was like a funny game.

1.    From a westerner points of view, how do you take the lifestyle of the native people?
The lifestyle of native people is basic, as less things you need, as less problems you have to solve. While western people needs many incomings to feel happy, native people is happy with no incomings. Once they have the food and the place to sleep they feel happy and that make them to be far more social than western people. They do not need anything to enjoy with his friends and family, just sharing the death hours talking, drinking a cup of tea and playing games.

Fore example, I used to look forward to share the evening time with the Meantawai when the big dominos game started, I remember spending up to six hours playing and playing dominos laughing with the locals with my basic bahasa indonesia.

1.    What have you learned from the project?
There are so many thinks you learn when you travel that it would be impossible to enumerate, also many of the knowledge you get is to become more mature. As I said there are simple things that teach you and make you learn. Just thinking and analyzing why kids seem so happy with out all the toys they have in western countries, or how people care about their communities, or the way they share everything, makes you question your self what is happening in western countries that we need all the consumerism to think we are happy.

I think every travel I make I learn more about life and how to empathize with people who do their things in a different way I am used to do it under my spanish culture.

1.    Given the chance would you return to the same place?
Now a days I really do not know what I will do tomorrow, I wish to build my photography career as a travel photographer, but it is really hard to even have the chance to do it. All the trips I have made in the last 20 months have been self financed and I usually do not get big monetary incomings from the trips. I wish this last trip give me the opportunity to keep going with similar projects, if it is like that I will choose a different area to get a wider portfolio.

The big problem is once you get to know a place you realize how small you are and how many things you have missed in the trip. So I would really love to come back to the areas I have visited and be able to go deeper in the photography work done and also to see all those people who made my trip unique, because the most important is not the place, it is the people who share with you the experience you had

1.    What kind of advice would you give to photographer who would aspire to do what you are doing now?
I am 28 years old, I studied in a Image photography collage for two years and then five years in an Audiovisual Communication degree in a spanish public university. After that I worked for 9 months in charge of a video and photography studios, I gave up the job and flied to visit one friend in Gabon, I felt in love of traveling alone doing pictures; once you felt in love you will do everything for love, isn’t it? What I mean is when you find something that makes you feel completed you follow it. I do not care to spend all my money in any new photography travel project, I love it.

I think is easy to do what I am doing, and I do not feel like giving advice, because I still do not have enough experience. I wish it will arrive the time when I will be able to give advice to new photographers, that would mean I will have done my desire of living.

1.    Where do you plan to go from here and what’s your project in the future?
I really wish to keep developing social projects like the one of Angeles City, I want to tell stories of people who is living a hard situation and try to report with my work  social problems that different communities have to live with. I think it is because when you share many time with this communities you get social experience that makes you grow as a person and you really feel you are telling something.

First photography black and white award 2008 Diputación de Burgos

Since I started in travel photography, almost three years ago, I have self  finance my trips. I just travel with the aim of doing the reportages I want and the way I want to do them.

Accesit III Photography award “Mujer y fotografia” de Cartagena

When traveling with out a sponsor you are free to do what ever you want, you don’t depend from a magazine or a client to tell you what they want, you just do what you want…and it’s pretty nice!

Second prize  “XI Certamen de Fotografia Solidaria a pie de calle” Ceuta

The problem it is that the money don’t grow from the trees and I usually struggle to get money to afford to develop the photo projects I want to do and struggle also to find the money to buy my photo gears who are really expensive.

First prize in international photography award “Fotografia Internaciona Rafael Ramos Garcia”

Since three years ago my biggest incomings have been awards:

International Photo Awards. 2º place People – Portrait, non profesional category

First prize “La aventura del ser humano” Colmenar Viejo

First prize “Certamen de fotografia solidaria DKV – Intermon”

Luis Ksado Award 2010

When you do self sponsor photo projects, publications are always a perfect incoming to get some of the money you have invest back.

But to publish your photos it’s not always easy, first of all you have to know how to approach the editors of the magazines and that’s hard if you have no contacts. The eases way it’s to send e-mails, but editors might get 100′s e-mails per day, how to make your e-mail suitable and interesting. Which photos to show? How to introduce yourself if you are unknown photographer?…Many questions that I don’t have yet answers.

The reportage I have published they have been always throw e-mails I sent to the editors and I was lucky enough to get some attention from them and arrive to an agreement to publish.

The incomings from publications are from 300 dollars to 2000 dollars in my own experiences and some of them just for free if you agree to include an interview who can be worthy for you as a photographer.

One of my dreams almost come true with one reportage I made in Angeles City (Philippines), I had many meetings with the editors of EPS (El Pais Semanal, one of the biggest magazines of the most important news paper in Spain: El Pais), the editors liked it the reportage, but at the end, the chief of the magazine decided not to publish the story…for me was very disappointed, but I will try my best with new reportages.

Breve articulo que escribí para ojodigital.com

Hace ya dos años que decidí dejar mi trabajo, y tenía un contrato y todo! Había terminado la universidad y durante 9 meses estuve encargado de unos platos de video y fotografía. No era divertido, era repetitivo, y lo peor de todo, no aprendía nada.

Mientras tanto, un amigo de la infancia se iba a Lambarene, en Gabón, para estudiar la Malaria en el Hospital Schweitzer en el año 2008. De repente, tienes una idea, la deseas y la quieres llevar a cabo. Con 26 años decidí que no tenía porque seguir la rutina post-licenciado: encontrar un contrato indefinido, meterme en mi primera hipoteca para comprar un coche, meterme en mi segunda hipoteca junto a mi pareja para comprar un piso, trabajar hasta el hastío para pagarlo y después, por fin, vivir tratando de cumplir los deseos.

Desde que tomé esa decisión pienso que los deseos hay que perseguirlos, hay que rodearlos y finalmente atraparlos. Fue por eso que a finales del 2009 me enamoré de la tribu de los Dani, que habitan en Papua. Buscando por Internet: en youtube, en flickr, en wikipedia; y leyendo literatura de viajes, soñaba y me imaginaba verles en persona, ver como caminaban, como se hablaban entre ellos; un amor repentino por conocer la tribu en persona me recorría por el estómago cada vez que dejaba volar la mente. Soñaba con tener la cámara y compartir momentos con ellos; pensaba que encuadres y composiciones podrían ser interesantes, con que tonalidades etalonar el reportaje y me regocijaba pensando en ver la foto en el respaldo de mi cámara de fotos.

En Diciembre de 2009 comencé el viaje a Indonesia, compré un billete de ida y vuelta con cuatro meses y 12 días para mí. En la embajada de Indonesia de Madrid pedí un visado especial con algún privilegio de estancia, comencé los tramites con dos meses y medio de antelación; tras esperas y reuniones con el agregado  cultural y su secretaria, el día antes de coger el avión, el lunes 7 de Diciembre, me denegaron el visado. Además, mi equipaje eran 3 bultos: mi mochila de cámaras (17 kilos), una hard-case con baterías y flash (22 kilos) y una bolsa con tripodes, softbox, reflectores, medicinas y algo de ropa (19 kilos); conclusión: tenía exceso de equipaje lo mirase por donde lo mirase. Este exceso me costó 400 euros en Londres, que era exactamente el 8% de mi presupuesto total del viaje. A mi vuelta, argumenté a la encargada de la compañía aérea con la que viajaba que mi mochila de cámaras debía ir conmigo, pues el seguro de las maletas que van en la bodega sólo cubre un valor de 350€, insuficiente para el precio del material fotográfico; coló!

Pasé dos meses en Indonesia, con una salida a Kuala Lumpur (Malasia) para renovar mi Visa, porque finalmente la conseguí en el aeropuerto de Jakarta, a través del servicio de inmigración Visa On Arrival, aunque sólo fuese por 30 días. Después, mi guía Ricky, con el que pasé 15 días en la isla de Siberut retratando a los indios Mentawai, me escribió una carta de invitación a su país que me valió para conseguir una nueva Visa de 60 días, celebrada como si de un premio se tratara.

Pasados dos meses de entrenamiento en Indonesia pasando por Jakarta, Indramayu, Padang, Siberut, Kuala Lumpur, Bali, Makasar, Tana Toraja y Sumba, por fin fue el momento de dirigirme junto a una compañera  que se unió una temporada a mi viaje (Laura Maroto, productora audiovisual) a Papua. Los billetes de avión más caros del espacio aéreo Indonesio son los que se dirigen a Irian Jaya (Estado de Indonesia que ocupa la mitad occidental de la Isla Papua) y más aun los que realizan vuelos internos en la isla. Durante mi viaje tomé 17 vuelos locales, a una media de 50-60 euros el trayecto, pero el más terrible fue el que tenia como destino Baliem Valley, en medio de las “highlands” de Papua, donde se encuentran los autóctonos Papuinos. Cuando lo vi me dieron ganas de echarme para atrás, un autentico autobús con alas cortas y hélices, bajo el nombre de “Trigana”. Un avión de cargo con asientos, que subía y bajaba de altura al mismo ritmo que sus motores se revolucionaban rugiendo más o menos.

Pero cuando aterrizamos el miedo desapareció y la ilusión desbocó mi alegría. Los rostros de pómulos angulosos y elevados, las pieles tostadas y el pelo lacio desaparecieron, porque en Baliem Valley, todos los habitantes eran autóctonos; aborígenes de piel negra con narices grandes y rostros agresivos.

Estábamos en Wamena, una ciudad con tres largas avenidas polvorientas y bien amplias con pequeñas casas unifamiliares de un piso a ambos lados. Un supermercado, dos cafés de Internet dirigido por Indonesios, una gasolinera y un aeropuerto cuya pista de aterrizaje equivaldría a la cuarta avenida de Wamena. Pocos coches y el precio de todo quintuplicaba el habitual del resto de estados de Indonesia, ya que todo llega a Wamena en avión, no hay carreteras, ni caminos que comuniquen este pueblo con la zona costera; por lo que todo es más lento, más costoso y en muchas ocasiones frustrante por no haber   más solución que la de fusilar la tarjeta de crédito.

A 12 Euros la noche dimos con el hotel más barato de la ciudad, dirigido por un musulmán y llevado por Crocodail, un ex-militar de las fuerzas Indonesias, aborigen, de la tribu Lani. Cada mañana desayunaba un café hecho con mucha azúcar, agua caliente y café triturado, al sol de las altas montañas feliz por encontrarme donde habia soñado estar. Solía aparecer algún autóctono Dani, la tribu que más presencia tiene en el pueblo de Wamena, paseando por las calles con su koteka (la calabaza alargada colocada en el pene), su corona de plumas, su collar de conchas marinas y descalzos; con mi bahasa indonesio básico les preguntaba por donde vivian, y su respuesta siempre se basa en los días de caminata que tardaban de su poblado a Wamena, o el número de valles que tenían que atravesar. Después me pedían tabaco, y después me intentaban vender souvenirs, después más tabaco y más tarde insistian en la venta de collares, pulseras, kotecas, coronas…y para rematar, antes de irse, otro cigarro.

Es normal, en Wamena llegan los turistas, hordas de blancos atestan los hoteles en los meses de Julio y Agosto, afortunadamente nosotros estabamos en Febrero y nos podiamos sentir más conquistadores o privilegiados por ver de manera más individual a esta gente, pero nada más lejos que la realidad. Nosotros buscamos lo intacto de lo occidental, yo siempre he soñado con relacionarme con una sociedad virgen, pero eso no va a ocurrir; y menos en Baliem Valley.

Siguiendo nuestro deseo por descubrir algo virgen preparamos un treeking que rondaría los mil euros por 10 días de caminata. Estabamos nerviosos por encontrar un buen guía que entendiese nuestras pretensiones fotográficas y además sentiamos temor por todos los permisos que tenimos que sacar en los puestos militares; siempre estabamos localizados ya que existe un fuerte movimiento independentista entre los papuinos autóctonos, deseosos de emanciparse de Indonesia por diferentes razones económicas, culturales y religiosas.

Con cinco porteadores, un guía y un cocinero comenzamos la caminata. Un coche nos condujo hasta un río que hace años se llevó la carretera por delante. Lo cruzamos a pie intentando no ser arrastrados y de nuevo en la carretera avanzamos a pie durante unos 3 kilómetros, en ese punto la carretera terminaba con el último puesto militar y allí empezamos a avanzara por senderos decorados como si el jardín de una casa se tratase. Durante 10 días caminamos una media de 5-6 horas por escarpadas montañas y en función de si era cara Norte o Sur, la vegetación era selvática o más árida. Cada día terminábamos la caminata en un poblado, éramos bien recibidos por los autóctonos que nos pedían “gula-gula” y “roco-roco” (caramelos y cigarros) según nos veían aparecer. Dormíamos en la casa del profesor o en la escuela del poblado previo pago de unos 10-12 euros la noche y dependía de nosotros intimar más o menos con nuestros anfitriones.

Durante estos días realicé todas las fotos que pude, aunque el tiempo fue escaso para mis pretensiones; que eran contar la vida de la tribu Dani en sus poblados de las highlands de Baliem Valley; lo positivo es que me servirá como excusa para regresar en una futura ocasión con más medios y más tiempo.

Diego Vergés

I went to Baliem Valley this February 2010, I spent one entire month there because things happened in the valley really slow.

Baliem Valley is in the highlands of the center of Irian Jaya (Estate of Indonesia), which is the half west part of the Island New Guinea. The East half is an independent country called Papua New Guinea.

There is just one way to go to Wamena, which is the most important city in Baliem Valley, by plane because there are no roads or paths across the mountains. The two air companies running the service have high price ticket to go. The planes go full of freight goods to provide the city and that means paying for goods five times the average cost in the rest of Indonesia. While a bottle of two litters water would be 0,5€ in Jakarta in Wamena the price is 2,5€…expensive!

All the trip starts in Jayapura, which is a cost city in the North-East of Irian Jaya, there it is necessary to get a special permit in the local police station. There are independent movements going on in the mountains, so all the foreigners are in risk to be kidnapping; something that you do not really realize once you are there, because everybody is really kind and welcome all the tourist; they know well where comes the money.

Jayapura is full of Indonesian looking people, but in Wamena really starts the trip, suddenly everybody has the characteristic Papuan looking, with a black tone of skin and their strong faces and bodies. The city looks like an old far west town, with three long and wide roads and one floor small houses made of wood at the sides.

I travel with three big bags, one is a backpack with all the camera gears (two Canon 5d (mk I and mk II)), three lenses (24, 50 and 70-200 mm), two speedlights, filters, lap top, pocketwizards, 500 GB hard disks and memory cards. Other hard case with all the lighting equipment and the third bag with tripods, softbox, reflectors and a little bit of room for my cloths and medicines. Total weight 57 kilograms. Crazy trying to go as a backpacker, but my budget was really low for my entire four month trip in Indonesia, so I had to find always the cheapest hotels, transports, guides, restaurants which means more challenging, but great experiences.

My plans were trying to do some anthropology portraits of the Dani and Lani Tribes, seams easy, but you face many problems. There is only electricity in Wamena, so the long trekkings around the mountains have to be with out electric supply. So, during the 10 days I went on the trekking I couldn’t charge my batteries and I made it with the powerful Vagabon II of Alien Bees and with an extra battery in my camera gears; enough if you do not waste many shoots.

To do the 10 days trekking I needed a big team of local Papuans, one guide, one cook man and 5 porters to carry my photo equipment and food for everybody. We used to sleep in local villages and from the first night I had many fleas coming with me as part of my sleeping bag. So I ended full of itchy bites, then also in the hotel of the city it took me three nights to get rid of all the fleas.

The Dani Tribe is an incredible society full of traditions and very rich in culture. For example, women can only have one kid every three years to keep the babe healthy, their main nutritional value is the potato and they cook it in different ways, they also have kind of wild pigs, but they only eat them in ceremonies. Before the money arrived to the mountains they used small shells as exchanger so many of them have neckless and trinket made of them. The shells were really wealthy because to get some meant to walk all the way to the sea that takes three weeks walking for a healthy man. It was also funny to learn that in the local language there is only possible count until three, after three they said “a lot”.

After the long trekking I spent 10 more days in Wamena, using a car to visit some family tribe’s houses which were reachable by road. It was much easier but not the same scenery. So I used their own hut as the background of the pictures.  Talking the car and move freely around the area was a big expedition everyday, old car, expensive gas (petrol), bridges made of wood and many police controls asking for permits.

Overall it was a great experience, but there is more time needed to develop a great photo documentary of this rich cultures who are going to disappear soon, only the protection of the Government will keep the tradition, because the whorld globalization will end with those hundred years cultures.

This was my first photography serie, I did it in the summer of 2008. It was the first time I traveled for a long period to a new country and it was going to be the first travel using a digital camera, which I bought 2 years before in the winter of 2006. I used to like photography and I learned with analogic, but when I got the first digital I really started to learn, because I could made all kind of experiments without spending money in film and developing….great!

Lambarene, Gabon 2008

After finishing my Audiovisual Communication degree in 2007 I started to work in a photography and video studio, taking care of everything there. After 9 months I got really tired of going every day to the same job, same way to arrive, same people, same business…at that point my friend Pablo Martinez de Salazar a Doctor in Medicine and Researcher about exotic disease was in Gabon. He told me to join him for some months and after thinking some time about it I felt I should do it. Once I took the decision, first thing I did it was to buy the plane ticket, once you get it there is no way back.

At the end of June I quite my job and I really started to prepare the trip. I bought a one way ticket, I did all the paper work to get the two months visa and I got all the shoots you need to go there: yellow fever, hepatitis, typhoid fever and tetanus. I also took care of what to do to avoid palladiums because Gabon is one of the first countries of the world where more people dies with this disease, that it’s why my friend was there, researching Malaria in Albert Schweitzer Hospital.

The idea was to visit my friend in Lambarene  (the third most important city of the country that has only 25.000 people of the 2 million total population there) and spend 2 months in a small bungalow try to learn how people life in the deep black africa, and I did it!

I arrived to Libreville, the capital of the country and I started to realize how different was that city compare with the ones in Europe. Europe cities have the city center where it used to be all the markets and business and around that area the neighborhoods were growing. Libreville was a completely disorganized city. There were a couple of high buildings and around them slums, suddenly one government building and more slums; then one neighborhood and other government building, after many times there I couldn’t find any sense or any logical structure.

There is no public transport in Gabon, except one train which goes from north-west to south-east and a couple of roads. To arrive to Lambarene, 200 kilometers from Libreville the capital and where it is the International airport, we needed to take a private taxi. It is funny because in Gabon there is always room for more people in the car or the small van you travel; usually in one taxi should go two people in the front seat plus the driver and five people in the back; other time traveling in a small Nissan Van we were 22 adults, 3 kids plus lambs and chickens…crazy! And of course no AC in those old cars.

Before going to Lambarene I needed to have all the money I was going to need for the further two months, because there are only ATM in the capital Libreville, most of the people do not use banks, they work one day and they get paid for one day; as they are not used to save money they spend what they have in the pocket; when the pocket is empty of money they work in daily jobs again.

The money in Lambarene basically it is to buy extras. The jungle around the place it is very rich and there is very few people living in this city, only 25.000 habitants, most of the people lives along the road in family houses and they are self-sufficient with the fruits and hunting that the jungle offer them. When they have money they spend it in beer and food which it is not found in the jungle, like cheese, bread, tomato sauce, candies, salt, sugar and coffee. More than the food, the beer in Gabon is really important, people drink a lot so a really wealthy business is to have a truck to provide drinks in the hundreds of bars you find; in many areas of Lambarene might be no electricity, no signal in the hand phone, no food shop, but you will always find a bar with cold beer.

Once I finally made it to Lambarene I got to the bungalow I was going to rent for two months. Atongowanga was the name of the neighborhood and it was really close to the Ogooue river. After some days walking along the river taking some pictures I found out how important was the river there; everybody from the city used the river for food, for cleaning, for relaxing and for playing, I used to wake up every morning knowing that near the Ogooue I was going to find something new, everyday a surprise! And it was like that for two months.

Having the house so close to the river I decide to make portraits of the people doing all kind of activities there, so everyday I used to carry my canon 5d and everyday I used to find something to shoot at. I did not want to make an illustrated report, I hadn’t had published anything by that time, so I just enjoyed taking picture of things I liked it. It was very relaxing and I did not have any pressure to develop a good work. Those days I was a real amateur in love of photography, just taking pictures for my joy.

During two months I tried to live the same way people lived there, with the difference that I knew that my experience woulded long for a period and not for all my life. I learned how different life was there, people did not care about “tomorrow” they just live “today”, they never think about what was going to be the day after, they never look forward, if they needed something they will get it, but they will never warn for anything. I could see such  difference might be the key what makes them be so joyful and cheerful.

I had the chance to go to a traditional wedding and to many funerals and they were a great party of colors, joy and music. Everybody seems to know how to dance and sing in Gabon, I used to be amazed by someone dancing in front of me or listening a choir of kids improvising a song; I felt like they have something different in their blood that makes them be so attractive.
Since that trip that finally long three months I felt in Love with that part of Africa and I know I will go back, I really need to go back some day.