Segregation It was with more than a little trepidation that I took this assignment in Belfast. Not because of “The Troubles” (and I still can’t get over the understatement in this term), but for photographing something that looks so familiar, something so much like where I grew up, and what I took for granted. Since I began making a living out of photography back in January, much of my work has been centred around events, and all of it in Africa - from Libya, through the Sudans, to Kenya and Somalia. They have been stories of conflict, of voting, of famine and drought. And if I was working on quieter stories, it was still “exotic”; a different scenery, and different peoples, for the largely western audience that views (and buys) my work. Here in Northern Ireland, the terraced houses reminded me of Sheffield. The faces looked the same as those who I grew up with. I wouldn’t have that “safety net” of the exotic on this assignment. I was working with a journalist who I first met in Libya, as we crossed the border from Egypt. The story was for a weekend supplement of Le Monde, and would have roots in a civil war that took place in my own country as I was growing up, but which I realised I knew less about than many other conflicts in other corners of the globe. What shocked me the most were the “Peace Walls”. We talk about—and deplore—the Israeli wall that separates the Palestinian Territories from Israel, segregating two peoples. But these exist in Belfast today. Under the shadow of it, gardens are covered in netting and mesh, resembling small prisons, to protect them from bricks and other missiles thrown over from the opposite side. I had seen the same thing in Hebron. And these are not relics of the past, now that peace talks have brought about a relative calm. People here say that the walls are still needed, to keep two opposing communities apart. Integration is a long way off yet. » Read Belfast, en paix mais toujours divisée — Le Monde des religions » See the tearsheet in my portfolio
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Segregation

It was with more than a little trepidation that I took this assignment in Belfast. Not because of “The Troubles” (and I still can’t get over the understatement in this term), but for photographing something that looks so familiar, something so much like where I grew up, and what I took for granted.

Since I began making a living out of photography back in January, much of my work has been centred around events, and all of it in Africa - from Libya, through the Sudans, to Kenya and Somalia. They have been stories of conflict, of voting, of famine and drought. And if I was working on quieter stories, it was still “exotic”; a different scenery, and different peoples, for the largely western audience that views (and buys) my work.

Here in Northern Ireland, the terraced houses reminded me of Sheffield. The faces looked the same as those who I grew up with. I wouldn’t have that “safety net” of the exotic on this assignment.

I was working with a journalist who I first met in Libya, as we crossed the border from Egypt. The story was for a weekend supplement of Le Monde, and would have roots in a civil war that took place in my own country as I was growing up, but which I realised I knew less about than many other conflicts in other corners of the globe.

What shocked me the most were the “Peace Walls”. We talk about—and deplore—the Israeli wall that separates the Palestinian Territories from Israel, segregating two peoples. But these exist in Belfast today. Under the shadow of it, gardens are covered in netting and mesh, resembling small prisons, to protect them from bricks and other missiles thrown over from the opposite side. I had seen the same thing in Hebron.

And these are not relics of the past, now that peace talks have brought about a relative calm. People here say that the walls are still needed, to keep two opposing communities apart. Integration is a long way off yet.

» Read Belfast, en paix mais toujours divisée — Le Monde des religions
» See the tearsheet in my portfolio

Sufi Celebrations in Sudan

It is rare to see gatherings such as this in Sudan. But as much of the western world was celebrating St. Valentine’s day, Sudan’s sufis were this year celebrating the birth of the Prophet Muhammad.

In Khartoum, in Omdurman and in Bahri—the three cities centred on the confluence of the two Niles—tents were erected and, for Sudan, a carnival atmosphere ensued.

Amid the sellers of traditional sweets, people listened to tales of the Prophet’s life from various Sufi sheikhs, they prayed en-masse, and the dervishes entered trance-like states.

Working on a piece with Simon Martelli for AFP, we were told:

“Some of them feel like their minds are out of their bodies. At this time, they do not feel anything outside. An old man who cannot normally stand for 15 minutes; here he will dance for three of four hours.”

A welcome break from the typical pace of Sudanese life.

Halgt Zikr in Omdurman

The White Nile separates Khartoum from Sudan’s largest city, Omdurman, which was the country’s capital during the brief Mahdist rule at the end of the 19th century. The capital was moved back across the Nile to Khartoum when the British brutally defeated the Mahdists at the Battle of Omdurman, heralding over fifty years of effective colonial rule, A traditional Muslim city, the atmosphere here is very different to that of the neighbouring capital, dotted with colonial architecture.

For visitors to the region, Omdurman is reputed as having the country’s largest souq, and every Friday, for the congregation of whirling dervishes practicing their devotion to Allah at the Hamed el-Nil mosque.

My first taste of Sufism, the mystical dimension of Islam, was just three weeks previously, as the colourful Al-Tannoura Traditional Troup presented their choreographed performance in Cairo. Walking past the small cemetery at Hamed el-Nil, the chanting of la illaha ila-llah (“there is no god but Allah”) filled the air. The dhikr is a very different affair than the seated performance in Khan al-Khalili, as a large group of men dressed in white djellabas stood, almost trance-like, forming a large circle.

Dust filling the air as the ground reverberated with the beating of drums and the dervishes danced and whirled, “turning [their heart] away from all else but God”. Many carry ceremonial canes as they parade around the circle. Another devotee, in almost priest-like attire, scented the air with incense, before himself spinning barefoot on the dusty ground, his beads splaying out and smoke issuing from his hands.

Sudan—reputed for its adherence to Sharia law—and its people are heavily influenced by religion; the country is, by name, an Islamic Republic. Walking down the street at one of the five prayer times, the muezzin fills the air and swathes of men are out on the pavement kneeling towards Mecca. Yet the lives of normal people here are far from the strict, oppressive stereotypes that many hold in the West, this Sufi display being a facet of the story. The majority of women observe Islamic dress code, but their coverings are rarely muted burkas, often influenced by the traditional African toob, and they have no qualms about extending a hand to greet a scruffy looking foreigner.

At Hamed el-Nil, in a country where alcohol is forbidden by law, an occasional waft of marijuana floats by. Elsewhere in the capital, home-brewed merissa and erigi (a sorghum-based beer and a strong gin of fermented dates, respectively) can be obtained if one knows the right places to ask. A Sudanese friend described her compatriots as a very liberal people, “it’s just that they don’t like to show it”.

It is easy to dismiss these differences as a north-south divide, particularly pertinent with the current focus on the referendum scheduled for January 2011, where the people of the south will decide whether they wish to succeed from north. Yet with such a display in the heart of a traditional, Muslim city bordering the capital, I found the line is not so clearly cut.

» More images: Hamed el-Nil Sufis.

Sufi Dancing @ Cairo The Al-Tannoura Traditional Troup perform a few times per week at the Wekalet El-Ghouri Arts Centre, near Khan al-Khalili. Sufism is where mysticism meets Islam. The basis of this dancing is to separate the mind from the body through the repetition of movement, to become closer to God. Or at least that’s how it was explained to me. I’m not sure how far removed they really become on stage, dancing with strict coordination as the live musicians provide the rhythm to which their movements anchor, but in any case, it’s quite the show. Entrance is free if you’re in town.

Sufi Dancing @ Cairo

The Al-Tannoura Traditional Troup perform a few times per week at the Wekalet El-Ghouri Arts Centre, near Khan al-Khalili.

Sufism is where mysticism meets Islam. The basis of this dancing is to separate the mind from the body through the repetition of movement, to become closer to God. Or at least that’s how it was explained to me. I’m not sure how far removed they really become on stage, dancing with strict coordination as the live musicians provide the rhythm to which their movements anchor, but in any case, it’s quite the show.

Entrance is free if you’re in town.

Madeenet el alf Midhana Or, “the city of a thousand minarets”. The presence of Islam in Egyptian life is rising; the veil is increasingly prevalent, large numbers of men bear a scar on their forehead from kneeling to the ground during prayer and the language is filled with phrases regarding God. Ma’shala, hamdu lillah and insh’allah are found in every exchange. The profusion of mosques in Cairo is astounding, and much of my time here was spent under the shadow of their domes. At times reflecting on the religion that binds these people together and has such a great influence in their life; at times appreciating the intricate Arabic calligraphy; at times simply savouring their peacefulness, and the cool air in their shaded alcoves. The breeze on the minaret high above the mosque of Ibn Tulun provided welcome respite from the Cairo heat, affording a stunning view high over the city. I also met many Muslims who were keen to explain their faith, and to answer any questions I may have. A very interesting evening was spent talking with Mohammed as he explained how integral his religion was in his daily life. Subjects ranged from the “banning” of music in the culture, and how he doesn’t feel that technology doesn’t at all tempt him away, or prevent him from being, a good Muslim. He also discussed the responsibilities of women in Islam, and how in the West we tend to malign the “constraints” “imposed” upon Muslim women, and how these responsibilities also extend to men. Another evening, I was approached in a restaurant by a twenty year-old Muslim who was keen to issue me with several booklets (in English) explaining his faith, and attempting to break certain stereotypes. Again, a booklet discussing Women in Islam caught my eye; it attempted to justify many facets of Muslim women’s lives, particularly by comparing to the teaching of Christianity and Judaism on the subject. Yet reading it, a very selective view was taken on certain aspects, picking and choosing the best sura from the Qu’ran, comparing it to the worst the Torah & Bible have to offer. Rather than exonerating Islam from any charge of repressing women, it seemed to want to drag-down Christianity & Judaism along with it. As he brought over a plate of sweet, milky dessert, and insisted on paying for my koshary, a cynic would take it as a bribe; but within this culture there is a great sense of hospitality towards the guest, and this was simply exemplary of the warmth and welcoming the people of the Middle East can be towards foreigners. We were a long way from the touts of downtown.

Madeenet el alf Midhana

Or, “the city of a thousand minarets”.

The presence of Islam in Egyptian life is rising; the veil is increasingly prevalent, large numbers of men bear a scar on their forehead from kneeling to the ground during prayer and the language is filled with phrases regarding God. Ma’shala, hamdu lillah and insh’allah are found in every exchange.

The profusion of mosques in Cairo is astounding, and much of my time here was spent under the shadow of their domes. At times reflecting on the religion that binds these people together and has such a great influence in their life; at times appreciating the intricate Arabic calligraphy; at times simply savouring their peacefulness, and the cool air in their shaded alcoves. The breeze on the minaret high above the mosque of Ibn Tulun provided welcome respite from the Cairo heat, affording a stunning view high over the city.

I also met many Muslims who were keen to explain their faith, and to answer any questions I may have. A very interesting evening was spent talking with Mohammed as he explained how integral his religion was in his daily life. Subjects ranged from the “banning” of music in the culture, and how he doesn’t feel that technology doesn’t at all tempt him away, or prevent him from being, a good Muslim. He also discussed the responsibilities of women in Islam, and how in the West we tend to malign the “constraints” “imposed” upon Muslim women, and how these responsibilities also extend to men.

Another evening, I was approached in a restaurant by a twenty year-old Muslim who was keen to issue me with several booklets (in English) explaining his faith, and attempting to break certain stereotypes. Again, a booklet discussing Women in Islam caught my eye; it attempted to justify many facets of Muslim women’s lives, particularly by comparing to the teaching of Christianity and Judaism on the subject. Yet reading it, a very selective view was taken on certain aspects, picking and choosing the best sura from the Qu’ran, comparing it to the worst the Torah & Bible have to offer. Rather than exonerating Islam from any charge of repressing women, it seemed to want to drag-down Christianity & Judaism along with it.

As he brought over a plate of sweet, milky dessert, and insisted on paying for my koshary, a cynic would take it as a bribe; but within this culture there is a great sense of hospitality towards the guest, and this was simply exemplary of the warmth and welcoming the people of the Middle East can be towards foreigners. We were a long way from the touts of downtown.