It is a surprising but true urban myth that people living in the so-called ‘Third World’ think if their photo is taken, then their soul is captured inside the machine, and then pressed onto paper. They seem to be under the impression that their soul has been trapped: caged, you could say- and this will somehow prevent them from continuing to the next life after death.
I have no idea if this is true- having not yet died, it’s impossible to know. I do know that not everyone in the third world believes this- but there is an element of fear in seeing yourself on a piece of paper, and from a trip backpacking in India, I know at least a few uphold the superstition.
I’ll never forget when my mother took the photo of a young boy in India - his reaction was so unusual to me, it has remained in my mind clearly to this day: a feat which my maths homework has yet to accomplish. Mum took the photo whilst the boy watched curiously from his perch on a slightly rotting gate- when the flash went, he gave a little cry and threw his hands to his face, but realizing quickly there was no danger, he relaxed almost instantly. Mum came closer whilst he watched warily, although he smiled a little as she spoke to him (she’s good with kids). When she turned the digital camera round to show him his photo, he nearly fell off the gate in surprise- then he grabbed the camera and peered more closely at the tiny image, all but pressing his nose to the screen. He poked different parts of his face that he saw in the camera and rubbed his hair. Then he started to giggle, and laugh hysterically- he called his friends over, and all of them stared at the camera with expressions ranging from blank confusion to great amusement.
Eventually the boy gave Mum back the camera- smiling from ear to ear, and when we left, he and his friends chased after the truck, waving and laughing. His grandmother tried to give him to us; so he could have a better future, since he was an orphan and she knew she did not have much longer to live. We couldn’t take him, of course- but I wish we’d found out his name.
I only mention this because it seems a polar opposite to the far east’s obsession with photography. I’ve even seen the Hong Kong Chinese taking pictures of themselves and each other next to unremarkable office building, in Hong Kong! I’ve never understood it, and was only more bewildered when I had a close encounter of the Chinese Polaroid kind.
I was paddling in the sea, on a beach with some friends of ours- occasionally diving and jumping off the pontoon, but otherwise minding my own business- when two random Chinese guys came over and asked me, in poor and heavily accented English that was nonetheless polite, to take a photo with them.
At first, I presumed, so bizarre was their request, that they were asking me to take a photo of them with the camera a young girl who I could only assume to be their sister was holding. I gestured for the girl to give me the camera, getting out of the surf and wondering if my salty hands would damage it, when the boys shook their heads and repeated their request. Blushing and confused now, I asked them why, but they just repeated the question again, and I guessed that they either didn’t understand, or chose to ignore my own inquiry.
Unhappy and uncomfortable, I stood impassively, trying for a closed mouth smile as the girl took a photo with the boys on either side. Afterwards, they thanked me profusely, and I returned to paddling with our friends, waiting for them to burst out laughing or receive some loud exclamation from their friends or ask someone else for a photo. But they did none of the above, simply taking a few photos with each other and the girl before packing up their things and going to the pier to catch a boat back to wherever they came from.
I still don’t know what that was about- but I can see the convoluted attraction in a world based entirely upon artificial image in different places, with different people, at different times of your life- trying to preserve it on glossy paper, even as it slips away; because you can’t see it with unclouded eyes. A cage for our soul, or simply our eyes- perhaps the camera has provided a trap, albeit a pretty one, which is almost impossible to escape…Or maybe not: I wouldn’t know, I can only speculate.
