Peru - Trujillo's Marvellous Market, People and Portraits Part Two

Trujillo is Peru's second largest city with just under one million people living in the metropolitan area. It is home to some spectacular pre-Inca archaeological sites, colourful colonial architecture, a couple of excellent museums and an enormous wholesale market. This post showcases some of the wonderful people who work in the market and whom I had the pleasure of meeting and photographing during my recent visit.

Yolanda, stylish vendor of peppers

I have already written about some of the challenges of photographing people in Peru, but Trujillo was a very different experience to the rest of the country. People were more open to being photographed and not one person required payment. I must note that I had the superb assistance of a wonderful guide, Tali, who helped ease the way with the merchants, chatting with them a little about their stalls, families and experience before checking that they were OK with the camera. Thanks to Tali, the couple of hours I spent at the market were amongst the most enjoyable of my entire trip.

And so to the market. The first thing that struck me was its size. Gigantic. Tali promised me half a kilometre of bananas and another of potatoes and she did not exaggerate. The choice is wide and the competition is fierce as restaurant and shop owners come here to buy. Peruvians are rightly proud of their locally grown fruit and vegetables and like to tell visitors about the 4000 varieties of potato grown in the country. I think most of them were on offer here.

Of course, the colours, smells and scale of the market is impressive but it is the people that make it extra special. Wandering through the alleyways it quickly became obvious that there are many long established stalls here with several generations involved in different tasks from unloading to selling, and from sorting the stock to looking after children at the back of the stall.

Yolanda was one of the first stall holders I noticed.  Her sense of style stood out. She wore a leopard skin patterned ribbon in her straw hat and a long, buttoned cardigan. Simple garments but coupled with her posture and expression the effect was one of supreme elegance. Sitting beside  baskets of bright red, green and yellow peppers, she was serene, almost detached, indicating her agreement to a photograph with an almost imperceptible nod. She must be Trujillo's most stylish 65 year old.

Gilberta

Maritza "I grew this apple just for you"

Many of the vendors here are women, perhaps the majority. I have no doubt this is a tough job and some of the them can seem formidable at the first exchange. Initially, Gilberta was not keen to be photographed. She made faces and grumbled a little and I was resigned to moving on. But just as I was about turn away her demeanour changed and smoothing her floral blouse, she stood to attention and then to my surprise, began turning her head in different directions, acting the part of the model. What an actress! Perhaps she will like the picture I sent back for her.

I always think that selling must be like being on the stage and if Gilberta was a natural actress so was Maritza. She has an apple stall, was happy to be photographed and began playing up for the camera, taking an apple from her stall and saying "see this one? I grew it just for you".

The male vendors may not be foreword as Gilberta and Maritza but they also provided some interesting subjects. The butcher in the blue sweatshirt was peering between the cuts of meat hanging on his stall and smiling at passers-by. A little further along, another butcher's stall caught my attention, due mainly to the somewhat disturbing display of sheep's heads but also because of the mischievous smile of the stall holder. This part of the market was very noisy and when Tali asked his name, he misheard and assumed she had asked about the items for sale. "sheep's head" came the reply causing the surrounding stallholders to collapse into fits of laughter, unable to explain what they were laughing at for a moment. He eventually told us that he is called Juan, a name he shares with the butcher in blue and much more suited to him than the first response. Juan is a popular name amongst the male traders. The egg man's name is a little less common. He is called Napoleon.

Juan, butcher

Juan of the sheep heads

Napoleon, egg vendor

If the majority of stallholders are women, delivery is a job done only by men. Although most goods arrive in the early morning, deliveries take place throughout the day. At the time of my visit, consignments of bananas were arriving. In some cases the fruit is sorted into containers in the back of a truck and then handed down to porters using trolleys. Others simply load huge piles of bananas on to their backs and take them to the stalls. One young man was carrying a huge pile of bananas and when I began to shoot, he put on a little show, performing a few dance steps before disappearing into the main body of the market. Still on the subject of bananas, in the afternoon things quieten down a little and the woman in the picture below made use of the time to practice her needle craft. 

A delivery of bananas

The dancing porter

Keeping busy between customers

Luz and her grand daughter Damaris were playing happily together whilst other members of the family took care of their stall. As with Yolanda, I was much taken by Luz's sense of style. With her poncho of contrasting colours and wide brimmed hat, she was a match for any of those posh ladies out shopping in London's Knightsbridge or South Kensington. But little Damaris, aged just two stole the show with her pink kerchief, showing great curiosity and wanting to handle the camera. She looked most surprised when I showed her a picture of herself on its screen.

A little further on we came across Maria with her grand daughter Beatriz. As we passed, Maria looked up from grinding garlic and waved at us. Beatriz was standing close to her, a very serious little girl, also aged two. It is very easy to see Marie's love for her grand daughter from the scene below.  Such hope, such affection. When I showed her the pictures she became a little emotional to the point of shedding a tear or two. By now she should have a copy of the picture below. I hope she likes it. 

Luz and Damaris

Maria and Beatriz

As well as the established stall holders, the market attracts vendors who walk its alleys, offering sweet and savoury snacks to both stall holders and shoppers. Maria sells bags of popcorn from a tray. She stopped to watch our exchange with Gilberta and seemed very curious about what I was doing. She was less keen to be photographed herself, seeking reassurances that I wouldn't "steal her" with the camera. Before I had a chance to respond she seemed to have a change of heart and presented herself for a picture. When I showed her the result, she looked for a moment, nodded and went on her way.

Maria, popcorn vendor

Friends

Markets are generally very open places. Anyone can wander in and as long as they behave can stay as long as they like. You don't even have to buy anything. That must be what attracted the little group in my final people picture from Trujillo's wholesale market. I love this little scene, one fast asleep, the woman with her hat pulled down laughing a little, someone else intent on securing a parcel and the "character" engaging with the camera. I love Trujillo. 

And to finish, a little more spice.

You can see more pictures of Peru here.

You might also like Peru - People and Portraits Part One or Lima Art Deco

A Postcard from India - 6, Calcutta - the people in the street

Much of my recent time in India was inspired by books. Nowhere more so than Calcutta, or Kolkata as it is now known. Amit Chaudhuri's "Calcutta - Two Years in the City" and a photographic book - "Calcutta - Chitpur Road Neighbourhoods" both of which focus on North Kolkata excited my interest in this city of almost 15 million people and made me long to walk its streets.

Once home to wealthy merchants and the focus of the Bengali cultural renaissance of the 19th and 20th centuries, North Kolkata is now the site of crumbling mansions and forgotten palaces, its former glory fading rapidly. Despite this, I quickly grew to love this part of the city, initially because of the architecture. Decaying buildings can be photogenic, but interesting as the old palaces, mansions and colonial era buildings are, I soon realised that the most interesting thing about this neighbourhood and the  city is its people.

On the day of my arrival, I hired a driver to take me to some of the streets photographed in the Chitpur Road book. I began in Zakaria Street, a predominantly Muslim enclave whose landscape is dominated by the Nakhoda mosque. I was immediately struck by the number of people in the streets, the chaotic activity as hand pulled rickshaws, delivery vehicles, tuk-tuks, street stalls, pedestrians and the occasional animal powered vehicle competed for space. It was difficult to know where to point the camera first and I was unsure how people would react to being photographed. I had no need to worry as not one person refused a request for a picture and indeed, some came forward to ask that I photograph them too once they saw the camera.

The "price" of a photograph was often a short chat with people interested to know where I was from, what I was doing, how long I would be in the city and where else I would see in India. This was almost always accompanied by invitations to drink masala chai purchased from a chaiwallah, one of hundreds, possibly thousands of street tea sellers in the city.

One such invitation came in a lane leading from Zakaria Street to neighbouring Tarachand Dutta Street. I noticed a sign for a dry-cleaners bearing the service legend "Ordinary 4 days, semi-urgent 2 days". No urgent service then. A group of men were sitting in front of the sign and I asked if they wouldn't mind allowing me to photograph it. "No problem" came the reply before one Javed Uddin stepped forward, introduced himself as the owner of a delivery business and offered me the obligatory chai. His friend's daughter had been married the day before and I was also given sweets from the wedding. Before we parted he told me to visit the city again and that if I had any problems in Kolkata I should come and see him. He could help. People knew him. I photographed him standing beside a motorbike in the doorway to his home. He liked the picture.

In the same side street a young moustachioed man wearing a blue shirt and checked lungi asked me if I wanted to take his picture. His work mates came out to see what was happening which resulted in the picture below. I also photographed blue shirt separately. He asked "am I handsome?". Who could say no?

Still in North Kolkata, I met Mohan Lal a chaiwallah operating a stall on Beadon Street. It is Mohan's portrait at the top of this post. I was struck by the bright green of the wall behind him, the red of the garland and cloth and the crisp white of his overall. He had a long queue of people waiting to buy chai as well as several customers sitting on a long bench already enjoying their drinks. One of his customers, a Mister Singh, originally from Bihar invited me to drink tea and told me that Mohan had been selling chai here for many years.

Not far from Mohan's stall I was again struck by bright colours. A family were selling wada - a deep fried savoury snack. The smell was enticing but the deep red backdrop was the thing that I first noticed. As I got closer the father offered me a wada and said "please sir, take one picture of my son". I suggested I photograph them together and that mum join the picture too. Mum could not be persuaded so it was just dad and son. The picture below tells their story.

People in this city work hard. Market porters carry enormous amounts of fruit, vegetables, fish and other items to be sold at the wholesale markets without the use of machinery taken for granted in the western world. I witnessed amazing sites at one of the bazaars as eight men unloaded a massive consignment of vegetables which could have weighed anything up to 400 kilos, perhaps more. The goods were taken from a delivery truck and loaded onto the heads of four porters who moving in absolute unison carried them into the market, walking over wet, muddy ground. No machinery involved, just strength and co-ordination. Breathtaking.

Kolkata is the only city in India that still has hand pulled rickshaws. Many of the men involved in this work come from Bihar, one of the poorer states. Generally the rickshaw pullers are physically small and lean yet manage to pull not only passengers of all shapes and sizes but also enormous piles of shopping purchased in the various bazaars.  I was told the work is all about balance rather than strength but it still looks like a severe test of strength to me. A few years ago the city authorities moved to outlaw hand pulled rickshaws but the drivers protested saying that lacking qualifications or training they had no other work and the ban was not enacted. I understand that there are now proposals to introduce battery powered rickshaws.

It was touching to watch these men enjoying brief rest in the afternoon, reclining on the rested rickshaws, chatting to each other or in some cases talking on mobile phones, enjoying brief contact with relatives in their home town or looking at family photographs. I photographed several groups of rickshaw pullers and porters at rest and was struck by the obvious bonds of friendship and the expressions of deep thought, perhaps wondering about life back in Bihar or another home state.

Still with the bazaars, I got up very early one day during my time in Kolkata so that I could see the early morning activity at the wholesale markets. In addition to the early hour, heavy rain commenced just before I left my hotel and continued throughout the three hours I spent in the markets photographing the traders, porters and customers. 

Even in the poor light, I was struck by the brilliant colours of the produce, the backdrops and the clothes of the people. Few tourists come here and I was free to wander, watch, chat and take pictures, both candid and more formal. At one point I heard raucous laughter coming from one side of the fish market. A woman had placed a plastic bag on her head as protection from the rain, provoking much amusement amongst the neighbouring merchants and their customers. I looked across the market, saw her and began to snap. Once she noticed the camera she began to play up, wave and laugh before assuming a more serious pose, resulting in a great set of pictures.

The market is alive with the constant activity of deliveries, porters rushing about with piles of produce and the banter of negotiation between sellers and buyers. The bargaining activity is fascinating to watch as both parties assume a role, employing comments and facial expressions to either preserve their original price or to secure something cheaper. I watched one woman turning over several fish, turning her face up at them and implying that the quality was not good as a way of influencing the price before making her purchases. Her performance must have been convincing as she left looking happy.

The same woman also bought fish from a delightful married couple who asked me to take their picture together. The husband held up a large fish and invited me to photograph it. Clearly proud of the produce, the couple smiled and I clicked, just before water began to pour through the ceiling and on to the head of his wife. She jumped up and fled whilst he continued to hold up the fish and extoll its many virtues.

The market is home to many characters including the porters pictured below, the first of whom winked at me after being photographed and the second who clad in a fabulous polka dot vest, drew himself up, dragged on his cigarette and posed defiantly.

I loved Kolkata's bazaars and was fascinated by the people, the produce and the constant activity and interaction. But ordinary life elsewhere in the city is just as interesting. An early morning walk down to the river - the Hooghly - gave me the opportunity to see hundreds of devout Hindus stepping into the water, engaging priests for guidance on carrying out rituals and offering prayers for family members that had already passed away. The day before I had been to a barber's shop and cut off my little bit of hair. I was wearing a long, white, collarless shirt which could easily be taken for a panjabi, and in fact was as one of the priests asked me if I had come to enter the water - mistaking me for one of the devotees because of my appearance.

Back on the streets of North Kolkata, a set of beautifully carved wooden doors leading to the courtyard of an old residential building proved to be a wonderful setting for a photograph of a Hindu woman in a brightly coloured sari, whilst taking shelter from the rain under an awing in College Street provided me with a photograph of four elegant women leaving the famed Indian Coffee House and sheltering under their umbrellas.

Kolkata does not attract the numbers of foreign visitors received by Mumbai, Rajasthan or Kerala. it should. It is home to many buildings and institutions important to the history of the country including the Indian Museum with its major ethnographical, archaeological and art collections, the Victoria Memorial and many, many temples, mosques and gurdwaras. It is also home to almost 15 million people who make the city the astonishing place that it is.

Note - the city is now formally known as Kolkata although many people still use the old name too. I have used "Kolkata" in this post except when referring to two books that have used the old name in their titles. 

Several of the pictures in this post were taken during an early morning tour of the wholesale markets with Calcutta Photo Tours. Private and group tours can be arranged to a variety of locations.

You might also like  A Postcard From India - 2, The People of Spice Alley, Mumbai's Lalbaug Market

You can see more pictures of India here.

A Postcard From India 5 - A Morning in Old Delhi

Old Delhi. Narrow streets. Very narrow streets, heaving with people, rickshaws, motorcycles, wheelbarrows, cows and donkeys. Noisy. Dirty. Magnificent. Off every narrow street there are several even narrower alleys. At first they seem a little dark and forbidding but inside many of them lie treasures - 18th century havelis, Jain temples, the best chaiwallah or snack seller in Delhi or someone who wants to tell you a story.

One man with a story is Mister Ramesh, owner of the New Gramophone House shop on the main Chandni Chowk Road. His family established the business in Lahore in 1930 but moved to Delhi in 1947 during partition when their home city became part of Pakistan. Old fashioned gramophone players are sold on the ground floor whilst the tiny first floor room is packed with vinyl records from days gone by.

I went there to look for some favourite Bollywood songs from the 1950's and early 1960's. He had them all. Very formal at first, once he realised that I was genuinely interested, he warmed up, drinks were sent for and he explained that after several hard years, business is showing sings of improvement. This is due in part to the efforts of several older Bollywood stars who no longer receive royalties from their films but can receive payments from sales of the soundtracks. He was very proud of his collection saying "If you can't find what you want here, you won't find it anywhere". I did find what I wanted and left with copies of the soundtracks of Pyaasa and Mr and Mrs 55 as well as a recording of some of Geeta Dutt's most famous songs.

Mr Ramesh, New Gramophone House

The School Run, Old Delhi style

Moving away into the lanes, the atmosphere changes. The streets are still crowded and it can be difficult to pass through them but perseverance brings rewards. Everywhere there is colour from the piled-up goods, window displays and the blue, pink, green and yellow painted walls that form the backdrop to street stalls. Even a humble banana stall can be a thing of beauty with the bright yellow of the fruit contrasting with the pale pink wall and the brightly coloured packets of snacks hanging behind. Taking a rickshaw ride though the lanes of Old Delhi is a great way to see all of this as well as to experience the friendliness of the people.  Expect lots of waving and shouts of "hello". One family squeezed onto a scooter looked up at my rickshaw and called out "good morning sir have a nice day" as they passed by. And speaking of rickshaws, look out for groups of school children piled onto them at various times of day as they go to and from school.  

Bananas with pink background

Green shirts and blue doors

Pink walled snack stand

Haveli Khazanchi

The shady lanes or "galis" leading from the old city's main arteries conceal some of its best kept secrets such as Haveli Khazanchi. Despite its terrible condition, this haveli (mansion), tucked away in the tiny Gali Khazanchi remains an impressive site. Once home to the Mughal Emperor's accountants, known as khazanchis, its central courtyard once boasted a marble pool. This is now drained but still overlooked by a series of beautiful balconies. Influential people including members of the royal family would have been received in the courtyard whilst accountants worked in the surrounding ground floor rooms. Today the haveli is crumbling but still striking due to its blue painted courtyard. One descendant of the khazanchis is said to still live in one of the ground floor apartments whilst others have been rented out, evidence of this being the several lines of washing on display! 

The entrance to the haveli is through two huge carved wooden doors, left open to the street. On the morning of my visit, the bright Delhi sunlight spilled through the door, casting pools of light into the dark alley to reveal two figures - a young man using a mobile phone in the courtyard itself and a street trader crouched in the alley, preparing his huge basket of poppadoms before hoisting it onto his head and moving on to begin the day's business. Old and New Delhi together.

Hawker outside Haveli Khazanchi

Nau Ghara

Nau Ghara

Nau Ghara is another small lane in the old city, leading off Kinari Bazaar Road. It contains nine beautifully maintained havelis (Nad Ghara means nine homes) all belonging to Jain traders and merchants. The Jains are a religious minority, whose beliefs include non-violence, non-absolutism and non-attachment to worldly goods. They were originally invited to Delhi by the Mughals due to being known for their enterprise skills. 

The homes in Nau Ghara feature traditional latticed balconies, marble staircases and imposing wooden doorways. The entrances are painted pink, blue and yellow and have  beautifully decorated surrounds featuring flowers and fruits in the Persian style. The three-storeyed Jewellers Temple stands at the end of the lane. It is perhaps the most beautiful of all the buildings in Nad Ghara, its walls covered in gold filigree and murals showing life in the Mughal courts as well as scenes from various scriptures. Photography is not permitted inside the temple. This and a list of other rules is handed by the caretaker to visitors for reading before they enter. The list is laminated and framed and includes instructions about smoking and removal of shoes as well as the forbidding of photography. Despite this, he was extremely friendly and wanted to chat about where I was from and what I was doing in India as well as telling me that he has a friend who lives near Queen Elizabeth!

The desire to chat politely with visitors was something I experienced throughout India in huge cities and in small villages where I stopped for tea en route to somewhere else. Some of the artisans and traders in Old Delhi were also keen to chat and to talk about their work. This included a pair of silversmiths working in one of the alleys adjacent to an excellent chaiwallah's stand where I enjoyed masala chai and a savoury snack whilst admiring their work. These craftsmen were proud of their skills, happy to be photographed and in return expected only my interest and response. It really is worth taking the time to stop and chat for a few minutes and to see something outside of our normal experience. For example, one trader removes the tiny coloured glass pieces sewn into clothes as decoration and uses them to make jewellery and other items. People sell their old clothes to him to make a little money and he in turn recycles the glass to earn his own living.

Entrance to Jain compound

Roof top restaurant

Nau Ghara is not the only Jain enclave within the old city. Noticing an open doorway leading into a tiled courtyard I was curious about what might be inside. Venturing in I entered an open courtyard surrounded by several three floors of apartments probably dating from the 19th century. The central courtyard was a shared area and the building was managed by a superintendent who kept a room on the ground floor from where he watched comings and goings. A list of rules for residents was displayed in the corridor leading to the courtyard including exhortations about paying the rent and not being noisy. Not much different to being at home then. Although not as grand as Nau Ghara, the courtyard was decorated with beautiful  ceramic tiles, imported from Europe according to contemporary tastes at the time of construction. The superintendent told me that there was a restaurant on the roof and to go and have a look. On reaching the summit, I was welcomed by a group of young people preparing lunch according to Jain requirements which are not only vegetarian, but also forbid the consuming of garlic, onions, potatoes and eggplants.

Jain compound courtyard

Courtyard tiles

It would be very easy to spend several days wandering through the lanes and bazaars of Old Delhi, enjoying the contrast between the bustle of the main streets and the tranquility of the lanes. The pictures below contrast those two extremes. I left the old city greedy for more. I will have to return.

You might also like A Postcard from India 2 - The People of Spice Alley, Mumbai's Lalbaug Market

You can see more pictures from India here