My teammate Jackie and I went kayaking Saturday morning. It was a lot of fun and we both quickly realized that controlling small, rounded kayaks is much harder than it looks. I think we rowed in circles more than we actually went forward…
After an hour on Lake Phewa, we made our way back to the edge of the water to get out and return the kayaks to the rental company. We both pulled our kayaks up and the rental guy was nowhere to be found. Luckily, a young man selling fresh coconut slices came up to us and asked if we needed help. He then pulled each of our kayaks out of the water and held them while we maneuvered ourselves and belongings out.
We decided to wait for a few minutes to see if our rental guy would show up, and during that time I noticed two little boys playing near the boats in the water. I began watching them and realized they were trying to catch fish with handmade “poles.” One pole was an empty water bottle with a fishing line tied around it, and a hook with a day-old looking worm. The other handmade pole was a small stick also tied with fishing line, and a hook and another day-old looking worm.
I was taking pictures of the boats on the water and the mountains, and started walking over to the boys. I thought to myself, “Oh, maybe I’ll film the boys catching a fish,” because anyone who can catch a fish has most definitely figured out the virtue of patience in my opinion.
I made my way over to the boys, squatted down beside them and said, “Namaste.” The boy next to me looked directly to my hand by my side, saw my phone, and immediately responded, “No pictures, please.”
For the first 7 months, I dealt with countless people taking pictures of me. And I can probably count on my hand the number of people who actually asked my permission. Even when I told people no to taking my picture, I would still see many of them try to snap my picture without me noticing. It gets to the point where it’s not a battle worth fighting to be honest.
And my intention wasn’t even to take pictures of the boys; I was going to film the fish being caught. But that’s not the point….
For one split second, a little Nepalese boy catching fish with his best friend and a white American woman both could relate on something deeper than what one sees on the surface. He didn’t want his picture taken, and I’ve been trying to avoid my picture being taken as well. We both don’t want people to just take our picture and then walk away.
We don’t want to be seen as just on object for someone to enjoy looking at.
We don’t want people to point and look at us and take pictures without our permission.
We don’t want to hear people talking in a language we can’t understand, and then continue sneaking glances at us.
We don’t want to stand out and not fit in.
Well, I didn’t have a full on conversation with him about all this – he was pretty focused on catching a fish – but all of these thoughts occurred to me as I was processing his statement later. And I’m pretty sure we can relate on these feelings.
You know, in the beginning it can seem cool to have your picture taken all the time, but after a while, when no one even asks where you’re from, or your name, or even if they can take your picture, you start to feel unappreciated. You start to feel like an outcast.
I share all this to challenge you to think again before taking someone’s picture. Yes, it seems like an innocent thing that is no big deal, but I can guarantee taking the time to ask a few questions about someone and getting to know them first before just snapping their picture and walking away can make the biggest difference. You can change someone’s perspective who may feel excluded to making him or her feel like they just made a new friend by taking a few extra minutes to get to know them. It’s worth it.
Ironically, Jackie showed this picture she took of me talking to the boys after I told her the story.
