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Invited to a porn shoot: ‘I’ll wait outside’

| blog, Eye witness, Japan, L&B World | May 11, 2015

Japanese porn actor Ken Shimizu, known as Shimiken, posing after an interview with AFP in Tokyo on March 18, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / Yoshikazu TSUNO)

"When Japanese porn king 'Shimiken' tweeted that there were more Bengali tigers than male porn actors in Japan, AFP Tokyo felt obliged, nay duty-bound, to launch a forensic investigation into this cause célèbre," writes Alastair Himmer. "But this would be no ordinary assignment. Not by a long chalk."

(Photo: AFP / Yoshikazu Tsuno)



By Alastair Himmer






Japanese porn actor Ken Shimizu, known as Shimiken, posing after an interview with AFP in Tokyo on March 18, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / Yoshikazu TSUNO)

Japanese porn actor Ken Shimizu, known as Shimiken, posing after an interview with AFP in Tokyo on March 18, 2015

 (AFP Photo / Yoshikazu Tsuno)


TOKYO, May 11, 2015 - When Japanese porn king “Shimiken” tweeted that there were more Bengali tigers than male porn actors in Japan, AFP Tokyo felt obliged, nay duty-bound, to launch a forensic investigation into this cause célèbre.

The alarming decline in the number of actors was an issue, surely, which gnawed at the very fabric of Japanese society? A thorough examination of Japan's $20 billion porn business would be needed. But this would be no ordinary assignment. Not by a long chalk.

It suddenly struck me: "What do I know about the porn industry?" Very little as it turned out.


Yasue Tomita, 61, sits on a tatami floor while posing for a photographer as she makes her debut as a porn actress at a studio in Tsurugashima, Saitama prefecture, on March 17, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / Toru YAMANAKA)

Yasue Tomita, 61, poses on a tatami floor as she makes her debut as a porn actress at a studio in Tsurugashima, Saitama prefecture, on March 17, 2015 (AFP Photo / Toru Yamanaka)


After double-checking with my editor that he is not, in fact, having a laugh, I type "Japanese porn" into Google with considerable trepidation and then set about e-mailing all 28 resulting production companies.

Almost immediately and without warning, however, our porn feature begins to morph, almost by osmosis, into two porn features. This wasn't in the script. 

In a bizarre development, we are now simultaneously examining the phenomenon of "silver porn" - entertainment by, and for, older people - and are invited to deepest Saitama where a 61-year-old was making her debut in Japan's "adult video" (AV) business.

As we climb out of the car, I notice my palms are sweaty. What is this? Isn’t adrenalin. It is terror. I wonder if there is a polite way to ask: "Shouldn't you be knitting?"


(Video: 'Silver porn' shows 50 shades of greying Japan)


Interview and (fully-clothed) photo shoot in the bag, cameraman Antoine Bouthier throws a curveball, asking for a few more close-ups for his video piece.

Director: "Sure. The actress will take a shower now so please come this way!" Awkward silence. Followed by a "Eureka!" moment on my part: "I just write the words - I'll wait outside."


Feeling overdressed


In the meantime, we have been exclusively invited to interview a host of porn queens and the stud himself: Shimiken.

I meet a 39-year-old actress of the "juku-jo" (mature woman) genre called Yuko Shiraki on a photo shoot. She is in a bath robe and slippers. Her changing room is extremely warm and I feel overdressed. But stay focused. She tells me she used to be a truck driver hauling frozen fish.


Adult video actress Yuko Shiraki answers questions during an interview with AFP, at a studio in Tokyo on March 14, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / TORU YAMANAKA)

Adult video actress Yuko Shiraki, at a studio in Tokyo on March 14, 2015 (AFP Photo / Toru Yamanaka)


"Men now are less macho and less into sex," she explains, blaming the dearth of male porn stars on the growing social trend of "herbivore men" – the name given in Japan to men who shun sex and romance.


‘I am Sex Man’


Next up is Anri Okita, famous in Japan for her "L-cup" bust size. Eye contact would be crucial here.

"It's physiological," she purrs when asked why there are only around 70 male actors servicing some 10,000 females in the industry. "Shimiken is a genius." Understand: regular Japanese guys just don’t measure up.


Japanese porn actor Ken Shimizu, known as Shimiken, speaking during an interview with AFP in Tokyo on March 18, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / Yoshikazu TSUNO)

Japanese porn actor Ken Shimizu, known as Shimiken, during an interview with AFP in Tokyo on March 18, 2015

 (AFP Photo / Yoshikazu Tsuno)


The genius turns up in a DeLorean sportscar and hands me a phallus-shaped business card. "I'm Sex man!" says Shimiken by way of introduction. I admire his pluck for wearing a T-shirt with "Sex Instructor" scrawled across it. Then again, he has slept with over 8,000 women so who am I to argue?


'Cut!' - for the umpteenth time


We talk for two hours. Most of it completely unusable for a "family" news wire like AFP. But we still have more than enough for our exclusive - and we're getting closer in our quest for the truth. "Guys don't want to be compared to other actors," shrugs the 35-year-old. "And you can get rumbled quickly nowadays with social media. My mum walked in on a scene I was doing once. That was tricky."

The cameraman sighs "Cut!" for the umpteenth time as Shimiken uses another naughty word.


(Video: Japan's 'Pornaldo' keeps scoring as male actors fizzle)


Just when I thought I was done and could go back to covering sport (which was beginning to feel like something I had done in a previous life) I got a call from a company specialising in hardcore S and M movies. "We're shooting a movie on Monday," the voice says. "Please be here at 9 pm."

We enter a dank, dark building and are led up six floors to… a movie set. Surely just to say hello to the director?

An actor in his fifties is sitting in a blue dressing gown puffing on a cigarette. The ceiling is low and the set is crowded. The room smells very bad. In walks the actress in a robe. She drops the robe. "Okay, stay calm and breathe!"

We are 30 seconds away from "Camera, lights, action!" Veteran AFP cameraman Yoshikazu Tsuno snaps away at the director as our video guy sets up, nervously. Various heavy-duty S and M gadgets and equipment are readied. I'm feeling uneasy. And then, in the nick of time, another lightbulb moment.

"I just write the words - I'll wait outside."

Alastair Himmer is an AFP sport and lifestyle correspondent in Tokyo


Adult video actress Anri Okita poses for the DVD package of her new video at a studio in Tokyo on March 26, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / TORU YAMANAKA)

Adult video actress Anri Okita poses for the DVD package of her new video at a studio in Tokyo on March 26, 2015

(AFP Photo / Toru Yamanaka)




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Seeking the soul of Istanbul on the Bosphorus

| blog, Eye witness, L&B World, Turkey | April 10, 2015

A ferry leaves the Kadikoy landing as a captain walks on the roof on May 3, 2014, in Istanbul. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

"It’s commonplace among Istanbul residents to complain about the pace of change in the city," writes AFP journalist Stuart Williams. "Too much unchecked construction, too much traffic, too many new infrastructure projects, people say. Yet everyone still knows a place that for them is the soul of the city. For me, the easiest way to feel the soul of Istanbul is on the water. On one of the commuter ferries that ply their way on the Bosphorus."

(Photo: AFP / Bulent Kilic)



By Stuart Williams






A ferry leaves the Kadikoy landing as a captain walks on the roof on May 3, 2014, in Istanbul. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

A ferry leaves the Kadikoy landing in Istanbul in May 2014 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


ISTANBUL, April 10, 2015 - It’s commonplace among Istanbul residents to complain about the pace of change in the city. Too much unchecked construction, too much traffic, too many new infrastructure projects, people say. Istanbul is big enough to be a megapolis yet has always had the intimacy of a village. As new luxury apartment blocks sprout from the ground, more cars take to the road and the government comes up with dizzying projects for new bridges, tunnels and an airport, this risks being lost.

Yet everyone still knows a place that for them is the soul of the city. For some it might be among the splashing fountains of the Topkapi Palace. For others, wandering the labyrinthine backstreets of the hills above the Golden Horn. Or perhaps meditating or praying under the mighty domes of one of the city’s great Ottoman mosques.

For me, the easiest way to feel the soul of Istanbul is on the water. On one of the commuter ferries that ply their way on the Bosphorus.


Birds perch as the Blue Mosque dominates the skyline during sundown on January 23, 2014, in Istanbul. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

The Blue Mosque at sundown in January 2014 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


Dividing Europe and Asia, the Bosphorus has presented a formidable obstacle since antiquity to would-be invaders and residents of the city. Sultans of the Ottoman Empire had to be rowed across to Uskudar on the Asian side before starting campaigns in Anatolia. Darius the Great of Persia is said to have engineered a pontoon bridge in a bid to link the divide.


An unbridgeable obstacle


But no permanent crossing was constructed until modern times. The first road bridge was only opened in 1973. A second followed in 1988 and the authorities are now building a third closer to the Black Sea as part of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s series of ambitious but hugely controversial engineering projects to transform the face of Turkey. An undersea metro tunnel that runs beneath the Bosphorus was opened in 2013 and there is now even a plan to build a road tunnel under what a few decades before had seemed an unbridgeable obstacle.

But for all that, the simplest and most beautiful way to cross the continents will always be to jump on a boat.


Turkish passengers travel by ferry on the Bosphorus on August 4, 2013 in Istanbul as the city swelters under a heat wave. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

Passengers travel by ferry on the Bosphorus in August 2013 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


I live on the European side of Istanbul but frequently use the ferries to nip over to the Asian sides to enjoy the markets, pubs and theatres in the slightly decadent Kadikoy district or the stunning Ottoman mosques and waterfront promenade in more conservative Uskudar. After taking a morning run starting from Bebek on the Bosphorus I also sometimes hop on a commuter ferry back to the centre, a journey that takes in hundreds of years of history.


History of this land


For just four lira ($1.5, less with a travel card), the ferry offers the finest view of Istanbul’s famed skyline. The towers of the Topkapi Palace where reclusive sultans ruled an empire spanning continents. The Hagia Sophia, for some simply the greatest single building on the planet, whose journey from church to mosque to museum symbolises the history of this land. The minarets of the Sultanahmet Mosque (Blue Mosque), masterpiece of Ottoman architecture. From the ferry, the morning rush on the streets of Istanbul looks like an attractive bustle, rather than the hellish fight it can be on the ground.


A businessman talks on the phone as he travels on a ferry between Karakoy and Uskudar on May 2, 2013, on the Bosphorus in Istanbul (AFP PHOTO / BULENT KILIC)

A businessman rides a ferry on the Bosphorus, from Karakoy to Uskudar in May 2013 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


The Asian side offers more unexpected pleasures. The beautiful front of Haydarpasa station, built by Germans before World War I as a key point in the Kaiser’s dream of a Berlin-Baghdad railway. The vast Selimiye barracks where the British nurse Florence Nightingale tended to wounded patients from the Crimean War and played a part in revolutionizing hospital treatment.


The groan of foghorns


The ships themselves are beautiful to behold, bedecked in the yellow and white colours of the City Line company. They are the size of a small cruise vessel, with a funnel that belches out inky black smoke which contrasts vividly with the sky. The sound of their foghorns groans balefully around the Bosphorus while the hard-working engines can be heard cranking away even in nearby residential districts.


People feed seagulls as they travel on the Bosphorus on November 19, 2014, in Istanbul. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

People feed seagulls as they travel on the Bosphorus in November 2014 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


The sounds inside are just as distinctive. The familiar percussive tinkling of spoons against the tulip-shaped Turkish tea glasses as passengers stir alarming amounts of sugar into their small, strong shots of tea. Waiters walk briskly around the cabin with a tray, shouting offers of tea, sandwiches, orange juice or perhaps the winter favourite of sahlep.

The true Istanbullus of course look unfazed by the scenery that dazzles visitors to the city, scowling at their newspapers as tourists from Europe or the Middle East shout excitedly at the spectacular views of the Topkapi Palace.


People travel on a ferry between the two continents of Istanbul, Turkey, on June 18, 2014. (AFP PHOTO / BULENT KILIC)

Ferry passengers cross the Bosphorus in June 2014 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


I’ve noticed that reading a newspaper in Turkey can be as vivid a display of one’s political affiliations as wearing a football shirt can be of one’s favourite team. That man in the corner reading Yeni Safak (New Dawn, strongly pro-government), well, he has to be a strong supporter of Erdogan. The other man reading Sozcu (The Spokesman, rabidly anti-government) can harbour nothing other than an impassioned hatred for Turkey’s divisive president. What about the woman reading Hurriyet (Liberty)? Hard to say, the paper treads a careful line these days in the vain hope of not alienating any readers.


A nautical ballet


Karakoy to Kadikoy, Besiktas to Uskudar, Eminonu to Kadikoy, the ferries leave once every half hour from around six am until midnight in a nautical ballet jointly performed with the cargo ships coming through the Bosphorus and tiny fishing vessels. It seems a chaos and remarkable that more accidents don’t happen in such a crowded space.


A girl feeds seagulls as she passes the Bosphorus with a ferry on November 23, 2014, in Istanbul. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

A girl feeds seagulls on a ferry across the Bosphorus in November 2014 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


Joining the party is an extraordinarily rich birdlife. Cormorants dive for fish and then emerge, shaking their head as if in annoyance. Herons stand sentry on the breakwaters, gazing out to the Hagia Sophia like they have seen it all before. The city’s most distinctive birds, the Yelkouan Shearwaters, fly rapidly in flocks low to the water towards the Sea of Marmara, themselves like anxious early morning commuters. And even from the city centre it’s possible on occasion to see groups of dolphins leaping out of the water.


Slow, stately travel


As well as the ferries that cross from Europe to Asia, rarer but much-loved ferries sail on the route down the Bosphorus from the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara. Just a handful are timetabled, taking commuters from the villages on the northeastern side towards the centre and then back in the evening. This is slow, stately travel, taking two hours to make the full trip - the morning ferry that leaves Anadolu Kavagi close to the Black Sea at 6:40 am eases its way into Eminonu in the centre at 8:30 am. But while driving takes perhaps a quarter of the time, I always think, what travel this is.


A Turkish couple shares a romantic sunset at the back of a ferry on the Bosphorus, in Istanbul, on October 17, 2014. (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

A Turkish couple shares a romantic sunset at the back of a ferry on the Bosphorus in October 2014 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)


On the way, the great waterfront yali mansions built for the Ottomans and now used by the new royalty of the super rich. The Anadolu Hisari fortress built in the late 1390s by Sultan Beyazit I, over half a century before the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. The waterfront Dolmabahce Palace from where the final Ottoman sultans watched their empire crumble and where the founder of the modern Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, took his final breath. And as the journey nears its end, the Topkapi Palace, Hagia Sophia and the great Ottoman mosques of Sultanahmet and Suleymaniye, triumphant in their permanence.

In a few years’ time, if Erdogan’s vision is realised, it will likely be possible to cross the Bosphorus in every conceivable way, by tunnel, long distance train or whatever. But I think many, be they Istanbullus or visitors, will keep a preference for the ferry. And myself as well. Let time move slower, nurse a boiling tea in your hands, sit back and watch history shimmer above the glittering waters.

Stuart Williams is an AFP correspondent based in Istanbul


The Kadikoy ferry leaves Besiktas harbour on October 28, 2013 in Istanbul (AFP PHOTO/BULENT KILIC)

The Kadikoy ferry leaves Besiktas harbour in Istanbul in October 2013 (AFP Photo / Bulent Kilic)




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With the nomads of New Delhi

| blog, Eye witness, India, L&B World | April 9, 2015

Indian nomadic shepherd Dheeya poses as the camp she shares with her family on the outskirts of Faridabad some 30 kms from New Delhi on March 22, 2015 (AFP PHOTO/MONEY SHARMA)

"In a year since moving to Faridabad, a fast-growing satellite of New Delhi, I have spotted from time to time nomadic tribes with their herds in the middle of the road. I would always wonder where they came from, and where they were headed," writes the AFP photographer Money Sharma. "One day last month, I saw a group of them as I was driving home. This time, I was not going to let them get away."

(Photo: AFP / Money Sharma)



By Money Sharma






Indian nomadic shepherds lead their sheep along a road on the outskirts of Faridabad some 30 kms from New Delhi on March 22, 2015 (AFP PHOTO/MONEY SHARMA)

Indian nomadic shepherds in Faridabad, some 30 kms from New Delhi on March 22, 2015 (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


FARIDABAD, India, April 9, 2015 – In a year since moving to Faridabad, a fast-growing satellite of New Delhi, I have spotted from time to time nomadic tribes with their herds in the middle of the road. I would always wonder where they came from, and where they were headed.

One day last month, I saw a group of them as I was driving home. This time, I was not going to let them get away. It was a Sunday, so I was free to stop and shoot a few pictures. I greeted them, they greeted me back. When I was done, we got chatting and they told me they were soon heading to another camp. So I came back later that day and shot them packing up.


Indian nomadic shepherd Dheeya poses as the camp she shares with her family on the outskirts of Faridabad some 30 kms from New Delhi on March 22, 2015 (AFP PHOTO/MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic shepherd Dheeya, at her family camp outside Faridabad on March 22, 2015 (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


The wandering clan come from the western desert state of Rajasthan, an extended family of about 30 individuals who were half-way through a year-long journey, camping out in the open as they trek long distances in search of pasture for their 2,500 sheep.

I realised this had the makings of a strong photo essay, so I ran my images past my editor – who pushed me to go back and do more.

There was a hurdle, however: as nomads, they kept moving. And they don’t camp on the main roads, always a little way off where there is grass. Before each photo session, I first had to track them down.


Indian nomadic shepherds pack their belongings to move camp on the outskirts of Faridabad some 30kms from New Delhi on March 22, 2015 ( AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Indian nomadic shepherds pack to move camp on the outskirts of Faridabad on March 22, 2015 (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


But in situations like this, you always find someone who can help. In this case my helper was a member of the group, called Maala, who happened to speak much better Hindi than his relatives, and who crucially had a mobile phone.

At first he wanted to know why I was taking pictures. Since they set up camp on vacant land they come across, they are always a little scared of getting into trouble. But once reassured, he agreed to direct me to them, using local landmarks since they have no address.

And the real ice-breaker was when I turned up with print-outs of some of my pictures of them. They were delighted. And they gave me a little more access to the family group.


Indian child Mansa, the daughter of nomadic shepherds, stands alongside donkey Rinku as her brother Bhawra wakes up at their camp on the outskirts of Faridabad, some 30 kms from New Delhi on March 22, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic child Mansa and her brother Bhawra, with donkey Rinku, at their camp outside Faridabad on March 22, 2015 

(AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


I admit I am still not entirely sure which child belongs to whom – each couple had four or five kids. But by the end of my time with them, I knew pretty much everyone’s first name, even the name of a donkey!

I followed the group as it moved across three different sites, between 30 and 70 kilometres outside Delhi, on half a dozen occasions during the day and around a campfire at night. That gives you time to hear their stories.


Nomadic shepherds prepare dinner at their camp on the outskirts of Faridabad some 40kms from New Delhi on March 23, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic shepherds prepare dinner at a camp outside Faridabad on March 23, 2015 

(AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


The tribal family eke out a living by selling wool or male lambs, earning around 250,000 rupees ($4,000) in six months which they divide among themselves. The men lead the herd to graze and milk the animals, while the women cook, fetch water or churn butter. The children stick close to their elders, hanging from tree branches or happily chasing the sheep around. The group camp out in the open, stopping for baths and laundry only when they find an accessible water point.


Indian nomadic shepherd Dukki washes her seven-year-old daughter Kamla Kumari's face at their camp in Sikri in Faridabad district some 50 kms from New Delhi on March 25, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic shepherd Dukki washes her daughter Kamla Kumari's face at their camp in Sikri in Faridabad district on March 25, 2015 (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


I was curious to know more about the children, especially the little girls, whether they wished they could get an education, to move ahead. But with the exception of one woman whose daughter was at school back home, not one of them wanted to study.

Why would I want to go to school, they asked. Who would look after the sheep?


Nomadic children play on a tree in Faridabad some 30 kms from New Delhi (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic children play on a tree in Faridabad (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


Chatting to the menfolk also gave the impression this was the only life they could picture, but not necessarily by choice. Several said they were not earning as much as they should, that they had debts to pay off.

But they describe themselves as utterly uneducated, without the skills to be day labourers on construction sites, or basic knowledge of farming techniques.


Nomadic shepherd Lassa Ram rolls his moustache as he poses at his camp in Sikri in Faridabad some 50kms from New Delhi on March 25, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic shepherd Lassa Ram, at his camp in Sikri in Faridabad, on March 25, 2015 (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


"For generations, we have made our living herding sheep," the 65-year-old clan elder Padma Ram told me as he adjusted his red turban. "We don't know how to read or write and neither do our children; this is the only way of life that we know."

All we are good at, one of them told me, is staying awake at night to guard the flock from predators, and walking up to 50 kilometres per day. One of them joked they could make good security guards, or policemen.


Nomadic shepherd Padma Ram helps his nine-month-old granddaughter Anu drink tea at his camp in Sikri in Faridabad some 50kms from New Delhi on March 25, 2015 (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic shepherd Padma Ram helps his nine-month-old granddaughter Anu drink tea at his camp in Sikri in Faridabad on March 25, 2015 (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


Padma Ram was 12 years old when he began herding sheep. He remembers when the outskirts of Delhi was all farmland, and has watched the radical transformation over the years. These places are growing at a breakneck pace and the plots where they now graze their sheep are all marked for development.

When I ask them why they travel here, or there – they always reply, ‘It is because of the sheep’. They seem to make decisions from one day to the next, based on the needs of the animals, not following an overall pattern.


Nomadic shepherd Galba Ram, 32, holds one-month-old lamb Otta as he prepares to feed him at their camp on the outskirts of Faridabad some 30 kms from New Delhi (AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Nomadic shepherd Galba Ram, 32, holds one-month-old lamb Otta as he prepares to feed him at their camp outside Faridabad (AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


When the time comes to move, one of their number rises before dawn and walks ahead on reconnaissance, finding a place to camp and returning to lead the group there.

They pack their lives on the back of their mules – light charpoi rope beds, bedding and cooking utensils. Even the tiny lambs, they wrap in little bundles and sling two or three on the side of each donkey. The babies too: you name it, they put it on the back of a donkey.

But this is a hard life indeed, walking thousands of kilometres, camping out with no electricity, little access to water, no shelter from the wind and rain.


Indian nomadic shepherd children Sappa (L), Bhama (C) and Deena wake at their camp in Sikri in Faridabad some 50 kms from New Delhi on March 25, 2015 ( AFP PHOTO / MONEY SHARMA)

Children Sappa (L), Bhama (C) and Deena wake at their camp in Sikri in Faridabad on March 25, 2015 

(AFP Photo / Money Sharma)


They seem happy in many ways, and yet I don’t think they have much of a choice. India is such a huge place, with countless cultures and languages. Spending time with them, sharing tea around the fire, felt like stepping into a whole other world, all thanks to my profession.

Each photo shoot ended with a 15-minute session of portraits-on-demand, including one of the women in the family - posing without their veils - for private viewing only. The last time I came to photograph them, the children all came running up to me. And my new-found friend Maala would not let me leave without taking this picture of me, resplendent in a nomad’s turban.

Money Sharma is an AFP photographer based in New Delhi. Visit his website or follow him on Instagram.


Photographer Money Sharma (2ndR) pictured with Indian nomad Padma Ram and fellow clan members on the outskirts of New Delhi in April 2015 (MONEY SHARMA)

Spot the photographer! (AFP)




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