Too Shy, Shy. I really wanted to take a photo but it felt rude to even... (Majdal Balhis, Béqaa, Lebanon)
Too Shy, Shy. I really wanted to take a photo but it felt rude to even ask. I mean, here he was, minding his own business and here I come along, asking some stranger if he’ll pose for a shot. In the end, I bit back my misgivings and asked. Without missing a beat, Mohammad al-Jawz, told me that I was welcome. Turning to face me, he stood with the snows of Jabal al-Sheikh in the background. His guard dog and the goats watched from the hill behind. He was a bedouin, he told me, and he’d grown up between Lebanon and Syria. His family moved with the seasons in search of farm work, though since the war in Syria, they had mostly stayed in Lebanon. He told me that it was his great-great grandfather who had first found a job in Majdel Balhis and that his family had been coming back each year ever since. He liked being with the animals more than working in the orchards, he left that to his sisters. But if needed, he’d do that too. He’d even work in the fields. He was happy as long as he was outdoors, especially after a long winter in the tent. Spring was his favourite time of year, and there was nothing more satisfying than watching the world slowly come back to life. He was, he thought, about thirty-seven. Despite his piercing eyes and glowing complexion, I thought he looked much older but of course, I kept that to myself. Thanking him, I turned to leave. “Tell me, why did you want to take my photo?” He almost looked shy. “Honestly? Because I think you look striking standing here, especially in that red keffiyah.” He smiled. Then Mohammad al-Jawz turned back to his flock and instantly, I was forgotten.
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