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I’m always a little uncomfortable when it comes to visiting indigenous people on their turf. And yet, in the desire for ‘authenticity’ in travel, understanding how people live is the best way to learn about a culture. It’s just that in many cases, it feels contrived; in the worse case, it feels like an invasion of privacy.

And then there’s the matter of photographs.

A Misak man catching a ride in Silvia, Colombia.

A Misak man catching a ride in Silvia, Colombia.

I firmly believe that there is no gracious way to travel as a group AND take a photograph of local people that doesn’t feel like a kind of circus sideshow. It’s one thing to be on your own, or with your partner, engage in a conversation or some kind of personal exchange with someone, and then perhaps, and only perhaps, take away a photo of that individual (with their permission) that doesn’t feel like an intrusion. I’ve actually had a few experiences like this: one happened in Tanzania with bushmen, where despite having no language in common, we found a way to communicate with each other; another was with the Uros people who live on the floating islands in Lake Titicaca, where after spending the better part of an hour chatting with different locals about boat-building techniques, and commenting at how heavy the women’s hair decorations were, Henk and I ended up exchanging headgear with the villagers which led to genuine laughs and photo ops.

Uros Island family from Lake Titicaca, Peru, dressing me up after I asked about their 'pompoms'.

Uros Island family from Lake Titicaca, Peru, dressing me up after I asked about their ‘pompoms’.

This man joked when he swapped hats with Henk that he looked like 'Andeana Jones' - brilliant!

This man joked when he swapped hats with Henk that he looked like ‘Andeana Jones’ – brilliant!

But gather together a group of obvious foreigners, who move about en masse on the local stomping grounds of a village or market, cameras a-snapping like they are in a zoo, and I think any ‘portrait’ they bring home is about as meaningful as a trophy hunter’s prey on a plaque.

Recently I was in Colombia, and we went to the town of Silvia, where the local Guambino (Misak) people come to the weekly market to sell their produce and buy provisions before returning to their tribal villages. The small town is alive with men, women, families and children, outfitted in their traditional dress of narrow-brimmed felt hats and vibrant purple or black ponchos and skirts (the men wear the purple skirts, the women the black). It’s their weekly opportunity to conduct business, enjoy market treats, or just visit with each other to exchange news and gossip. Afterwards they load up their purchases and board colourfully-decorated Chiva buses to head home.

Misak villagers in the town of Silvia, Colombia

Misak villagers in the town of Silvia, Colombia

A perfect opportunity for photographs, right? I managed to snap a few, but I began to feel like an intruder, and at one point I even resorted to surreptitiously trying to shoot without aiming the camera.

As an art director, and photography enthusiast, it’s hard not to want to capture the colour and uniqueness of this world, especially when it is so different than our own. And as a storyteller, these photos help me share my travels with others who feel the same way. But am I exploiting these people when I show photos of them, even if they were taken in a public place? Some would argue that a public place is fair game, and as long as you’re not selling the photographs, there’s no exploitation happening.

Misak ladies strolling in the plaza in Silvia.

Misak ladies strolling in the plaza in Silvia.

I’m not entirely sure what the right answer is, but one reverse situation comes to mind, where I was the object of attention and curiosity because I was tall and blonde: it happened in Peru when I was walking around the ruins at Machu Picchu. Apparently I stood out enough for a group of school children to approach to ask if they could take their photo with me. That’s the beauty of kids – their curiosity is transparent and honest.

And that’s probably the answer right there: if you’d like a photo, ask for it, even explaining why you’d like it if possible. If the answer is yes, it might come with a price. Or it might lead to more conversation, and something more meaningful than just a photo. And if the answer is no, the answer is no. But either way, there’s no harm done.

After all, how much would you really value any photo, or memory, that leaves you with a guilty conscience?

This cutie in Salento, Colombia, saw my camera and just wanted me to take her picture (like little princesses everywhere!).

This cutie in Salento, Colombia, saw my camera and just wanted me to take her picture (like little princesses everywhere!).

TIP: My best experiences meeting people have been when I’ve engaged the help of a local person who knows someone, and can make an introduction for us – like anywhere, having someone bridge that gap establishes trust. After that, the rest is up to you.

Jane with Hat Tanzania

Jane Canapini is a member of the Travel Media Association of Canada and the North American Travel Journalists Association. She established GrownupTravels.com in 2014 to share information and tips based on personal experience so her readers could get the most out of their travels.

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