I’m walking through Cité Soleil, the largest slum in the Western Hemisphere located in Haiti, one of the poorest places on Earth. Trash litters the streets and dirty stagnant rainwater is often used as latrines. The sun pulsates directly overhead, bleaching the blue sky to a blinding white. Sweat droplets race down my spine and pool at my lower back. Children dressed in rags – or for some, in nothing at all – play a spirited game of soccer with a half-inflated ball. I snap a picture of a group of rambunctious kids, only to have eager young hands grab at my camera to see the image captured on my screen.
The novelty of the reproduction fades and most dart off between the shanty houses. One remains, diligently pointing at each face on the screen, as if ticking them off in his head. He stops at the last one. His own. He lets out a burst of pure, innocent, giggling glee and scampers off. Alone, I realize that for people who have next to nothing, a mirror is an unattainable luxury. This child only meets his reflection by process of elimination. For he knows which ones are his friends and which one is the stranger.
I am struck dumb. For I never realized a person could walk through life without knowing his own physical self.
Suddenly, my purpose in life shifted. No longer would I be content with simply photographing far off lands & sharing these images with the Western world. I now needed to foster connections within these pocket-sized moments of humanity. Between the subject & myself, the subject & the audience. And most importantly, between the subject & himself.
