by Elena on November 29, 2009
Eid al-Adha celebrates the biblical story of Ibrahim (Abraham) and his willingness to sacrifice his son for God without question. Soon after Ibrahim ties up his son, an angel came down from heaven to stop the sacrifice and Ibrahim sacrifices a ram instead. The story illustrates Ibrahim’s obedience to God and his willingness to sacrifice what is most important to him. While Eid el-Fitr is a festivity that breaks the fast of Ramadan, Eid al-Adha is the latter festival, when Muslims sacrifice animals or offer a donation of charity in the spirit of the Ibrahim story.
A boy near Kabul, Afghanistan, celebrates the Muslim festival of Eid al-Adha, which marks Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son for God. (Shah Marai/Agence France-Presse/Getty Images)
Muslim pilgrims gather at Mount Arafat (MAHMUD HAMS/AFP/Getty Images)
These pictures were found on The Wall Street Journal and Boston.com.
by Elena on November 27, 2009
Photo Courtesy: Gemunu Amarasinghe/AP/Courtesy WSJ-All Rights Reserved
Images like this man leaping in the air with a machete swung over his head, are what make photojournalism such an affecting medium. It garners discomfort because the viewer knows that seconds after this picture was taken the man’s machete made its way through the animal’s flesh. The story behind the man and this goat elicits a dichotomy between supporters and critics from people around the world. Each year millions of worshipers in Nepal and neighboring India watch the killing of more than 250,000 animals. This festival is in honor of the Hindu goddess of power Gadhimai, where participants offer sacrifices to her.
The thought of sacrificing thousands of animals for what most Westerners would consider insufficient reasons, can make any person cringe, not just vegetarians and animal activists. My initial reaction was of discomfort, but after reading a post by The Travel Photographer, my initial criticisms were stunted. Is sacrificing 250,000 animals to the goddess Gadhimai any different than sacrificing 45 million turkeys for the tradition of Thanksgiving? Admittedly the semantics of the slaughter is like comparing apples to oranges. One ceremony is in your face with blood staining the streets and carcasses laying lifeless. For anyone outside this culture it is very hard to stomach. The ceremony we celebrate here is more subtle. We kill 45 million turkeys, but it is behind the scenes, nicely hidden before we go to the supermarket to buy Thanksgiving dinner.
Growing up in a household where meat is a constant staple in our diet, has made me desensitized to many images that others might find offensive. On trips to Galicia I have witnessed farm chickens being killed, as well as relished the efforts of pig slaughters in the form of chorizo and blood sausage. Like many other cultures, we use every part of the pig, a tradition passed down from people who were poor and had to use every part of the animal. There is an enormous amount of importance placed upon meals and mealtime as a family. For me this is normal, for a vegetarian, probably not so much.
Globalization has made distinguishing what is ‘right and wrong’ slightly difficult. It is a big world and we certainly don’t agree on everything. I consider myself a tolerant person, however there are certain things that I am staunchly against without question ie female mutilation, honor killing; and other things that I am more ignorant and uncertain about such as covering the female form with hijabs and burkas. So where is the line of understanding and injustice? After looking at the picture above a second time, I still feel uncomfortable, but also because maybe I shouldn’t be judging so quickly.
by Elena on November 25, 2009
Photo © Elena Vazquez
by Elena on November 19, 2009
The cab driver weaves in and out of traffic accelerating and decelerating in a matter of seconds. I reach over the driver seat and point to the small piece of paper the receptionist gave us at the hostel. “This is our address,” I repeat for the second time, accenting my voice ever so slightly, as if imitating the Egyptian accent would help him better understand me. He nods his head again and smiles at my persistence. I resign myself to my seat, further digging my fingernails into the cushion each time he brakes suddenly. The city is chaotic, there is no doubt. Goats sprint down the road that runs parallel to the Nile River, along with men on bicycles holding large crates full of fresh bread. There is a car to our left filled to the brim with people, speeding along at our same pace. If I wanted, I could reach out and touch the hand of the man sitting in the driver’s seat. I am tempted to try but decide not to test my luck.
On a quest for something truly Egyptian, we make our way to the souk, the famous street market. No matter our efforts to dodge the crowd, we end up bumping into every person walking by. You learn quickly that there are two currencies in Egypt, the tourist price and the Egyptian price. Lesson number one, you will always pay the tourist price, unless accompanied at all times by an amicable Egyptian friend. Lesson number two, you shop at your own risk.
Photo © Elena Vazquez
The vendors are extremely anxious to get us to spend our money. “Hello! Hola! Bonjour!” they shout from their stands. Immediately one vendor jumps up and takes matters into his own hands. He rushes over with a handful of shawls and dutifully places one over my head. “I give you good price,” he says with a smile. I politely decline seeing as I already bought one from another vendor; but he is insistent. He showers me with compliments and occasionally he throws in a habibi, the Arabic equivalent to darling or sweetheart. Finally I agree to buy another shawl. Did he charm me into buying something I don’t need? No I convince myself; after all I could always use an extra shawl.
As the sun begins to set, we hear the familiar chanting we’ve heard each day this week. It is Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting. Muslims around the world fast from sunrise to sunset as a gesture of self-restraint and piety. The crackling of intercoms echoes throughout the city as a reminder to everyone that they must go home to pray.
Photo © Elena Vazquez
Photo © Elena Vazquez
Photo © Elena Vazquez
After prayer, Egyptians get together at cafés to talk, play cards, and smoke hookah (a water pipe used to smoke flavored tobacco covered in molasses). Going by a tip from one of our friends, we go in search of a particular floating restaurant along the Nile, a favorite amongst Egyptians themselves. We find ourselves in a huge space, filled with unfamiliar sights and smells. Brightly colored fabrics hang from the ceiling so low you could jump up and pull them down if you ever got cold. Arabic words murmur throughout the crowd as Egyptian pop music plays in the background. A group of men sing and laugh at the table next to us. One of them takes in so much smoke from his hookah, it seems virtually impossible to fit in his lungs without him bursting at the seams. But then again he has had lots of practice. They get together to tell stories, laugh, smoke almost every night. After what seems like an eternity he blows out every last puff of smoke contributing to the sugar, fruit, and jasmine scented cloud hovering above our heads.
by Elena on November 19, 2009
Photo © Elena Vazquez
by Elena on November 16, 2009
When you travel frequently you get the pleasure of meeting some of the most incredible people. Unfortunately when you leave you have to say goodbye. But that is what reunions are for.
by Elena on November 12, 2009
Photo © Elena Vazquez
Smile we are filming you.
Blow me a kiss.
Art Project.
by Elena on November 9, 2009
First Sight of Machu Picchu
Machu Picchu Tourist
Llama and Backpacker
Ancient Structure With New Rooftop
Llama Ready To Attack
Waiting for the bus to Machu Picchu
Gadhimai Mela Animal Sacrifice
by Elena on November 27, 2009
Photo Courtesy: Gemunu Amarasinghe/AP/Courtesy WSJ-All Rights Reserved
Images like this man leaping in the air with a machete swung over his head, are what make photojournalism such an affecting medium. It garners discomfort because the viewer knows that seconds after this picture was taken the man’s machete made its way through the animal’s flesh. The story behind the man and this goat elicits a dichotomy between supporters and critics from people around the world. Each year millions of worshipers in Nepal and neighboring India watch the killing of more than 250,000 animals. This festival is in honor of the Hindu goddess of power Gadhimai, where participants offer sacrifices to her.
The thought of sacrificing thousands of animals for what most Westerners would consider insufficient reasons, can make any person cringe, not just vegetarians and animal activists. My initial reaction was of discomfort, but after reading a post by The Travel Photographer, my initial criticisms were stunted. Is sacrificing 250,000 animals to the goddess Gadhimai any different than sacrificing 45 million turkeys for the tradition of Thanksgiving? Admittedly the semantics of the slaughter is like comparing apples to oranges. One ceremony is in your face with blood staining the streets and carcasses laying lifeless. For anyone outside this culture it is very hard to stomach. The ceremony we celebrate here is more subtle. We kill 45 million turkeys, but it is behind the scenes, nicely hidden before we go to the supermarket to buy Thanksgiving dinner.
Growing up in a household where meat is a constant staple in our diet, has made me desensitized to many images that others might find offensive. On trips to Galicia I have witnessed farm chickens being killed, as well as relished the efforts of pig slaughters in the form of chorizo and blood sausage. Like many other cultures, we use every part of the pig, a tradition passed down from people who were poor and had to use every part of the animal. There is an enormous amount of importance placed upon meals and mealtime as a family. For me this is normal, for a vegetarian, probably not so much.
Globalization has made distinguishing what is ‘right and wrong’ slightly difficult. It is a big world and we certainly don’t agree on everything. I consider myself a tolerant person, however there are certain things that I am staunchly against without question ie female mutilation, honor killing; and other things that I am more ignorant and uncertain about such as covering the female form with hijabs and burkas. So where is the line of understanding and injustice? After looking at the picture above a second time, I still feel uncomfortable, but also because maybe I shouldn’t be judging so quickly.
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