By Javier de Blas in Tindouf, Algeria
Between February and March 2015 I spent a month living with a Sahrawi family in their "haima" in the refugee camps of Tindouf. Every Tuesday, I'm posting here the notes and sketches I made about daily life in the camps.
If there is any local word you don´t understand, please check in Local terminology post.
24.03.2015
Shabu has things to do at home and leaves me with Duaya, her mother, because, as I said before, I always try and be with someone.
Duaya has applied "nila" on her face to make her skin whiter. Apparently, this blue-gray substance affects the melanin. I walk with her to the neighbourhood mosque which I wanted to draw for some time. I like its simplicity, the crudeness of its minaret, I'm used to seeing these mosques-monument when I travel.
Luckily we coincide with a meeting in the colourful gaitun of Sukena, she being the head of the commission. A large gathering of women discuss the weekly affairs of their local neighbourhood.
Not far away is Jalima and Aziza's school, Shabu's two younger sisters and along with Duaya we go to the school to draw it because I love its composition, the way the school blends together with the camel butchers, there on the hill of the in the distance. That little store on the hill is the most curious of all.
In the afternoon Sidahmet, Shabu's brother takes me to the Saharawi School of Arts, before parking his makeshift taxi in the market area. Sidahmet recently finished his work in the army and now, like many others resorts to his old Mercedes as a way of making a living.
I lost the opportunity of doing an article on the school, because just on these days they began spring break and there is almost no activity, but Isidro López-Aparicio is there with a group of filmmakers, preparing a documentary about the Saharawis affected by mine explosions. My colleague Javier Arango is also reviewing a final work with a student. And I get to know Abdala, proclaiming to be a revolutionary non-violent actionist as a form of protest and believes it is essential to retrieve and update the traditions of its people and to preserve their identity. It's a pity to return home at this time, because his conversation is excellent.
Between February and March 2015 I spent a month living with a Sahrawi family in their "haima" in the refugee camps of Tindouf. Every Tuesday, I'm posting here the notes and sketches I made about daily life in the camps.
If there is any local word you don´t understand, please check in Local terminology post.
24.03.2015
Shabu has things to do at home and leaves me with Duaya, her mother, because, as I said before, I always try and be with someone.
Duaya has applied "nila" on her face to make her skin whiter. Apparently, this blue-gray substance affects the melanin. I walk with her to the neighbourhood mosque which I wanted to draw for some time. I like its simplicity, the crudeness of its minaret, I'm used to seeing these mosques-monument when I travel.
Luckily we coincide with a meeting in the colourful gaitun of Sukena, she being the head of the commission. A large gathering of women discuss the weekly affairs of their local neighbourhood.
Not far away is Jalima and Aziza's school, Shabu's two younger sisters and along with Duaya we go to the school to draw it because I love its composition, the way the school blends together with the camel butchers, there on the hill of the in the distance. That little store on the hill is the most curious of all.
In the afternoon Sidahmet, Shabu's brother takes me to the Saharawi School of Arts, before parking his makeshift taxi in the market area. Sidahmet recently finished his work in the army and now, like many others resorts to his old Mercedes as a way of making a living.
I lost the opportunity of doing an article on the school, because just on these days they began spring break and there is almost no activity, but Isidro López-Aparicio is there with a group of filmmakers, preparing a documentary about the Saharawis affected by mine explosions. My colleague Javier Arango is also reviewing a final work with a student. And I get to know Abdala, proclaiming to be a revolutionary non-violent actionist as a form of protest and believes it is essential to retrieve and update the traditions of its people and to preserve their identity. It's a pity to return home at this time, because his conversation is excellent.