Late in August I noticed those three kids in the main Aleppo market (suq). In spite of the deadly heat of the summer the suq was nevertheless kept busy, protected from the relentless sun by the covered arcades that belong to a combination of Mamluk and Ottoman architectures. I was in the part that was left uncovered, and in the shadow, leaning on that used yellowish wall separating two textile shops, I found those three kids with their hands on their mouths, as if they were trying to conceal something. I presume that all three are related: two sisters and their younger brother. The oldest was standing and leaning on the wall, dressed in that marvelous combination of black and Bordeaux, which indicates a belonging—probably a tribal one—to one of the villages in the vicinity of Aleppo. Bedouins, nomads, and villagers tend to dress much more artfully than urban people. Even though I was immediately attracted by their ambiguous gestures, I’m not sure why they had their mouths shut. It could have been that they were infected by some kind of viral disease (chickenpox?): the oldest had her hands protected by some kind of yellowish cream. I took the habit, after a long training, to shoot many of my photos without looking through the viewfinder. That way I would avoid the embarrassment of sneaking around and intruding in the privacies of people. Embarrassed as I was, and fearing that their parents might be over my back, I pressed on the shutter release twice, and left them without any word.
copyright ©2003 zouhair ghazzal