The Banana Thief The banana thief
I titled this image: THE BANANA THIEF.
But I am too fast to judge. He is probably the « quality control» manager. Every day this room is filled with bananas. Every evening, it is empty. Where do the bananas go? What are they used for? All these questions drive me bananas. |
Weathered hands Her life through her hands
If eyes are the window of the soul, The hands are the story of your life These are the hands of a woman who, each morning, at 4 :00 a.m., arrives at the market, sitting side saddle on her daughter’s motorbike. Her children wish that she would stay home and rest. She answers, « I spent most of my life here, here are my friends». |
Speaking Javanese |
If looks could kill…. |
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This man was talking to me in Indonesian when suddenly, he changed over to Javanese language. While my understanding of Indonesian is okay,
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But do not be duped
This woman is gracious and polite. Like many Javanese, she is shy. Every day she arrives early at the local market to work. Her job: to carry sacs of produce from arriving trucks to the sellers. Sacs that weigh 50 kilos or more. Her grandchildren (yes! She is a grandmother) asked her to stay home and relax. She refuses. The market is also her second home. |
« EXCUSE ME FOR INTRUDING» |
The banana fakir |
I usually interact with the market sellers to make my presence known.
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In the market, there is a room for storing bananas.
It is in a very dark corner of the building. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed the man sleeping. |