By Javier de Blas in Tindouf, Algeria
March 1, 2015 — I go out to see the neighbour's camel. The Sahrawi people love this type of meat. The camel is in a peculiar pen, just like the goats' pen. These circular spaces which really amaze me are made from recycled materials, just like the plots back home.
While I am drawing, the children from the house gather around me. They lean on top of me, watching me curiously, laughing, begging for “caramelo” (candy). I can hardly draw the camel, so I tell them to pose and they obey me without question, not moving until it is done, while trying to finish as quickly as possible. I admire the frankness and seriousness of their looks while I draw them. And the love in which the older brother protects the younger. This family's love is a deep richness of this people which may affect you emotionally.
Hiding from the sun which is beginning to heat up and already inside the daar (house made of adobe), I ask Hamudi to pose once again on this occasion.
In the afternoon Ahmed, Shabu's father, takes us to the top of a hill on the other side of the Wilaya, giving us a curious backlight portraying various pens and Haimas (Bedouin tents) on the side of a hollow, already on the outskirts.
We make our way on foot to the market area and I draw the shops and stalls which are on the roadside where you shop, fill up or take a taxi.
In case you've missed them, here are Javier's preceding posts from his journey to Tindouf: The slaughter of the goat, A meal of maru-u-hut, Diary from a Sahrawi refugee camp. You can also follow his dispatches from Sahrawi refugee camps on his blog, Viajero en Tindouf, and via Spain Urban Sketchers. He's also sharing photos and videos of his experience on his Facebook page.
March 1, 2015 — I go out to see the neighbour's camel. The Sahrawi people love this type of meat. The camel is in a peculiar pen, just like the goats' pen. These circular spaces which really amaze me are made from recycled materials, just like the plots back home.
While I am drawing, the children from the house gather around me. They lean on top of me, watching me curiously, laughing, begging for “caramelo” (candy). I can hardly draw the camel, so I tell them to pose and they obey me without question, not moving until it is done, while trying to finish as quickly as possible. I admire the frankness and seriousness of their looks while I draw them. And the love in which the older brother protects the younger. This family's love is a deep richness of this people which may affect you emotionally.
Hiding from the sun which is beginning to heat up and already inside the daar (house made of adobe), I ask Hamudi to pose once again on this occasion.
In the afternoon Ahmed, Shabu's father, takes us to the top of a hill on the other side of the Wilaya, giving us a curious backlight portraying various pens and Haimas (Bedouin tents) on the side of a hollow, already on the outskirts.
We make our way on foot to the market area and I draw the shops and stalls which are on the roadside where you shop, fill up or take a taxi.
In case you've missed them, here are Javier's preceding posts from his journey to Tindouf: The slaughter of the goat, A meal of maru-u-hut, Diary from a Sahrawi refugee camp. You can also follow his dispatches from Sahrawi refugee camps on his blog, Viajero en Tindouf, and via Spain Urban Sketchers. He's also sharing photos and videos of his experience on his Facebook page.
