THOUSANDS OF PICTURES, gone for now. As I’m waiting for my tech friend to try to save my Suriname pictures off my crashed hard drive, I feel like I can’t write. Photos sell (or at least accompany) a story, and at the moment, I’ve got no photos at all.
But during my trip, I spent a couple of days in a Maroon (escaped slave culture) village up the river from Atjoni, where I was frequently warned against photographing anything or anyone, without permission or at all. And during that time I took the best field notes I’ve ever taken, shutter button finger converted into pen-holding hand, digital media traded for an off-white steno notebook I had bought in Port of Spain, Trinidad. While I wait for my photos to (hopefully) be saved, I have to focus on those notes, and on what I saw, not what I snapped, in the village, and beyond.