January   11    TUE    Bayanga, a lodge in the middle of nowhere, south corner of Central African Republic

Although this day was disjointed at times and I never quite felt satisfied with the photography, for various reasons,  still I think it was a profitable and good day.  Made love in the morning, and started a little late. Breakfast by the water.  We drove to four villages of pygmees, where between one and four young women waited, quite painted up.   We visited each village several times, instructing them how we wanted to change their garb (like exchange cloth wraps into leaves).  I recruited two other girls. Then,  13 pygmee girls with bare breasts, Novita, myself and George the driver and Juscar the guide, 17 in all, with camera equipment, piled into the car and drove several km down the road.  A truck with the guards of the park went by. They smiled and laughed when they saw all 17 of us in the 4WD.

At first we found a rather shady place on the road side to photograph. It was awkward in a way. I tried to take photos against the cloth, but it looked too plain, and then I tried to take them against the natural backdrop, but it was probably too busy. We moved towards the main road.  Novita got hungry.   A truck load of people got let off and the big truck forced us to move again. People onlooked.  Butterflies were everywhere.  The gnat-like flying insects were getting in my eyes and sweat made me wet.    We headed back to the lodge for lunch. On the way, the girls sang briskly.  The biggest girl (in a way very ugly, but for them maybe beautiful) lead the rest with a lead line that the others followed.  The first song seemed to have some original origins, but as they changed to another song, I began to wonder if these were school songs or even songs they learned in Christian school.  When they started singing Hallelujah, my hunch was confirmed.  This struck me as rather tragic. I suppose the main reason was how poorly it sounded compared to the awesome spectacle of two nights before in the village firelight, or of yesterday, when the married women sang the joy of the successful hunt. These songs were complex and strange, beautiful in their atonal range and ingenuous, if merely impromptu, arrangements.

…. (to be continued)