9. Color

I see a saturation of color everywhere I look.  There is an extreme richness to the green hues that blanket this island.  The sky seems bluer here.  The clouds seem whiter.  The soil looks richer.  It’s all around me and can’t be ignored.  Even the fabrics in the marketplaces are woven in rich, colorful patterns.  But this observation applies to more than nature and fabrics.  There is a presence of pattern and color in the weathered faces of the Balinese people, especially the elders.  These are people who have lived on this island for their entire lives.  They’ve seen their communities change as commercialism has trickled in and muscled out their traditional way of life.  I meet one elder woman who sells bottled water and cigarettes from a small shack on the side of the road.  That’s it.  Just bottled water and cigarettes.   Her entire inventory consists of two shelves fully stocked with only these two items.  I look to see if there is something else hidden somewhere, but there isn’t.  The store provides the woman’s sole source of income.  Through my interpreter, I ask her whether I can take her photograph.  She slowly nods her head.  I bring my camera to my eye and take a few images.  “Is it OK to ask how old she is?” I ask my interpreter.  He asks and tells me she is 92 years old.  “Amazing,” I say.  “She is beautiful!”  I study her face and notice the indentations around her eyes.  I wonder what she’s seen in her long lifetime.  There are so many questions I want to ask her.  But I can tell she’s shy, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.  My camera is intrusive enough.  Instead, I try to show her the photograph I took of her.  She doesn’t want to look.  She points to her mouth and opens it up a little bit.  She doesn’t have any teeth.  She is self-conscious…  “Please tell her how beautiful she is and that I appreciate the character in her face and the soft color of her skin.  She awkwardly shakes her head “no” as my interpreter tells her.  “Yes,” I say firmly.  This time her eyes meet mine for a few seconds.  She studies my eyes as I study hers.  We stay like this for only a matter of seconds before she looks down.  My moment with her is over…