Doorways to the Sea
Machangoalhi
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with Kodak BW400 CN
(2008)
Chapter 02 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets".
Chapter 01 - The Male’ City Swimming Track
Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea
Chapter 03 - The Laadheenee Among Us
Our lives are framed by doorways. These portals that open onto the street. In Male’ City, there is no such thing as a front yard. There are more cemeteries than parks – a good thing as a lot of the trees that have not been felled exist within their walls. A lot can happen in these doorways. Lovers flirt, children play, the old watch a rapidly changing world pass them by. If you are lucky the doorway will open to a path instead of straight inside your home.
Machangoalhi
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with expired 35mm film.
(2008)
I was one of the lucky ones.
Machangoalhi
Sony Erickson W810i
(2008)
So lucky that I even had a room to call my own. This is the view from its window. Just enough sky to sometimes see the moon.
Machangoalhi
Nikon D70s
(2007)
It is easy to feel trapped when you’re in Male’ City. Encircled by the ocean, there is no escape. There is no country side to escape to. Many people I’ve spoken to don’t seem to understand just how small Male’ City is. Five square kilometers is not much room. Yet more than half of the population of the Maldives live here.
Galolhu
Nikon D70s
(2008)
You’re trapped on this tiny island with nowhere to go. You’d tell someone, anyone, how you feel. But you can’t. Not when the national economy is fueled by gossip.
Maafannu.
Nikon D70s.
(2007)
You learn to play with the concrete. It smells familiar. It smells comfortable.
Machangoalhi ward
Nikon D70s
(2008)
You get used to overloaded lorries speeding past. You learn to hear them through the growl of the city. Just as they’re about to hit you, you step to the side, off onto that little ledge that is apparently the pavement. Guess you’ll live long enough to see what comes next.
Machangoalhi
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with expired and cross processed Kodak Elite Chrome 100
(2008)
I wonder what the older generations must think of the concrete monstrosity that Male’ has become. My father says that when they used to play football, they played without shoes on the unpaved streets. This apparently made their feet tough like leather.
Machangoalhi
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with Kodak BW400 CN
(2008)
People seem happier when it rains. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps I am imagining it. But to me, they have always seemed happier. Maybe because it provides a welcome escape from the heat. Maybe it is the hypnotic sound of rain hitting hundreds upon hundreds of tin roofs. Maybe it is how satisfyingly huge the droplets are; for when it rains, it pours.
Galolhu
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with Kodak BW400 CN
(2008)
When I was a child the streets weren’t paved and there were no gutters. This meant that the whole island would flood. At night we would hear frogs croaking. I cannot remember the last time I heard a frog in Male’. With the ground covered in bricks they have nowhere left to go. Despite the gutters, the roads still flood, and paradoxically the floods seem to be even dirtier than before. All sorts of grime are lifted out as many people use the gutter as a handy spot to dump their trash. Cigarette butts, supari packets, used condoms, and all manner of debris float around, mixed with the scarlet spit of people who chew various betel nut preparations.
Machangoalhi
Nikon D70s.
(2007)
The rich escape to their rooftops. Yet even they are not immune to the allures of gravity.
Machangoalhi
Nikon D70s
(2007)
From the tops of these towers you can survey your domain. You can even see a bit of the horizon. But that is always a temporary thing. New buildings are constantly being built higher and higher. This photograph was taken in 2007. The change since then has been immeasurable. Look at all the construction sites and let your mind fill in the gaps.
Maafannu
Nikon D70s.
(2007)
This seems like a good moment to mention that the Maldives has not been built by Maldivians. Instead, it has been built by migrant workers, mostly from other South Asian countries such as Bangladesh. For this they get no thanks and their slave like working conditions are the least of any Maldivians worries. For these migrants’ escape is sometimes literally impossible, as it is common practice for their “employers” to confiscate their passports. To get it back they must rid themselves of the “debt” they have incurred upon arrival in this supposed paradise.
Raalhugandu
Henveiru
Pentax Optio M30
(2008)
You’re trapped on this tiny island with nowhere to go. You run to the edge and you’re greeted by the seawall that surrounds the island. Not a beach. Just more concrete. But people don’t go to the edge to see the wall. They go to see the horizon.
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Pentax Optio M30.
(2008)
When you’re in the thick of it the horizon is a rare sight. The afternoons and early evenings are full of people making their rounds around the island. In Dhivehi we call it “buru jehun”. Couples on motorbikes are a common sight. No surprise since driving aimlessly around Male’ is one of the first romantic activities people engage in. It’s much harder for families to spy on a moving target.
Galolhu
Nikon D70s.
(2008)
People take a lot of pride in their motorbikes. Many dream of the day they will buy one for themselves, and many go into debt in the process of chasing that dream. Do you find it strange that the ultimate desire of a people of a nation that consists of far more ocean than land is to have more motor vehicles? I certainly do. Although I understand why. I’ve done my fair share of aimless driving. Who needs a boat when you’ve got a motorbike you’ll never push over third gear?
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with Kodak BW400 CN
(2008)
Even if you had a boat, where would you keep it? Space in the harbor is limited and the fees aren’t cheap. So people make do with the horizon. One of the best places to experience it used to be Raalhugandu.
The seawall blends into the ocean.
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Vivitar Ultrawide & Slim with Kodak BW400 CN
(2008)
Here you could see far into the distance. Being on the side of Male’ away from Thilafushi, the air is always fresh. The sound of waves constantly crashing against the miniscule stretch of “beach” provides enough white noise to drown the howling of the city.
Raalhugandu
Henveiru
Nikon D70s
(2007)
Local surfers and boarders make their way to the short strip of reef where the waves break, floating over armies of spiky sea urchins.
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Canon G10
(2008)
Once you’re past their treacherous spines you are met with the full force of crashing waves. You must duck underneath to get past them. If you go deep enough you can slip past with ease. Time it wrong and you end up in the “washing machine”. Thrown about by the waves, short of breath, blood rushing into my head, sometimes I’ve wondered whether I should have just let go. Let the ocean carry me out and decide my fate. Fortunately for me I’m very good at holding my breath, so I’ve always managed to surface. Always managed to survive to see what comes next.
Local legends Fuku and Kuda Ayya.
Raalhugandu
Henveiru
Canon G10
(2009)
Here, past the urchins, corals, and crushing waves, surfers and body boarders perfect their craft in the early mornings and afternoons. Many have persevered through incredible odds and have gone on to win international competitions. I could not be prouder.
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Nikon FM2 with Kodak Tri-X 400
(2009)
At the hut by the side of Raalhugandu they stack their boards and enjoy the ocean breeze. While society called them useless they carved out their own space and made the most of it.
Raalhugandu
Henveiru
Canon A630
(2008)
On sunny days it can be glorious. The air is crisp. The sky is blue. Carried by the waves, the rays of the sun warm your heart, body, and soul.
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Canon G10
(2009)
Even here the specter of the city is inescapable. But as the waves roll in, they push up high, high above the buildings. There amongst the waves at the end of the reef you feel safer than you ever did in that labyrinth. You’re so far away that the din of the city becomes a muffled hum.
Raalhugandu.
Henveiru
Canon G10
(2009)
As the wave rolls on down the city rises, looming over you once again.
So, you’re trapped on this tiny island with nowhere to go.
Chapter 03 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets".
Chapter 01 - The Male’ City Swimming Track
Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea