Work conducted by Martin Grahovski. Kathmandu Valley, Nepal June 2016
(c) Strobe Pictures www.strobepictures.com
A Short Introduction I didn’t expect to cross “motorcycle ride in Kathmandu” off my bucket list heading to a factory that placed the lives of those most vulnerable in constant jeopardy. Of course, like many, I had heard of the infamous brick factories around Kathmandu where children worked long hours with only one Nepali rupee per brick to show for it. However, arriving in the midst of it all provided for a stark, decrepit exhibition of childhood unlike any I had known. Children passed me carrying loads three times their size whilst I, suddenly felt like my camera weighed inFinitely more than it had on the road a few minutes prior. I gazed back and forth between parched, papyrus faces that somehow managed to smile back at me. It felt like a surreal Filter; an act where characters had become far too accustomed to their roles. I stumbled across two young boys coming from Kathmandu that welcomed me into their small shelter made of the same bricks that hardened and dirtied their hands and Fingernails day in, day out. Their teeth, poked through the dust clouds like a dentist commercial on a low budget. They smiled, attempted casual conversation like we weren’t standing at the brink of unlawful, slave labour, and offered me a small, sun baked bottle of water. I, in turn, sat on a minuscule cot that served two others each night and tried desperately to learn a language of labour children shouldn’t have to. What do you dream of? When can you go home? The brick factory I visited, nestled like a mischievous, hiding child, was at the hands of those, stripped of their youth but retaining their age, that painted for me something I couldn't photograph.
The Brick Children
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