I thought I'd share the story behind the 'African Queen' series of images I took while working for a small coastal conservation charity in Madagascar.
We'd been working in the field for a couple of weeks staying in remote villages along the north east coast of the country. The team were mapping mangrove forests surrounding a small fishing village.
This wasn't our first trip into the field so we'd got used to life without running water or electricity but for the locals we were a constant source of amazement.
Although the older children were curious and playful, there was one little boy who each day, when we emerged from the forest usually covered in mud, would begin to cry as soon as he saw us. Ismael, our Malagasy guide explained it was the first time he'd ever seen white people and through we were ghosts!
We'd been invited to set up camp under the shade of a tree outside the home of the village Mayor. Despite his standing in the community his home was as simple as the rest in the village, basic wooden structures with walls made from reeds and roofs of dried palm leaves.
Early one morning, after we'd returned from collecting water at the river, the Mayor's wife was sitting in the shade in front of her home. We'd met before, exchanging a few pleasantries with my very basic Malagasy, and I have to admit I'd never noticed her beauty. But I'd never before seen her adorned with such incredibly intricate face painting. One of the few phrases I used daily was 'maka saray?' which meant 'take photo?'
She was delighted at the request. I was only able to get off a couple of shots before she was up on her feet and gesticulating that she was going inside to change. It really is amazing how even though we had no shared language there's a lot you can communicate with the universally recognised hand gestures. She wanted to look her best for the pictures so changed into her 'best' outfit. A tightly fitted denim catsuit.
Her hair that had previously been wrapped in a beautiful headscarf had been brushed straight and was adorned with a pair of 'stylish' sunglasses. She'd even changed her earrings to shiny, large gold hoops. I have to admit I was a little heart-broken.
I'd been mesmerised by her natural beauty. I was sad that despite being hundreds of miles from 'civilisation', the western ideal of what a woman should look had made it all the way to the shores of this isolated fishing community. To this day I wonder what she thought of me, with my wild curly hair so happy in my mud splattered t-shirts and shorts.
If I'd had the words I would have told my 'African Queen' that the morning I first saw her, she was as beautiful to me as the sun setting over the ocean. A real natural beauty.
