In certain places around the world, and in specific situations, it's better to take photos discreetly. And there are plenty of reasons for that.
Some people, claiming religious reasons, practically attack tourists with cameras, saying they’ve appeared in the photo—even if it’s just in the background, in the landscape. They argue that their "soul" has been stolen by the photograph, which they did not authorize, and some even threaten to go to the police or create a scene, seeking financial "compensation." Frankly, a "robbery" would be more honest.
This is exactly what happened in Tripoli, the capital of Libya, in December 2007. As recorded in another chronicle, we were there on business, supporting a Brazilian construction company. After finishing the job and work meetings, we had two or three days off before returning to Brazil, this time via Lisbon. Engineer Teles, Engineer Bezerra, and I hired a taxi for two days to tour Tripoli and the surrounding areas.
Like anywhere in the world, there are good people and bad people. Speaking French was enough to get by. We loved getting to know the place, and we were treated very well. At that time, nearly everyone claimed to be Islamic, following the precepts of Muhammad, and even when it wasn’t entirely true, they would say they did this or that for religious reasons, as a Libyan who wasn’t very orthodox explained to me.
On our first day off, we went to the ruins of Leptis Magna, one of the most fascinating places I’ve visited in my life, and I highly recommend it to anyone who has the chance to go. The site reached its peak in the 1st century and is truly impressive. Located on the coast, along the Mediterranean Sea, it’s just over 100 km east of Tripoli.
That evening, back at the hotel in the capital, I received an email (in the early days of the internet) announcing the birth of my grandson, Joaquim. The next day (December 16, 2007), I wanted to visit a Catholic church I had seen earlier to pray for my grandson. I entered the church, where I went through a security check, much like an airport. It was a large building that stood out, and I believe it was dedicated to St. Francis; I was told it was the only Catholic church in the city. Upon entering, there were about a hundred people scattered around—some praying, others chatting. As they saw me, a general silence fell over the crowd. Everyone stared at me, silent, some curious, others wary.
I felt somewhat compelled to approach a priest, who seemed to be the most important person present, and who was looking at me as if signaling me to do so. I spoke softly, explained why I was there, and asked for his permission to pray. He gave me a kind nod and gesture of blessing, which everyone noticed, and the atmosphere returned to normal.
After finishing my prayers, when I stepped outside with Teles and Bezerra, who had been waiting for me, we took a few pictures in front of the church. That’s when a man appeared, demanding Teles' camera, claiming he had been in one of the photos and that his soul had been stolen. He went on and on... the tone rising. It was extremely unpleasant—being harassed like that in a country different from yours, with a culture that’s also different. All this after taking photos for ten days without any restrictions. We had been told not to photograph people specifically, which we respected.
It took our driver shouting at the man for him to back off. Later, we found out that this was a common "scam." It happens everywhere—just the type changes. Teles suggested that the driver might have been worried about not getting paid, which is why he intervened so strongly on our behalf. Teles was being overly suspicious, though, since we had been treated very well by the driver both before and after the incident. In the end, we all became friends.
On the third and final day, we decided to do something "atheist": dine at a nice Arab restaurant with a belly dancing show. That’s when Teles and Bezerra, both married, suddenly refused to appear in any pictures, arguing that their wives might misinterpret the photos, even with Engineer Siena acting as an alibi.
Everyone has their own problems and their own haunted souls.
Miguel Fernández y Fernández, Consulting Engineer, Chronicler, and Columnist. April 2023, 4,141 characters
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