Hani Boy

We had just finished photographing the sunrise at Huangcaoling. The morning light still lay across the terraces as we began packing away our equipment.

A mother and her young son came walking over from the village. She carried a bamboo basket filled with freshly laid eggs, hoping to sell them to the photographers nearby.

Everyone was busy folding tripods and preparing to leave for the next location, so few people paid them much attention. I happened to turn around and noticed the little boy standing beside his mother.

He had a wonderfully engaging face, but it was his eyes that held my attention—large, bright and remarkably clear.

I changed to a 50mm lens and walked towards them slowly. I tried to speak to his mother first, but her local dialect was difficult for me to understand. Instead, I pointed to my camera, then to the boy, to ask whether I might take his photograph.

She was wary at first and shook her head. I smiled, pointed to the basket and offered to buy all the eggs. Once she understood, her expression softened and she nodded.

I made no attempt to pose him. I simply crouched down until we were at eye level.

He was clearly curious about both me and the camera. He stared straight into the lens, cautious yet unable to look away. Innocence, curiosity and a hint of uncertainty were all there in his expression.

I pressed the shutter.

"Innocence, curiosity and a hint of uncertainty were all there in his expression."

When I looked at the image on the back of the camera, I knew I had something special. There was nothing elaborate about it. The photograph had simply preserved the boy exactly as he was at that moment.

I showed it to his mother. She studied the screen, and a quiet, proud smile appeared on her face.

The others noticed us gathered together and began coming over. Once they saw the photograph, cameras were raised one after another. The boy who had been standing unnoticed beside his mother suddenly found himself surrounded by photographers.

We kept our word and bought every egg in the basket. Mother and son left for home carrying an empty basket, while each of us came away with photographs we were pleased with.

Looking back, I remember more than the clarity in the boy's eyes. I also remember the smile on his mother's face when she first saw his portrait.