Deir Alla - Allowing the Magic to arrive

I decided to head down to the Ghor with my friend and photographer Laith. He had spoken to me about wanting to see Palestine from the other side, and hopefully be able to see Nablus from here. I looked at the map and saw that the town of Deir Alla in the Jordan Valley was on the same line as Nablus. With no other reason than that, we drove there, hoping to find something.

In the creative process, you are often walking in uncharted waters. The reason for this is to find something new, something that could feed your practice in ways you wouldn’t be able to imagine. Creativity often requires this to create originality. And while finding something is definitely not guaranteed, there is always a belief that something will come to you, especially if you are prepared with camera in hand.

As we drove towards the west, we had some coffee on the side of the road. We met Ayham, a boy ready to take our order and yell it to his father who had a spoonful of ground coffee in one hand and a pot of boiling water ready in the other.

After our cup of coffee, we headed towards Al Arda - the weaving road that takes you to the Jordan Valley. We stopped whenever we felt like stopping and photographed what was around us.

We arrived Deir Alla as the sun was setting. We looked to our right to find a group of sheep on a plot of land along with their shepherd. I decided that it would be best to meet the shepherd and introduce ourselves. Of course, our shepherd friend was welcoming and friendly, and invited us multiple times to dinner. We said that we were photographers and we we honored to be in his presence along with his “halal”. We photographed the sheep as the low angle of the sun touched the tips of their wool, creating a halo effect along the herd. It was a moment of meditation as we quietly roamed around and took photographs. The light shone on our shepherd from with a golden aura, reflecting his colored eyes that contrasted with his bronze complexion and his white teeth. He was a handsome man who gently refused to be photographed. I took a photo of his feet, the ones that have walked through these lands for their entire life. He says that his father and grandfather were also shepherds.

We thanked our shepherd friend and moved closer towards the town, where everyone was out and about as the heat started to fade out, we sat in our car, slowly progressing along the road, as the sounds of the market and the people filled our ears. We find a crossing bridge that no one uses as a high point to photograph the departing sun across the horizon of the western Palestinian hills. Each of these moments offer a moment of meditation that I cannot quite describe. I found that Laith also felt that. We were both in our separate trance state, photographing what we found to be appealing, beautiful, or interesting.

We approach a group of men selling tomatoes and potatoes on the side of the road on the back of their truck. I ask if these tomatoes are from the area. He says that tomatoes from the Jordan Valley usually finish selling mid-June. These tomatoes are from Al Mafraq. I take their portrait and we decided to head back.

Our photographic journey has been bountiful, and we were grateful for what we got. A couple minutes in the car, Laith notices something and makes an exciting noise, I too notice something in my periphery and quickly stop on the side of the road. We see a small creek reflecting the vibrant colors of the sunset. Laith hurriedly gets out of the car and takes out his camera with fervor. It is these moments that I cherish so much.

For the third time, we both photograph around the area in silence, briefly looking at each other with great admiration for the place we’re in. I notice a rushing sound of water gushing out of large pipe. There is a leak. I go to photograph this occasion and notice a strong smell of chlorine. This must be treated water, but why must this be so high in chlorine? Does this water lead straight to the farms?

With the sun finally setting and as we approach Isha - we head back towards the hills of the east, still stopping one last time to watch the Jordan Valley light up towards the north and south. We notice lights coming up on the other side. It is so close.

With no expectations from this trip, I emerged with beautiful stories, beautiful photographs, and the beginning of a beautiful photographic partnership, inshallah. The creative process is a giving process. What it requires from us is courage, honesty, openness, and being prepared for it all.