Salt Rocks and Waterfalls | Dead Sea
It is now January 26, 2025, a week after the ceasefire in Gaza, and the world has opened a new page with a free Syria and a Donald Trump.
People went to the streets the night of the ceasefire to celebrate. I did not know this was happening. I suddenly saw dozens of pairs of fingers coming out of the windows of cars passing by, marking victory for our neighbors living and fighting an arms length away from us. I was able to capture some of that joyful victorious energy.
Of course, I felt joy, I joined in on the celebrations and cheered with the people. Yet deep in my heart, the feeling was not complete. We survived, and in that survival we are victorious. That is true. Resistance continues. We walk with our heads held high, but missing a large part of our hearts with those lost as they rebuild and return to their homes.
I felt a strong urge to photograph that night. I felt that I must record this as part of my history.
Supported by past experiences, a predetermined early morning rise is usually preceded by an undesired but necessary late night. After the late celebrations in the streets of Amman, my cousin went to bed, and I went to edit these photos. We planned to go to the Dead Sea early in the morning.
With 4 hours of sleep, I felt ready for our next adventure to the lowest point on earth.
30 minutes into the downhill cruise, I notice scores of sheep peppered on a steep hill yellow hill to my left. I abruptly parked on the side of the road and quickly made my way up the oddly inclined hill to encounter a shepherd, holding a stick in one hand and a chain that connected him to his donkey in the other.
I introduced myself and mention that I come from Amman. I compliment his boots. He replies with pride, saying that these are the best you can get, army boots probably from the Friday market shipped from the US costing him a couple JDs.
The shepherd came from Syria about 12 years ago, from a city in the northeastern part of Syria called Deir Al Zur. I asked if he would be going back soon after Syria was freed. He says that he is happy in Jordan, but he is planning to visit in the next couple of months. During our conversation, I take a couple seconds to look to my side and find dozens of sheep grazing happily on the steep mountain. The sheep are full of wool and full of food.
An overcast day in Na’ur, this sheep, with his big nose, had a boorish aura to him
I asked where him and his sheep will go once the weather gets warmer. Without any hesitation, he says he’ll be going north to Amman, to the Seventh and Eighth circles. I was confused. Flashbacks came to me of all the times I would see sheep and shepherds passing by that area when I was younger. I’ve seen this in the past, but why are they still doing it? Why go to the busiest areas in the country, full of cars, exhaust fumes, concrete and commotion to graze? His answer was as simple as can be: "Because over there is the best land for the sheep!”.
My mind drifted while my cousin continued conversation with the shepherd. If there is such fertile land, why are we building so much there?
While I took interest in his story, the sheep took interest in me and my camera. Their curious eyes all staring at me. I adjust the horizon of my camera to a strange steep angle and take a photo. I see sheep staring at me, a donkey in the back, the shepherd, and the view that leads to the Dead Sea, all in one photo.
The shepherd invites us for tea several times. We thank him for his generosity and tell him that we are on the beginning of a journey to the lowest point on earth. He bids us well and we both set out on our separate ways.
At the half way point to our destination, we stop on the road to take a breather and to ground ourselves in the new location we’ve arrived at, only 50 minutes away from the sip of coffee we had in the morning at home in the hills of Amman.
Hazem, my cousin who grew up in Riyadh, looks at the sea and Palestine. I wonder what his relationship is to the land across.
Down at the Dead Sea’s level, I have a moment with the mountains myself.
The natural elements of life continue to inspire me, and this inspiration grows more with each time I photograph. The Dead Sea is a remarkable and special place, and I took some moments to photograph the beaches covered in white salt. While visually serene, they are sharp and hard to step on. Hazem and I had our own funny story that we will carry with us for a long time.
I played with movement, color, depth, speed, luminosity, and the ever-changing momentum of the Dead Sea waves to create a composition. When photographing these, I get lost in the viewfinder, fishing for a feeling and entering into a mini-flow state Looking at them in the editing room, each photo gives a different feeling. One jumps at me, one dances with me, one calms me down, and one makes me feel a glimpse of love. A still shot reminds me of what I’m photographing, and then I go back to exposing over a longer period of time.
Bubbles forming after a wave washes by the unusual shore.
A little mishap on the sharp salty rocks. Luckily, we were in the best place to sterilize the wounds.
After our small mishap, we decide to continue our journey to one of the wadis that flows water into the Dead Sea. The weather was warm, and the water was welcoming.
A goat herder with his donkey says hello, gives us a smile, and heads his way towards the sea.
I followed his goats for a bit, each one having their own personality and demeanor.
After about an hour of trekking through rocks, water and trees, we reach a beautiful waterfall with hot springs. We enjoy our time bathing in hot water, cleansing ourselves from the woes of the world above sea level.
While we were in the waters, I started to look into the small and miniscule. I couldn’t believe all the geometric shapes that were forming.
Algae forming lines and triangles in the water.
Under the blazing water, circles and curvy lines form with purple outlines in the algae.
Hazem and I did not speak for a long time near the waterfalls. It was a time of reflection and solitude with company. As the sun drew nearer to the horizon, the world become a bit more golden, and was a telling sign to end our journey and head back home.
