Mt. Kilimanjaro looms above travelers on their way to work at the sugarcane fields of Moshi, Tanzania.

“Frankly, isn’t it stupid to tell people, like they teach you in film school, not to look at the camera?” —Sandor Krasna, Sans Soleil

The camera lens. Anyone within binocular eyeshot is roused with excitement or fear. I have now become the cyclops of a space-age Homer.

Moshi, “Smoke” in Swahili, the city that lies beneath Kilimanjaro—the highest peak in Africa and the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. From the town center and the main road that bisects it, dirt roads spoke in all directions to various villages. After miles of sugarcane and Christmas Trees (because they blossom around Christmas), one such road leads to Newland the home of St. Timothy’s Primary School. Pastor James and his wife, Beatrice, founded and now co-run the school that serves 123 boarding students, 350 total students, and 8 class years. It’s also ranked 5th, out of 927, in its district. When I visited Advocate (and Google coworker) Brandie Heinel, she was busy distributing bicycles and planning the construction of two new classrooms.

Beatrice at the St. Tim’s office.

Is it the mark of a good camera operator, or rather, the mark of a good actor to allow a scene to appear natural? I wonder this as the children on the bus to St. Tim’s smile, laugh, yell, and generally focus on my camera. As anyone who has tried to take pictures of children who haven’t grown up inundated with technology knows, these kids love having their picture taken. I’ll spare you the GB’s worth of evidence…

This bold acceptance fits nicely into a chart, I’ll let you imagine, which could be titled “Figure — Picture Being Taken, Reactions” It’s a spectrum, but in my limited experience as a documentary photographer, there are three main vertices, or extremes, making a triangle of reactions. The first vertex, Yes, generally occurs before the photographer can even ask to take a picture. The duty is intercepted by the subject, “Take my picture!” They demand as they strike a pose. The trick back to natural interaction is simply to wear them down before they do the same to you. Eventually bored by an unmoving camera, life goes on.

Children, on break, invited me into their classroom to photograph them.

Still within the consent area is the next vertex, Faux. This can range anywhere from embarrassed resignation to overacting. Someone hides their face behind a hand or a laugh. Someone sees you, you know they’ve seen you, yet they (try to) return what they were doing with a change in character. This reaction is just north of the ideal on the chart, but in terms of preference, far from it. Discomfort is a ratchet, not the far end of a cog. It can increase and increase, but there’s no going back. The ideal lies in the center and is what I’m calling Brando. Subject acknowledges the camera, gives permission to film and, completely unhindered, continues with what they were doing. This takes a very strong willed person, or more often, a person whom the photographer has a relationship with… Noted.

Students in Newland, on their way to school.

The final vertex is No. No, you may not take my picture. No, your interjection does not fit my narrative. No, you are not a welcome presence. No. This happens and it makes filming difficult. Do you still capture the scene? If yes, how do you creatively remove that individual? On my second day at St. Tim’s I asked Rachel, one of the staff, “Nikupige picha?” She half-turned to acknowledge me, but shook her head. “Hapana?” I asked. Hapana. I panned left and resumed filming. However, after that refusal, she was everywhere. Every time I began to setup a shot, I would have to reframe it to respect her wishes. Hmmmmm.

Later, I heard an electronic rendition of a camera shutter. I turned and saw Rachel talking on her cellphone. As I packed my bags for the day, I heard the sound again. “Picha!? Mi mi!?” I yelled. I had caught Rachel in the act of photography. She smiled and began laughing, heartily. Was this payback or curiosity? I wondered. I laughed and then drew my own camera on her. With the tables suddenly turned, she ran away. Still hapana, I suppose.

Besides some relief, this event made me feel that I had heavily influenced the proceedings of what I captured that day. Inevitably, no matter where a reaction falls on the Figure, you have changed the scene. How people react. How events pan out. People see a camera and their flow is momentarily or permanently thrown. Yet, I’m trying to hide my presence from you, the viewers. Is that honest? Is it important to document that I’m documenting? Eye contact with the camera was once accused of breaking the fourth wall, the sealed membrane of another reality. The performance. To me, absolutely obliterating this wall is essential to documentary. This isn’t a separate world. No yours and theirs. As you watch, can you imagine what that person is doing at this moment? Now?

Neutrality in depiction and influence is certainly a goal, but it’s akin to creating a frictionless surface. Impossible. What you seek instead is its closest approximation. Or, sometimes, an ownership of it’s absence. You are free to trade glances with the camera.