This was mine.
I spent the night in this fishing village in the Dominican Republic so that I could get some moonlight shots and the sunrise in the morning. It turned out too cloudy for either one. Instead, I walked along the beach before the locals woke up and took a lot of pics of their neighborhood.
I was getting some shots of the colorful fishing boats on the shore using my Tokina 12-24mm when I saw this young boy squatting a ways down the beach just beyond one of the boats. It looked to me like a great 'National Geographic moment'; young local with his chin resting in his hand, arm resting on his thigh, thoughtfully watching this strange intruder taking picture after picture.
I motioned to him with one finger pointed up to try to communicate "just another moment" as I took shot after shot of him. Using my wide angle lens, I wasn't getting the closeup of him that I really wanted, but I wasn't about to rush towards him either because I thought I might frighten him off. I kept moving toward him, stopping and crouching again and again to at least get a good shot at my next best position each time. I wished I had my 70-200 on my camera, but I didn't want to chance him suddenly leaving while I changed lenses.
Continuing to motion with my hand and saying "Uno momento" I eventually got to within eight feet of him and was about to take my closest shot of this boy with the ever so thoughtful expression, his chin still in his hand, when a larger than usual wave crashed on the beach and water rushed towards us. He and I both looked toward the water and then he bolted away leaving a mushy pile behind.
I was overcome with embarrassment. I looked beyond the boy as he was running towards the corrugated tin and palm frond huts that made up his neighborhood to see his parents watching me. Again I was extremely embarrassed and sheepishly waved at them.
If I had had any idea that I was intruding into this boys privacy and stomping all over his human dignity, I would have left him alone, to hell with my 'National Geographic moment'. |
