© Richard HuangAfter reading my previous article,Little Child Laborers,many readers felt deeply sorry for the children of Bangladesh. Yet not every child there lives in misery: children in the countryside are far happier than those in the cities.
© Richard HuangThat day, we drove into the countryside outside Dhaka to photograph the grain-drying yards. Rice is abundant there, and with so much sunshine, the grain is spread out to dry before being stored. Drying yards of every size can therefore be seen throughout the region. Photographing them is no easy matter. Besides the long journey, everything depends on the weather; if the day turns out overcast or rainy, the entire trip is wasted.
© Richard HuangAfter going to so much trouble to get there, it would hardly have been worthwhile merely to photograph neat rows of grain heaps. There was something else that interested me more. Drying grain is labor-intensive work, but most of the village’s young people prefer to seek jobs in the big cities. Women from more remote rural areas therefore come here with their children to fill the labor shortage. They live in simple, single-story dwellings around the drying yards and work out on the yards during the day.
© Richard HuangWomen from different regions gather here. Years of working beneath the sun have darkened their skin and lent their eyes an increasingly limpid clarity. It is easy to find distinctive faces for portraits—and that was our main reason for coming. This photograph was published on 1x.com.
© Richard HuangThe children come here to live with their mothers. Some of the older boys help with the work in the granaries.
© Richard HuangMany of the younger ones cannot afford to attend school, so they spend their days chasing one another and playing among the piles of grain.
© Richard HuangOr they splash about in the pond, living without a care in the world.
© Richard HuangThe children are happy because they ask for nothing—and, more than that, because they have nothing.
© Richard HuangMost of the children run barefoot and naked through the village. Even the younger girls are usually bare-chested, so when photographing them I would ask them to hold a duck, a hat, or some other prop in front of themselves.
© Richard HuangOr I would have them fold their hands across their chests to protect their privacy.
© Richard HuangI photographed a great many children in one burst.
© Richard Huang
© Richard Huang
© Richard HuangWherever we went, crowds of children followed behind us—partly out of curiosity, and partly in the hope that they might be chosen for a photograph. With so many to choose from and so little time, I became rather selective, picking only children with distinctive features, clear eyes, unusual faces, or brightly colored clothing.
© Richard HuangThe girl below had an ordinary face, so I did not initially choose her. Too shy to ask me herself, she repeatedly had her friends tell me that she wanted her picture taken. In the end, I photographed her too.
© Richard HuangHer mother came over as well, and I photographed them together. She began telling my local friend about the family: they were so poor that her daughter could not attend school. She had come here to work precisely so that she could earn the girl’s school fees…
© Richard HuangBehind all that happiness, it seemed, lay a trace of sadness and regret.
Poverty limits the imagination, but it also limits desire. With fewer desires, happiness naturally comes more easily.
© Richard HuangFrom the moment they enter the world, the children of Bangladesh have poverty for a companion. They may become miserable child laborers in a bustling city, or happy village children in the humble countryside. If you had to choose between the two, which would you choose?