There are thousand-year-old gestures, witnesses of the past, anchored in daily life, guardians of our future…

Some of you may never have had the chance to practice or see these millennia-old gestures in action, too busy as we are behind our screens. They are often an opportunity to team up, to make connections, to get to know each other. I like to think that these gestures persist here and there, timeless, a-cultural and above all without borders. I like these everyday gestures that bring us back to the essential. The essential, the essence of our life?

I like to look at these hands that work the material to give it body, to transform it.

I love these hands that wash, purify tirelessly near the rivers. These expert hands to make clothes white, to revive colour, to purify dishes. I love these gestures by the thousands that should never be forgotten.

I can still remember, as if it were yesterday, those fishermen who met in Cairo, working in groups on their small boats. They were moored in a small niche in the Nile, behind the reeds. Everyone was busy preparing for the next day’s fishing, untangling the nets, repairing them.

I remember with emotion those fishermen who crossed paths many times in the port of Essaouira. They prepare the ropes, the ones that patch or weave the nets, with their expert hands, chiselled by salt and the sun, with their hands with joints swollen by age and work, thanks to their hands that mastered the gesture perfectly. On the quay, a short distance away, there are the hands that prepare the bait. The veins of the arm protrude because the gesture is repeated a thousand times and totally controlled so as not to risk injury.

On the port of Essaouira

I remember the little smile that accompanies a job well done and the language that points and shows a high level of concentration and expertise.

Behind all these gestures, I remember your hands at each of you. Hands that we have admired so much, photographed to share them, to remember. Behind each of these gestures, I also remember our encounters, these precious moments when we shared much more than just know-how, but above all, a know-how of being together.

The fishermen of this small bay near Cochin, Kerala, also belong to me. The men take advantage of this work to make it a real moment of exchange. Beyond the threads that are woven, it is humanity that weaves its great web. Some are sheltered by a huge tarpaulin to protect themselves from the bite of the sun. They are seated, sunk in the softness of the nets, which are much brighter red than those of Essaouira. Expert hands know exactly where to start. Here too one takes the time to admire the work well done. There is also the man who isolates himself to take advantage of the shade of a large palm tree. In his hand, the shuttle comes and goes in a perfectly controlled gesture.

I do not forget, above all, those hands that knead, feed, peel, cook for their family and friends. So many recipes exchanged, so much laughter shared when the gesture or posture is not mastered by the student.

Gestures that are shared, taught and give unparalleled flavours. Remembering the gestures in order to recreate the desired taste.

There are more artistic gestures that can create real works of art. The hands are delicate to juggle the threads and produce the hoped-for masterpiece. Memory is also involved, because it is necessary to count, order and not forget anything.

Finally, I am thinking of more technical gestures, such as harvesting latex, picking tea, or the potter’s gesture. They represent ancestral skills that we must not neglect. These gestures whose essence should not be replaced by a machine.

Caring, tinkering, healing, weaving, feeding, fishing, kneading, extracting, picking, so many gestures that reveal to us the beauty, the greatness of little things and make us marvel.

Par Nathalie

Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)