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Letter to an old friend who knew our ways
The Outfit I wish you could see us here; you who saw us in Aran ! How you would open your eyes ! It is so different that we hardly know what to do about it — so many people about, doing for us all the things we have usually had to do ourselves — a fleet of cars flying here and there, a lorry as full of people as a Sunday School picnic plying daily from town (two miles) to our 'bungalow'; thousands of cameras; thousands of racks bursting, bristling with tripods; a stills department with two assistants and I don't know how many still cameras; thousands of carpenters, electricians, tailors, bearers, coolies, sweepers, mahouts, animal trainers, clerks, accountants, interpreters — you would think we were a b . . . . y factory ! We celebrate We have just had a 'puja\ It comes on a certain day. 1 uJa Everything, all our tools, everything we use, all the various instruments in the laboratory, the weird and wonderful machine which prints film, the huge drum which drives it, and the projector which projects it, all must be worshipped and bowed down to; even the kitchen stove and all the saucepans; and our own selves, sitting on a chair with flower wreaths round our heads and around our necks, and a tinsel-wound flower bunch in our hands and a plate with nuts and raisins and fruit at our feet. We have had it all day. The excitement has been intense and we are all quite
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[facing dhobis
Photograph by Barbara Flaherty van lngcn