weaver

Liz and I spent a few days up the Himalayan foothills in a little village called Darap, in the state of Sikkim. There we befriended a young chap who took us for a trek and ended up at his parents’ house. This ancient building, with solid mud floors and tar-encrusted ceilings from the constantly burning fire, has been passed down from generation to generation of Nepali Limboo tribesmen. His father, a weaver of bamboo, is pictured squatting, taking a short break. His mate behind is clearly knackered from a day’s work, and I’ve no idea who owns the gold boots.