Between Pakistan’s reserves of gems and the flow of gems from neighboring Afghanistan, there is no shortage of products for Peshawar’s gem dealers. However, they face an uphill battle in selling their products. Few foreigners visit Peshawar as it is, and even fewer are willing to make the trip to visit Peshawar’s gem market, Namak Mandi. Many have turned to online sales, but buyers in the west are hesitant to trust a merchant from Pakistan. Even when sales are made, shipping options are limited as companies such as UPS, DHL, and FedEx refuse to transport and insure gems. 

Most of their customer base is dealers they have met at international gem shows. But the shows have become more difficult for them to attend. Despite having previously lived and worked in the United States for over 5 years, Sabir Rasool’s visa application to attend The Tucson Gem, Mineral & Fossil Showcase, considered to be the largest gem show in the world, has been pending for close to a year now.

When his son, Daud, attended a gem show in Munich, he had to fly to Paris first and take an overnight bus across the border because Germany would not grant him a visa. Between flights, transportation, show fees, shipping gems to the show, and lodging, the excursion cost Daud over 5000 euros. A lackluster show netted him only 2700 euros in profit. Not even enough to cover the cost of coming. He’ll have to hope that the sales he did make represent customers that will work with him in the future.

Even before you enter Bantar Gebang, Southeast Asia’s largest landfill, you can start to smell it. The two-lane road leading from the metropolises of Jakarta and Bekasi is frequently clogged with garbage trucks, their stench seeming to exacerbate the tropical heat. As soon as you go through the front gate you see the mountains of trash looming above. Running alongside is the black runoff water collecting in culverts. To many, this place is revolting, and for many, vomiting upon arrival is not out of the question. But for roughly 3000 families, this is home. They make a living off the trash, being involved somewhere in the process of collecting and selling off recyclable materials. People here hail from all corners of Indonesia, flocking here in search of steady work and the ability to better provide for their families. As long as there is trash, there is work available, and there is always trash. Upwards of 6000 tonnes of trash are deposited in Bantar Gebang every day bringing not only plastics and metals to be recycled, but food, toys, and clothing. By many accounts, life here is not glamorous, but for the people living here, the trash mountains of Bantar have provided better for them, for them, this is a kingdom.

When I started taking photos at Bantar Gebang, I was aiming to capture what life was like living there. In doing so, I became aware of how these lives exist so closely intertwined with the environmental crises that are currently gripping the world. It’s easy to point to the trash and label it as an issue by itself. But trash is such a big part of the modern world that it carries with it an ecosystem that has come to survive off its existence. Simply doing away with generated trash will bring along with it economic and social issues that we may not often think of when looking at the grand environmental issues being faced. Trash is not just an issue for the consumer but also for those making a living from it.

The origins of polo date back to the 3rd-century bc. First played in Persia, it was a way to keep soldiers entertained and train cavalry units. It evolved into a sport played primarily by the nobility, earning it the name “a game of kings.” The polo played worldwide today is a far cry from its early days. But, in northern Pakistan, polo is still played close to its original form, known as “freestyle polo.”

The rugged and unforgiving landscape of Pakistan’s Gilgit-Baltistan region echoes the game’s true nature. Most players wear nothing for protection other than leather knee and elbow pads. Once the match begins, anything goes. Players attack one another with their mallets and check each other into the stone walls that line the field. A mob of spectators lines the field, risking being run over by horses just to steal a glance a the competition. Fans stream onto the field when the final whistle blows, lifting the winning players in the air and dancing about.

Off the field, despite the intensity of the game, players often maintain close friendships. Players usually come from families where the sport has been passed down for generations. Every village has a polo field, and neighbors near and far compete against each other annually. Players have as much respect for the sport as they do those they are competing against. For some, it’s a career, being paid to train and play. For others, it’s a hobby they pour considerable time and money into. For all of them, though, it’s a way of life. Despite the sport’s inherent dangers, they couldn’t imagine life without it.