Dialog with spirits along Saigon River

Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh City, nearly ten years ago..

On one side of the meandering Saïgon River, the historical center, from which a few skyscapers make of it a small scale Manhattan.

On the opposite riverbank, rusty warehouses, docks where sailormen used to caulk the hull of their small boats. A dirt road along which very poor houses are aligned, made of a few metal rods and covered by a patchwork of corrugated sheets. During monsoon, in case of a sudden heavy rainfall, you will be invited to find a shelter there, and to share with your guest some slices of grilled snake. In this area, everything has disappeared, only a convent and a very small pagoda still remain. 

...... From the shelters, one can hear music. It comes from the aforementioned small pagoda. Inside it, a group of circa thirty persons. A complete family, around seventy five years separating youngest and eldest. The latter do me the honour to sit down among them. In front of us, a very smart woman is whirling, holding wooden sticks in her hands. She seems to be in another world. Two men besides her are moving a kind of funeral boat.

Behind, loafs of offerings rest on the floor, numerous rice bags, oil, dragon froots, bananas, etc.. After having laid down her wooden sticks, and practiced rituals, the woman, acting as master of ceremony, proceeds with the closing of the event. She throws in the air rolls of small bills, which fall down as a light rain on the assistance, to whom they are destinated. 

Canon EOS450D - 65mm - f5 - 1/30