On our fourth day after leaving Putao, we were walking along a footpath between some fields cultivated by Rawang farmers when my Burmese guide called out to me from behind.

"It seems the stories you heard were true. Here comes Dawey now."

"What? Doesn't he live in Kuraun, close to the northernmost village in Burma?" I asked. But before he could answer, Dawey, one of the last of the Tarong, appeared in the company of three Rawang, walking in a line.

"Once a year, during the dry season, when it's relatively easy to walk, he makes his way to Putao to buy salt and tea. He will be in Putao for about three weeks," he explained.

I was very disappointed to hear this. Naturally, I had hoped to photograph Dawey in his native village. It was unfortunate that this no longer seemed possible, but it was lucky that we happened to cross paths like this. If he had taken a different route, I would not have been able to meet him at all. And I heard that he had two sisters, one in her fifties, the other 72 years of age, still living in Kuraun, so at least I would have a chance to photograph them.

Finally, on the sixteenth day, we arrived in Kuraun. I was not under official surveillance here, but still, I was not free to wander around at will. When I went to meet Dawey's sisters, I had to go with the village headman. With my Burmese guide as my interpreter, I could communicate with the two sisters only through the village headman, in accordance with protocol. This was done to prevent direct contact between outsiders and the Tarong. And then I learned, after walking for more than two weeks to meet them, that I would have just 10 minutes to photograph the sisters. I suddenly felt very tired.

(text & Photo by Yuzo Uda / Translated Nelson Jason)