Ofir Berman offers a portal into one of Jerusalem’s oldest Jewish neighbourhoods, the Mea Shearim

A young boy smokes a cigarette as he frowns warily into the lens; a girl hurriedly pushes a pram in a muted dress and headscarf; a group of children chase a chicken down a cobbled street; at first you might assume that these are scenes from hundreds of years ago, but in fact, they were taken only recently.

Shot in the neighbourhood of Mea Shearim, an ultra-Orthodox dwelling located in the heart of Israel, Jerusalem, these snapshot-in-style pictures were taken by Ofir Berman, an Israeli documentary photographer who stepped foot in the district for the first time in 2017. “Walking in this neighbourhood makes me forget that I’m in my hometown,” Ofir tells It’s Nice That. “In the middle of one of the world’s most technologically advanced countries lives a community that defies time and place – inhabitants of Mea Shearim resist 21st century human norms. This isolated community has invented its own rules.”

In this cobbled quarter of Jerusalem, modernised buildings are swapped for structures that date back hundreds of years. And between these narrow and historical streets, the children run constantly with “foreign looks in their eyes”, says Ofir, “and the power of faith guarding them from above”. Children and procreation are of high importance to the Mea Shearim. In fact, each family has on average around five to ten children, and it’s normal to have an older child bare responsibility for the younger siblings – “even if he or she is still a child”. Ofir adds, “I am always amazed when I see a seven-year-old girl taking her little brother in a stroller around the neighbourhood, just like that.”

When Ofir arrived in the area, she had her camera firmly affixed in hand – naturally. She’s spent her career telling the stories of social and cultural issues, presenting the lives of those living on the fringes of society and revealing an honest depiction of an event or place. Recently, she moved from Madrid back to her hometown of Israel to start work on her personal endeavours, turning her gaze onto subjects such as Palestinian refugees from Gaza; a devastating fire that broke out in the largest refugee camp on the Greek island of Lesbos; and the struggles faced by Palestinian farmers who needed permits from the Israeli army to harvest olives. So when it came to photographing the Mea Shearim, Ofir felt as if she found a credibly suitable subject for one of her photographic series. Yet to her surprise (or perhaps lack thereof), she was taken aback by the response she received as a woman, photographer and outsider. “I could not hide nor blend in with these surroundings,” she recalls. “I was afraid of getting noticed and the camera was my only connection with the world outside. I started questioning what ‘normal’ was and who should bear that word.”

Like Ofir, many tourists will regularly travel to the area to learn and experience the Mea Shearim. This, inevitably, causes friction amongst its residents and those peeking in at their way of life – the voyeurs who come to sponge and gawk at self-sufficient societies like this one. But in this case, the tension can be a little extreme. Habitants go as far as opposing entry for women if they are perceived to be “immodest”, explains Ofir. There’s even large signage peppered throughout the streets pinpointing rules of the dress code, causing an aura of uncertainty for those who enter, including Ofir. Whenever she visits, she usually has a quick look at herself and asks, “Is my dress modest enough? It’s important to follow the guidelines, believe me.”

Yet despite the uncompromising rules and stereotypes, Ofir finds the Mea Shearim to be utterly captivating. Through her work with Children of Mea Shearim, she hopes to raise awareness of the smaller, perhaps often missed, moments of their day-to-day lives. “There is something addictive and unexpected that makes me want to go back there again and again, to explore all the little details that I may have missed the previous time,” she concludes. “Documenting the young ultra-Orthodox generation in its natural environment feels to me like creating fiction. When I bring the repressed minority directly to the centre of attention, the exception becomes normal.”