post departure thoughts and comments I probably shouldnt make. (05/11/06)

I have done a great deal to ease the Pakistani/US relations. You are all welcome.
I met with the military, government officials, the common people, the common chicken, goat and donkey. Since I have not been allowed to drink but once since I landed here its safe to say that I have caused no harm to image of my country.
Now I sitting in my room at the Holiday Inn Islamabad watching Top Secret one of the single greatest comedies ever, this is my first time watching it with Urdu subtitles though. I am happy to note that the jokes seem to translate well. Of course they have edited out any joke or reference to anything sexual or deemed offensive. It’s surprising what has made the cut and what hasn’t.
Poop, apparently is funny worldwide. Good to know.
I am not looking forward to coming home, at least not as much as I thought I might. I am stoopid excited about sleeping in my own bed soon and wireless Internet, but this country is great. I have been invited to come back and stay with a few people and their families; I met a man tonight who is from Quetta, a border town near Iran. He promised to take me around Quetta and then into Iran. I met him in the truck on the way to Islamabad; he speaks very little English but wants very much for me to come back so he can show me his city. This is the first place I have been able to give directions and remember locations by referring to military weaponry. It seems like every major intersection has a jet, missile, tank, armored personnel carrier or cannon next to it. There by making it easier remember how to get anywhere via weaponry. Stay to the right after you pass the jet, turn right at the tank, hang a right at the missile then two streets up on your left is me. There, you know how to get to my guesthouse from Manshera.

My last night in Islamabad was a good one; it involved a feast, good conversation and Johnny Walker Blue Label Scotch. Yah see you want to keep reading now don’t you?
My cousin Josh has the freakishly good fortune to be getting married to a wonderful woman named Becky. It turns out that Becky’s parents are stationed in Islamabad for a while and Josh and Becky sent me her parents’ email telling me to drop them a line. While fighting the Internet demons of Pakistan dial up, I got an email out to them and went on my way. Islamabad can be a boring place if you don’t know where to go and I don’t know where to go, so I was tickled pink when Becky’s mom called me asking me if was busy and if I wanted to I could come over for a casual dinner party on Thursday night.
If you read the first paragraph of this then you know I was certainly not busy and the prospect of an actual dinner and drinks was kind of like pushing Christmas up a few months to a 10 year old. I was worried that my jeans and button up would reflect poorly on them and me to their company but I was assured that I would be fine and they would be delighted to have me.
Josh if you reading this, your too lucky man. Her parents are SO nice its great. I can say that the diplomatic enclave in Islamabad is about as secure as it can be, it was slightly less rigorous to get in there than the Whitehouse but it was impossible compared to every other area I had been to in Pakistan. The Guards here were not all smiles and nods. Hell I was actually going someplace people might want to go to. This was also a change.
Dave and Linda were unbelievable hosts to me, Dinner was stunning, Dave listened to me talk even though I caught myself excited to be talking to someone who is a native English speaker. Virginia had been out of town nearly a week at this point. I think I talked Daves ear off, but he did offer me Johnny Walker Blue, which means he didn’t hate me for it. Johnny Walker Blue Label, if you are not a drinker, is very expensive very nice scotch. I am not a scotch fan and I am now a Johnny Walker Blue fan.
Dave and Linda took in a stranger on the word of their future son in law and I can’t thank them enough.
Josh I think I behaved well enough that they might still let you marry Becky but if they changed their minds…. sorry man. I used the right fork and everything.

I made it in and out of Paris; I had a blast going to the Rodin museum, the Catacombs, walking along the river, visiting Montmartre and Sacre Couer, eating and free unfettered access to alcohol and coffee. The only drawback was that I was being whooped by a nasty cold that I brought with me from Pakistan. I convinced myself at moments that I had Bird Flu in order to gain sympathy from Manon, whom I was visiting but she never went for it and just kept making me drink tea and take vitamin C. Now I am back in NYC feeling ok and she is sick. Not very nice exchange huh? She puts me up, takes me around Paris, translates for me, makes me tea and I give her the bird flu. I am such a gentleman.

New York felt good to see from the air and better to be in once I was walking around but I will admit that would go back to Pakistan in a minute. I learned a tremendous amount (but not nearly enough) about Islamic culture, I met amazing people and I hope to stay in touch with them all. I cant for one minute deny how fantastic the people were there but I would be lying if I said that I think that country will heal well from this. I think that Pakistan’s importance in the larger playing fields of politics and world events will only grow more prominent. I can’t stress enough that this country is messed up with religious and political manipulation on all levels.
I haven’t forgotten for one minute that I am approaching this through a western / American set of eyes and values but I cant understand how anyone would argue that things need to and will change there.
Education is the most important thing that can shift the balance of this and any country. If the population is uneducated then they cannot effectively influence their own future.
Lord Brougham - Education makes a people easy to lead, but difficult to drive; easy to govern, but impossible to enslave.

With an overall literacy rate for the country ranging from 44 to 46 percent (women and girls between (12-26%) you can understand the scope of the problem.
Pakistan just increased its education spending up to 2.7% of its GDP while its defense spending has been listed at 25%. I was told by one news agency that approximately 20 million US was spent on education in Pakistan and over $200 million us was spent on the maintaining of nuclear weapons in Pakistan. Granted I have not been able to verify that number but it pans out close with the spending numbers I have found.
If you think that this is a horrifying to spend that much money (considering it’s nearing the brink of economic collapse) take a look at what the US will be spending on National Security $542 Billion in 2007, that’s a “B” folks compared to its $63.4 billion for the Department of Education.

But at least most of us can read, right?

Jihadi tea parties and who has the biggest pee pee in the UN compound. (03/31/06)

Snappy title huh?
First things first, I failed in my duty to give many many thanks to Ted Dillard and David Johnson for helping me sort out a seriously sweaty palmed moment when I could no longer download my memory cards on day 8 or whatever. I thought I was totally screwed but two great men from two great cities sorted my quivering lip straight.
Lesser men would have laughed then helped, they helped and laughed quietly.

Tea Party?
Well it’s simple, since the immediate moments post earthquake there have been numerous less than humanitarian agencies involved with the relief efforts. Several of whom are actually UN sanctioned and listed by the US and Pakistani governments as terror groups.
To get a real good understanding of how strange, strange bedfellows can be take a gander at the International Crisis Groups March 15th report on the politics of the earthquake. Some of these groups are sketchy some are downright creepy. In my mind they were a necessary evil in the effort to save lives when help was needed most and the Pak. Army was too busy playing war to save their own people. Initially the Army (even those in the area) was slow to react for many reasons but the Jihadis were not. While the Army and UN tried to figure out how to reach people (once they started to try) the Jihadis were already there working. Just like the Tamil Tigers in Northern Sri Lanka, they moved fast, without prejudice and worked without end until help arrived. Lets be honest, these men have been climbing, hiding and fighting in those mountains for many a year. They had full blown mobile surgical facilities packed away complete with Operating rooms, x-ray machines, medical supplies AND the ability to get it where it needed to be. Shutting them out would have been a crime. Despite their politics they were appreciated for their work and oddly enough were singled out for praise by Musharaff for what they had done. These groups include Al – Khidmat, Al –Rasheed trust and my fav Jamat-Ud-Dawa. JUD is a political organization with a background to be envied or feared, it all depends on your religious/political leanings. In a nut shell, they are hard-line fundamentalists who supported the Taliban, love what Al Qaeda are doing and are both listed as a sanctioned entity by the UN and listed as a foreign terrorist group by the US government, but I already said that. So why was the UN working with them beyond the emergency phase? I don’t know. I don’t know how much the UN has continued to work with them but they certainly have. UNICEF has provided them with Tent Schools and supplies, UNHCR shelter materials, WFP has provided foodstuffs and the WHO has help out with health issues too. My story was not so much about what they have done in the past as what they are still doing, JUD is building schools for the kids, gender specific (normal here) but certainly fundamentalist in its curriculum. They are building shelters for the families, according to government specs with their own money, funding free medical clinics and vocational training for men and women. Where the downside right? If these groups are sanctioned by the UN, watched by the Pak government and US govt. why are they allowed to be so proactive in the rebuilding phase? If you pull me out of the rubble, treat my injured family, give me shelter and teach my kids…I am damn well going to listen to what you have to say, I would be hard pressed to look you in the eye and say “Thanks, but I think your version of Islam is a bit harsh don’t you think?”
Hearts and minds.
The idea that western influence would not be well received here is somewhat true, people were leery of all of the Western NGO types until they saw how highly skilled, motivated and professional they were. I have heard a good amount of praise for our military involvement as well. Hell that’s hard to get in the US at the moment least of all a Muslim country that we keep pissing off. It seems to me that by allowing these groups to expand their roles and involvement while asking the international NGO’s to finish up, some are honestly just running out of things to do, seems awfully risky. Though lets not forget that some of these Jihadi groups are rumored to be funded or aided by the Pak. Government and have been accused of carrying out attacks FOR the Pak Military in the Kashmir region. It’s hard to keep a country gripped with fear when you have no enemy.

Now about the tea party. Once I read the ICG report I realized that I had met and already photographed some of these guys and their camps so it was more of a matter of going back and looking at it from another perspective than starting something new. I was already impressed with the organization of the camps, some of the cleanest and best laid out regarding space, drainage and so on, as well as their medical facilities.
I had heard about a Jamat-Ud-Dawa camp that had set up a free dental clinic on site and had a fantastic field hospital, so I went to check it out.
Following a rather intense and personal line of questioning as well as lots of tea drinking and cookie eating, I ended up with a sleepy eyed retired Pakistani Army Colonel giving me a copy of the Koran to read and be converted by. I promised to read it but I couldn’t promise the conversion part, but his version of Islam does allow for up to four wives, so its not looking bad at the moment. He has two and said it was a good move. Its just the whole war against my own country and keeping a watchful eye for an opportunity to prove my manhood via honor killing, thing that leaves a bad taste about it all.

I have spent several days working on getting access for shooting the ride back with a family being returned to their land either with an NGO or working it out with some of the local reporters. Either way it’s a good story since in Muzaffarabad alone there are over 110,000 people being returned. Since I am not sure if have already done this, the numbers that seem to keep coming up are 73 – 77,000 dead and close to 3 million homeless. The numbers shift around bit depending on who is producing them but the quake was huge and the destruction was magnificent. The announcement came yesterday that the entire city of Balakot would be shut down and not to be rebuilt. Everyone living there must evacuate due to concerns about the fault line. This is a whole city being called a loss. No its not like saying New Orleans is gone pack up and leave, its was a city of approximately 70,000(up to half died) people in that the government has (rightfully?) decided to let fade after going over seismic reports and safety concerns.
Yet I digress.
I finally wrangle myself and one of the radio reporters a seat with an IOM returning family from Muzaffarabad, all we have to do is be there by 8 am. It’s a good 2 –3 hours away.
So I get us organized to head out of Abbottabad at 5:30 am, by 5:45 I am reminded different culture perceive time. I stood out on the street watching my breath hang in the air wondering how much in US dollars it would cost to buy everyone involved in the project a watch. we make the drive, walk past UN security (HAHAHA its funny to even write that!) who never asked our names, to see ID or to sign in but did point out the stairs to me so I didn’t fall. Once we met our contact, Darren, the stand up Public Relations Officer for IOM in the area, (he is from Edmonton and we talked hockey) he explained that our ride might be canceled due to a tantrum being thrown by two other agencies in the UN assisting in the returns. Darren was open but politically cautious about the whole thing, he said that we (a reporter from Christian Science Monitor was there too) should go and ease the minds of OCHA and UNICEF the two agencies not thrilled with media presence during the return. We might have understood their point of view if their concern was the privacy of the families, or the sensitivity to the situation, security whatever. By their own admission it was due entirely to the fact that no one (IOM) told them that the media was going to be present and that they felt that the chaos that ensues from organizing such a massive movement might come across negatively for the UN.

In the words of Virginia Moncrieff: “Yes, lets not forget that its all about you and not the people we are here to help.”
They felt that the unwarned presence of media made their jobs harder to do and reflected poorly on the UN. We assured them that our stories were based entirely on the families NOT the UN. So individually we were given permission but that we would have to go and talk to the other agency because you see, we cant say its ok for you to go they have that authority. Keep in mind that this is an IOM operation not OCHA or UNICEF
After 3 hours of “oh no not us, you need to see this person.” And “sit here I will go take care of this right now.” We were told that the families had already left we had missed them, and gee wiz don’t know what to tell you. Its now noon, the woman at OCHA had agreed to let us work, then went over the head of our host agencies contact, Darren with IOM, to have us shut down. So naturally none of us were impressed.
How in the hell the UN felt that the return of over 110,000 earthquake victims (with a deadline I might add) would be both orderly and not be followed by the press is beyond me. Pissed and now working together we decided to find out which village they were returning to and go ourselves. That’s about the time that UNDSS (Division of Safety and Security) showed up asking where our ID’s were. Four hours, three cups of coffee, four meetings with three agencies and suddenly once we voice our discontent at being shut out security arrives to talk to us. We are escorted to the security desk where we decide to go ahead and leave, no need to sigh in now. We leave the UN compound with as much ease as we entered.
We found our stories, worked them as we needed to and went our ways all the while confused why the UN felt the need to bicker about who looked best or worst by our presence. Idiots.

The moral of the story is this: it is far easier to work around religious fundamentalists who would rather honor kill a member of their family than be shamed in some way, than it is to work with any UN agencies in a disaster area. There is actually less ego and drama with the jihadis than there is in the UN. It’s more secure too. Once they say you have their permission, they take responsibility for you. Nothing would happen to me (as long as I follow the rules) while I am in their camps. I walked up to and began to ask the Ukrainian maintenance crew of a UN helicopter where someone was because we drove onto the Pakistani military base giving only our first names, got onto the airfield and up to the aircraft before anyone asked us what we were doing and that was by a man who couldn’t be bothered to get out of his chair.

Yes yes, lots of things to complain about but I have a home to go back to, food in the cupboard, heat, clothes an education…still looking for health insurance… but I have little right to bitch.

This trip has been mind blowing. The food is great, the people are far too accommodating, you will be asked to stay for tea even if your trying to buy something from them. People will have no problem coming up to you in the hope that you will let them practice their English, sometimes this is not a problem other times it can be a bit strange. Like when AZ and I were approached in Peshawar by a man calling out to us “Hello Sexy!” we are pretty sure that someone somewhere taught him that as a greeting. I laughed. It was worth it. Of course if he knew what he was saying he might not laugh.
Tea although an everyday, all day thing, when done properly is far better than coffee. Especially when you’re looking out on the Indus River.
Pakistani men have a hard time not looking like they are seconds from killing you when you try and photograph them, they love being photographed but its damn hard getting a smile out of em. The people here are so varied in their features that you will see men who have red hair, fair skin, light eyes, he is Pakistani. I am not. But we could be related. The children are heartbreakingly beautiful. The women (that I have seen, without being seen, looking) are very beautiful.
I would come back here without hesitation. Where else is it easier to find a wife than it is to get a beer? I learned about the methods to guard against contracting Avian Flu thanks to the radio stations guidelines to prevent bird flu pamphlet. I now know what I look like in a burka, I learned the best place to get a fake passport and counterfeit firearms. I learned that driving in Pakistan is far more terrifying than any country I have been to as of yet, by far, hands down, end of story. I learned that westerners don’t love our animals enough to bling them out. I learned why goat tastes different here than in Trinidad, hemp grows wild here, goats love hemp. A stoned goat is a happy goat and happy goats taste good. I learned that time is flexible even if you are not. I found that the Internet is far too important to me to be a safe relationship. I learned that an open market for prescription drugs does not make a healthier people. The coughing and hacking will go away when you quit burning your trash and control the dust and exhaust in the air, two doses of cipro will not. If you take an antibiotic take the full course not the first two.

I will be heading back to Islamabad tonight to hang out in my hotel and look for beer.
It’s a simple life that I desire.

Helo flights, Logans Run and the Bird Flu (03/29/06)

I decided to stay and may now have to extend my trip a few days on top of all of this. Will the fun start soon?
I was scheduled to helicopter out of Abbottabad last week and spend a night or two in the mountains with some IOM staff who literally built a heli-pad up in the mountains so they could reach families in the area who could not or would not come down after the earthquake. Honestly it sounded great. About 12 hours before we were set to leave they called it off because of weather. Apparently they left anyway on Friday and just returned today (Monday), so much for an overnight delivery run into the mountains. Three hour tour anyone? Now after what seemed to be an unending round of phone calls and kind words, I may be able to fly out this coming Thursday. Therein lies the problem. I am scheduled to fly out Friday morning at eight AM from Islamabad (two plus hours south).
I figure I am going to extend just in case, its better to try and fail then wonder what if for the rest of my life.

After making the decision to stay in Pakistan, I also decided to continue with my weekend break as planned, Virginia and I had made plans to visit Lahore for the weekend, sort of hang out and look for a story. Unfortunately my mind was not 100 percent on work, so I admit to a lack of working and more of a wandering. This aimlessness did not limit the amount of action however. We decided to ride the nearly 7 hours south in the much hyped “Luxury” busses run by the South Korean company Daewoo. Our thoughts were to spend as much time as possible in Lahore as it’s the cultural capital of Pakistan and we have been told repeatedly that we had “not been born” until we have seen Lahore. Well there you go.
Our first lesson was that an overnight bus in the third world, despite its title does not equal Luxury. Sure it may sound like a no brainer but lets be fair it looked fine. No bus seat is comfortable for 7 hours, and I feel as though I have been singled out to prove that tall people don’t belong in South Asia. The bus line however is chock full of cool features like, a hostess who serves you soda and sandwiches, she also addresses the passengers in a fantastic monotone, stop and go manner that resembles a person reading a script for the first time out loud. Virginia and I were the only ones to fully appreciate the comparison but the PA system is set to heavy reverb, so much so that when she speaks in that emotionless voice, pausing every 4-5 words regardless of where she is the sentence, all I could think of was disembodied female voice in Logan’s Run. It helped that the interior cabin lights were a deep blue. Only Virginia and I were laughing at her speech so we figured the rest of the bus hadn’t seen the movie.
7 grueling hours later, sore assed, slightly slept and sure that my knees would never regain full extension, we arrived in Lahore just in time for the sun to come up.
Our friend had made arrangements for us to stay with his brother in law during our stay but warned that he was very conservative and that we would be wise to avoid discussion religion or politics with him. Unfortunately our friend seems to have forgotten to give the same request to his brother in law, because within minutes of our arrival we were trying like hell to get out of the spiraling discussion regarding both religion and politics and anything else not fit for discussion at 7:30 AM after a long painful bus ride.
After a long nap Virginia and I went out looking for something to do, we settled on getting lunch and getting to the Wagah Border. Wagah Border is an Eastern border between India and Pakistan. Every day at sunset both countries put on an extremely complicated and raucous ceremony whilst they take down the flags and close the border.
On the way to Wagah you suddenly leave behind a large sprawling urban environment and pop into nowhere. I was in mid-sentence when I had realized that we went from trees and suburbs to dry plains and brick factories. It was very sudden and damn strange, almost as if we were driving through the back lot of a movie studio looking two different movies being filmed at the same time.
At the gate you can hear the crowds chanting “Pakistan!” while you walk up to what looks like the back end of a small college stadium. This is where Virginia and I were separated because we wouldn’t want the women to be in the same area as the men. After all we are talking about watching two countries close a border, woman shouldn’t be near men on such occasions.
The scene was fantastic! Two men in Pakistani flag design Salwar Kameez, waving huge Pakistani flags, one was mid forties the other mid 70’s both VERY energetic and firing the crowd up. (Side question: How does one get to be a national mascot or opening act for a border closing?) The old guy was great, he had 4 teeth and salty look about him, he kept running up to the gate, waving the flag at the Indians and then walking back towards Pakistan screaming at us.
With great pomp and not one ounce of irony, the two militaries color guards high stepped towards each other, one at a time trying to out do each other with the height of their high kicks and the volume of their boots stomping on the ground, they met, shook hands, took their positions and took down their flags. Everyone cheered for his or her country, the gate was closed and photos were taken. What I want to know is why the US doesn’t have a bleachers set up for cheering fans on the way into Canada and Mexico? How much fun are we missing in the name of border security?
The weekend came and went with fun (finally got to buy alcohol despite never getting a permit to do so) and some not fun. I would say that my mind was nowhere near being in Lahore and that I owe it another visit later in my lifetime.

Today I spent on the phone trying to organize the helicopter flight, organizing photos and photographing the chicken vendor stalls in the marketplace for some “bird flu” shots. The government swears that the virus has been contained here and that chicken is safe. Just in case I went to the market and shot some pics of the chickens, men handling them, people buying em, killing them and cleaning them. All in all, a stinky, gore filled day. Which incidentally helps me maintain my vegetarian lifestyle, instituted the morning of the viruses confirmation here in Abbottabad. Sure there is mutton and beef but, I see that meat hanging in the sun all day, chickens at least are killed right when you buy em. I am still not sure where the fish is coming from. They look too big to be from the rivers and the ocean in almost a whole 24 hours by train due south.

It’s getting late and I need to call my Dad,

I hope your all well
D

Phone call from home. (03/27/06)

Some of you may already know, but for those that do not, my Grandmother Lang passed away Wednesday night (Thursday for me) from a stroke. My Grandmother and I were quite close to each other and have been since as far back as I can remember. I couldn’t have been further away from where I wanted to be then when my mother called to tell me. My first thoughts were about the last time I saw her almost 5 years ago just after my graduation, we sat next to each other while we all ate lunch in a pub near the school. We talked more than we ate. We were good at talking.
I cant explain the range of feelings associated with wanting to be somewhere else so bad it burns inside your skull all the while knowing that you just can’t leave where you are. I made phone calls and checked flights…thought about what she would want from me, even though I felt I knew what she would say if asked.. I quickly but not painlessly made the decision to stay here in Pakistan. I could write all day and night about why I stayed and none of it matters more than this. I am, with out a doubt, sure that she would want nothing less than for me to leave this job unfinished on her account. I would be going for me not for her, and that, I feel would serve only to irritate her to no end. She is finally back with my Grandfather and free from the crushing weight of Alzheimers. I know my family shares these feelings with me and anyone who has had a family member suffer from this disease also understands. Alzheimers took her from us long before the stroke did.

I sat in my room Thursday night wondering what was right and what was selfish, I talked to my family and my co-workers here and I am confident I made the right decision. None of which lessens the pain of having missed her funeral.

I have little doubt that I writing this more for me than anyone else so I will allow myself a few more moments of remembrance.
My grandmother helped raise me when my family was split from coast to coast for military reasons, she gave me the appreciation for a great many things: sweet tea, real fried chicken, homemade pumpkin pie, eating ice cream after dinner regardless of the weather, Bourbon when I was almost old enough and most embarrassingly, that a pre-teen boy with a big mouth and no sense was not too big to be put into place by a tiny red headed woman of unequaled determination. My parents taught me not to talk back, on that afternoon, my grandmother showed me why.
I would pay dearly for the chance to have one last conversation with her. I really would.

Who the hell is Ricky Ponting? (03/20/06)

March 17th
Ok so it’s cold. But tomorrow I will be sweating my butt off…. so I am told. Then again I was told not to pack cold weather gear too. I feel a bit misinformed.
I woke up the past few mornings to a thermometer reading of 50 f. that inside my room. Yes its 50 and 50 is better than 40 but damn that is too cold to get out of a sleeping bag only to THEN light up the heater, take a (yes) hot shower run naked and wet to your 50 degree warm underwear. Laugh, mock, tease all of you…but every morning I weigh the benefits of hygiene versus warmth.

I love this country for many many reasons, one of which has to be the quotes I keep hearing from various people, right now it a tie for best between the earlier “we love out trucks and our donkey’s” and my new favorite “Look at the hen…. so brave!” from one of the reporters as we nearly ran over a hen that sprinted into the street then back to the roadside avoiding death by a few inches.

March 19th
We have just returned from Peshawar and the Khyber Pass there is plenty to talk about here just from these two places.
We left Abbatobad on Friday, I was the only one who gave a damn that it was St. Patrick’s Day, and obviously in a Muslim country it was a dry St. Pats day. So far I have survived but I did feel like something was missing. The road from Abbatobad to Peshawar is generally not that impressive but the change in scenery was noticeable. Up here there are mountains in the distance, some with snow on the caps still. The mountains are stepped for farming and dotted with evergreens and birch trees. Heading to Peshawar the land gets a bit rockier and drier, the land gets flatter. All along the road you become more and more aware of a few things that Pakistan has plenty of…bricks and oranges. You see shorter thick smoke stacks off the side of the road with quarry like excavations into the clay ground which call attention to the numerous brick factories along the way. It’s shocking to see how much of the land here bares the scares of its growth. The areas where they have harvested the clay are completely barren of trees and any other sort of life. The oranges…I will be honest I have no idea where the hell these come from, I haven’t seen a orange tree since I got here but every 4th person you see selling ANYTHING is selling oranges.
Our first morning in Peshawar we met up with AZ who grew up in Peshawar, he led us through the maze like tunnels of the bazaar area. I will say in advance that I have not the command of my own language to describe that city. We literally ducked into doorways that I would have avoided like a rabid dog only to have an open air courtyard in front of me that was filled with jewelry shops, garment makers, tea houses and even the odd gun shop. We walked through these alleyways and into buildings, up stairs, down ramps for hours and somehow AZ always knew where we were. You couldn’t see the sky at some points for the amount of wires, clothes and signage hanging above you. We came up to a tea house across from what I took to be the meat market stretch, judging from the whole skinned cow carcasses hanging on meat hooks next to whole skinned goats. I am the observant type and all. We sat in the teashop drinking green tea and swapping stories between the four of us.
Oh yah, I never introduced the others. Virginia (chief something for internews radio Abbatobad) Sophia (programme manager? Internews Abbatobad) AZ (Chief something Internews radio Islamabad) so there you go, all the specifics you will need.
AZ then took us through another random doorway, up three flights of stairs onto the roof of an old building there that looks out onto the Mosque next door. According to Lonely Planet and a very friendly man who just started to talk to me and walked around with us for a good 15 minutes the Mahabet Khan Mosque was built in 1630, it was stunning! White marble that was blinding after walking through darkened alleys and buildings. I had never been in a mosque before, so this was a pretty good one to start off on. I was given permission to photograph as long as I was respectful so I took just a few shots and decided to just observe instead. I would compare this experience of it to having never seen a cathedral before and just wandering into Notre Dame or St. John the Divines when there were only worshipers there.
We grabbed our shoes and headed back out into the mix. We also found some street photographers who have hundred of scanned scenes from Bollywood action movies and random backgrounds that they will super impose your head onto for a small fee. Naturally we had to. I wont say what the shots look like but I will say that when we got the back we cried laughing at each other and even the non-English speaking tuk tuk (auto rickshaw here) driver laughed and applauded our photos.
Later that day AZ took us to “little Kabul” an area that as the name suggests is entirely Afghan. This area did make me a bit more nervous than the bazaar because it was noticeably more impoverished than the rest of the city. Which is not something easily outdone. We wondered around looking for a burka for Virginia. Why she wanted one is a fairly long and drawn out story that only she could tell you especially since she has such strong feelings against them and what they stand imply. While we were slipping in and out of stalls, I was taking pictures and looking around keeping both Virginia and AZ in sight and they me, we came across some pet shop stalls. Mostly birds and rabbits in cages. (Mom, I did verify that they were pet shops not restaurants there by avoiding the confusion I ran into that morning in Korea) it was next door to these shops that found a t-shirt stall. I looked desperately for a great shirt to buy but only succeeded in pointing out the rather incongruous AC/DC shirt on the corner that made Virginia very happy (shes Australian and a huge fan) so she bought. 5 minutes later she was trying on a burka to buy. This leads me to our creepy quote. When she bought the burka, a younger man in the crowd of boys that had gathered to watch us shouted very excitedly “Congratulations!” to her.
How would I try and explain Virginia if ever asked to do so? I was with her when she bought an AC/DC shirt and burka with in minutes of each other, I think that’s pretty much all I need to say.
The next morning we set out to the Khyber Pass.
The Khyber Pass is one of several ways to cross over to Afghanistan from Pakistan; countless armies have crossed through it. I wont bother with the history lesson so if you want to know more, look it up. I am just telling you what I saw.
First we had to apply for permits and pick up and armed security escort to go there since you are effectively leaving governmental Pakistan and entering tribal Pakistan. We met our mustachioed escort complete with AK-47 and handy vest-o-spare-magazines and headed up.
The drive from Peshawar to Khyber was surreal. Once you leave behind the city you drive past an Afghan refugee camp that started about that time we started bombing Afghanistan in 2001. Past the camp you enter tribal land, the villages get more and more scarce and more and more scary. The people that live in them live behind huge mud brick walled compounds. Entire clans are walled in and gated with huge iron doors. All of the compounds house several families and keep out all of their enemies. Men walk around with guns over their shoulders; some actually carried large caliber soviet army heavy machine guns. Not the sort of personal defense type guns one would expect, these seemed better suited to be mounted on the back of a truck than to be carried around “just in case”. The closer we got the dirtier the stares were from people on the side of the road, passengers in passing cars, and the more stares we received from children. The landscape suddenly began to resemble what I had envisioned Pakistan to look like, mountains with caves and tufts of grass and the very noticeable due to its solitude tree. Mud brick compounds seemed to appear out of nowhere and disappear as fast. As advertised we would not be allowed to actually travel to the border, we had to stop at Michni checkpoint, home of the Khyber Rifles, a former paramilitary unit that is now part of the formal military…or so I was told.

Email does in fact exist here but it sucks. Go figure. So I have been trying to write these out as I come home from smaller trips but they seem to blend already. I have been to several towns and areas in the 4-5 days I have been here, met some seriously interesting people, been asked a hundred times the same question (what does America think of Pakistan? Now you can make some variation to that question like (since September 11th, since the war started etc etc. The reporters have asked me, the drivers have asked me, people in camps have asked me. Knowing that this question is…shall we say loaded, I tend to try and answer it with out sounding dismissive or political. Politics and the US are very sensitive issues here, as you may know. It generally isn’t ok to be an American but not always. For instance I have already been Australian, Irish, New Zealander and my favorite Argentine several times. The truly kick ass part of all of this has been that every time I claim a nation other than my own it seems to be that I do so in front of someone who has personal knowledge of that nation that rivals my own.
Ireland? He went to business school in Dublin
New Zealand? I was questioned about the capital and got it wrong…its Wellington not Auckland.
Australian? They want to talk about Cricket…..who the hell knows who Ricky Ponting is? I do now.
Argentina? I met the one guy in Pakistan standing on the street corner who speaks only Pashto and Spanish!
Gotta split, its late and I have been on the road all day.

I live for this stuff.

Take care,
David

Abbotabad and a bit more, (03/17/06)

Abbotabad and a bit more,
I met with the Internews team Monday at their office, Adnan who is the head of Internews Pakistan, is pretty intense in the best ways. Honestly when it comes to their jobs, everyone there is very driven as well as passionate about what they are doing. So much has been going on in this country that it was unthinkable a few years or even months ago that they would be working on the projects they have been.
Since the earthquake in October the Kashmir region has opened up for the first time (mainly for aid flow) but also the media has been allowed in for the first time ever. Yup ever. Now lets not forget that the place has been crawling with Jihadi for 20 plus years, so the CIA has apparently opened up shop in the region too, yet I digress. The local Internews team made up of entirely Pakistani born reporters has never been (despite many efforts) to report on anything from the region until the quake, it has only been in the last 110 or so days that they have had access. Now the Kashmir region has 16 licensed radio stations operating within it when it never had one prior. Imagine a region where Television is not permitted because of religious beliefs and cultural ideals suddenly having access to news and information in their own tongue and in real time. The effects have been fantastic.
(The main language (media broadcasts, newspapers, government etc) is Urdu where as only %10 or so of the population speaks Urdu as a native language. In the Kashmir region it’s a mix of dialects with Pashto being the main. I think, I will check on that.)


One of the internews team has generously offered me use of his room while he is down south and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I have hot water! I will say this regarding hot water…I can handle the lack of many comforts that we often take for granted. Hot water is one that turns me into a sniveling child. Make fun all you want but until you have showered in cold water when the air cold enough to see your breath. Shut up. Also try shaving your face in cold water. See how tough you are. In fact the hot water was so hot that once it fired up I swear it came out of the plastic tap in a jet of steam, not water but steam. Gleefully I turned the cold water on and stepped into it. Scalding the first three layers of skin from my head and neck. Luckily I walked in with my head down so the option of producing a child is still there. Playing pilot with the knobs for few minutes produced one fine damn hot shower.
I must say I was quite proud…until I had to turn the water off and it was back to cold air and colder tile.

Yesterday we headed up North to Battagram and then up further to a town I cant yet seem to spell so I will wait on that one.
It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen period. We drove up through the mountains along the Karakoram highway and crossed the Indus River, weaving our way up the mountains past villages and tent cities. Dodging the odd goat, sheep herd in the road and nearly screaming every time I thought we were about to meet a large truck head on. Apparently this is a South Asia thing. Sri Lanka was scary at times too.
The total devastation was the great big (un-needed) reminder as to why we were going where we were going. When you see buildings that have collapsed, its telling but, when you see a mountain side that has collapsed…not a mudslide, not an avalanche but a whole damn mountain side that came apart and fell onto a village its really just too much to try and understand. The numbers range from 80,000 to 85,000 dead with over 3.5 million displaced.

The people are amazing, unbelievably beautiful in general, very kind and proud. I admit that I am speaking about the men because I have seen very few woman, I know they are around, I have seen them in the camps, I have walked past them but…up North…they woman are completely covered. Nothing but wrist is shown and that is only shown when they are walking with the children or hold something. Otherwise I have no idea what the women this far north look like. Also, if I tried to photograph the woman (without permission)…I might just not come home. Apparently eye contact is or a lingering look is all the provocation that is generally needed for a problem.
Now outside of this cuddly little item, they are genuinely gracious and kind people. One of the internews reporters and I were walking through a camp in Battagram photographing people and kids etc. The men generally stand erect and proud when you point a camera at them so sometimes I start off shooting the kids, show them their pictures then get mobbed by snotty nosed children to the amusement of the adults then I can shoot pics of them. So I had made all the little crumb snatchers shots and turned towards the men and they were fantastic! One of them seemed to fairly important because everyone wanted me to photograph him. So I did, He smiled, shook my hand and invited us to have tea with him, Naturally I was wanting to but we were on our way back to the truck so we could move on. We made our appollogies and started walking, half way up the massive hill the reporter (Ahmad) told me he was the local Mullah (priest) and I was pretty bummed. Its not often I get invited in for tea by priests of any religion. I really wish we had that tea. Since then I have learned that there is no such thing as one cup of tea.
The next day I headed out in the rain with two other reporters and went off to Balakot.
The epicenter of the quake as I understand was just under Balakot, Balakot was a tourist haven with nice hotels, restaurants etc. well that’s what I was told when I asked where the city IS so that I can shoot some rubble shots, show the destruction etc…we weren’t far from it at all, you just couldn’t tell anymore that’s all. The whole town was leveled. Nothing was spared. I had a hell of a time trying to shoot that place. Between the rain, the mud and being shown a set of mass graves where a total of 61 young children were buried. I was ready to go to bed.
Last night (that’s the 15th for those paying attention) was a party for two of the reporters for finishing their masters studies. So Virginia and I were invited as guests. One of the many things that don’t quite translate so good between the cultures (only my opinion!) was that the men dance at parties. They dance and they dance and they dance. Not with women so much as with each other. Now lets just keep the snickering and name calling down for a moment, yes back in Brooklyn I would have some explaining to do if I suggested that the guys and I put down the beers and break out in some dancing, it would be one of the those moments talked about for years to come. Of course there would be some sort of violence, beers spilled laughing and empties being thrown. Not here in Pakistan damn it. The men dance and women watch in awe. To help with the awe factor, Virginia promised the crew that I would honored to dance for them. After all they had invited me to their dinner party.
There is no alcohol here so I don’t even have the decency to get good and liquored up for my rendition of traditional Pakistani dancing. I must say that I was a hit despite my lack of formal training. Evidence is no doubt desired by all of you…sadly. I made sure that none existed. Chalk it up to protecting my image in case I run for office one day. By the way Virginia and I are no longer talking you understand.
It was a long crappy day with a great ending filled with a hell of a lot of food including what one of the guys called PFC (Pakistani Fried Chicken, apparently the Colonels was burned down here in response to the cartoons, damn the colonel for drawing those!)

Take care,
D

For love of donkey. (03/13/06)

“We love our trucks and our donkeys here” or competitive firearm twirling.
The first is a quote from AZ our guide/driver/interpreter, Internews officer and all around damn fine guy. I made a comment about the intensity of the decoration found on EVERY truck we passed, then I realized that some of the donkey’s were decorated too. Donkey Bling if you will. The other is simply the only way I can describe what I am watching right now. And I can’t think of anything more gripping. Watching young Middle Eastern men compete in an arena surrounded by cheering fans, dancing, twirling and throwing chromed, magazine less Ak-47s. I know what your thinking…this cant be, your making it up Dave. There is no way that this show could exist. I mean how are they going to dance with out a patterned light show, multiple camera angels, a panel of steel eyed, emotionless judges, full burkah clad women with digital cameras pressed to their minimally exposed eyes and devoted fans waving posters of their favorite competitor?
The good news is I am not joking; the show has all of these things and much much more,
The great news is that I plan on importing the show to the US. I am working out the particulars with the producers as you read this.

I couldn’t make this show up if you pumped me full of drugs and gave me crayons.

Pakistan.
This is one interesting place. I can say that.
I started off this trip by staying overnight in London, meeting up with friends for dinner and pints. Sounded innocent enough,
I went to bed at 5 am and was awaken by the hotel fire alarm by 10 am. Strangely this did not excite me at all. When I called downstairs to find out what the story was the front desk answered the phone with “Hello? Please Leave!”
Excuse me?
“Please leave the building!”
I see.
So I stuff my cameras back into my bag and start down the stairs only to run into the security/bell hop who smiles and tells me they are having some problems with the system, there is no fire.
Back up I go three flights of stairs, hung over.
I met my friend Charlotte an hour later for breakfast at a local American style diner.
A few cups of coffee, some eggs, bacon, bangers and mashed, I was human. Sort of.
Jumping ahead to finding out my seat was literally surrounded by small children and infants I knew that I was not going to sleep anytime soon. So naturally I put on some music and went to a happy place. Sadly I ended up sleeping only an hour or two on the plane. By the time I had landed in Islamabad, I had pretty much been up for a more than a full day. Virginia said I looked high and dumb
A man with a Holiday Inn sign met me at the airport with my name on it. So I felt pretty good about how my morning was going to go. My initial thoughts on the landscape from the airport to the holiday in was pretty shocking. It instantly reminded me of the drive from LAX to the Hotel we often stayed at while working there. The road, trees, hills everything was strikingly familiar looking.
Virginia, my friend whom I met in Sri Lanka back in February, thinks I am making it up but that’s what it looked like to me. There you have it…Islamabad looks like LA.
After breakfast with Virg (and I kid you not nothing less than 4 pots of coffee) we headed out to meet AZ (Ay-Zee) who took us around to the Archaeological museum at Taxila (where the worlds first University was built) and then shopping for bootleg DVDs.
I am trying like hell to stay awake at this point (hence militia band camp on the TV) because tomorrow the real fun begins. I meet with the Internews team and head up to Abbotabad in the North West Frontier Province about two hours away. Now if you will excuse me I have some bootlegs to watch.

Rain, hope and meat on hooks (11/22/05)

There are countless personal stories that people tell that all seem to start with “you haven’t lived until you…” this is not one.
You haven’t really wondered how tightly you butt can grip a vinyl seat until you have heard the popping noise when you let go.
I laughed and cheered on my driver when he pulled out into oncoming traffic, going the wrong way, uphill, in the rain just to gain a few hundred meters in traffic. But I have yet to connect my brain and my mouth in such a way as to have them work together in harmony.
That ride was one of serious excitement. I would not hesitate to hire that man again either. Sick aint it. Moments after he attempted to play frogger with a sheet metal framed two stroke door less death trap he turned to look over his shoulder and smiled, he gave me the thumbs up and I gave him the same. After a few more moments, He turned to me and said “no English.” I said “No Sinhala” and we smiled. Then he asked if I had a wife. I told him that was English.
We smiled again.
We taunted death and smiled that’s what we did.

Its been raining her non-stop since early afternoon yesterday, so its pretty well crappy here. I made as many attempts to gain employment with as many NGO’s as I could find with no luck. I have decided to stick it out here (barring huge fare changes) to stay for a another week or so to give me the chance to shoot some of the places I was in earlier this year. Again this hinges on the blessing of the airline gods and their fickle price scheduling. I could end up standby’ing it all the way home just to get more work.
I am sure I have had to deal with worse situations than that.
Despite the crap weather and bad luck with non-governmental agencies, I did happen into a seriously cool photo op. I wanted to get some postcard stamps (Thom give me your new address or get nothing from this trip) and I was near my favorite post office so off I went. It’s my favorite post office because of what is around it only. You have to walk into an open-air market place that sits inside a building with strings of 40-watt light bulbs and assorted meats hanging everywhere. The meat is fresh in the sense that it’s not rotting, in fact I would bet that it’s perfectly fine to eat if cooked, but still it’s a sight to behold.
You walk into this market and head up the stairs to where the post office is and buy your stamps mail your letters and down you go back to the market. This was the first time I have been there when all the stalls were open, so I looked around. Cages with live chickens, 5-6 dead ones hanging from hooks, cow parts hanging from hooks next to more cow parts hanging from hooks, step over the cat, try and kick the crow and your back to more hanging meat until you turn full circle to the vegetable guys. It’s photographically beautiful. I spot one of the chicken butchers and decide that I want to photograph him while I walk up and figure out what to say a voice behind me literally says ‘ok take picture!” I turn around and there are the rest of the butchers telling me to take his picture. He agrees and I pause to figure out what just happened. I began to shoot and move around the area, when I paused to show him his photos, everyone gathered around and agreed that they were good enough and that it was there turn next. I was given the business card to the market and asked to send prints (this time I swear I will) while I was led from stall to stall. The merchants all posed near their stands, some held knives, others meat, some both meat and knives, one guy kept grabbing live chickens and telling me to wait for his “actors”. I suddenly had filled up one card and began shooting the next as fast as I could. They made fun of each other and put vegetables in the pockets of the vegetable sellers shirts. It was great. When it was over, (I am thinking of stopping back in tomorrow to shoot again just because I can) I walked outside and went on my way, I went and ate lunch shopped a bit and while heading back up the street I ran into the older man (Mr. Asmi) who was the first to be photographed, he stopped me and said “HELLO!!” we both seemed quite pleased with ourselves for having known each other on the street.
Despite having no luck really with work I shot some great stuff and had a blast doing it. This makes me want to stay and try my luck shooting on my own here for a bit.

So that’s what I am going to do.
I will be trying to change my tickets and getting a phone etc more info will follow as it happens
Stay warm and dry.
D

And I am back...in Sri Lanka

for the record this is the third time i have had to write this out. I have had the computer crash. the text just disappear and now i just hope it works otherwise i will just flip out.

so forgive me if this blog is less detailed than we would all like. the more clever material was in the frist two times i tried.

Well it’s all over folks. I am currently on a resort island with one of the video guys taking our well-earned day off. Yes this is our second day off but we have been working during our days off so we earned a second one.
The show was fantastic! The work looked better than I could have hoped and it went over so well I could hardly stand myself and the students were even more excited. It was amazing! For the first time EVER we showed films publicly made my Maldivian Youths in response to issues they chose and the censor board didn’t touch them. Partly because we had the blessing of the Minister of Information and I get the idea that they had no idea that the content would be so dark. There were movies about drugs, child abuse, reckless driving and more than one that were just damn funny. They went over very well, there were a lot of nervous looks to see what the Ministers reaction would be by his deputies but he liked them. But enough of that moving picture crap. It’s easy to tell a story at 30 frames per second. Lets see those guys do it with only one frame.
The photos were by far less controversial but we heard a LOT of praise for them. Even from a few skeptics we heard good things, the kids shot the photos, they edited them and we had them printed. I helped choose between photos every now and then but they chose what was shown and how in the end. They did so well I am still beaming with pride. To have gone from absolute doubt to swollen with pride is fabulous.
The show was fantastic! I can say it a hundred times and it wont be enough. Now the scary part is what to do next for these students?
Brutal truth is that in my not so educated opinion on the subject I had maybe two students who with luck could be pros. One really, Ahmed, He really has a great eye. The portraits he was taking were amazing; I would be thrilled to have them in my book. THRILLED. They are very good. I want to help him and the other to go as far as their skills and desire will take them. The Ministry of Youth has a photo class with a black and white darkroom, strobe lights and teachers, the question is how do we get these guys in there? From what I understand, Ahmed has been applying for these classes and has been constantly turned down with out being told why.
I think UNICEF has some great ideas and they want our/my input as teachers as to what we think is a good next step. To me it’s keeping these students moving, get them into the classes. I have asked that if UNICEF needs a local shooter for something to contact Ahmed and work it out with him. Of course there are pro photographers in Male, but if they can give the experience and exposure to a former student of the workshops they why the hell wouldn’t they?
I leave for Sri Lanka tomorrow where I will stay for I don’t know how long. I hope to find work with someone there for a week or two but I can’t count on that so who knows. I know I want to climb Adams Peak again, this time I wont lose my temper and think about killing anyone. Probably anyway, I cant promise. If I leave soon then I will make a stop in Paris to see a friend that I haven’t seen in person since Boston. I am thrilled to see Manon again. Eventually I will end up back in Brooklyn wondering how the hell I am going to pay for all of this fun. I am looking to see what else I can do for the students and the workshop in general. UNICEF is keen on doing this again in the New Year. Not sure if that plan includes me or not but I wont mind if it does.
What else?
I learned more from the kids than I taught them. I know that to be true. I had to turn off my phone out of guilt and shame, several of my students have been calling me to say thank you and that they miss the class miss me and want me to stay. (Cynical me then asks why the hell they were never on time to class?) It seems like to some they needed these classes, video or photo it was a way to live for a very short period of time that they are not too sure will ever happen again. According to UNICEF it will but you can never tell. I really honestly hope it does, with or without me the kids loved it. Yes I am aware of the arrogant tone in that last comment but you have to understand how damn bored these kids are. So bored that drugs aren’t so much a thing to do as they are almost the ONLY things to do. The government of course acts like the drug problem is falling into a controllable scale, which is crap. I had a very scary but open discussion with a student out front of my hotel the day before I left. I asked about drinking and whether or not they could actually get alcohol or was it just too hard. He said no it’s just very expensive. They pay around $100-$150 for a bottle of whiskey. They can get it easy enough but for the money why not go with hash or heroin? Which can even be free if they agree to sell some. The other trainers and I took last Tuesday to sleep in and go snorkeling off a nearby island, so yes, I have been snorkeling already but it’s worth it here. Within 20 minutes we saw two 5-6 foot black tip reef sharks. They are about the least scary of any shark but when you realize that you both saw each other at the same time about 6 feet away from each other neither of us looked pleased. He /she just turned and swam away; I just stared and tried not to practiced my squid impressions. Just joking. I saw them both and they saw me and they went about their life completely not giving a damn I existed. So the video guy (Vava) and I swam after them. It’s kinda creepy, in the movies the sharks just appear and disappear in the water. You think its not like that, you think you might see it coming and you could react but really they just pop out of the reef and bang your face to face then its gone. You will be scooting along the reef then pow! Their under you then gone, it’s pretty cool. So after that today was pretty tame, we took a boat out the “house reef” of the resort where it wasn’t nearly as cool or colorful but on the way back we saw a pod of dolphins in the distance playing so off we go. A blue slow moving dive ship filled with German, Irish, French tourist and one funny Serb and a loud mouth American. Nothing but white people on a boat chasing after the dolphins. Honestly it was funnier to sit back while we putted closer and closer to the dolphins to watch fat older men in Speedos jump up and try suddenly to figure out how to work their underwater cameras out of the water then it was to watch the dolphins. That was until the dolphins started swimming in front of and around us, jumping and spinning in the air splashing on both sides of the boat. It was very beautiful. Humbling too, my mask kept leaking the whole time I was snorkeling so I kept having to pop my head out of the water take it off put it back on splashing around and looking like a wounded bird in the water, while the dolphins were launching out 4 feet and more spinning 3 or four times before splashing back into the water. Some were doing front flips. It was just very cool to watch. I of course was raised not to show off in such a manner so I opted for the splashing around like a drowning pale rat. The dolphins were worth the whole trip out to the resort. Which as its own thing sucked. Every one was European, rich, white and fat. They drank like fish and looked like dried fruit. It was very upsetting. You could tell we were an oddity because we were saying a few words in Dhivehi to the staff and they couldn’t believe that we knew any. None of the guests really get off the resorts except to go to and from the airport. Its just damn scary. Its kinda like going to New York and taking a cab straight to the four seasons, never leaving the hotel and heading home to tell your friends you went to New York City.

WOW!
Sorry guys,
I have been in Sri Lanka for the whole weekend and haven’t had a chance to get to the web. I have been hanging out/ staying with a friend from IOM here who is kind enough to tolerate me on her floor whilst I look for work. Melissa kicks ass.
The tone here is really mellow. They just elected a new president and they had some problems with violence in the east in the process. Apparently in several voting districts no Tamils voted in protest against the process and the government, which still seems to work quite hard at keeping them in their “place”. IE second class.
During the election and the days after alcohol sales are forbidden (alcoholism is a growing problem here) apparently in effort to frustrate me and my attempts to have a cold beer without going from place to place trying to find someone who has a special permit.
Fear not I found out that the Hilton could sell to me IF I buy the buffet dinner. SO Melissa and I had the buffet dinner strictly for the alcohol. Is that so wrong? I am ok with it.
No word yet of work, except that I should have been here two or three weeks ago and I would have been one hot commodity. Everyone seems to have their shots done for the one-year reports. I may stick around and hire a driver to head out on my own back up to Ampara district where we shot the most in February. Ampara was hammered by the Tsunami and was not well cared for by the government after the fact. Coincidently this is where the violence was, hmm. Piss off people bad enough for a 20 year civil war to break out, get your cease fire, major disaster occurs, generally ignore same people, they get pissed again and blow up a few buildings? Who would have though that something like this could happen?

I am well, I do apologize for the very long delay in information, it was a lack of Internet thing, certainly not a lack of things going on but I will be better able to write from now on.

So Far (11/10/06)

First things first, Super huge apologies to aunt Carolyn for not being my aunt Caroline, I wish I could say that spell check ruined me but I think I actually misspelled a family members name.
I suck. Big time.
Sorry, a thousand times.
Second, I am ashamed to say that I was nervous and not too enthusiastic about the photos I was going to be looking at today. To my shame and joy they pretty much knocked me on my ass instead. I was so happy to see some really interesting shots, great compositions, great ideas, and great photos. I think I freaked the students out a bit by suddenly becoming so happy and jumping up throwing my hands up in the air. I had to give them a few “hell yah!” ‘s. They earned them. My punishment for doubting them was to spend 2 hours installing the printer and cameras software on a UNICEF laptop only to end up using my own for speed and ease. Further proof I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer. In my defense, I asked for a printer that worked directly from the cameras so I wouldn’t be screwing with software and color matching. I like simple. I am simple.

NEXT DAY
This morning was one that reminded me why I love traveling. I stopped in a teashop to get a coffee and some breakfast like things. I have yet to see something that didn’t have Tuna in it, but I was short on time so I asked for my things for take away. Somehow I had forgotten the way this works. If you order a hot drink (or cold) to go, it comes to you in a bag. Meaning my hot coffee was put into a small baggie with a drawstring and a straw, carefully placed so as to not drip, leak or cause any harm to my egg/tuna/curry croissant like device. Which by the way tastes 1000 times better than I make it out to be. I actually love em. Anyway. My ever so carefully packed and placed coffee and I wander down the road to my third class ever and I cant help but laugh out loud and the thought of my burning the hell out of my self while I try and figure out how to loosen the baggie enough so that I can actually drink from the currently restricted straw. Fear not I accomplished this feat and more today.
Class, I was actually very up beat about class. I had printed up contact sheets of the images I thought the students should see. Good and bad. I became quickly aware while editing that this part would suck. Three or four would shoot like rabid jackals while another three of four would be out for hours and come back with 16 frames. The middle four seemed to be my flower-shooting group. I did however seem to connect a bit on this second day with a few of them and realize that they were as nervous as I was and are not accustomed to being allowed such freedoms of expression. Here I was thinking that they were little boilers under pressure waiting to break out. When in a sense they had it in them but were far too restricted to react when the blinders came off. It seems thought that the silence is ending.
Today I had my butt spanked by the students. The youngest and I began to talk about what his work was doing where it looked like it was going and what not when suddenly we were brainstorming a great little anti-drug campaign the he really took the creative control with. I mean I poked around a bit and tried to make suggestions but he seemed to have the idea inside brewing waiting to see what I would say. Once we got together I felt like he knew everything but a few small detail suggestions from me, the rest was already thought out. I will say that he came up with the best “Story” yet. His idea for his photo project is the best of the class so far. I hope he shoots it as well as he planned it I tried to offer my help at any time or point (UNICEF finally got me a phone, so I now have the kids pranking me) all he needs to do is call and I will come out and help him. I was turned down flat. He wants to make this work on his own.
I was one solid grin ear to ear all day long.
It never stopped. They just kept coming in with better and better images, more and more of them. I have had a hell of a time keeping up with the downloading and battery usage its insane. I actually handed out my brand new camera out to a student who ran out of memory twice and batteries once on my camera. That’s give or take 400 frames.
They are kicking my ass.
I was editing tonight until 10 pm.
I jumped the next boat to the airport and practically ran to the bar.
Three beers, no dinner, locked bathrooms and rainstorm make for one long crappy boat ride back to Male’.
I have never worked with kids before and I don’t know that I will so directly again anytime soon, but they are fantastic. They are all super motivated, they are asking great questions, the work exceeds my hopes by far and now I fear only being able to edit the material and print it adequately and in time to display. Some of the work deserves to be shown bigger than I can have printed on the island. I would love to teach this class for a month or two with actual digital SLR type cameras. The work would just melt my brain.

Its late, I am tired and I feel like falling asleep to the third rainstorm in a row tonight.
The rain falling on the flat (and probably aluminum roof sounds just like static from a TV stuck in between channels. Its perfect.

Sleep well all,
Take care,
David.

So Far (11/10/06)

First things first, Super huge apologies to aunt Carolyn for not being my aunt Caroline, I wish I could say that spell check ruined me but I think I actually misspelled a family members name.
I suck. Big time.
Sorry, a thousand times.
Second, I am ashamed to say that I was nervous and not too enthusiastic about the photos I was going to be looking at today. To my shame and joy they pretty much knocked me on my ass instead. I was so happy to see some really interesting shots, great compositions, great ideas, and great photos. I think I freaked the students out a bit by suddenly becoming so happy and jumping up throwing my hands up in the air. I had to give them a few “hell yah!” ‘s. They earned them. My punishment for doubting them was to spend 2 hours installing the printer and cameras software on a UNICEF laptop only to end up using my own for speed and ease. Further proof I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer. In my defense, I asked for a printer that worked directly from the cameras so I wouldn’t be screwing with software and color matching. I like simple. I am simple.

NEXT DAY
This morning was one that reminded me why I love traveling. I stopped in a teashop to get a coffee and some breakfast like things. I have yet to see something that didn’t have Tuna in it, but I was short on time so I asked for my things for take away. Somehow I had forgotten the way this works. If you order a hot drink (or cold) to go, it comes to you in a bag. Meaning my hot coffee was put into a small baggie with a drawstring and a straw, carefully placed so as to not drip, leak or cause any harm to my egg/tuna/curry croissant like device. Which by the way tastes 1000 times better than I make it out to be. I actually love em. Anyway. My ever so carefully packed and placed coffee and I wander down the road to my third class ever and I cant help but laugh out loud and the thought of my burning the hell out of my self while I try and figure out how to loosen the baggie enough so that I can actually drink from the currently restricted straw. Fear not I accomplished this feat and more today.
Class, I was actually very up beat about class. I had printed up contact sheets of the images I thought the students should see. Good and bad. I became quickly aware while editing that this part would suck. Three or four would shoot like rabid jackals while another three of four would be out for hours and come back with 16 frames. The middle four seemed to be my flower-shooting group. I did however seem to connect a bit on this second day with a few of them and realize that they were as nervous as I was and are not accustomed to being allowed such freedoms of expression. Here I was thinking that they were little boilers under pressure waiting to break out. When in a sense they had it in them but were far too restricted to react when the blinders came off. It seems thought that the silence is ending.
Today I had my butt spanked by the students. The youngest and I began to talk about what his work was doing where it looked like it was going and what not when suddenly we were brainstorming a great little anti-drug campaign the he really took the creative control with. I mean I poked around a bit and tried to make suggestions but he seemed to have the idea inside brewing waiting to see what I would say. Once we got together I felt like he knew everything but a few small detail suggestions from me, the rest was already thought out. I will say that he came up with the best “Story” yet. His idea for his photo project is the best of the class so far. I hope he shoots it as well as he planned it I tried to offer my help at any time or point (UNICEF finally got me a phone, so I now have the kids pranking me) all he needs to do is call and I will come out and help him. I was turned down flat. He wants to make this work on his own.
I was one solid grin ear to ear all day long.
It never stopped. They just kept coming in with better and better images, more and more of them. I have had a hell of a time keeping up with the downloading and battery usage its insane. I actually handed out my brand new camera out to a student who ran out of memory twice and batteries once on my camera. That’s give or take 400 frames.
They are kicking my ass.
I was editing tonight until 10 pm.
I jumped the next boat to the airport and practically ran to the bar.
Three beers, no dinner, locked bathrooms and rainstorm make for one long crappy boat ride back to Male’.
I have never worked with kids before and I don’t know that I will so directly again anytime soon, but they are fantastic. They are all super motivated, they are asking great questions, the work exceeds my hopes by far and now I fear only being able to edit the material and print it adequately and in time to display. Some of the work deserves to be shown bigger than I can have printed on the island. I would love to teach this class for a month or two with actual digital SLR type cameras. The work would just melt my brain.

Its late, I am tired and I feel like falling asleep to the third rainstorm in a row tonight.
The rain falling on the flat (and probably aluminum roof sounds just like static from a TV stuck in between channels. Its perfect.

Sleep well all,
Take care,
David.

Finally (11/08/06)

Sorry it’s taken this long to get the first post up but hey it took this long. That’s how long this takes.
I have had an interesting run of experiences on this trip so far, some fun some not so fun.
I want to thank Charlotte and her Fiancé’ Luke for taking me around London and showing me a LOT of London in a short amount of time. Charlotte took me to the British Museum, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, up and down the Thames, the Tate Modern (amazing space with fantastic work coming and going in it) numerous bridges and sadly only one pub. I had a plane to catch so drinking my way through London was out of the question on this stop. I had a blast.
Sri Lanka, I landed in Sri Lanka around 2 in the afternoon and headed straight to my friend Melissa’s apartment where I had arranged to trade dinner and drinks for a spot on the couch for one night. Upon my arrival to her apartment I learned that she wasn’t there, no one knew where she was and no one had heard of me. Luckily her roommate (who was leaving the country that night) vouched for me and I was allowed in and stayed the night on the floor. At 4:30 am my cab pulled in and I left not knowing what the hell happened to her. Turns out she’s fine, she had missed a flight back into Sri Lanka herself and had no way of contacting me. At least that’s her story. The truth is that this was the most elaborate way of standing me up for dinner that any woman has ever attempted. She could have just said no. Again proof that the ladies love me. They leave the country when I am in town.
Male’,
The Maldives is an amazing place, the islands here are far more beautiful than Hawaii, the water is warmer and clearer than any I have ever seen, the people are friendly and helpful, its quite strange. Nothing like New York at all. Actually it’s more densely populated than NYC. Male’ is something like 2 km square and has nearly 90,000 people living here. Coming from Sri Lanka, Male’ is very first world. The streets are very clean, EVERYONE is on a cell phone, almost everyone speaks English, and well. I know that reads like a dumb American wrote that. But it’s true.
One of the coolest things to me is that I have never been to a Muslim country before. Sri Lanka is mostly Buddhist and Christian with some Hindu and Muslim in the mix, my first morning here I woke up when the prayer calls where being made and it was beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, after “sleeping” on planes and on the bare floor I was not thrilled to wake up early EARLY in the morning to anything but it is a beautiful sound. I could get used to it here.
However, like anywhere else, if you look you will find things that your not supposed to see. Like the large and growing drug problems here amongst the younger generations. Heroin is big here, strangely so is drinking perfume. Alcohol is forbidden by law (entirely Muslim country), like everything else illegal, if people want it they will have it.
One of the biggest concerns among Youth oriented groups (like UNICEF) is the drug problem. The kids here literally have nothing to do, so many end up using drugs, or drinking “cola water”, perfume and the like. This is rapidly becoming an epidemic and the government wants to stop it but can’t seem to get in under control. According to the Narcotics Control Board here, on average the first time user is 12-13 years old.
One member of UNICEF here has heard from a school official that up to 70% of his students are users. Many people her think the reason the government cannot get this under control is because those that are paid to stop it are making more money by not stopping it. The president has held power here since 1978. According to the state run media, by democratic elections despite the, up until very recently, one party system that he controls. It is damn hard to lose when you’re the only one playing. I have been told that the port here has one of the most sophisticated screening equipment in the world, yet drugs are given away free to kids in staggering quantities.
If I want to get a beer I have to jump in a boat, ride out about 10 minutes to the airport island (everything has an island here) to sit at the airport bar for a drink, but I can walk outside my hotel and get heroin. Strangely despite the amount of drug abuse, crime is very very low here. Especially compared to any other city with this kind of density.
I don’t want you to read this and think that the Maldives is some drug-addled hellhole; it is a stunningly beautiful, clean, friendly place. Most tourists would never know that any of this exists, mostly because they are never here. When you land you head out to the boat going to your particular resort or island and you leave there only when you are leaving the country. Hell you need permission to travel inter-island unless you are Maldivian. You actually need to have someone claim responsibility for you in order to stay on any of the islands. In most cases the Resorts assume responsibility.
This island is an enigma to say the least.

The class.
Tomorrow is the first day of class. I cannot possibly translate how excited I am. I am nervous as hell though. It seems as though there will be as many people, officials and interested parties “stopping by” to see my teaching “methods” and see that the kids are doing than there will be students. Not too much pressure huh?
The purpose of the class is to teach the students to use photography to address the major issues that they are dealing with as young Maldivians. Be it, the unemployment, the drugs, the tsunami itself, the recent political upheavals, there is a lot going on here that these students can go after. I am very excited to see what they want to shoot.
I have planned and scrapped about 10 different ideas for teaching the students, I realize that until I know what I am dealing with to worry to much about it just means I sleep less.
I need to get back to work, write me if want to at the website address and I will do my best to get back to you.
I still don’t know when I am heading back, I could be back as soon as the 20th but I doubt it.
Damn that is one long ramble. Sorry again.

Take care,
David

First day of class (11/8/05)

First day of class

Mother of god.
I am not sure what sank in and what never even hit their ears. I do however have at least two students that seem to get it, and they seem to want to know more. The rest I cant tell. Not yet anyway. I was set to discuss ways to photograph these major projects, I was pretty sure I would be spending my time trying to pare down their ideas into something that would be manageable in 5 days. Instead I spent the whole day fighting for their attention and trying to make their ideas bigger.
I am not saying it was a failure or that there is anything wrong with the class. I will however say that Plan A is the first one to fail. It seems as though there was some confusion as to the purpose of my class. Some students thought it was a technical training course on photography in general. Others wanted to learn particular things about photography. What they don’t seem to want to learn about is how to use photography as a voice for or against issues that are affecting them daily. The media here is state run, IE censored, stifled crap. There are so many things that affect them every day and no one in power asks for the younger generations opinion or thoughts on them. For a short period of time (right effing now) UNICEF has the powers that be with bended ear and interested eyes. We are here to give the kids that chance to show how they see the issues and what impact is has on them, what they feel can be done etc. I have three students that are interested in photographing flowers.
I remember once at dinner with my uncle Joe and aunt Caroline, discussing with them the idea of having a quantifiable measure of success at the end of job, something to measure your progress on, Joe smiled and said something about having 30 students staring blankly back at him in June.
I get it Joe.
I now apologize to every teacher I ever rolled my eyes at, stared past and ignored.
When I did get the kids to tell me what they wanted to learn it was overwhelmingly about the technical side of photo. So I spent about an hour running through your eyes work, aperture, shutter speed, film speed, depth of focus and the like. It’s amazing how fast you can bore the hell out of a group of kids. SO I told them to start thinking about what they wanted to photograph and began to work with that in mind.
I realize now that this was where I went very wrong.
Teaching is seems to be like cooking, there is only so much improvisation that can work before it all goes to hell.
Tomorrow may well be day one take two.

Oh I will learn em!