Iraq’s youngest photographer reflects
Qamar Hashim is an 8-year-old Iraqi photographer. He tours famous streets to picture Baghdadis with his single camera and is the youngest Iraqi photographer to win several local awards, according to the Iraqi Society Photographic (ISP).
Below, Qamar responds to a series of questions.
When did you take your first photograph and what did it show?
I do not remember exactly the first picture but I had been mimicking my father since I was 4 or 5 years-old and started to take pictures of the Tigris river, the gulls, birds, old houses and heritage places.
Why do you think photography is important?
Iraq’s slide to nowhere
Iraqi photographer Thaier al-Sudani answers questions on the nine year war and the pull out of U.S. troops.
Do you remember the day the U.S. launched air strikes?
I remember that day well. As the U.S. military jets bombed Baghdad, I was on the roof watching. We all thought that Iraq would be away from the war and violence after ousting Saddam and that Iraq would be among the top countries in the Middle East, due to its natural resources.
Describe your life under Saddam’s regime?
Life was normal. I studied design at the Arts Academy in Baghdad. Life was much safer than it is now.
How did you get into photography?
Just one question I have with bad boys!! Is this all will give them peace in the evening?
The future of Iraq
By Shannon Stapleton
When asked, “What do you see for the future of Iraq now that the United States military is leaving the country ?”, 12-year-old student Kharar Haider replied, “I don’t think we will have more problems and it is better than when Saddam was here. We have no heating or light in school. I don’t think that is going to get better.”
Upon arriving in Baghdad on Dec. 1st of 2011 for my first time in Iraq, the question that I couldn’t get out of my mind as we made our way through a maze of military checkpoints was “What will be the future of Iraq after we leave?” If security was this tense now, I could not imagine what was going to happen after the U.S. troops finally pulled out of this war-torn country.
Thoughts of a new sectarian war among the various factions involved in a power struggle over the government dominated my outlook on the future of Iraq. The threat of suicide bombings, mortar attacks or kidnappings for Iraq’s people created a sense of paranoia that I couldn’t possibly imagine living with on a daily basis. I was eventually going to be leaving the country on a military embed. The Iraqis who told me about their hopes for the future would stay behind.
When asked, “What do you see for the future of Iraq now that the United States military is leaving the country?”, fishmonger Saad Moslem replied, “Iraq is more stable now. I hope everything is going to be fine. All depends on God. In my neighborhood there is no electricity, no water. We have to buy water to drink. Hopefully nothing will happen.”
So I decided in my daily work to ask that same question of the people who were going to be part of this moment in history:
“What will be the future of Iraq after the Americans leave?”
Most of the interviewed people say there is no water and electricity.
The question I have is, was there water and electricity available to them before the US invasion?
This war was called the US$3 Trillion War which may not have achieved the US Neocon – Zionist goal.
A tribute to journalist and colleague Sabah al-Bazee
Reuters correspondent Peter Graff in Baghdad writes following the death of journalist Sabah al-Bazee:
For those of us who work in the Baghdad bureau, it is always a shock to look back through the collected photos of one of our Iraqi colleagues. We think we are used to those old scenes. But seen one after another, the images compiled over eight years of carnage by a single journalist like Sabah al-Bazee still have the power to freeze your blood.
There’s a photo that Sabah took showing the bodies of a family killed during a botched U.S. military raid on their home in 2005. Three small children wrapped in blankets, who look almost like they are sleeping, snuggled with their parents, their faces pale and lifeless in the dust.
The first word that colleagues around our office were using on Tuesday to describe Sabah, who died in an attack in his home town of Tikrit, was “enthusiastic”. The second, heard from several and meant as a sincere compliment, was “almost childlike”.
Like many of our Iraqi colleagues, he was young. Just 23 or so when he started taking pictures of war for a living. He had boundless energy, constantly pestering our reporters, photographers and cameramen for tips at how to hone his skills. How do you square that boisterousness with the bone-chilling images he photographed over the seven years he worked for us?
Witness from the Hurt Locker
Photo editor May Naji during an embed with U.S. troops in Iraq.
When I moved to Singapore, I thought I would escape the war and try to forget everything that reminded me of it.
But watching “The Hurt Locker,” I flashed back to all the sad and terrifying memories of violence and atrocities during that time in Iraq. The movie was about an Explosive Ordnance Disposal team, but it really highlighted what goes on in Iraq every day – what Iraqis and the U.S. military experience every day. I think that’s what made the movie so popular. People want to understand life in Iraq.
Even as an Iraqi who lived there and witnessed the war, it’s sometimes hard to describe — what happened, what we saw. The visions are in my mind, but it’s beyond the imagination of people who live in peaceful countries and never witness war. The movie’s most graphic images (planting explosives inside the body of an Iraqi boy; the civilian with a time-bomb strapped to his chest) were just some of the horrific things that happened in Iraq.
When I joined Reuters in Baghdad in 2006 to work as a photo-editor, it was the peak of the sectarian violence and bombings. We had to keep our work secret. Only my family members knew where I was working. I had to change my route from home to work frequently to make sure I wasn’t noticed by insurgents, who targeted anyone who worked for a foreign company. The bombings happened everywhere and the bombers targeted everyone. They did not distinguish between military and civilians, men, women or children.
The pictures that I used to edit from Iraq were part of my life, not just news photos. I was part of that story. The people who were killed or injured could have been my relatives, friends and neighbors or myself.
May,
Great job, I hope this is but one of many post on this blog about your experiences and opinions. You never had the benefit of forgetting the war or escaping it. You lived with the constant reality of it kicking in your door at any time and invading the private refuge of your inner sanctuary of following you home, but yet you risk life and limb to work for Reuters and risk even more writing such an article in such a public forum. I am very proud to know you and consider you my dear friend, your strength and bravery are only matched by your passion for seeing peace come to your homeland.
loved this blog!
Brett
Those left behind: The legacy of Arlington’s Section 60
Larry Downing is a Reuters senior staff photographer assigned to the White House. He shares that duty with three other staff photographers. He has lived in Washington since 1977 and has been assigned to cover the White House, since 1978. President Barack Obama is the sixth president Larry has photographed.
“People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” George Orwell
Veteran’s Day is a time to remember “All gave some….Some gave all.”
Before reaching the new gravestones in Arlington National Cemetery’s ‘Section 60’ it’s easy to recognize why a simple, quilted, patch of green grass and white stones buried alongside the quiet banks of the Potomac River troubles the heart.
I visited Arlington on 11 September 2010 just before the USNA/Georgia Southern game. Really hot day, beautiful sunshine. As I walked around Arlington, I was struck by the beauty of it but it’s hard to get the reason for its existence out of one’s head…
… this story brings it all back. It’s really tough to type comments with a lump in one’s throat and cloudy vision. I’m Canadian but revere Arlington with a passion to rival most Americans.
Shoe fits
One of the unspoken duties concerning our blanket coverage of the President when he is in public is the “death watch”, which is, quite simply, being there “in case” something terrible should happen. It is the reason the Associated Press photographs each and every take off and landing of Air Force One or Marine One, just “in case” a terrible mishap should occur during take-off or landing, or somewhere in between. We don’t carry our blanket coverage to that extreme, but we certainly are with the “body” whenever he is in public.
Now here’s the thing. Our job is really not unlike that of the Secret Service that protects “the body”. But, 99.99999 percent of the time nothing happens. So how do you stay constantly alert and at the ready in case something does happen. Well, the Secret Service certainly is. That is their sole purpose. But photographers? Well, we tend to walk about during a presidential event, looking for different angles, or simply taking a breather when we think we have exhausted the photo opportunities of the event. Often, we have our eyes deeply embedded in our laptops, filing photos as the President is still speaking. So, are we always as alert and fixed upon “the body” as the Secret Service is? Of course not.
So, imagine our surprise when a man hurls a pair of shoes at the President. I had taken a position side on, midway between the podiums and the back press riser. I had anticipated that would be a good position for the signing of documents that was due to occur immediately after the remarks from the podiums. The setting of the remarks was incredibly unremarkable for photo possibilities, so after shooting that, I had moved to prepare for the signing of documents hoping for better.
About 10-feet from me I heard a loud voice. Protester? Probably. Not unusual at a Presidential event. My camera was trained on the President. The voice caught my attention again, so after the President ducked from the first shoe, I immediately turned to see where it came from. By that time, the second shoe had been thrown and the culprit was already on the ground, smothered by Iraqi security and Secret Service agents who skirmished directly beneath me.
All I could see was backs and butts, but I held my camera aloft hoping to get something dramatic. I never saw the culprit’s face. There were so many agents on top of him; they dragged them off, again, backs toward me. I pondered following, but thought better of it, remembering my job is to stay with the President. To the sound of blood-curdling howls as the culprit was being taken away and beaten, I returned to the front of the room to document President Bush’s reaction.
Photographs can only say so much, so it is interesting to read the behind the scene commentary of one who was there. Also being a photographer myself, it was interesting to read about what snap decisions you had to make to cover the story.
Training for the unforeseen
Recently I was one of a group of journalists who attended a four-day hostile environment training course in Bangkok. I was unsure just what to expect as I’d been told all sorts of tales – mostly scary – about what sort of things would happen to us.
The group numbered 14; all of us Reuters journalists, including text correspondents, video producers and photographers. There were five of us from Pictures - Seoul staffer Jo Yong-Hak, Chief Photographer Japan Mike Caronna, Amit Guptafrom Jammu in Indian-administered Kashmir, Pichi Chuang from Taipei and Victor Frailefrom Hong Kong. The level of experience in the group varied wildly, from highly experienced correspondents, producers and photographers, to neophytes like me.
On the first day of the course, our instructors introduced themselves – they were both ex-Australian SAS personnel, with a wealth of experience of operating in dangerous places including East Timor, Iraq and Afghanistan.
One of the most valuable things I took away with me was the First aid. They promised us at the beginning that by the end we would remember every step. I’d learned first aid at school but had forgotten almost everything about it and never had reason to practice it. Before first aid instruction began, we were asked a blunt question, ”I can do something to save each of you, but what can you do to help me?” It made me feel irresponsible forgetting how to provide help in a medical emergency. This was valuable stuff which everyone needs not just in the field but domestically with colleagues, friends and family.
Over the next few days it was information we would have to apply again and again as we tackled the many scenarios and sure enough, by the end, we were able to remember every step of the process irrespective of how complicated it had seemed on the first day. Practical training began with a demonstration on a dummy and over the next couple of days we practiced CPR techniques on each other.
Renaissance…
The term ‘multimedia’ is used quite liberally these days, and means different things to different people. In reality it is an opportunity to be grasped, and will probably be what we choose to make it.
To mark the fifth anniversary of the start of the Iraq conflict Reuters has produced a multimedia piece. It pulls together the combined expertise of stills photographers, video camera operators , graphic artists, text journalists, and the multimedia producers. The various professionals are given freedom within their own discipline, and the different formats are brought together in a unified medium. The still image has not been devalued, but its role has been transformed. If this piece is an example of the multimedia project of the future, the still image is there too, as powerful as ever.
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The Wall
Mashalla Qamar …Rabna yihmeek wa yuhufthek
May God Bless and protect you…
I have been into photography since I was 17 and next to you I feel am a dwarf next to a giant…Keep the greaworkt