The girl who mocked me
By Mariana Bazo
I arrived, greeted her, and was practically ignored by her. I took a few pictures, but it wasn’t a situation just to jump into and shoot away. I approached her and chatted. She was indifferent to the camera. Her movements were quick as she spun around. I didn’t want to invade her space, so I mostly observed and conversed. She hardly spoke to me, or to anyone.
At one point she was exercising with a ball and her trainer, and as I was taking pictures I tripped and fell on my back. She started to laugh a lot, at me.
I asked her, “Hey, are you mocking me?”
“YES!” she answered moving her head. We laughed together, looking at each other as I took more photos. We were suddenly more relaxed.
Shooting heat without getting sweaty
By Kai Pfaffenbach
The use of photographs showing global climate change, industries’ increasing emissions and its effect on our environment is growing rapidly.
Looking for different images Eastern Europe Chief Photographer Pawel Kopczynski came across thermal imaging technology and bought one of these cameras that shows different temperature levels. The camera was sent to my Frankfurt office with a short and easy job description: “Kai, play around with the camera and make good use of it”. After getting familiar with the technology (the first time ever in my career I had to read a 200 page manual) and taking a few silly shots of houses in the neighborhood I made up my mind to start a tour through southern Germany, shooting the nuclear and coal power plants of the region.
The thermal imaging camera is not comparable to a “normal” camera we use day to day. It looks a lot more like the radar guns that police use to catch speeding car drivers. To make it look even more strange you can use a laser pointer for better targeting. No wonder power plant security was after me within a minute as I stood on a street about 500 yards away from the nuclear power plant in Phillipsburg near Karlsruhe to get my first shots. After a few minutes of negotiations they realized I was not coming up with some rocket launching laser system. After crosschecking my passport and press-pass details they took me off their personal list of “terrorist suspects”.
I expected a huge visible difference between temperature inside one of the domes covering the nuclear heart of the power plant, and the outside. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case and it looks like the massive concrete walls are doing their job.
Living without electricity for 29 years
By Cathal McNaughton
John McCarter is 77 years old and has been living without mains electricity at his home at Downhill, Londonderry county, for 29 years.
It seems incredible that a pensioner who lives so close to the prosperous Causeway Coast tourist area in Northern Ireland is allowed to live in such basic conditions.
However, John is the perfect host and couldn’t have made me more welcome when I arrived at his modest wooden cottage set against the backdrop of the dramatic Co Derry coastline.
He explained that he has been having a drawn out dispute with his landlord and a family member about getting mains electricity connected to the property. The mains supply is just at the end of his garden but, while the dispute continues, John remains without electricity relying instead on coal fires and candles as temperatures drop.
When I was growing up, my grandfather lived in a small cabin in the woods with no electricity or running water. He heated with two coal burning heaters. There was no sheeting on the internal walls and I could look through the cracks to the outdoors. He cooked on a wood burning cook stove. Walked to a spring daily for his water and still trapped rabbit, squirrel, turtle, etc. for meat. We would go to see him every weekend and take groceries. We walked about half a mile back into the woods to the cabin carrying our boxes of groceries. His lights were oil lamps.
He became ill before the weekend and trudged a mile and a half to the bus stop and came into town; then walked three blocks to our house. He died that night. The human spirit is awesome! His name was John also. I pray that John of this article is helped so he can remain in his home.
License to kill
By Danish Siddiqui
Mumbai provides everyone living in it with an opportunity to earn and survive. Be it a white-collared job in a multinational company located in one of the city’s plush high rise buildings or killing rats by night in the filthiest and dirtiest parts of India’s financial capital. This time, my tryst was with the latter.
I decided I wanted to meet Mumbai’s rat-killer army employed by the city’s civic body. Very little is known about this tireless force that works the bylanes of the metropolis every night. Mumbai’s municipal corporation employs 44 rat killers and also has a freelance contingent, who aspire to be on the payrolls one day. Employees of the pest control department receive a salary of 15,000 to 17,000 Indian Rupees ($294 to 333) while contract laborers are paid 5 Indian rupees ($0.10) per rat they kill. The rat killers are expected to kill at least 30 rodents per night and hand over the carcasses to civic officials in the morning. If they fall short by even one rodent, they are expected to make it up the next night or else they stand to lose a day’s pay.
Screw the Ukrainian idea. There are enough Jack Russell Terriers here in the U.S. that nobody wants. They thrive on killing rats!
Nerves of peace in troubled Kashmir
By Fayaz Kabli As the year nears its end, the Chinar trees have turned a crimson red and the water in the Dal Lake is still and calm. The peace in the troubled Kashmir region has a hold of the nerves of the Kashmiri people.
From 2008 to 2010, Kashmir saw its worst period of unrest which claimed hundreds of lives and destroyed much of its economy.
This year, the scenic valley has been relatively peaceful. Although residents who witnessed the previous three years of violence were apprehensive at the beginning of this year, the trouble they had expected didn’t materialize.
After a 15 year career with Reuters, I was able to take my days off without abrupt violence interfering. It was amazing to spend quality time with my family. In previous years my colleagues and I spent many days and nights in the office due to the violence outside and the curfews imposed.
This is truly a brilliant article. An honest and precise account of events! Keep it up FK!
Willing to die for change
By Claudia Daut
The day the Occupy Wall Street movement called out for global support and Mexico City was on the list, I decided to take my 12-year old son to the Monumento de la Revolucion where local activists, accusing bankers and politicians of wrecking economies, were expected to gather.
The monument is a landmark Art Deco building, commemorating the Mexican Revolution and the perfect place if you want to protest against any set establishment.
I also thought it would be nice to introduce my son to the power of the people and that there is something other than individualism and elbow culture in our society.
So we went. It was utterly disappointing. There were more street vendors offering tacos de canasta, shirts with the image of Che Guevara and Ray Ban sunglasses manufactured in China than activists. When someone took to the stage, shouting for the rise of the oppressed and the death of the president, I decided it was time to go. As far as I could see, that was it for the Mexican support of Occupy Wall Street.
The next day we took our bicycles to take advantage of a car-free Reforma Avenue. Every Sunday it’s shut down for regular traffic and people jogging, on bikes, skates, skateboards, with dogs, tricycles or anything else take over for several hours and explore the streets of the old part of town or just enjoy riding on a road with three-lanes and no four-wheelers trying to run them over.
When you have lived in Mexico City for a while you get used to protest marches, as they mean hour-long traffic jams and the already unbearable traffic worsening. According to a radio survey there are 10 to 12 marches every week and the “plantones”, when protesters camp out, sometimes for weeks or even months, are a common occurrence. But it was a surprise to see several tents set up outside Mexico’s stock market when we were passing with our bikes. Police were around the corner sitting in a truck, discreetly hidden from view but there nevertheless. So we decided to stop and find out what was happening.
Claudia I hope your weekly meetings go on for years, great read thanks
NFL touchdown in London
By Suzanne Plunkett
British sports fans are a serious bunch. When it comes to football (they never call it soccer), many would rather lose their home than miss their team score a winning goal. Club allegiance is often demonstrated with tribal passion – influencing tattoos, clothing and even choice of marital partners.
When American football makes a rare appearance in London, it’s somewhat of a surprise to see the seriousness of the sport replaced with a more frivolous obsession: cheerleaders.
That’s not to say British fans have no interest in the sport. When the Chicago Bears took on the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in a showcase game at Wembley Stadium in October, I spoke to plenty of Brits among the American expats paying homage to their national sport. Many professed as much fanaticism as the American supporters who had traveled from the States specifically to see their team.
But as a photographer who had covered both kinds of football matches on either side of the Atlantic and grown to love both sports, it’s hard to ignore a few major differences in the fan experience.
Try as I may, I cannot understand soccer but la football! I am an impassioned fan and usually watch three games each Sunday (of course hoping for a Bills win). I enjoyed this article.
In the eye of the Greek storm
By Yannis Behrakis
(View a slideshow of Yannis’ photos from the Greek financial crisis here)
In the past 20 months the Greek financial crisis has been one of the world’s top stories. Day in, day out words like, IMF, ECB, and Troika are mentioned as some of the most common words in my country. People who knew nothing about economics and had never heard of strange words like “spreads”, “haircut” and “bailout”, now seem to have become almost experts in financial matters. Everywhere you go in Greece people talk about the same issues — an upcoming default, the economic meltdown, the misery the unemployment, the rising prices, the possible loss of their deposits in banks if Greece goes back to its old currency, the drachma.
According to the latest polls, Greeks are the most unhappy people in Europe and it’s easy to see why. On the streets of my home town Athens, people don’t smile much, they argue a lot and on some days it seems that misery looms over the capital. If you add to that the terrible traffic jams caused by one or more protests that occur every single day, on top of the increased number of beggars, drug addicts, illegal immigrants and homeless, Athens seems in its worst shape ever. According to another study last year, the center of Athens was “closed” for 2-3 hours daily due to protests, resulting in, according to shop owners, a financial catastrophe for many in the once booming downtown Athens.
These daily protests often lead to very violent riots and clashes between protesters and the police, or even clashes between rival groups of protesters. The words austerity measures are the most “painful” though — the government has agreed along with the troika to impose some of the toughest austerity measures ever imposed by a government in Greek history. There is not a single Greek who hasn’t be affected by the austerity plan — many people lost up to 50% of their income. Greece has the most “new poor” people in Europe and many people believe that “the worst is yet to come”.
So how do you cover a story like this? A story that affects you and your family, a story that left some of your friends and colleagues and members of your family without a job and hope for the future? A colleague who has worked as a photojournalist for over 25 years at one of the top Greek dailies was marching along with several thousands of press people towards the parliament in protest against recent layoffs and pension reductions and other tough measures said to me: “Yannis, I walked from home today. I have no money to put petrol in my motorbike.” and “My last payment was 450 Euros and it’s the first payment after July!!” It was a sunny Tuesday, October 18, 2011.
Having covered many of the same events as Yiannis as a photographer I have to agree 100% with what he says. Reporters are seen as the enemy by both sides and are often attacked. Of all the photographers working in Thessaloniki, I don’t know of a single one, including myself, who hasn’t been assaulted by either police or protesters, sometimes both on the same day.
No wonder Greece is considered to be one of the most dangerous place in EU to work as a reporter.
Circus nostalgia
By Vivek Prakash
There are a couple of stories I’ve been waiting to do since I heard that I’d be moving to India last year. Maybe it’s part nostalgia, part fascination, but I’m happy to be able to interpret these stories visually, finally.
The last time I was at a circus was some twenty-five years ago. My father brought me to the Bandra Reclamation in Mumbai to see it. I can’t remember which one it was, maybe the Apollo Circus? I remember the smell of fresh dirt and popcorn. There were fireworks. There was a dome where three people on motorbikes rode on the walls without crashing into each other. There were big cats; lions and tigers with some jumping through flaming hoops. I was wide-eyed and thrilled. I’ve dreamed of seeing and photographing that show for years.
Twenty-five years later, I came to the very same location, with a camera in hand. When the Rambo Circus pitched tent, I jumped at the chance to spend a few days documenting what Indian circuses are like. This place has been in my imagination for so long.
Circus is the only live entertainment featuring people and wild animals.Back in the olden days,kids and adults got to see wild animals at the circus in their village tents,but now one has to visit the zoo for the same.
The great risk they take to entertain people is worth applauding.
I agree,all of us must go with children to see the circus
when it comes to town.A fading world of color,music and magical surprises.Beautiful pictures and article,Thank you
Shri
Occupying Starbucks
By Paul Hackett
I left the Occupy protest camp at St Paul’s cathedral in London to go to Starbucks to file the pictures that I had taken. As I walked through the door I saw this man sitting there; of course it made me smile. I took a few images of him and then a member of staff put their hand over my lens. I knew that I had something, so it was fine. I sat close to him, got his name (Adam Murray) and sent the picture in. It was with the office a few minutes after I took it – I wish they were all that easy!
Up till a couple of years back, I frequented Starbucks for coffee and enjoyed surfing the web almost everywhere in their chains.
I have since stopped, not because of the many homeless people I have met there. Rather, what made me shocked was an experience in Los Angeles. I witnessed several Hispanic Starbucks employees served a tall, well dressed Caucasian American male first, before a petite Asian casually dressed Asian girl. When the Asian girl complained, the manager and a few Hispanic Starbucks staff, rather than apologizing practically harassed her, constantly coming up to disturb her in a patently annoying way. She was just using her laptop like this guy, without the facial gear of course. What’s more shocking was that when a routine police patrol officer came in for coffee, the Hispanic manager and staff’s behavior reminded me of Mexican drug lords, acted in pretense that they wielded special connection with the police, giving hounding looks to the petite customer several times during the conversation with the police. The Asian girl was smart enough to call it a bluff.
The next morning, the Asian girl came back for coffee again. And I heard the Hispanic manager and the staff comment blatantly and outrageously, that this customer “dared to come back”, as if they were rolling up their sleeves to harass her more by making excuses to disturb her while she used her laptop. Right then, the same patrol policeman came in again for coffee, only this time, he sat down at the nearby table to the Asian girl, instead of taking the coffee to go. The policeman was very affable, and started chatting with various customers all around him. Some of the customers seem to know the policeman just from frequenting that Starbucks store. I heard the policeman say that they like to get to know the local, because it helps them fight crime more effectively, but the Starbucks manager was not standing close enough to hear that.
It was very obvious that this police officer had not noticed that the Starbucks manager had misused the police’s presence and general friendliness to puff up a harassment attempt.
The Asian girl joined the conversation with several others with the policeman. And it was obvious that the policeman almost became interested in her and took a liking to her, asking her what she does for a living. And she was a scientist. It was one of the most amusing experience I’ve ever experienced at Starbucks, when I saw the Hispanic manager looked at the sight with almost horror(yes, more than embarrassment). After the policeman left, the same employees that harassed the girl the day before, suddenly started acting obsequiously. It served them well, for behaving like hooligans as Starbucks employees.
Somehow though, that experience, though amusing, seemed to quench my thirst for Starbucks experiences forever after. Somehow, I rarely went back to Starbucks any more. It might have something to do with the bragging of that Starbucks manager that he was a hiring manager for the greater area of Los Angeles in that vicinity, and not just for that particular Starbucks. I had seen him bring in a Hispanic youngster, who appeared to be looking for a job, and interviewed him in the center of the Starbucks store, so that many of the customers cannot avoid hearing the interview to sense his “power” level at Starbucks. No telling if he was acting. Didn’t look like it.
No matter what, my “addiction” to Starbucks coffee evaporated just like that, without “rehabilitation” ever after. Curious why. It’s quite a different “OCCUPY STARBUCKS” story, but perhaps no less curious and interesting. This picture just brought all that back to mind.
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Resident Photographers Blog Expert
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The Wall
Amazing work, and realy moving