Moon, Venus.

On Monday, June 18, the Moon and Venus were best friends — as seen from Kigali, Rwanda.

Presidential Press Conference

I don’t have much experience taking photos of presidents, but I think many will agree that there was something a little odd about the presidential event I was at today. Let me tell you all about it:

His Excellency was holding a meeting with two American ambassadors at the President’s office. I got the call from the New Times’ editor in chief saying I was to be picked up and dropped off at this event.

I expected to be fighting through a crowd of journalists, scrapping for the best shots and scrumming like there was no tomorrow. Turns out only The New Times, TV Rwanda and Radio Rwanda were allowed to attend. I was surprised indeed to find only the TVR camera man waiting near the stairs of the Presidential meeting room (not its technical term I’m sure).

I asked him what was going on. He knew very little but told me we could expect to wait in the sun for another two hours or so. Just then, a lady pokes her head out the door at the top of the stairs. This sparks TVR cameraman to grab his gear and sprint up the stairs, through to door and out of sight. I followed his lead. Before I knew it, I was in a nice carpeted room with very regal furniture and expensive looking Rwandan art on the wall. Also, I found myself about three metres away from President Paul Kagame, who was speaking with two U.S. ambassadors and two Rwandan ministers.

I did not expect this to happen so fast, but I had my cameras ready to shoot nonetheless. I took two photos in the span of 10 seconds (a horrible venue for photos by the way—this room with five chairs set up in a sort-of U pattern and spaced far apart from each other). I was then, to my surprise, ushered out of the room. Same went for the TVR cameraman. We were reassured that we would be able to take more photos when they came out of the meeting.

An hour later, after the reporters for the New Times, TVR and Radio Rwanda were allowed to join us, the meeting was over and we were able to shoot more. I took the standard “five people in soldier-like poses with His Excellency in the middle” shot because I knew that it was the one my paper was looking for. I also shot some other more interesting photos during the interviews with the Ambassadors, but none of Kagame. You see, he hosted the meeting and took part in the photo-op, but he left immediately after those photos were taken. I don’t know if this happens all the time, but for this event, journalists were not allowed to ask the President any questions.

Anyhow, that’s how my story ends. Maybe it’s not very exciting to a lot of my readers, but it was my first time shooting that close to the President, and at such an exclusive event. I’ve attached the photo the paper will probably use on the front page tomorrow. What you see in this image is the product of a PR lady arranging these people in such a way. What do you think? Is it a boring photo or not? Up to you to decide I guess. All I can say is that I’m starting to understand some of the reasons why the photos in the New Times aren’t the most interesting photos in existence.

Oh, and after all was said and done, my reporter Felly and I decided that public transport was the best way to get back to the newsroom quickly. We started to walk towards the closest bus station. Anyway, what I found interesting about the area just next to the President’s office was how un-kept it was. There was a giant rusted metal tube-like structure rusting on the grass, litter all over the ground and a basketball court with broken rims/backboards.


Quite simply, I found it interesting. That’s all I feel I need to say

Sunday Sunset and Kate’s New Camera

Kate got back from Butare in the early afternoon today, about the same time Allan and Solange left to go there. Kate told us she forgot her camera at a restaurant and hasn’t seen it since—despite going back to look for it and having the manager call and question all the waitresses who were working the night it was left behind.

Basically it’s gone.

Luckily, Allan came to her rescue with the suggestion that she temporarily use one of the compact digital cameras he brought from Canada (donated by Concordia University for the university in Butare). They only take two megapixel shots, but that is certainly good enough for taking photos to post on the web.

Kate and I celebrated by taking photos around our yard and neighbourhood. It was also a special occasion because for once clouds did not mar the sunset. It’s actually rare to see a clear sunset from our balcony, despite the fact that the sun always sets behind the hill that our balcony faces.

We then went for a walk down the road and came across many excitable kids. They had their picture taken by Kate several times. I then snapped a couple shots of my own.

Gorillas of Rwanda - a must see.

As I woke up at 3:30 a.m. on Sunday for my gorilla adventure, I was still having serious doubts about whether spending the US$375 had been a good idea. I don’t very much money to spend in Africa and that amount was nearly a quarter of my total funds.

Before I came to Rwanda, Chris Redmond, a friend from last year’s journalism class, tried to convince me that the experience was well worth the price. I’m glad I took his word for it.

Kyla, Melodie, Emilie and I were the four interns taking part in the adventure. We made it to the gate around 7 a.m. and were put into a group together. We were just as promptly split up to accommodate the maximum limit of people for specific gorilla groups – Melodie and I in one, Kyla and Emilie in another.

While I can’t speak for Kyla and Emilie’s experience, I can say that they were finished and back at the gate by around 12 p.m. At that time, my and Melodie’s group had only just found our Gorillas.

Our hike can be split up into three distinct sections. For the first hour, we made our way through mist, fog, rain and mud. The second hour was an epic of negotiating a large field of “sting nettles” —quite aptly named plants, by the way. The third hour (and a half) involved fewer nettles and a lot of path making by way of a machete-wielding guide.

And yet, despite our slightly longer than expected quest into the jungle (made easier by trackers who radio the gorillas’ position to the guides), it was completely worth it. I could hardly believe it: wild gorillas were mere feet away from me, feasting on plants and caring for their young.

One female gorilla walked by our group. I was standing at the end of the line. As she moved past me, she swatted and grabbed my right leg. Luckily, she let go quickly and continued toward the silverback. It was all very surreal, to be there and witness such things.

The brush was thick and the steepness of the location made it hard to stand, let alone take photos. My best photos were taken with a 70-200mm telephoto lens, which I kept on my camera, in my hands for the entire hike.

The hike back to the 4 by 4 was just as long as the hike in. Seven hours of hiking, we were told, was quite a long time for one of these trips. It was certainly the most challenging hike I’d ever done in my life.

I think the attached photos tell the story in a way that words alone cannot.

When we finally got back to the gate at 4 p.m., we drove to a nearby village to pick up Kyla and Emilie from an internet café. We were back in Kigali by 6:30 p.m., ate dinner, and then went dancing at Cadillac for Christine’s 24th birthday.

We danced until 3:30 a.m.

Slums of Kigali

There are many safe and beautiful things to do and see in Rwanda. Such things rarely fascinate me.

Magnus from The New Times lead Christine and I down dark crowded roads. Vendors selling cheap shoes, clothes, popcorn, candy, fruits, veggies and pirated movies lined the main street. People stare at Christine and I, the only two Muzungus (white people) in this area tonight.

This is the slum of Kigali.

Though safer than many African slums, Magnus warned us to stay close. He lives mere steps away from here and knows the area, the people and the dangers all too well.

In the darkness, the lady to my left suddenly falls hard into a two-metre deep pit. She disappears for a moment, causes a small scene, but emerges with some help and no seems not to have sustained any serious physical injury.

We turn down a dirt road parallel to the main street—the prostitution strip. Here, girls as young as 15 earn a living doing sex work. We walk past small children playing on the road, none older than 10. “All children of prostitutes,” Magnus explains.

We are led into a small restaurant with wobbly tables and plastic chairs. We order ugali, a local root that is pounded into a dough-like blob. You grab pieces with your fingers; dip it in a liver or meat sauce; then chew and swallow. We also had porridge, a house specialty. For the three of us, the bill came to 1,900 Rwandan Francs, or about $3.75US. In other areas of Kigali, meals usually cost more than that per person. Now I can only hope that I don’t have some kind of amoeba from poorly handled food. A risk I probably won’t take again.

One photo I managed to take was of a butcher shop. I loved the sign and had to take it. Despite Magnus telling me there was no problem taking a photo, about five people protested and yelled at me. Although they were yelling in Kinyarwanda, there was no misscomunication: the butcher held up a clever, looked at me, and made a chopping motion.

We then caught a bus back to our house. Best night in Kigali so far.

Kigali Harvest School - Ecole Maternelle et Primaire

I'm trying to catch up on all the blogs i couldn't post in May - because of slow internet. Now i've actually got my fussy MacBook working with the wireless internet at the Bourbon Coffee place. Woohoo.

I spent the morning and part of the afternoon at the Kigali Harvest School - a private school run by the Evangelical Christian Church.

The only problem i had was with the school pastor. He was a great help to me and was friendly the whole day, but in end, when i had to leave, he tried very hard to convert me. He expressed that he wanted me to return to give him the images i shot (no problem) and that i should have decided by then if i wanted to give myself to God. It was a little to intense for me.

I dropped off the images (web resolution on a jump drive) the next week, and thank goodness the pastor was not around. I guess i've managed to delay religious decision for at least one more day.

Lake Kivu Serena

Don’t even ask how I ended up staying at this luxury lakeside hotel for free (twice actually, this weekend with three of my Canadian colleagues). The food and drinks included, thank goodness. Champagne with breakfast. Poolside service. Free wireless Internet. Amazing shower water pressure and consistent water temperature.

I could go on and on, but it’s really not that important when compared to the Rwanda Initiative and the things I do on this project.

I think it’s fairly obvious, however, that I’m leveraging some of my talent as a photographer to earn some much needed rest and relaxation (and American movie television in air-conditioned rooms).

The two in the photo below are Drew and Melodie. They raced from one end of the pool to the other. They both pretty much failed to finish the race and just about drowned because of laughter.


Aside from rest and relaxation, we also did manage to find our way into nearby Gisenyi. We also even took an epic hike out of town, up and down a few hills, through windy roads, all in the hope of getting to the bralirwa (brewery for most every beer around here, including Mutzig, Primus and Guiness). We got there in just under two hours to discover that it was closed on the weekends. Crap.

In the end, the long and windy road lined with interesting little shops and houses made the journey worth while.

Another interesting week (actually June 6 blog)

As a photographer, I get asked to do a lot of very cool things with The New Times. The fact is that there are only a couple of photographers, but many reporters. Therefore, the odds are in my favour.

However, in the end, even as a reporter, the best way to get assigned interesting work in the field is to pursue your editor and fellow reporters incessantly and beg them to send you somewhere or take you with them. Most of the time, this works. If it doesn’t work, just do things your own way – to a certain degree of course. This has always worked in my favour.

(I suggest this as an alternative to being stuck in the newsroom all day checking hotmail on a slow Internet connection along with the other reporters and subediting work for grammatical clarity—don’t get me wrong, it’s noble work, but probably dull if you do it every day for two months).

For example, Sunday this week I was eating dinner at La Fiesta with the usual Canadian suspects. Christine got a text message saying His Excellency was opening the Environmental Week Conference the next day. At the prospect of seeing the President in person and covering the story for The New Times, I told Christine I would come along. Emilie also joined in on the fun.

We left early the next morning for the Serena Hotel, where the conference would be. We arrived to find nobody there at the supposed 8 a.m. starting time. We walked outside to the parking lot where other journalists were waiting—not for a conference though. It turned out His Excellency was not speaking that day, but the next.

These journalists were waiting for a bus that would go on a tour with a bunch of volunteers and foreign journalists from 16 African nations to a school and farmlands around Kigali for Environment Week photo ops. There was even an Al Jazeera crew and BBC journalist there.

They were invited by a group representing environmental journalists across Africa to see the many environmental sustainability initiatives the country is currently undergoing.

The first location was beautiful. People were digging trenches into steep terrain to control erosion on future farmable land. Journalists were encouraged—I’d say intimidated—into taking part in the dig. Christine was a good sport for a few minutes, as you can see from one of the photos I snapped.

The second event was at a school. There was traditional Rwandan dancing and very long speeches in Kinyarwanda. They also demonstrated how bio-fuel is made just a short walk away from the schoolyard.

The last location was the most picturesque. Terraces cut into brown earth climbed all the way up steep hills. We stood somewhere near the top, where we paused to take in the view and ask some questions to the minister.

We got back from the tour around 4:30 p.m., not having eaten, but it was worth it. We saw Rwanda how we might never have seen it otherwise. Also, we managed to speak to the organizer of the week’s events and obtain proper press passes for His Excellency’s opening remarks the following morning.

Photographing the President was an experience. I snapped a few decent shots, but for the most part, photographers cannot move around the room very much once the President starts speaking. We couldn’t go anywhere near the middle of the room (understandable with TV cameras pointing in that area) and could not get within about 5 metres in any direction from him (save who I suspected to be his personal photographer, who was shooting with a Nikon D2Xs I believe, for anyone who is interested).

Even at the ceremonial handshake photo op following His Excellency’s speech, men in black suits and 24-esque communication earpieces observed journalists very carefully. I almost stepped into a “no-go zone” while scrumming for photos in the reception and one of the security guards gave me a very firm grab on the arm. Scared the @#$% out of me!

So that’s the end of my two day adventure, following my own leads and catching some decent images along the way. The only negative part about it was that I had to spend my own money taking motos getting to and from the Serena Hotel. Some days, I will gladly pay a few US bucks for a productive and fulfilling day.

Oh yes, and two days later, I worked out a deal with Emilie whereby I would take a photo for the paper she’s working at, Grands Lacs Hebdo. Another job I worked out on the side—but of course it’s all for the benefit of the Rwandan media, lets not forget. The photo I took was a portrait of one of many women seeking legal counsel for cases of marital neglect and abuse. There are some great stories to dig up here and I feel lucky to have a part in their telling.

Akagera Safari

June 3, 2007

It may not be Kenya, but Rwanda is still in Africa. Therefore, the safari excursions still have some “street cred” in my books.

Eight of us spent a wild afternoon in Akagera on safari. We paid two drivers to take us all to the protected reserve, about two hours northeast of Kigali.

Our biggest collective disappointment was that we didn’t see elephants. We also didn’t see lions or alligators. What do you expect? Despite being able to drive in the park for seven hours without looping back at any point, Akagera is one of the smallest game parks in Africa.

My biggest regret was the way I spent the night before leaving. In a way, however, I had so much fun that I can’t say I’d have done things any differently given a second chance.

The night began with Kyla, Shelley and I having drinks at La Fiesta (Mexican restaurant across the street) with some Rwandan friends before heading to a house party down the road. We continued to celebrate late into the night, before proceeding to the MTN bar (about 10 minutes away by car) for a few more drinks, until we finally arrived back at our respective beds around 3 a.m.

We left for Akagera at 5 a.m., all of us. Needless to say, I napped in the car.

And, I really can’t complain about the safari itself. The giraffes were majestic, the hippos were great (but shy), the impalas were beautiful and the zebras were a treat to see in the wild.

Staring

June 2, 2007

If there’s one thing that fascinates me every single day I’m in Africa, it’s how people constantly stare at white people. It’s one of the biggest photographic challenges I’ve come across.

To capture a natural moment without attracting too much attention by my camera, or even to get a natural moment under the circumstances without posing it, can be difficult.

I photographed a child carrying a Tide box (who knows what was inside) up the road near our house. What is interesting about the photo is that the kid is looking right at me, and yet, it represents a very common and natural moment between the Rwandan boy and I.

The look he is giving me in this photo is the look any white person will get, even in busy downtown areas, camera or no camera. I shot this with the camera at waist level in front of me, pointing to the left as I kept my eyes looking forward.

In any Westernized country, the kind of staring you get here would be rude and indicate aggression. While in some cases it may be the same here, the looks are usually just inspired by curiosity. You know this because as soon as you say Mwiriwe (good afternoon/evening) to a staring individual, they will break into a smile and greet you happily.

Cynthia was talking about this phenomenon as it relates to school children and their inclination to hug white people on the street. I’ve been hugged around the knees more than once, and Cynthia many more times, as she seems to encourage the practice with her sympathetic eyes and big smile.

Her theory is that white people must have the same effect on Rwandan school children as a Tony the Tiger or Mickey Mouse mascot might have on any child in the first world, or elsewhere.

I think it’s a pretty good theory.

Cornflakes and Benign Girl

June 01, 2007

On assignment, we often have enough time to browse in a local shop or grocery store. his it not only just because we’ve finished taking our photos and doing interviews early…most times it’s because we end up going somewhere for a story only to find that we’re in the wrong place altogether.

For some reason, the drivers at the New Times sometimes don’t have cellphones. So, last week, for example, we went to the Serena Hotel expecting to report on the last day of an international business conference, and we found that only the promotional booths and gift shops were open. We had to call the New Times and let them know to inform the driver, who’d just left, to come back as soon as he got there. We had about an hour of browsing African art in the shops.

This brings me to my story about yesterday. Kate, Gertrude and I went to a hotel to write a story on waitresses being trained in a new hotel (a business story indeed). At first we ended up at the wrong hotel. I wasn’t surprised somehow. Luckily the driver didn’t get too far and had a cellphone this time.

We made it to the real location, having missed the opening ceremony. We got our photos and interviews. Then we had time to kill. A nearby store was the perfect time killer. I bought cookies and a chocolate bar that had sugar and hydrogenated vegetable oil as its first two ingredients.

The best part of the trip was finding the choicely worded Benign Girl toy cellphone (do we know in Rwanda that cellphones give you brain tumors?) and the scary as hell Cornflakes box.

The store clerk asked me for money for taking photos of both. I explained that we were journalists with the New Times and that we should be allowed to take photos. She wasn’t buying my reasoning (neither was I in this situation!), so I quickly switched to bargain mode: “Maybe I just won’t buy these cookies and chocolate bar in my hands. Do you want me to buy these?” I stayed smiling and friendly the whole time. It seems to be the best technique.

In the end, I paid no money for the photos, and ended up with a horrible chocolate bar and strawberry icing cookies.