NEW YORK—Peering through the haze from a smoke bomb, with the simulated sounds of war in the background, Igor Kossov bent over to bandage a fake wound on a dummy. Though it looked like a scene for a movie, Kossov was rehearsing for the real thing.
(R-L) Ben Depp, David Sperry, and Igor Kossov run to injured bodies during RISC training simulation. (Samira Bouaou/The Epoch Times)
Kossov was one of 24 freelance conflict journalists from all over the world—10 of whom are based in New York City—who took part in life-saving first-aid training last week at the Bronx Documentary Center.
Reporters Instructed in Saving Colleagues (RISC) was created by former conflict journalist Sebastian Junger after his close friend and colleague Tim Hetherington was killed during a mortar attack while working in Misrata, Libya, in 2011. When Junger found out that Hetherington may have lived if someone had known how to treat his wounds, he decided to start a basic medical training program for conflict journalists.
The RISC medical kit straps to the side of the leg and is given to journalists who complete the training. (Samira Bouaou/The Epoch Times)
In its annual assessment of journalists killed worldwide, the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) says 70 journalists were killed in 2012. The New York-based press freedom organization categorizes murders as those with a confirmed motive, those with unconfirmed motives, and the death of media workers (employed in the industry but not reporting the news directly).
According to CPJ statistics there were 31 additional murders in 2012 that they have been unable to confirm the motive for, and 2 additional deaths that were media workers.
Sometimes subjects for feature articles come from the strangest and most unexpected places.
Late this past summer I heard an Israeli musician perform who blew my mind. I was at a work event with my husband, out on our first “date” since our son had been born more than 9 months earlier, and ended up hanging out alone. It was the opening of the Jerusalem Music Conference, and the first performer was a double bass player named Adam Ben Ezra.
I was in the ladies room checking my hair, a bit bored and trying to find a way to pass the time, when I heard this awesome sound coming from the stage down the hall.
“At last they started playing music!” I thought. The stage had been empty for a good hour while the VIPs and staffers of the music conference and other guests busied themselves with having a few drinks from the open bar. It was your basic awkward social/work function where nobody is really there to have fun, and almost everyone is “on” in their work persona. I think I was one of five people in the crowd of about 200 that really had nothing in particular to do.
But when I heard the music coming from the other room, I came out as fast as possible, expecting to see a band on stage. Instead, I just saw one guy with a contra bass and a fedora, jamming out to a highly distracted audience. Since everyone was huddled around or near the bar, I took up a spot in the audience pit in front of the stage and enjoyed hearing the jazz/funk/rhythm tune, even more so because I had the performer practically to myself.
After less than 3 minutes, I could tell this musician was something special, and turned to the only other person in the room watching him perform.
“Isn’t this guy amazing?!” I asked him.
“Yeah, I think so,” the rather slight, wiry man with dark hair and a huge smile answered back without skipping a beat. “I’m his manager!”
The manager, who turned out to be Guy Dayan of Goola, stuck his hand out to shake mine.
What followed was one of those serendipitous moments that happens sometimes in the life of a reporter. I got to have a long chat with Ben Ezra and Dayan outside the venue while they took a cigarette break. They are charming, down-to-earth guys who love what they do. Ben Ezra is a true musician, largely self-taught and motivated to keep working, creating and improving on his craft. Dayan is the consummate business man and manger–always on the lookout for his client’s welfare in a business and personal sense (it helps that the two have been friends since childhood).
A few weeks later I was in Tel Aviv and spent two hours talking with Ben Ezra and Dayan about music, inspiration, and the artistic mind. Even though they were smoking almost the entire time (I hate cigarette smoke), it didn’t bother me in the least. I was so interested in what they had to say, who they were, and where they were going that I didn’t want the interview to end.
That intersection of interesting, talented and charming is what makes for good copy–every time.
There are so many social media technologies out there now, I find it hard to bring myself to try anything beyond what I already use. I started with Facebook only, then expanded to a blog, and Twitter.
A sunset shot in Jerusalem that I took in color and then changed in Instagram to black and white.
A cute shot of my son that I took on my cell phone and then filtered on Instagram and added a frame.
Then I reluctantly joined Google +, Pinterest, Quora, and Instagram–simply to see how they work and what features they offer. At the time I signed up for the last few social media tools, I wasn’t interested in using them. As a writer and journalist, I already have to spend a lot of time on the computer, so I am not interested in more reasons to be sitting in front of a screen.
One significant exception to my longstanding reluctance to “have an online presence” is Instagram. It is a fantastic, interesting, and fun way to manipulate photographs I take on my smartphone while I’m out and about and make them into something really unique and special.
Several rather mundane shots I snapped recently in Jerusalem’s Old City came out in a particularly interesting way.
The color scheme in Israel can tend to be a bit monochromatic, with a lot of earth tones and rather flat surfaces. Reshaping photos in Instagram makes them come alive in a very unusual way, and in some cases I feel I can come closer to conveying the actual feeling of what is like to stand at that point in person and look at what is in the photograph.
That’s worth a little bit more time online. At least for now.
Social media is a particularly powerful tool in the Middle East, where in some countries it gives people a way to express themselves. That expression takes many forms, from social protest, to political criticism, to sharing news and information.
Sometimes major news happens in people’s backyards and they send out extremely valuable tidbits of information in real-time. For journalists who can’t be everywhere or be there to see it firsthand, the hyper-active social media stratosphere in the Middle East is an invaluable tool. The explosion of regional use of platforms like Twitter and Facebook started with Arab Spring, and has only grown since then.
I can’t stand talking about politics. The last time I found the subject interesting was almost exactly four years ago, when Obama was elected to the office of the U.S. president. I remember going to work the morning after the election, which like many New Yorkers I watched with a huge crowd on a big-screen TV at a bar.
My co-workers and I were ecstatic about the win. I remember seeing my friends at work who were black and white and Italian and everything else in between, and we were just out of our heads with happiness. It was like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and a day at the beach all rolled into one. We had lived to see an African-American man elected to the White House.
But we weren’t excited because we love politics. We were excited because in our hearts, we love America, and we love the fact that it can still surprise us. My friends and I don’t sit around talking about politics, and never have. But the night that Barack Obama was elected to the White House in 2008, the entire city of New York was screaming on the streets, hugging each other, honking their horns, and generally flipping out.
One day, if my son is discouraged about the problems in the U.S., I will tell him the story of Obama winning the presidential election. And then winning again in 2012. It’s proof that politics isn’t always about politics. Sometimes it is about people believing that things can change.
The award-winning photographer made a name for himself documenting apartheid working for several publications, including the well-known Drum magazine. Kumalo was 82 and leaves behind 9 children.
In a statement on his passing, the African National Congress (ANC) said that Kumalo’s death has “robbed South Africa of a rare and significant talent that was pivotal in raising social consciousness and exposing the brutality of the apartheid administration.”
Getting physically close to a story is not as easy as it seems. First of all, most people are not conditioned to think in terms of potential sources of information, getting close enough to take a good photo, or whipping out a video recorder to document something interesting and unique. It takes repetition and practice to get used to always keeping an eye out for the story.
To go from passive observer to engaged observer (by recording what is happening) also takes overcoming blocks that keep us in the passive category. Sometimes it is fear. Sometimes laziness. Sometimes timidity.
Fear covers all of the above. But why is it so powerful? I think the answer is that it’s not.
When I was in Ein Kerem, Israel on the last day of Sukkot (a major Jewish holiday) recently, I came across some orthodox Jewish men dancing and singing in the streets. I knew it was a good opportunity to take some photos and video–just for practice. I am very fearful of photographing people, so I try to do it as often as possible. Maybe in a year or two I won’t be as timid.
In this case, it is understandable that I was a bit fearful. The only time anyone has ever threatened to stone me was a couple of years ago when I was photographing a huge demonstration by orthodox Jewish men in Jerusalem.
A photo from a protest of 10,000 orthodox Jewish men and boys in Jerusalem in 2010 that I covered.
But standing there in the idyllic setting of Ein Kerem, I overcame that bizarre and isolated incident and whipped out my Samsung Galaxy smartphone (basically a miniature computer) to take some photos and video.
Ein Kerem is a small village on the outskirts of Jerusalem that is a huge tourist attraction. The small scale of the dancing street worked to my advantage because there was no through traffic (actually they were blocking any through traffic). The tourists were also an advantage, because there were quite a few people standing around gawking at the men as they danced and sang with their holy book, the Torah. Sukkot is the end of the Jewish calendar year and marks the point when religious followers of Judaism start reading the Torah from the beginning after spending the year reading through it.
A view of the mountains from Ein Kerem, Jerusalem
While I was taking the video, I knew I wasn’t close enough. I took a few small steps forward, measuring my distance against other onlookers. I was very consciously seeking strength in numbers, but why? What did I think these singing, dancing men were going to do to me if I got a bit closer? Yell at me, tell me to get lost, or pick up the nearest rock and chuck it at my head? It seems ridiculous in hindsight, but coming clean about shortcomings as a reporter post-story can be instructive if you make a brutally honest assessment. Well, it doesn’t have to be brutal, but it should be without permissive trimmings and excuses if you want to do better the next time. And there will be a next time, unless you plan on quitting.
While still mid-story, there are a few things at play when photographing or videoing people on the street. First of all, are you invading their privacy? Second of all, are you interfering with them in any way? Sometimes there are no answers to either question, but they should be asked. Rule number one in journalistic ethics: do no harm.
Sadly, when it comes to certain kinds of public gatherings, a large media presence can serve to embolden even the most timid reporter (and protester, for that matter!). Just take a look at this video of recent protests in Spain. It’s something akin to mob mentality. You can easily see what a large gathering of photographers looks like. It takes a strong journalist to break away from the pack in such a situation and work on the outskirts of the story, away from the mutually-generating vibe of protesters and journalists.
In 2009 I was in Jerusalem covering some tensions between Muslims and Jews outside the walls of the Old City. The situation was electrified, and the gaggle of reporters there didn’t help.
Police horses form an equine barrier during tensions near the Old City in Jerusalem in 2009.
In that situation, I was extremely bold. Looking back, it doesn’t seem like anything that I believe I am capable of. I got in front of a row of police horses and snapped several shots. I stood alone in front of a huge pack of Muslim men and photographed them as they bent in prayer, not moving until they told me, “Uh, can you move? We don’t want to pray with a woman in front of us.” I also got very good close-up shots of people’s faces while they were yelling at each other, shots from the roof of a building, and several shots of armed border patrol and police.
That experience proves two things. It proves the controlling force I think fear has on me as a reporter actually doesn’t exist. But more importantly, it proves that I am capable of getting as close to the story as I want to.
Voter IDs laws have become a political flashpoint in what’s gearing up to be another close election year. Supporters say the laws — which 30 states have now enacted in some form — are needed to combat voter fraud, while critics see them as a tactic to disenfranchise voters.
We’ve taken a step back to look at the facts behind the laws and break down the issues at the heart of the debate.
Falling in Love with Instagram
There are so many social media technologies out there now, I find it hard to bring myself to try anything beyond what I already use. I started with Facebook only, then expanded to a blog, and Twitter.
A sunset shot in Jerusalem that I took in color and then changed in Instagram to black and white.
A cute shot of my son that I took on my cell phone and then filtered on Instagram and added a frame.
Then I reluctantly joined Google +, Pinterest, Quora, and Instagram–simply to see how they work and what features they offer. At the time I signed up for the last few social media tools, I wasn’t interested in using them. As a writer and journalist, I already have to spend a lot of time on the computer, so I am not interested in more reasons to be sitting in front of a screen.
One significant exception to my longstanding reluctance to “have an online presence” is Instagram. It is a fantastic, interesting, and fun way to manipulate photographs I take on my smartphone while I’m out and about and make them into something really unique and special.
Several rather mundane shots I snapped recently in Jerusalem’s Old City came out in a particularly interesting way.
The color scheme in Israel can tend to be a bit monochromatic, with a lot of earth tones and rather flat surfaces. Reshaping photos in Instagram makes them come alive in a very unusual way, and in some cases I feel I can come closer to conveying the actual feeling of what is like to stand at that point in person and look at what is in the photograph.
That’s worth a little bit more time online. At least for now.
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