words and images by Zoriah

I want you, my audience, to see and to understand what others live through on a daily basis. I want you to see what the Iraqi civilians and foreign soldiers see. I want people who follow my photography to understand that although I am able to bring images of war to the world in a form of art, what actually goes on here is horror. I don’t want my message to be that war yields great photography; I want my message to be that war yields human misery and suffering.

This post and the images contained in the link below are extremely graphic. If you want to see for yourself what people here in Iraq live through, or what the realities of war actually are …please click this link to view the post. If you are offended by graphic images, then please do something to stop the events that facilitate them instead of reading this post and being offended by it.

If you would like to view this post, click HERE

You will not see this on your local news or in your local papers. You may see a small bit of text on Yahoo News or another online site, but you will see what you will see here and what you read here you will not read anywhere else. It is not what is considered major news, and even if it was, there is “compassion fatigue” regarding Iraq and “no one cares,” so say all of my editors at major publications.

This incident, which happened only a few hours ago, received two paragraphs on the Internet news, and then faded away. It was “only” thirty or forty people that lost their lives…. children, old men, civilians, police and military. For those of you who choose to read on, this is what it looks like, all across Iraq on a daily basis:

Once again, this post contains graphic images and text about the death of many people. I urge you to view it but if you are sensitive to such things you may want to return to the main page of the blog now. Thank you.

We are on a mission in Sadr City to inspect some of the checkpoints along the newly completed wall. The first part of the mission brings us to the infamous Jamilla Market, an outdoor stretch of shops and home to some of the worst fighting in the entire war. The market suffered heavily and many shop owners are now facing repairs that they could never possibly afford. It has made an impossible situation even worse for many.

The new checkpoint is nothing more than a gap in the wall allowing individuals to pass after being thoroughly searched and often harassed. We watch as one US soldier violently pokes a man with metal detecting wand, asserting his power and control in an inhumane way. One of the soldiers in my platoon comments on how he is out of line and doing a disservice to the Army, but nothing is said or done to stop it and we continue on our way.

Walls and checkpoints are usually a recipe for human rights violations and cruelty, but for the moment the checkpoints at least offer hope for the merchants to recover, and for the residents of Sadr City to purchase necessities such as groceries and other supplies. As usual, the individuals struggling to live their lives in between the two sides at war suffer the most.

photographs and words by Zoriahwww.zoriah.com

Into the Mouth of Madness

words and photographs by Zoriah

It’s mid afternoon and the sun is struggling to find its way through millions of tiny particles kicked up in today’s sand storm, casting a yellow haze and ominous glow across Baghdad. I am with a platoon of US Army soldiers. We are gathering our flak vests, helmets and protective gear and heading out to a group of armored vehicles.

(click here to read the rest of Zoriah's diary entry)

“We’ve got a Bird two minutes out.” That’s the cue…two doctors hop onto a small motorized cart called a Gator, while the rest of the on-duty staff waits pensively in the ER. This is the 28th Combat Support Hospital, also known as Baghdad ER, a place where the horrors of war are evident on a daily basis. I grab my cameras, the required eye and hearing protection, and run at full clip out to the landing zone. Two Medevac helicopters, known as “birds,” land in formation, then the wounded soldiers are carried off and placed onto the Gators.

Jogging back from the landing zone I see a group of armored vehicles pull up. A frantic group of soldiers drenched in blood tug a limp body out of the back of one of their vehicles; others crawl out holding open wounds. Inside the ER, there is an odd mix of organization and chaos. All of these doctors and medics are well accustomed to this ritual, perhaps hardened by it. But in their eyes it is obvious they are not jaded; they know they have a person’s life in their hands, someone with a mother, a father, friends and fellow soldiers, and that it is a life they must keep from slowly slipping away.

In what seems like an instant, every bed in the ER is filled. Doctors are rushing from bed to bed, trying to stabilize individuals while they can barely suppress their kicking and seizures. The room is filled with a cacophony of voices talking of “brain matter,” “rocket propelled grenades” and “IED’s.” “Whatever it was it got him right in the face,” says one doctor, as he inspects a young man’s wounds.

The pace in the room is at a fever pitch. Doctors run back and forth grabbing surgical equipment and attempting to diagnose and stabilize the condition of each individual patient. The light is either glaringly bright or terribly dim as the doctors move in and out, leaning over the patients. There is barely enough room to move from the corner I am in and the floor is slippery with blood. Every time I raise a camera to my face I am conscious of the life support tubes, which dangle dangerously close to my body and equipment.

My biggest concern is not getting in the way of the doctors. I have a Public Affairs Officer (PAO) assigned to monitor my every move in the hospital, making sure I follow the guidelines and do not break the contract I have signed, one which forbids me from photographing soldiers faces, name plates or any other identifying feature such as tattoos and birth marks without having a release from the patient.

The soldier with the head injury has been rushed across the hall for a CAT scan and I watch as the doctors analyze the data that is output onto their computer screens. The mood seems to be encouraging…until the screen refreshes. There is no hope, the damage is too severe. The doctors look crushed and I hear one say to another: “He has a ring…” The young soldier is married. One of the doctors walks into the hallway where thee young man’s platoon is sitting on the floor in blood soaked uniforms. The soldiers begin to cry and hug each other. Then they kneel to the ground and pray for their friend. Minutes later he succumbs to his wounds.

This was only my first three hours embedded in the 82nd CSH…Baghdad ER. It is hard to imagine what one would experience during an 18-month tour here.

The following photographs were taken in Baghdad ER and Baghdad field hospitals.

Photographs and words by Zoriah.

Technorati Tags: baghdad, Baghdad ER, death, ER, iraq, wounded

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Words and photos by Stefanos Kouratzis:  It wasn’t easy to get in to survey the damage to Southern Lebanon’s Shiite neighbourhoods right after the Israeli ceasefire. Once there, Armed Hezbollah fighters asked for press credentials and in return you were giving you a new Hezbollah press card. You had to keep it with you at all times.  Collapsed buildings, dust and suffering were all that you could see. The smell of death was everywhere and it was hard to breath. A scarf covered my mouth and nose, while a camera shielded my emotions. People were trying to find beloved ones and things that they could use. They were panicked but they were not giving up hope.  Pictures of Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, flags of Hezbollah and of Lebanon were placed in various places in an effort to keep the moral high. And it seems that it worked up to a point. Most of the people had to move to the mountains for safety. Once again, civilians had to pay the highest price. Nothing will be the same again in the Beirut.  

Technorati Tags: army, beruit, children, civil war, conflict, crisis, hezbollah, israel, israeli defense force, killing, lebanon, militia, nassrallah, stefanos kouratzis, war, warshooter

WHERE DO THE CHILDREN PLAY: In Conflict and Crisis

Photo Exhibition by Kloie Picot

Text by Sushanta Das

Inspired by the 1970’s song WHERE DO THE CHILDREN PLAY by Islam Yusuf, formerly known as Cat Stevens, the photo exhibition by photojournalist Kloie Picot shows children from areas she has traveled and lived in during the past 6 years. “As a photojournalist traveling to conflict crisis areas, it is often the children I meet first.  As soon as the camera comes out children vie for attention. Soon I realized that it wasn’t the camera or getting a photo taken that they were after but rather, attention and time that they wanted and in most cases needed. I was their focus of fun, I was their entertainment, a diversion from the boredom of life in a displacement camp or on the street without the luxury of school or internet, toys or TV. And the one thing all children have in common, whether in countries of crisis and conflict, or in countries of affluence is they want a safe place where they can play,” says Picot of her experience taking photos of children.

Included in the exhibition are children playing alongside Sri Lankan military guards in Tamil Tiger controlled Batticaloa, in Northern Sri Lanka, children catching dragon flies after the devastating flood in Jakarta, Indonesia, children inhaling glue in Kathmandu, Nepal, children climbing scaffolding erected to build new government buildings and thus further displacing the displaced in Kabul, Afghanistan - the one amazing quality found throughout the exhibition is that despite their situation children have incredible resilience and somehow manage to laugh, sing, play, and hope for a better future.

To get such intimate photos Picot spent time with them. “I played with them or if they had parents I went to their homes listening to and answering questions, sharing difficulties, giving advice and encouragement. I found that the hours or even moments I spent with the children was worth more to them and me than any photo I could ever take and the photos I did take became more personal and meaningful,” says Picot of her encounters.

In Kathmandu Nepal, where it is estimated 600 children live and work on the streets, Picot spent 10 days with a gang of street kids, some as young as 6 years old. Picot told of her encounter, “These children are abandoned, orphaned, or war displaced. They earn money by selling souvenirs to tourists, some of which they send back to their families in the villages, some they spend on glue and drugs. They are tough, they are street wise, they think they have a life of freedom, but when they are cold, and hungry, they cry, they fight with each other, which makes them take more drugs to forget their cold, and hunger. They are neglected children who truly need love and guidance from caring adults,” said Picot.

Yet there is hope.  One year after taking photos of the gang of kids, in Kathmandu, Picot returned and found that most of the boys had found sponsors, were living in orphanages, or because of the peace accords with the Maoist rebels, had returned to their village.

In daily life in Kabul, circumstances hinder children’s development, put them at physical and emotional risk, spoil their relationships and cause distress and worry. When talking about war, the worrying consequences children identified were the physical destruction, and loss of opportunities for education. Though schools are now open, there are not enough classrooms or teachers to accommodate them.

Siar 8 years old attends school in the morning and sells gum  in the afternoon.  His father was killed during the time of the Taliban and Siar is expected to earn a living for his mother and younger brother.  Except for the foreign NGO staff or soldiers on leave, there are few tourists on the streets of Kabul, so he and his friends end up playing and return home empty handed. But he has hope, he says he will not give up, he will keep attending school, and become a teacher so he can help his country and support his mother and brother.

Children in Afghanistan are not, however, completely overwhelmed by the difficulties they face. Instead, they and their families have much strength and resources, which they employ to cope with challenges, lessen the negative impact of those challenges, and reduce suffering. It is these resources that allow children in Kabul to live through difficulties with optimism, and that contribute to their resilience in times of trial. Being able to share suffering with others and to receive material support is essential in enabling children to cope. Children are also better able to cope when there is peace and stability, when their families have economic resources and when the physical environment around them is safe.

In the Occupied West Bank and Gaza, children on the front line in the conflict. These children suffer unrelenting nightmares and "night terrors" and the dichotomy of having to cope with these conditions. On the one hand, they dream about becoming doctors and nurses "so they can help others"; on the other, this is then overtaken by an apocalyptic vision of themselves as the next generation of suicide bombers. They experience this invariably after attacks by the Israelis. For some boys, their heroes are no longer football players, but a confusion of Palestinian "martyrs" and even the enemy, "because Israeli soldiers are the strongest and have Apache gunships".

“War is a terrible experience for children. During war children are killed and injured, they lose family members and they forfeit opportunities for education and development. Children are frightened by the dangers they are living through, and scared for their own and their families’ survival. Long after it ends, war leaves a legacy of destruction and loss, which affects children and their wider society. Working with war-affected children to help them cope with the impact of conflict is a vital part of the post-war recovery of a whole society. “ UNICEF

(Sushanta Das is a New Zealander who has lived in Kathmandu for over 20 years.)