Charity

Children sit on a latrine during potty time at the Sisters of Charity orphanage, Maputo. Sisters of Charity was the order that Mother Theresa. However, Sisters of Charity are not being so charitable to photographers and will not grant me any more photo access (it has nothing to do with this picture).

Class Assignment Reject

Our first assignment first brought on a bit of panic where I saw my academic life slipping away. It's a sense of insecurity that's popped up throughout my career from time to time mostly when the pressure's on during big assignments, and you know a lot of eyes are on you and people are depending on how well you do. In the past, I've had a chill run down my spine while I have visions of forgetting to put film in my camera (when I used film), fear of returning to the newsroom with loads of complete garbage or just thinking everything will go wrong. It passes after you actually get down to business. I think that pressure along with the adrenaline rush of deadline was something that I actually sort of enjoyed in a way.

I guess it's still debatable whether or not I shot garbage, and I'll find out in my tutorial. Nevertheless, I photographed five different work situations and dumped two including the one above. I had arranged to photograph a tailor at an open-air market, but the day I showed up, my guy did not. Luckily, I was able to get another person to let me photograph him. Unluckily, there was a drunk tailor who showed up and decided to harass me. He stuck his face in some frames and in the end wouldn't leave me alone unless I would buy him and gradually all of his market colleagues "refescos," drinks. It was getting impossible, so I ended up leaving prematurely.

One positive point is that I rediscovered the power that bringing back a print has. It's something that I used to do when I was working on stories and trying to build trust. I forgot how incredibly effective it used to be. I didn't re-shoot there, but I know that after brining that print, it would be no problem.

A Kick in the Head

Sparring partners work out on Costa Do Sol.

Xipamanine

A sick four-year-old boy sits in front of his family's house which is secluded in the middle of Mercado Xipamanine, Maputo's biggest market place.

What Would Lewis W. Hine Do?

Street children sleep in downtown Maputo. Boys are commonly abandoned by families in Mozambique since, culturally, girls hold more value as workers, in a dowery and as future financial support to her family when married.

Am I Stealing? Exploiting? One of the biggest issues for me almost daily here in Maputo in photographing is the overwhelming poverty and the almost constant bombardment of people asking for money. Certainly for everybody taking this course, we are by Mozambican standards extremely wealthy. By my standards as an American, I most certainly am not; however, most Americans - even the poorest - are doing quite well in comparison. This has brought me to question myself and re-examine long-standing personal rules for not paying subjects. Am I somehow stealing from the poor that I photograph?

Here, more than anytime in my life, it is nearly impossible to photograph in public without somebody asking for or demanding money. For instance, when photographing an old abandoned sort of cool-looking building while on a walk in Swaziland last week, a man in the distance started chasing me down and telling me that I should pay him. He was very persistent and was using logic that since he used to have a little stand nearby I should pay him. I did not.

In general when I photograph, I will ask permission which usually includes and explanation of who I am and my intentions. I am honest about it and often (very often here) told no. For instance, I've been trying to photograph women in a market that sell live animals and butcher them on the spot. It's been in good spirit and the women are in general very nice and often quite funny, but absolutely will not budge unless I pay them. I could very well pay them, but then should I pay everyone? Will I then be perceived as setting things up or influencing people's actions by giving them money? Is it ethical to pay? Is it unethical not to?

Today, I photographed the children above and thought, considering my interest in orphans here, that it would be stupid not to. But I was with my wife and two babies in a somewhat shady area. My wife was not too keen on me going out (and rarely is) where a lot of potentially bad things could happen. Plus, she knows that I usually take much longer than I say I will. We had passed them earlier on foot, and throughout our outing I was having an internal debate on whether to photograph them. My hesitations were: 1.) I had my children and my family with me 2.) These children were sleeping and although that was the scene I wanted undisturbed, I instinctively knew someone in the vicinity would take umbrage and confront me.

In the end, after I packed the family in the car and parked them in a more secure area, I explained to my wife that I needed to photograph them and talked to her about my hesitations. Before I left I told her that someone is bound to ask me for payment and that she shouldn't be surprised if I'm being chased down when I return. When I photographed, a nearby street vendor came and started trying to sell me things and then asked what I was doing and I explained before I started photographing. I was quiet and worked slowly around the scene, and slowly more people started gathering around me, mostly trying to sell me things. I was on my way out when one vendor, much taller than me, started yelling at me and telling me to pay the children and then started asking me to pay him too. It was a scene and I couldn't say a word since he was so aggressive. I just made my way back to the car seeing my wife looking uncomfortable as I approached.

Ultimately, I would like to do something with my work that will help, but I still am having the internal debate after looking over my pictures and reliving the events. Similar to my situation a couple of days ago, it is discouraging. When I did a long-term project on the homeless nearly ten years ago, I asked many similar ethical questions. I reread about 1994 Pulitzer winner Kevin Carter recently and know there are ethical parallels here.

Matchedge

Players who are competing for spots on Maputo's Matchedge football team celebrate after a morning practice.

Troubled Water

It's essentially the same picture as my last post, I know, but at the Ferry rather than train station. I was out this morning trying to make some contacts for our assignment and get some ideas. One idea that I'd been sitting on that immediately came to mind was photographing at the dump here. People, I've been told, live there including orphans and there is a culture, as in other developing countries, that work by rummaging through garbage. However, I came across a huge obstacle and was able to get out unscathed.

In sort of a Sopranos-like situation, as I was going into the dump, a group of mostly well-dressed young men and a few scruffy guys started heckling me and surrounded me in a circle. Everybody was questioning me, talking at the same time. I could see by the worried looking dump workers in the background that these guys were no good. I think anybody would have had that same "get the hell out of here, now" intuition in this situation. I did get out alright. One of the worried workers came down to me to see if I was okay and told me they were bad guys. It was an adrenaline rush and I'm angry, but I'd still like to get back there sometime to photograph.

It's he aspect of being "out on the street" again as a photographer after years of being an editor that I most dislike. Being harassed or roughed up by police, random strangers, "bad guys," etc is something that was always discouraging to me and took a lot of self-searching to see whether it was all worth it. When I was much younger and gung-ho, it didn't bother me, but as I've matured, married and had children, it does much more. I've been in situations where I've actually gotten hurt.

I realize that I probably sound like a baby, especially considering the much more considerable risks our colleagues (maybe you) are taking covering war and civil strife. But it's still fresh in my mind, and my feelings are still raw.

Train Station

Passengers wait for their train, which has a reputation for being slow and infrequent, at the station in downtown Maputo.

Bath

Maputo Bay– Zé, which translates into "Joe," who only gave his first name, has a morning bath on the beach in Maputo.

Before coming to Mozambique three months ago, I was living in Lisbon, Portugal and had the idea of doing a project the "Marginal," a highway which ran along the Atlantic coast from Lisbon to Cascais. It never materialized although I did photograph a good deal. Upon arriving here, I immediately started spending time on Maputo's much smaller Avenida de Marginal. The attraction the nautical Portuguese had to Lorenço Marques, Maputo's colonial name, is clear. Mozambicans here have a much more spiritual relationship with the ocean that I hope to explore during my time living here.

I know this type of project has been done before, but one thing I've come to terms with over many years is that so has just about everything else. Two similar projects that come to my mind in the States are on Pacific Coast Highway which runs up the coast from California to Washington, and another on U.S. 41 which runs along Florida's west coast. My feeling is that individual points of view and vision produces unique work-like the innovative Romans. If I was more cynical, I'd have tossed my gear into the Indian Ocean after seeing Sebastião Salgado's book Africa which my wife gave me as a Christmas gift. One double edged sword for me in doing projects is that I usually get other ideas (which is good) and become sidetracked, unfocused and distracted (bad). I was good at steering others as an editor, but not so much alone.

The Butchery

Malkerns Valley, Swazliland. A man hangs out in front of a meat store watching the hustle of commuters and vendors. It was my second time in Swaziland which is a break from Maputo with much better roads, cleaner towns and the comfort of being able to speak English rather than Portuguese. My hope is that I can do more work here in the future around their HIV/AIDS problem which is the highest per capita in the world.