It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War (42 page)

Eventually the story of Syrian refugees took me back to northern Iraq, to Erbil, where I had spent my first night in the country a decade earlier to cover the war between the United States and Iraq. Instead of driving across the jagged, snowcapped mountains between Iran and Iraq, I flew into a glassy, modern airport in Erbil and presented my passport at immigration to a pretty young Iraqi Kurdish woman with long, wavy hair and nails painted red.

“Have you ever been here before?” she asked, looking through a passport that was a stamped testament to so many memories in so many countries.

“Yes,” I responded, smiling. “But a lot has changed. I was here ten years ago—in 2003.”

“Welcome,” she said. “You have a two-week visa.” Iraqi Kurdistan was one of the few places in the Middle East that welcomed Americans.

I exited the airport to a familiar burst of dry, convectionlike, one-hundred-plus-degree heat and looked around for Tim, the correspondent I would be working with for the
Times
. He was there, wearing a Yankees baseball cap, and behind him stood Waleed, the driver with whom I had endured the kidnapping in Fallujah in 2004. He looked older, his gray hair and mustache now dyed black but faded into a black-red henna tint, his large frame still tall but slightly gaunt. He threw his arms around me and laughed a big laugh.

“Habibti!” (My dear!)
“So happy to see you again.”

I squeezed Waleed tightly, grateful to see a familiar face and a friend after many years. I wondered about the toll Iraq’s sectarian violence had taken on him and his family. How many friends and family members had he lost? Over the ever-present kebab, Waleed ran down the list of fellow
Times
employees from 2003 and 2004 and rattled off where they were now: Basim, Canada; Zaineb, Canada; Ali, Michigan; Jaff, New York. The ongoing war had disassembled Iraqi society, scattering lives and friends across the Atlantic, across continents.

As we raced toward the Syrian border, my mind slipped back to 2003, to who I was then: a young woman who wanted nothing more than to travel the world and to document the stories of people and their hardships. I was insatiable in my quest to document the truth with my photographs and threw myself into the midst of any situation without regard for the consequences, believing that if my intentions were pure and I focused on my work, I would be OK. Though I still work with the same dedication, I have grown more cautious with every brush with death, with every friend lost. Somewhere along the way my mortality began to matter.

 • • • 

A
T THE
S
AHELA BORDER
crossing, six hours northwest of Erbil, four thousand Syrian Kurds snaked around the desert valleys along a dirt road connecting the two countries. I ran up a gravelly hill, oblivious to the Mine Action Group marker denoting an area once ridden with land mines, in search of a clearer view of the border crossing. I put my camera to my eye and through my long lens watched the colorful shuffle of thousands of refugees from a distance.

The biblical scene took my breath away. It was a different war, another war, and another population displaced by fear and death. The Iraqi Kurds were no longer fleeing by the thousands from Saddam but welcoming Syrians fleeing their own civil war. I photographed families escaping with whatever belongings they could carry on their backs, the elderly hobbling along the uneven road, glistening with sweat, as young mothers and fathers carried their children in their arms. I wondered what it would be like to have to flee with Lukas. I ran down from my perch on the hill and walked into the road, wading amid the refugees as they neared the first checkpoint manned by Iraqi Kurds. I photographed wide as they approached, their shoulders sometimes brushing mine, and every few minutes I lowered my camera from my eye and offered a big “Salaam!” to the endless stream of refugees.

Many smiled back, calling me by my title: “Sahafiya.” Journalist. It is who I am. It’s what I do.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For almost two decades, I have weaved in and out of lives across continents, and the material in this book would not have been possible without the help of so many. From my parents, whose impassioned encouragement to follow my heart and dreams sent me out into the world, to the editors, photographers, and journalists who have taken me under their wings along the way, I am forever grateful to all of you. A countless number of men, women, and children around the world have so bravely opened their most intimate moments to me and my camera: I can only hope that your generosity, resilience, and candor will help provide fortitude and inspiration to others the way they have to me.

I could never acknowledge the names of everyone, but here are a few:

Bebeto Matthews, for teaching me how to read light, the art of patience, the poetry of photography. Joan Rosen, for seeing my determination that day at the Associated Press in New York. And Reggie Lewis, for waking me up every morning in New York City in the wee hours with an assignment in the 1990s. An additional thank-you to Barbara Woike, Aaron Jackson, Cecilia Bohan, Beth Flynn, Jessie DeWitt, Jim Estrin, Patrick Witty, and Paul Moakley.

The
New York Times
is one of the greatest journalistic institutions in the world; it puts out some of the best reporting and photography of the highest standards, and I have been honored to enjoy a professional home at the paper as a freelance photographer over the past thirteen years. Bill Keller: You had the courage to call my parents three times to tell them you weren’t sure I would make it out alive, and now, as a mother, I can’t fathom how tough those calls were to make. I was able to cover the stories I believed needed to be covered in war zones only because of your steadfast commitment to those on assignment for you—whether staff or freelance. I thank assistant managing editor for photography Michele McNally for being a passionate and dedicated photo editor and surrogate mother when I am in the field—you never tire of fighting for those difficult images that are tough to look at and even tougher to find their way into print. David Furst: I will forever appreciate your enthusiasm and commitment to good photography and ensuring that it gets onto the pages of the paper.

David McCraw, William Schmidt, Bill Keller, Susan Chira, Michele McNally, C. J. Chivers, David Furst, and others who worked relentlessly to get me, Tyler Hicks, Anthony Shadid, and Stephen Farrell released in Libya: I will never know how to express my gratitude.

Kathy Ryan, for believing in my eye, and for ushering me into the world of magazine photography and feature stories. Year after year, you encourage me to be a better photographer, to think outside the box, to conceptualize stories in different ways. You are a dear friend and a brilliant, visionary editor.

Kira Pollack, Mary Ann Golon, Jamie Wellford, Alice Gabriner: I treasure our friendships and professional relationships. I have been so fortunate to work with each of you since the beginning of my career, to publish important stories together, to build enduring friendships, and to share in so much laughter.

To the team at
National Geographic
, who offer me the opportunity to work with one of the greatest photographic magazines in the world and who continue to push me to tell long-form stories with photographs: Sarah Leen, Ken Geiger, Elizabeth Krist, and Kurt Mulcher, and to David Griffin, who first brought me into the magazine. A special thank-you to those at the National Geographic Society, who include me in such prestigious company for lectures and exhibitions: Andrew Pudvah, Katherine Potter Thompson, Bob Attardi, Kathryn Keene, Jen Berman, and Melissa Courier.

The people and foundations who have generously given me grants to support long-term projects, and who have exhibited my work: the Nobel Peace Center, Open Society Foundation, Getty Images Grant for Editorial Photography, Ellen Stone Belic Institute for the Study of Women & Gender in the Arts & Media, Visa pour l’Image, Overseas Press Club, United Nations Population Fund, The Library of Congress, and Art Works Projects. A special thank-you to Aidan Sullivan, Leslie Thomas, Jean-François Leroy, Sonia Fry, Christian Delsol, and Jane Saks.

One of my life’s great honors has been the MacArthur fellowship: I am so grateful to the MacArthur Foundation for recognizing my work and rewarding me with the gift of freedom to follow stories I believed in during the fellowship. This book would not have been possible without your support.

To James Salter: Thank you for your eloquence, and for allowing me to reproduce a passage from
A Sport and a Pastime
.

Donovan Robotham: I appreciate our longtime friendship and working relationship. You kept my finances organized, even when there weren’t any finances to organize!

The two greatest travel agents in the world, who make themselves available at all hours for obscure destinations: Elif Oguz at Bedel Tourism in Turkey, and Ashu at Sadhana Travels in New Delhi. You have helped get me everywhere I needed to be, when I needed to be there.

The organizations that do important and fearless work around the world and support me in the field: Médecins Sans Frontières, United Nations Population Fund, The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, and Save the Children.

The men and women in uniform from the U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines: You have helped keep me alive while navigating hostile terrain, and provided great company and a slice of home when we were anything but close to home. Lieutenant Colonel Bill Ostlund, Major Dan Kearney, and the men of 173rd Airborne, Battle Company: Thank you for your hospitality and your courage, and for trusting the integrity of our work. You enabled our uncensored view of life on the front lines in the Korengal Valley and our ability to witness and record the brutality of the war in Afghanistan. Sergeant Larry Rougle, may you rest in peace. Major Jason Brezler, USMC: Thank you for caring deeply about Afghanistan and its people, and for letting me accompany you on that ride in Nowzad.

A big thank-you to the kick-ass women in uniform who were working on the front lines of war well before women were allowed on the front lines: Captain Emily J. Naslund, USMC; CW3 Jesse Russell; Lieutenant, Nurse Corps, USN Amy Zaycek; Commander (CDR) Rupa J. Dainer; and Master Sergeant Julia Watson.

All the brave and dedicated interpreters and drivers: I could not have reported or photographed a single story without you. In Afghanistan: Jamila and Saida Emami, Arif Afzalzada, Abdul Waheed Wafa, and Zeba Alem. In India: Jaideep Deogharia, Abhra Bhattacharya, Pradnya Shidore, and Vinita Tatke. In Iraq: Sarah Aldhfiri and Sami al Hilali. The
New York Times
crew in Iraq, including Abu Malik, Warzar Jaff, Zainab Obeid, Qais Mizher, Husham Ahmed, Waleed al Hadithi, Khalid Hussein, Ayub Noori, and Yerevan Adham; in Lebanon, Hussein Alameh and Waled Kurdi; in Sierra Leone, Hawa Cawker; and in Sudan, Waleed Arafat Ali.

Sebnem Arsu, Lubna Hussein, Leena Saidi, Ranya Khadri, Sarah Aldhfiri—my female pillars in the region: I simply adore you. You make every assignment in Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Jordan, and Iraq fun, and feel like home.

To Tyler Hicks, my friend, a tireless, talented, principled photojournalist: Thank you for your companionship and encouragement during those dark days in Libya. Those small gestures pulled me through. Stephen Farrell and Anthony Shadid: Thank you for staying calm and centered, for finding humor in the bleakness, and for being strong and focused in Libya long enough to prevent our imaginations from running wild with the possibility of doom.

To all my colleagues who have provided the best company in the field and who have grown into family over the years: Ivan Watson, Samantha Appleton, Moises Saman, Tyler Hicks, João Silva, Michael Robinson Chavez, Michael Goldfarb, Spencer Platt, John Moore, Franco Pagetti, Michael Kamber, Quil Lawrence, Bryan Denton, Nichole Sobecki, Paula Bronstein, Kate Brooks, Stephanie Sinclair, Ruth Fremson, Anastasia Taylor-Lind, Carl Juste, Opheera McDoom, Newsha Tavakolian, and Thomas Erdbrink. And Monique Jaques—thank you for always being there to organize my life and images. A special thank-you to Bryan Denton, Michael Goldfarb, Kursat Bayhan, Chang W. Lee, Bruce Chapman, and Landon Nordeman for sharing your pictures with me for this book.

The photographers at VII Photo Agency: It has been a privilege working with and being affiliated with all of you. You helped me grow as both a photographer and an artist.

I am so honored to have worked with so many brilliant correspondents, some of whom have had the great misfortune of suffering repeated 5 a.m. wake-ups while I searched for the golden morning light: Lydia Polgreen, Dexter Filkins, Tim Weiner, Alissa Rubin, Rod Nordland, Carlotta Gall, Ann Barnard, Jim Yardley, Elisabeth Bumiller, Sabrina Tavernise, Anthony Shadid, Kirk Semple, Richard Oppel, Bobby Worth, Kareem Fahim, Joe Klein, Aryn Baker, Anthony Loyd, Sara Corbett, Andrea Elliott, Jon Lee Anderson, and Marion Lloyd.