ZORIAH - A PHOTOJOURNALIST AND WAR PHOTOGRAPHER'S BLOG: February 2009

« January 2009 | Main | March 2009 »

February 2009

February 27, 2009

Kenya Famine - Refugees Wait for Food Vouchers

Zoriah_kakuma_refugee_camp_famine_aid_irc_international_rescue__2_20090127_3958

Women in the Kakuma Refugee camp in northern Kenya wait in line for food vouchers which will allow them larger quantities of food for their families.

Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

February 24, 2009

Catacombs of Paris - The Real French Underground

Deep below Paris’ winding streets lies a vast network of subterranean tunnels and caverns stretching more than 300 miles/777 kilometers. Formerly mines and quarries, the catacombs became a dumping ground for human remains in 1786 when Paris’ cemeteries began to overflow from generations of the dead. The catacombs have had many uses over the centuries, including housing members of the French Resistance and a German bunker during World War II.

Now Paris’ Catacombs are explored by small groups of urban adventure seekers and partiers called Cataphiles. They illegally descend into the tunnels to explore, dig, take part in parties — some of which last for days — and place new art and graffiti on the walls. Entering through the city's sewer systems, metro tunnels and other secret entrances begins a game of cat and mouse between the Cataphiles and the French police unit tasked with patrolling the tunnels, the Catafics.

For years I have wanted to explore the Catacombs of Paris but have not been able to get access, as it is even very difficult for most Parisians to get connected with a group willing to take them into the tunnels. On a trip last year I met up with a group of Cataphiles who offered to bring me into their world and allow me to photograph a two-day descent into the Catacombs.

We met late on a Friday night at a house party in central Paris. A five story climb led to an old apartment packed so full of people it took them two minutes to shift themselves around to get the front door open and allow us in. Everyone at the party knew one another and most of them were Cataphiles, although our group for the evening only consisted of eight people.

At midnight, the group met outside and reviewed their maps and made an equipment check, as broken flashlights, lack of food and water, and a host of otherwise minor inconveniences can be disastrous in the underground maze. When everything was sorted out we hopped on the final train of the night to the outskirts of Paris.

A manhole cover leads to a ladder descending deep under the streets of Paris and into the Catacombs.

A Cataphile crawls through a dangerous, narrow passageway leading to a secret corridor and tomb within the Catacombs.

A corridor filled with human remains.

Cataphiles’ headlamps illuminate a passageway as they navigate through the deep water sometimes found in the Catacombs.

Human bones and skulls litter a tunnel floor.

Cataphiles consult a map in a secret room deep within the catacombs. Many rooms are decorated with candle chandeliers, which the Cataphiles place fresh candles in and light for the next group that may discover the room.

A close-up of a map of the Catacombs showing a web of corridors and rooms. Maps are made and updated by the Cataphiles and placed on secret websites distributed within the community.

A group of Cataphiles break from exploration to drink wine, listen to music, cook dinner over an open fire and talk with others whom they have met underground.

A fire-breather performs during an underground party.

A magician performs a card trick for partygoers.

The mud and water-soaked exploration boots of a group of Cataphiles.

Several groups of Cataphiles meet up in an underground chamber for an impromptu underground party.

A catacomb guide, identified by a mobile phone attached to computer speakers hanging from his neck. Guides, who work illegally and without pay because they love the Catacombs, play music and dance through the tunnels, leading groups of varying numbers through the intricate maze of corridors and chambers.

A Cataphile illuminated by his headlamp.

Skull shaped candle holders carved into the wall of an underground chamber.

Carvings indicating the date of one of the tunnels. Dates, street names, intersections and other information dating back centuries are carved into the walls of the Catacombs.

A Cataphile consults a map, illuminated by a small fire.

Graffiti art has been a tradition in the Catacombs dating back to the 18th century. Cataphiles uphold this tradition by painting on and carving into the tunnel walls and leaving tracts, drawings, information and humor that they hide in various places for each other to find and collect. In this photo, a graffiti artist sprays new work onto one of the walls. He agreed to have his photo taken only if his face was hidden.

Spray paint cans scattered on the floor as a new mural is painted on the tunnel walls. Cataphile ethics require individuals and groups to remove all their garbage from the tunnels when they leave and overall these guidelines are followed.

A fresh mural painted on a Catacomb wall.

One of hundreds of paintings on the rock walls of one of the tunnels.

A mural on one of the walls.

A Cataphile scales the walls of an underground corridor in hopes of discovering secret passageways or entrances.

Cataphiles sleep in a hidden chamber deep within the Catacombs after exploring and partying overnight

Post Script: If you believe in independent journalism, please support it! This blog can not and will not be able to continue without your support. Don’t assume someone else will do it.

Please consider a paid subscription to this blog! Paid subscriptions are the best way to ensure I can continue to do my work!

$25 Per Month Subscription

Permalink | Comments (138) | TrackBack (0)

February 22, 2009

Not Newsworthy!

In preparation for some upcoming public and television appearances and to cheer myself up about spending three weeks on the Gaza border and still not being allowed in, I went to a barber today. I have been cutting my hair myself, with a couple of exceptions, for the past ten or more years, using a little portable electric razor I keep in bag. I think I do a pretty good job but have been told otherwise by people close to me! Anyway, the point is that I decided to go to a real barber shop today and was quickly reminded why it is a truly terrible idea to get your hair cut by someone with which you have a language barrier! "Only trim the back" and "not too much" obviously mean something different in Arabic, possibly "just hack away at it however you like, I want to look like an Egyptian pop star please." It was a good reminder that I need to keep up with my Super Arabic Audio Course lessons. I look like the owner of a Flowbee. Now I sit here on my laptop, waiting for my ear to stop bleeding, wondering what in the world wondering if I should take out my trusty old shaver and shave everything off or invest in a good hat. So, for all of you who have wanted me to share more personal information on this blog, there you go...now you wont ask again!

And please do not ask me post pictures of what used to be my hair! If you really want to see it, you can come and see me speak at the Massachusetts School of Law on March 7th and 8th. I will post more information about that soon.

Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

February 19, 2009

Brick Making - Kakuma Refugee Camp, Kenya

A refugee who recently arrived at the Kakuma refugee camp makes bricks in order to build a home for his family.

Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBack (0)

February 18, 2009

My Life – February, 2009 - Al Arish, Egypt

I have been in the small town of El Arish in northern Egypt for more than two weeks now. It was not my intention to spend my time here, but to cross into Gaza to work on several projects.

I left Kenya the first part of February after receiving information from the U.S. Embassy, the Egyptian government and press ministry that they would give me permission to cross into Gaza. I purchased a ticket for the first flight out of Nairobi and flew with a high fever that I first thought could be malaria.

Arriving in Cairo at 9:00 a.m. after a six-hour flight, I had to make it to the U.S. Embassy by 11:00 to get a waiver that basically said that I am taking my life into my own hands and do not hold the U.S. government responsible. They charge $30 for this piece of paper and it took three hours in a waiting room to have it drafted up. It's funny that I have to pay to get a letter that says that the people who gave me the letter are refusing to help me if I should get into trouble — couldn’t we just skip this step and if I do get into trouble they can just not show up?

From the embassy I had one hour to make it to the Egyptian Press Ministry, where I received special permission to cross into Gaza. At this point I had exactly 48 hours to make it to northern Egypt and cross the border before it closed indefinitely. It was a hard decision because I knew that if I did have malaria, I would have been entering a country where I wouldn’t be able to get medical care and wouldn’t be able to leave for an indefinite period of time. Having missed the second and last bus of the day, I was stuck in Cairo for the night.

I found a cheap hotel, dropped my bags and went in search of a doctor. Forty five minutes into my search, I was too weak to keep walking so I went into a pharmacy and stocked up on all the antibiotics and medications I thought I may need, returned to my hotel and passed out for 15 hours of fever-induced dreaming.

The next morning I sucked it up and made the nine-hour journey to the Egypt/Gaza border, only to find out that they had decided to close it one day early, just two hours before I arrived. Once again I stood in front of the locked gate at the Rafah crossing, with my mind churning over everything I had gone through to make it there, only to be shut out once again.

Al Arish is about a 30-minute taxi ride from the Rafah crossing and is the place where journalists and aid workers go when they can't get access to Gaza. It is a plain little town with ragged concrete buildings, garbage strewn in the streets and all of the other qualities that make it completely indescernable from most other small, poor towns in the Arabic world.

The one thing Arish has going for it is its beach, which brings tourists from Cairo during the summer months, and one or two stranded journalists during off months. The Mediterranean here is clear and shows off various shades of blues, even with its trash filled shores, it is much nicer than central Arish, where the sound of horns honking keeps you awake all night long.

I rented a two-bedroom apartment with satellite, hot water, a washing machine, full kitchen and two decks, one of which looks out onto the sea — all for a whopping $9 a night. Granted, no $9-a-day beachfront property is complete without a few quirks, like the shower only working while the toilet is being flushed, requiring me to keep my foot outside, periodically pressing the flush handle while the rest of me bathes. Trash is not picked up in this neighborhood, so it is thrown off balconies onto the beach, which does not seem to bother the locals who walk through it and play in it all day.

My days are primarily spent editing on my computer. I lie on my bed, listen to music mixed with the sound of the waves and try to catch up on the never-ending process of editing photos. I have work going back four or five years, which I still have not even looked at, so I have plenty to keep me busy. Each morning I wake up and call my contact at the border, who now laughs when he hears my voice, telling me that I am the only person who still calls him and has not given up on the border opening.

My other priority is my health, which is my most important tool for this work. I have recovered from my fever but am still a bit weak, which is not OK with me. I run on the beach twice a day and spend two hours, six days a week at the local gym. In between the editing, exercising, trekking to the Internet café and sleeping, I eat a lot of tuna fish and fruit (oranges are in season here and are excellent) trying to get myself back in shape.

I will continue to wait for the border to open for one more week, then I must head to Paris and Stockholm for some meetings and interviews, then to the United States, where I will be doing a couple weeks of lecturing and opening a new exhibition.

Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack (0)

WWW.ZORIAH.COM

SUBSCRIBE

Direct Links

Other Sites

Top Posts

Photojournalism Workshops

My Favorite Photojournalists

My Favorite Photographers

Published In:

SADR CITY

Lectures

Support Independent Journalism

A RETURN TO BAGHDAD ER

Available Workshops: Location Tailored to Interest

Biography

THE RED ZONE

Rights and Usage

Become a Fan

February 2009

February 27, 2009

February 24, 2009

February 22, 2009

February 19, 2009

February 18, 2009

Workshops

Support Independent Journalism

Support/Donate!

Zoriah's Twitter Updates

One-time donation

:: ZORIAH'S :: PORTFOLIO

Testimonials

THE RED ZONE

Support Zoriah: PayPal DONATION

Link Back Button

Counter

Workshops with Zoriah