AT THE SAHELA 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.