This is a guest post from BBC Cameraman and Editor Luke Winsbury. He details his 2009 embed with French Troops in kapisa Province, Afghanistan. It’s an interesting and entertaining look at operating as an embedded journalist with a Foreign Army. To watch the film he made click on this link.
It’s 4am when I’m woken up in a large hangar-come-tent. I’ve barely slept because it’s freezing and there was heavy machine gun fire all night. That makes it 3 nights in a row with barely any sleep. We’re in Tagab, a French forward operating base (FOB) in Kapisa Province, North of Kabul. I have no idea what it looks like because we arrived in darkness and, because the base gets rocketed regularly, it is entirely unlit. You’re not even allowed head torches, except dim red light ones which I’m smugly pleased I have.
Nijrab Base, Northern Afghanistan.
We’re bundled into a VAB (armored vehicle). It’s so totally disorientating when you’re this tired and you have no idea where you are or really what you’re about to face. Not even the red light head torches are allowed at this point. I had taken the decision, much against the advice of the French, to take my full size DSR500 camera on patrol. They wanted to take something smaller but I explained that, like them with their guns, I use a DSR reflexively and quickly.
We travel for about an hour in the dark – and it really is pitch black in the back of the VAB. I use my small A1 camera to get some night vision shots of the soldiers in the back. Their eyes glow green and stare blankly into nowhere. They have no idea I’m pointing a camera at them. Ironically I am the only the one in the back of that thing that gets glimpses of anything.
We’re in a Pashtun area where the French had a three hour contact (Army terminology for a Gun-Fight) the previous week, on a joint patrol with the ANA (Afghan National Army) delivering clothes and medical supplies to the main village of Tagab.
French Troops on patrol near Tagab villiage, Northern Afghanistan.
Emma Jane Kirby, the BBC’s Paris Correspondent, and myself are here to see what the French are up to now in Afghanistan. They’ve had a lot of stick in the past for not doing their fair share in Afghanistan but in the recent years they’ve increased their troop numbers and taken control of the strategically important Kapisa Province, the Northern Gateway to Kabul. We’re with the Chasseurs Alpins (Mountain Hunters), the elite mountain infantry troops of the French Army.
The VAB stops, the back door swings open revealing the half-light of dawn. In my haste to get out and actually see something I make the mistake of not grabbing my spares bag. We know we’re going off on foot but don’t know for how long – could be hours. I start filming but immediately get told to start moving through the village. It has suddenly become very tense – something had changed – I don’t understand what or why. I don’t even have time to grab my spares bag from our VAB. I only have the battery on the camera and the tape inside it then. Idiot. Luckily Emma Jane is already wearing her Radio Microphone.
We’re at the back of the patrol, which is the worst place to be, both for filming and for our safety. The Taliban favour ambush tactics where they divide a patrol into smaller groups and pick them off. Moving through the village you can see how easy this is – all the houses with there walls and ditches could hide anyone.
I start running forward to get shots looking back at the soldiers. We stop a lot behind walls, in ditches, while the route forward is checked. We have to cross open ground quickly and with a low profile. We see few villagers – it’s too early. Dogs are barking.
We end up in a deep ditch running through some fields on the edge of the village, facing the mountains on the edge of the valley. This is where the Taliban hide and this is exactly where the French had a 3 hour gun battle with them last week. There’s a white house about 300m away where the Taliban were hiding so French and ANA troops move cautiously up to it. I suddenly notice the guy in front of me is a US Marine – where did he come from?
Gradually the tension eases. Maybe it’s too early for the Taliban. With this perimeter secured, we make our way back into the village to film the ANA handing out blankets and medical supplies. It’s a chaotic scene, but friendly and full of humour. I roam around freely and feel no threat at all, albeit knowing there are many French keeping an eye on things. I have tea with some of the ANA soldiers, one of those moments of serenity you have to take and it gives me a chance to catch my breath.
Later that evening we return to our main home for the week, the French base at Nijrab, home to about 700 troops. Nijrab is a Tajik area and as such is relatively peaceful. The base is set up on a plateau surrounded by huge snow capped mountains – it is incredibly beautiful. When this country finds peace it will be a haven for climbing, walking and skiing.
French JTAC – Forward Air Controller – in Afghanistan
Our accommodation in Nijrab was a large overflow tent – very basic and very cold – and we had to share it with soldiers passing through. At night the temperatures dropped well below freezing. My Icebreaker thermals were magic – I wore them day and night for days and they still didn’t smell (or perhaps I got used to the smell?)
Over the next few days we go on more patrols with the Chasseurs Alpins but mostly in the safer Tajik areas. One day we go with the JTAC (Joint Terminal Attack Controller – in other words the man who calls in Air-Strikes), climbing high up the side of the valley the French are operating in to secure the high ground and provide cover. Their guns face both ways, into the valley below and high up into the rocky peaks. The French have been discovering increasing numbers of large arms caches recently. The Taliban are relatively inactive during the winter (it is said they go for winter training across the border in Pakistan) – but everyone is predicting a counter-surge from them following the large increase in US troops numbers. The arms caches being found by the French seem to indicate a spring offensive.
Although the French do not see as much ‘action’ as the Americans and British in Afghanistan, it is worth keeping in mind the enormous public opposition in France (about 80% of the population) to their presence there – which must constrain their activities there. It is a democracy after all.
Luke has just returned from another trip to Afghanistan, this time with BBC Newsnight’s Mark Urban, click here to watch the film from kandahar.
Shooting a PTC in Moscow - 2006
I love to film – to capture the moment as it develops. There is though one element of News films that I usually dread shooting – The Piece to Camera or PTC. They often seem contrived and can disrupt the flow of a piece. But we do work in a business where Reporter involvement is seen as crucial to adding gravitas and establishing their authority and credibility. For me the only pieces to camera that really work are those where you are “in the thick of it” – dodging bullets in Afghanistan, at the front of a demonstration or in the middle of a riot. The reality is that these action PTC’s are quite rare and so time and again we are forced to make something from nothing – Bring to life a dull background while still appreciating that Reporters always want to look good – no matter what the circumstances.
There are no golden rules to shooting a good PTC and every situation is different. I’ve put together a short clip reel of PTC’s I’ve shot over the last couple of years and I hope they will give some idea as to how I often try and lift the story with an engaging PTC. I don’t claim that they are all great, but I hope they might give a few ideas to anyone just starting out or looking for some inspiration.
Shooting Pieces to Camera: Some examples of my work from caparkinson on Vimeo.
If I ever see a PTC in front of a sign or against a wall then I want to throw a shoe at the TV. My advice to anyone starting out in News is always to avoid the cliché. Add some movement and make it feel that the Reporter is really in the middle of the action. I love to use foreground, to move past objects and then reveal who is speaking. I don’t buy the argument that claims you should only move for a reason – that it should be motivated? Isn’t a good shot motivation enough ? We are trying to appeal to and grab the interest of viewers bombarded by Hollywood movies and the flashy music videos. Are we going to stick to the old and boring “news style” or we going to grab our viewers and turn them away from the internet by offering new and interesting ways of shooting and editing news.
As always I welcome your feedback and would love it if you post links to some of your own work.
This is genius! Keep watching. . .
Dangerous old lady:
I wander how many of us would have the strength of character to put the camera down in sympathy with striking colleagues?
Bad positioning!
Come on seriously, you saying you’ve never done this?
How many times have you disagreed with the words in a Piece to Camera?
Short but amusing – this is why you shouldn’t run backwards:
This one makes me proud. . . A cameraman shows Ronaldo some of his football skills
Strictly speaking this is a photographer not a Cameraman but it is still awesome. Great to see a celebrity bully get what he deserves. . .
A classic, I’m not sure if it’s for real or not but who cares?
With the World Cup looming, I decided to publish an old blog post here on caparkinson.com that I wrote during the Beijing Olympics. My life was very different then but I hope it will give you a sense of what it’s like to cover a major International sporting event.
I figured if I was lucky I’d get to go to a club once during the Olympics. I was wrong, over the three weeks I was in beijing I managed to make some shapes on various dancefloors and really experience what I have come to regard as the best nightlife in the world. We were working hard but also making the most of a once in a lifetime opportunity.
The time difference between China and the UK was a killer, but on a long organized assignment like the Olympics your mindset is different. There’s not the adrenalin and fear that comes from an Embed with the military or following tribal violence in Africa. Instead you have this overwhelming urge to get out into town and experience the place.
My team was great and we had the perfect Chinese translator. J. was a local who’d lived in the States and knew the sort of good times we wanted to find. Her and her friends were great fun and took us to lots of Beijings most happening Clubs, Bars and Restaurants. There was “8-Block” which was so cool I would never have been allowed in if it had been in London, “The crazy world of Suzy Wongs” a fantastically cheesy meat market which could rival anything in Newcastle or Manchester and “Coco Bananas” with its impromptu firework displays at the bar.
A video I put together after the Games as a way to remember some of the emotions I felt
When you wanted to wind down there was the massage places which are on every corner. . I went twice to one just behind the media village where we were staying. After hard days of filming they were a great way to wind down and let the stress eb away. I can promise though there were no happy endings, I think the girls were on their best behavior!
The highlight of the games for me was the way the Chinese treat anyone tall and blonde like a movie star. I lost count of the number of people asking to have their picture taken with me. The funniest occasion was when I was having dinner with another cameraman who is neither tall nor blonde, while I became the centre of attention in the restaurant swapping email addresses with all at the next table and having my picture taken the whole time he was ignored and sat chewing his noodles in disgust.
I’ll miss China, the friendly people, the amazing food and clubs, the shopping and of course the huge array of beautiful, elegant women. Perhaps being at the Olympics gave a false impression of the place, but it has made a mark on my soul, a mark that I know will not leave in a hurry.
I’m always on the look out for important videos that will help to inform and educate myself and other Cameramen. I felt it was time that I gathered some of the most relevant and interesting in one place for readers of my blog to check out. If you have any others you think should be here then let me know and I’ll post a follow up.
Firstly I wanted to draw attention to the history of our craft. I always imagine that being a frontline Cameraman in World War two must have been even more intense than it is for us today. The battles that much bigger, the chances of being killed that much more. Below is the first clip from a Documentary about the the cameramen of WW2, there exploits and what they saw.
But as we all know, today although the fighting might not be on such a grand scale it can still be intense, nerve wracking and incredibly dangerous. Here is an excellent film by my colleague Robbie Wright that he shot while embedded with the US Marines in Falluja:
The growing problem for all Journalists in todays environment is that we often become a target ourselves, either accidentally or because we are seen as “the enemy”. Below are a number of films that show how quickly we can become targets and how serious this can be. Some of the films are graphic and quite disturbing:
Not all predicaments a cameraman finds him or her self in are life or death. Even in our own countries the Police can turn nasty and arrest you for no reason. The Cameraman below was detained though later the charges were dropped and I understand that the Police Officer was later fired:
And then there are the self inflicted, pointless problems that we sometimes have to face. I still do not understand why the Cameraman in the film below kept following these guys once he had gotten his shots. He was later fired when the footage from a rival network was aired.
And finally the trailer for a film about stills photographer James Nachtwey. An excellent insight into the life and thought process of one of the worlds best known Photojournalists. Enjoy.
I hope these films have given you something to think about. If you have any films that you think I should include in a follow up piece then please comment below.
It’s been a difficult time for race relations in South Africa. The murder of AWB leader Eugene Terreblanche set in motion a bizarre chain of events. We saw swastika waving racists take to the streets of Ventersdorp. A sinister outburst on local network ETV by AWB Spokesman Andre Visagie who threatened his fellow panelist and then, hours later in front of a bank of TV cameras, ANC Youth League President Julius Malema abused BBC Reporter Jonah Fisher calling him a bastard.
All of these incidents immediately made an impact on social networking sites, the video clips quickly went viral and were soon being spoofed to hilarious effect.
Last night I was filming people queuing to buy world cup tickets. After telling people I was filming for the BBC every single person quoted Julius Malema at me jokingly calling me a “bastard” and “a bloody agent”. I think it says a lot about South Africans how quickly they have been able to laugh about all of these incidents and turn them into something funny. In this blog I’m bringing together all of the related video and audio clips, starting with the original incidents themselves and then the spoofs.
The Original ETV studio row:
Jonah Fisher being abused by Julius Malema:
A remix of the Andre Visagie showdown set to MC Hammer:
A video message for Andre Visagie:
Click here for a house remix of the Malema outburst – very funny
My favourite: Hitler discovers that the AWB have cancelled their “machete race war”
To view the film we made on this trip to Akobo, follow this link to the BBC website
The UN airstrip in Juba looked identical to every other UN establishment I’d seen in Africa. A maze of blue Porta-cabins protected by a bored contingent of Asian soldiers – this time Bengalis in their distinctively bright green camouflage. We were traveling to the small town of Akobo in Southern Sudan alongside the NGO Save the Children and the UN Resident Humanitarian Co-ordinator, Lise Grande and her team. They were keen to show us the poor humanitarian situation and flag up a potential famine – a new report says 46 percent of children under five are malnourished.
We all piled into the ex-Soviet era Helicopter that had been painted in UN colours and began our long journey. We followed the Nile out of Juba and then headed East toward the Ethiopian border passing low over huge tracts of desolate scrub and dry river beds. It was a boneshaking two-hour flight but I was next to an open window and kept myself entertained by filming and taking photos.
A view from our UN chopper on the way to Akobo
As we came in to land at Akobo’s makeshift landing strip I filmed the ramshackle mud and straw houses that seemed to make up most of the town.
We had a couple of hours on the ground and were told that the Russian chopper crew had instructions to leave without us if we late – something that both myself and Correspondent Andrew Harding doubted they would do. A fleet of four by fours waited for us by the Air-strip and rushed us off to the Hospital to film malnourished children.
Outside the clinic there was a hive of activity with babies being weighed and food being handed out by harried staff. Screaming kids and scared, hungry looking Mums cued up waiting for their turn to take the handful of high energy bars on offer. I grabbed as many shots as I could before being bustled off to film inside with the kids who were considered to be in the worst state.
Inside I filmed a close up as one baby was given milk via a plastic syringe – his body too wasted to keep anything down. Another, called Dwal, had the glazed, sleepy eyes of someone who has given up hope. After gathering a few shots I left, realizing that my presence was disturbing Dwal who began to wail as if in pain every time I tried to film him.
We then rushed off to film the families who had been forced to flee from recent fighting. 2009 had seen a dramatic surge in ethnic conflict and many displaced families had been forced to flee to the town. We found one family living by the river, sheltering under a tree to keep out of the oppressive mid day sun. Despite their problems they seemed relaxed and friendly and didn’t seem remotely put out by our presence. I discovered that the South Sudanese are generally unphased by TV cameras, a fact that made my job much easier.
Traveling on a speedboat to find IDP’s near Akobo
Time was now short. We had a three PM deadline to meet back at the Airstrip. Having to rush in the heat of South Sudan isn’t good and I was beginning to feel very dehydrated. We hooked up with the local Commissioner – Goi Jooyul Yol, a fascinating guy who had been living in the US for many years – he took us to the local Army base and convinced the Colonel in charge to show us all the guns they had confiscated from the local tribesmen to stop them stealing cattle and abducting children from one another. It was an impressive, if slightly rusty, haul. About 400 weapons, mainly Ak-47′s were piled almost to the ceiling in the old and peeling shipping container.
At three PM exactly we emerged from the Army compound and ran over five hundred meters of rugged waste ground to the waiting Chopper. Sweaty and exhausted I downed a bottle of water and a whole packet of glucose biscuits before throwing myself onto the awkward canvas bench in the back of the Helicopter. It had been a tough day both mentally and physically. As the aircraft took off I dozed awkwardly hoping that our film might be able to expose the problems of the region and help to avert a disaster.
To view the film we made on this trip to Akobo, follow this link to the BBC website
On the same trip to South Sudan we also shot an excellent (if I do say so) election preview film. Unfortunately due to the changing situation in the country our film never had the chance to run in the UK. So that the pictures aren’t lost forever I’ve edited some of my favourite sequences together into a short “voice free” film that I hope will give you a small taste of Southern Sudan:
It doesn’t matter how many times I see this classic TV blooper it still makes me laugh out loud. The look on the guests face when he realizes what has happened is priceless.
A film we made in Cape Town during the run up to the 2009 General Election in South Africa.
As we climbed out of the tiny ten seater aircraft and stepped onto Somali soil I was nervous. We were in territory controlled by the Islamist militia Al Shabab, a group with ties to Al Qaeda and a reputation for beheading those who didn’t agree with them. We were the guests of The World Food Programme who, thanks to their pragmatic approach and willingness to talk with Al Shabab, were still able to operate in the region. Their base was just outside the village of Buale, a surprisingly green and fertile place on the banks of the River Juba. Before we could film anything we had to meet the local Al Shabab Commander – if we started filming without his permission it could mean a death sentence for our team.
With our guards in Somalia. Very nice guys.
We met him in the shade of a small tree, he was a solidly built man with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard and a surprisingly benign look on his face. I’d expected someone terrifying, clutching a Kalashnikov and festooned with grenades. He was friendly and made jokes. I liked him, he seemed like a human being. He agreed to let us film the work of WFP but refused to be interviewed himself or allow us to film his men.
We only stayed around Buale for one day. It seemed safe but we did have twelve armed guards with us at all times. They were local guys, clad in black and casually swinging their AK-47’s like umbrellas. I shared one of the Toyota Pick ups with them, bouncing around and filming the country as it sped past. We were meant to overnight in the town of Wajid but we were forced to change our plans when three men were beheaded there that day. Instead we crossed back into Kenya for the night and then in the morning flew to a town in central Somalia called Dusamareb.
Filming from the back of a Pick-Up. Somalia, June 2009.
Dusamareb is a dusty, drought stricken town that is currently home to the Militia group, Ahlu Sunnah. They, like most Somalis, are Sufi Muslims and as such despise the Saudi inspired Wahabism that Al Shabab represent. We arrived on Independence day and the main square was full of flag waving locals. The women wore bright green and yellow Chadors and the men sang the Somali national anthem. It was perfect for TV and I spent twenty minutes roaming the square filming as much as possible.
We interviewed a number of fighters, all of them were very young, some looking no more than fifteen. It struck me that if you are a bored teenager in a poor, starving country what else is there to do but join a local militia? Carrying a Kalashnikov is like a sign of acceptance, a symbol that you have power and are part of a group. In England we join the local football team here they go and shoot people up. I laughed out loud as one baby faced fighter told us with a smirk on his face that he had single handedly killed one hundred and thirty Al Shabab fighters.
Ahmad and his colleagues from Ahlu Sunnah.
They have a saying in Somalia: “It is good to trust, but it is better not to trust.” My team and I had no choice but to trust the Somalis while we were there. They didn’t let us down, I found them friendly and open people, quick to smile and keen to make sure that as their guest I was comfortable. Although I’m not in a rush to return I do now have a more positive opinion of Somalis and once the country is more stable I will be happy to return.
Into Somalia from caparkinson on Vimeo.
Hugh Masakela is a South African icon. We were lucky enough to be allowed to film him rehearsing for the concert to mark his seventieth birthday in March this year. He was a nice guy and was very chilled about me setting up lights and running all around his studio.
“Hay my friend, why are you taking my picture?” I looked up to see the six Congolese soldiers standing over me; they seemed inquisitive rather than angry. I’d been filming Displaced people carrying their belongings along the road that lead north from Goma in the Eastern Congo, people who had left everything except what they could carry on their backs, desperate to avoid the fighting.
A Congolese Family walking into Goma
It was my first day in the Democratic Republic of Congo and I felt relaxed. I wasn’t taking their picture I assured them just filming the road, I smiled and went to walk away only to find myself surrounded. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, the Commander became more agitated, “Show me the picture,” he shouted, his eyes yellow and bulging from the sockets. He was clearly on drugs and unstable. By now B. our French Security advisor and Jack the local Fixer were with me, they told me to do as he said. I cued the tape back ten seconds and showed him what I’d filmed. It was a low angle shot of the road, heavily laden displaced people filled the frame followed by the silhouette of his unit against the sky. If he had concerns about his face being on International TV he needn’t have worried. He still wasn’t appeased. “Give me the tape,” he screamed, spittle flying in all directions. I hesitated unsure what to do. This was the cue the soldiers were looking for and as one they raised their weapons and stepped back menacingly. My calm left me as all the locals who had been watching inquisitively suddenly ran. They’d seen these guys in action before and knew this was a dangerous situation. I glanced at B. and he nodded at me, “lets give him the tape and get out of here,” he whispered. I popped open the tape compartment and pulled out the cassette handing it over as quickly as I could. He snatched it from me still shouting incoherently in a mixture of French and English. Still he wasn’t happy, he had a point to prove and ordered me into one of our Four Wheel Drive vehicles placing three of his heavily armed soldiers on the back seat behind me. He and another of his men jumped into the other vehicle with the rest of my team. We set off back toward Goma. I had no idea what was happening, where we were going or what I should say.
Mount Nyiragongo as seen from Kibati Refugee camp.
I sat in silence as we drove in convoy. I was afraid to look around at the men behind me. I stole glances in the rear view mirror and was annoyed that one of the men wore British style Commando flashes on his shoulder. I’d been embedded with the Royal Marine Commandos in Afghanistan and resented some of the world’s worst soldiers mimicking some of the worlds best.
After about ten minutes the lead vehicle pulled over and B. got out and ran back to me. “Right” he said, “he’s calmed down now but you need to go and apologize to him, explain it’s your first time here and that you are very sorry. He’s taken a bribe from Jack and just wants to keep face by having you apologize.” I nodded; I was still scared and reluctantly climbed out of the vehicle. The Officer stared hard at me as I approached. I put on my best guilty, apologetic face and apprehensively walked over to him. “Hallo Sir, I’m very sorry for filming you. It was a mistake and I’ll make sure not to do it again.” He nodded and dismissed me with a lazy wave of his grubby hand, trying his best to play the gracious monarch. It seemed to do the trick and the atmosphere began to ease. He decided he was happy now but that we should drop him and his unit back where we found them on the road.
On the return journey the meanest looking of the soldiers in my vehicle began to talk to me. He was a big guy and looked menacing in his wrap around black shades. He spoke to me in Portuguese, I replied in Spanish and we had a surreal conversation as he explained he was Angolan and what a beautiful country it was. By the time we had returned to our start point he was my new best friend, enthusiastically shaking my hand and giving me a thumbs up and a smile. It was only after they’d gone I understood why he was so happy. . . Correspondent Orla Guerin had left her rucksack in the back footwell, when she came to collect it her purse and hundreds of dollars were gone. My first day in the DRC had been an eye opener. This was a country without rules, without law and where you could be killed by anyone at anytime. Welcome to hell I thought as I put the camera on my shoulder and headed into Kibati Refugee Camp.
