The Fire Still Burns

Runners wait to begin the Gulf Bank Marathon.

My previous post was about a muse. A famous photographer, a man I’ve never met and will likely never meet again, moved me by the timeless images he's captured and shared with the world. Today, I experienced a different kind of inspiration, from thousands of people dedicating time and energy for a cause which may never directly affect them, and from student philanthropists graciously devoting a weekend to their community. In the midst of the chaos that has followed the presidential election in the states, inspiration like this is rejuvenating. It's a refreshing reminder that people don't always just burn things down; we have something else that burns within us, a desire to help and to love.

The Gulf Bank Marathon was the first 10K I’ve ever run, and yes I know serious runners may give an eye roll to the relatively easy task, but for me it was such an accomplishment. I’ve always struggled with running, I'm short, stocky, and slow, and (as you can see) like to give excuses as to why I can’t possibly go beyond three miles. But today, surrounded by thousands of people in Kuwait who dedicated time and money for Syrian refugees, today pushed me. I ran with people from all over the world: women in abayas, men in tank tops, girls in shorts, and boys in US army gear. We ran through the old souqs in downtown Kuwait, through spice stalls and vegetable stands, through the market awning and into the city streets, snaking our way towards the coastline, revealing a beautiful view of downtown. On more than one occasion, I overheard comments amongst runners of how “this would be the perfect opportunity for an attack to happen”, the size of our group, our location in the world. But regardless of fear, despite where we lived and who could be running with us, we finished together, we enjoyed a beautiful day in the Middle East and shared thanks in our international community.

Pakistani labor workers pose with care packages.

Sweaty and achy-legged, my fiance and I drove after the race to the Pakistani embassy, where we met high school students and a few incredibly supportive parents who had loaded up their vehicles with care packages for labor workers. At around 11:00 am, hundreds of workers congregated near the embassy to stamp their time cards and take a momentary break from a job which gives them little chance for rest and a meager income. In an effort to show value and support for their services, students handed out the packages with a shy smile, a handshake, and a "shukriya". Packages distributed and trunks closed, we gave the girls a quick hug, hopped back in the car, and drove to meet another student group at an urban community garden. This was the first garden of its kind in Kuwait, controversially destroyed over the summer by the Public Authority for Agriculture Affairs & Fish Resources. Students had found the opportunity to rebuild the garden and intrinsically volunteered to get their hands dirty, many of them working for the first time in horticulture. They clumsily dug, asked questions about the functionality of composting and irrigation systems, and conspired to bring the garden back to life.

These types of inspiration amaze me at the capabilities of the human spirit in spite of the negativity that swaths our media, and is an encouraging reminder of the lengths people are willing to go for a humanitarian or environmental cause that they may never see the impact of. It's a pleasant realization that however small the individual effort, community collaboration makes change happen. Last summer I was talking to my soon to be mother-in-law—a recently retired general of the National Guard and another incredible inspiration— and she posed an interesting thought…what if the media conducted a socio-psychological experiment for a week, one week alone, on sharing only stories of inspiration and hope? Would this affect our anxieties, our struggles with depression, our own search for meaning and love for our common humanity? Or would we become disinterested, flipping channels and skimming through social media for the latest drama or disaster? Could we encourage more hope, and inspiration, if we actively shared more stories like today?

A high school student replants lettuce in a destroyed garden bed at The Secret Garden in Salmiya. 

An Evening with a Great: Don McCullin →

It is often difficult to put into words the feeling of inspiration... what sticks in your gut, touches your soul, and enlivens you to keep searching. It's the energy you get after a 10-hour day, when you have to wake up at 5am the next, but regardless get home late and keep doing the thing that drives you. Tonight, I had the honor and privilege of watching Don McCullin speak at the Xposure film festival in Sharjah, and write this in a cloudy spell of awe in my hotel room. Don is a handsome man in his 80's, cleanly shaven with a sharp suit, and wears the solemn face of a person who has seen it all.  His honesty and ability to openly express himself is what moved me, often tormented by the decades of war and human psychosis he has witnessed through photography. I don't find often that you are able to glimpse into someone's soul in such a way, especially in a room with one-hundred other people. An image that stands out in my mind is of Don editing rolls of film in his dark room, these morose photographs of humanity, isolating himself from the rest of the world to grieve; to slay himself in the dark while giving into the somber symphonies of the classical music he listens to with each edit. What intensely personal, meditative moments to share with us. But perhaps for him it is salvation in witnessing so much sadness, and helps him wash away the dirtiness he described feeling after coming home from assignments. 

I'm not alone in wondering what it is that continues to drive war photographers, if they are simply adrenaline junkies, if they're slightly twisted, and if they are actually invested in the human struggle. Why put yourself in danger? What's wrong with someone who can visually portray the most horrific moments with elegance? Don explained that to compose a photograph in these situations one cannot be rejected by the horror; you cannot view these images in comfort, but to do justice to the scene each moment should be shown with dignity, with practice and grace. Where video crews are able to get quick bits of information that flash before a screen and are gone, and have the tendency to be viewed as media entertainment, still-photographs can penetrate information. Photographs have the potential to stew in your mind and can effect your thinking about the world you live in. Don's path was always driven by his love for photography, and I will quote this, because I often struggle with the same feeling for purpose: "My biggest fear is to do something without passion." In his self-deprecating manner, Don repeated he does not believe he's impacted the world--that it's more doomed now than ever before, and to me that comment is really what struck. If that's the case, this dark life of his, arguably, may have been for what purpose? To counter that, though, I like to hope he's given the public information to come to a better common existence as we grow to understand what we're capable of. An incredible man with an incredible story, I'm thankful for tonight. 

A shell-shocked US Marine in the Battle of Hue, 1968, Don McCullin