The Rwandan Genocide
Up to a million people died before the RPF (some of whose personnel are Hutu) was able to take full control. Unlike the instigators of the killings of Armenians in 1915, and of Jews and Roma in 1941-5, no-one tried to keep the genocide in Rwanda a secret. Journalists and television cameras reported what they saw, or what they found when the genocide was over. There was even a UN force (UNAMIR) in place, monitoring the ceasefire and now obliged to watch as people were killed in the street by grenades, guns and machetes. ('We have no mandate to intervene.' UNAMIR did their best to protect trapped foreigners, until they were pulled out of Rwanda altogether.) But the genocide organisers were conscious of the risks of international scrutiny: over the radio the killers were constantly incited to continue, but 'No more corpses on the roads, please'. Corpses in the countryside were covered with banana leaves to screen them from aerial photography. Although on a large scale, this genocide was carried out entirely by hand, often using machetes and clubs. The men who'd been trained to massacre were members of civilian death squads, the Interahamwe ('those who fight together'). Transport and fuel supplies were laid on for the Interahamwe - even remote areas were catered for. Where the killers encountered opposition, the Army backed them up with manpower and weapons. The State provided Hutu Power's supporting organisation; politicians, officials, intellectuals and professional soldiers deliberately incited (and where necessary bribed) the killers to do their work. Local officials assisted in rounding up victims and making suitable places available for their slaughter. Tutsi men, women, children and babies were killed in thousands in schools. They were also killed in churches: some clergy colluded in the crime. The victims, in their last moments alive, were also faced by another appalling fact: their cold-blooded killers were people they knew - neighbours, work-mates, former friends, sometimes even relatives through marriage. Even aid agencies were helpless; having let into compound or hospital people injured or in flight, they were forced to leave them there. Few survived. Cold blood, with a shot of motivating fear, was what the planners wanted: the Interahamwe weren't fuelled by drink, drugs or mindless violence, but by fanatic dedication to a political cause. There were indeed people stoked-up on drink or hysteria or a manic wish to show they were 'on the right side' ; but when these mavericks began to join in and kill on whim, local administrators called for police assistance: such 'disorderly elements' might derail the genocide programme. The definition of 'genocide' was an international sticking-point. There'd been at least 10 clear warnings to the UN of the 'Hutu power' action, including an anxious telegram from the UNAMIR commander to the then UN Secretary- General (Boutros Boutros Ghali) three months before the event. The UN Security Council met in secret after the start of the violence. At this meeting Britain urged that UNAMIR should pull out (and later blocked an American proposal to send in a fact-finding mission when the death toll had reached six figures). Council members resisted admitting 'that the mass murder being pursued in front of the global media was in fact genocide': genocide involved action no-one wanted to take. Once it was inescapably clear that genocide was indeed going on, it was too late. (The USA had actually banned its officials from using the term. Finally, in June, Secretary of State Warren Christopher grumpily conceded 'If there's any particular magic in calling it genocide, I've no hesitancy in saying that'.) The USA, asked to send 50 armoured personnel carriers to help UNAMIR save what and whom it could before its departure, marked time and then sent the APCs to Uganda. Asked to use its hi-tech skills to get the génocidaire radio off the air, America replied, 'the traditional US commitment to free speech cannot be reconciled with such a measure', on this occasion. France, a backer of most French-speaking African governments, had been backing the genocidal government: it was one of their generals who advised the Hutus to 'improve their image' (hence, perhaps, the order to keep corpses out of the sight of cameras).

Holy shit my world is complete...

http://www.houseofcheese.co.uk/



My whole week of food supply is complete for the week!



My Inspirations...

IMG_587 Captured by Eddie Adams.

 

This image is truly beautiful and it was the image that inspired and made me become the photographer I am today.

 

 

 

 

 

 IMG_645 Captured by

 Oakes, H (Sgt) No 5 Army Film & Photographic Unit






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Robert Capa 1936

 

My name is Joseph Potter, I am 42 years old. I live in Hampstead and my favourite food is cheese. I work as a war photographer. You could say I have experienced a lot of things. I've been to places such as Vietnam and Rwanda, Rwanda... There are a lot of things I could say about that place. My daughter for example, who I saved from Rwanda during the genocide.

This is me...

The day I met the girl of my dreams...

She's stunning, she's kind, she's caring, she's perfect. I've only been on one date with her, but somehow everything about her is truly amazing. the way she looked at you, the way her hair falls perfectly into place, but the things that makes me that knocks me unstable when she walks in the room, is her smile - she can light up the room with it.

When to dinner at my favourite Italian place in town. We both ordered the same food and wine ( I think she was just being polite) and we just had this instant connection, I talked about work, she talked about art.  But she spoke with such grace in her voice, and when I blabbed on about work, she listened with intent, it felt like she really cared about what I had to say. I payed the bill and we left and took a stroll in midnight London. It was truly magical, and there was no one I would rather of spent it with. 

No cars were out, the only sound present was the occasional aeroplane fly past, and we just roamed around the streets just talking, we stayed up for almost the whole night, it was the most magical and surreal moment of my life. This girl isn't like any other girls, she's different, she's unique. And after the date had finished, all that I could think was 'I'm going to marry that girl one day...'

Rwanda... 

I felt bad leaving Meg while she was feeling so ill, but this was such a big opportunity that I just couldn't miss. 

They dropped me in a small village just outside of Kigali, people were already evacuating the village as they had heard that the Tutsi were coming. I was nervous about this one, I've been to so many places before, but this one just seemed, well different. 

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I glanced across the sunken scene and the expressions looked fearful and startled, the village was wrapped in a foggy mist which was perfect for my first photo of the Rwandan Genocide.

I followed the civilians to the next village, there was a hum if shrieks that scattered amongst the people, you could see that each individual had shear fear in their eyes, the panicking bodies scarpered as fast as they could, clutching onto their loved ones, holding them tight. 

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Suddenly there was this massive 'BANG' and there was a crescendo in the shrieks and howls, the running grew faster  and the urgency of the people increased. A big bundle of people formed, some even fell, and didn't get up. We eventually arrived at the next village, but all that was here was the skeletons of dead bodies scattered across the dusted roads. Except the was this girl, this one girl perched next to a women beside a church, holding a slim, delicate extremity which looks like it could have been a hand. I immediately stopped as I was so in ore of this scene that lay ahead of me. I must have stayed there for 10 minutes taking in what I was witnessing. By this time the masses of people had moved on, I had the perfect shot right in front of me, I got my camera out of it's case and walked a few metres forward getting the exact position.  

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I turned back to go back, but a thought passed my mind. I couldn't leave this poor girl stranded in a war zone with no one to look after her. I picked her up and cradled her, trying to reassure her. Up close she looked about 5 or 6 years of age, she was shrivelling to the bone, I'm not sure if that was out of coldness or fear. I turned back, but another thing stopped me a boy a little older than the girl I had now in my arms, standing in the doorway of the church, glaring at me, with his dark brown eyes, that portray hope. What could I have done? Take this boy as well? So I just turned my back and walked away  never looked back for a second.

What was I thinking?

I had just spent most of the night at Jackie's, getting stoned, getting drunk. I came home to find Alex and Simon awaiting my arrival. They were mad, understandably, they were concerned, understandably. And I just acted like I normally do, I always react badly and take offence to anything and everything. The worst thing is that I upset Alex, which I really didn't intend to do, I love her so much and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. But that Simon really pisses me off, I don't really care much for him. 

You see, the only reason I see Jacky and get stoned, is because it's something where I can shut off my past and forget about it and hide away from it. I've done some pretty horrific things, and seen some pretty horrific things, and I'm ashamed of what I've done and I feel the only way to to stop it is to hide from it and try and get high so I can forget about it for at least an hour or so because that hour so means that I can be someone I'm proud of who is worthy of something and actually means something to the world.

The reason why I'm doing this wedding photography is because I'm scared of going back there, ashamed of what I've done; taking bloody pictures of the dying and the suffering, it's sick! But I can't change the past...

She's throwing her life away...

Alex came home today from Kings, however it turns out that she didn't come home from Kings she came home from a bar job after leaving Kings 3 months before. I just want whats best for her and I just feel that she's throwing her life away. She is truly amazing at art and she could really pursue a career in it if she wanted to. The things is, I don't understand why she did it though, I do suppose I'm not her and I don't really understand what it's like to be her. I don't understand why one photo would make her drop out of one of the most prestigious universities.