‘As a human you can always establish some kind of communication. We explained our mission. And they helped us film the area and explained the story. When we wanted to leave they refused to let us go back. They insisted we stay for food. They said no guest could leave without food. They were passionate and determined, and I agreed to stay. They had nothing – just water and green tea. One of them ran away to search the nearest village for some food. He came back 30 minutes later with some giant, thick brown Afghani bread, freshly baked. They prepared a picnic for us with the green tea. These people had started out scared and distant, thinking we were enemies, but ended up so excited to have been able to give their guests something to eat, with pride. When I returned to the area a week later I took some small things for the guards. They were offended that I thought the relationship was reciprocal and refused the gifts.
‘It taught me the value of being a guest and behaving like a guest in a country. If you are a guest and walk into a country like an invader, or as someone who is trying to explore without human interaction, you will never be received with open arms.
‘We went to visit an opium field. I took a camera to film the flowers – white flowers with random red flowers. They were very beautiful. I was sitting in the field filming when two people come out with their AK-47s slung around their shoulders. It was clear that this was the first time they had seen a camera. The US forces had recently announced that they were going to begin a programme to get rid of the poppies, and they thought our camera was a machine to clear their fields. At that point I was joined by my translator and driver, who told them we were a television crew. But they had never seen a TV, let alone a camera crew. They saw only hostile people.
‘More people came and they were tense and armed. Our translator came close to me, he was shaking. He was from a different tribe, but had overheard what they were saying. They were talking about killing us and then throwing us in a river nearby. He was a Tajik in a Pashtun land. I told him to tell them we were Muslims. In order to kill someone, you need to establish emotional distance from the victim. I was appealing to a shared relationship with Allah. They disagreed with us; for them our Western clothes showed we were non-believers. We apologized for not having the correct clothes. We didn’t engage in a debate about what was right and wrong; we said sorry. I recited some Koran…some common prayer every Muslim learns as a child. They were shocked. They needed to know we were bad, an enemy, and now they could see we were speaking like them. Then they asked about the weapons – the cameras. I told them we were there to show their story. I turned the camera and showed them the pictures of themselves. They started laughing and then we asked them to tell us their story. They changed their attitude, so we asked them how they could be Muslims and plant poppies that were damaging the lives of so many people. Then the situation switched, and they were apologizing. They explained the economics of the wheat versus poppies. Then we had a discussion about opium versus hunger. They invited us for lunch and told us all about their world.
‘Instinct is not just preparing and second-guessing what might happen before you get there…it is also what you do when danger comes to you. Be confident.
‘In the Kurdish areas they did not like Al Jazeera. We came across a group of angry people all upset to see the well-known symbol on our Land Cruiser. We were surrounded and in trouble. In a confident manner I opened the door and spoke to them directly, looking into their eyes. I told them we were there to tell their story – to help them. I questioned them confidently, aren’t you ashamed of yourselves for obstructing the story? They backed off and apologized.
‘If you feel fear, that is when you are facing danger. You must keep solid and stand strong and not to allow whoever is attacking you to see hesitation.
‘The final lesson is the most important. I was in Sulimaniya in northern Iraq in a place called Jomaa Islamiya on the Iran–Iraq border. It was the first place bombed by the US in Iraq in 2003. I wanted to go and cover the story. I had a very brave driver, a Kurd. When we arrived there the Kurdish Peshmerga – the leading local militia – were camping. They stopped us. There were dozens of Western and Arab journalists there, watching the bombing from a distance…a very long way away. The bombing had finished and they were still saying it was dangerous. The Kurds reluctantly let me through the checkpoint. They said I went at my own risk. There was another blockade near the village, and another three or four Peshmerga. We asked for permission to pass. The men were angry and they thought the media were hostile. They could see their base had been bombed. I said we can go there and listen to your people, take your voice to the world and explain what is happening. Or we will go back and narrate your story from a distance. So they agreed we could go ahead. We found 30 bodies in the camp. Villagers had just arrived to take them for burial, and we were the only TV crew there. We interviewed the local leader, and then we retreated to the area where the rest of the press was waiting with the Kurdish militia.
‘Everyone was asking us what we had seen. I remember one of my colleagues was an Australian journalist, and he was the last person to speak to me before we hurried back to the bureau to send the pictures. We were only a few hundred metres away when a bomber in a car arrived at the checkpoint and blew himself up. It killed the Australian and injured many other journalists who were there. That bomb was not meant to go off there, but it did. You can get bombed by either side during a war – by mistake or on purpose. Never think you are safe. You never know who your real enemy is. You can never really know where the safe area is. You need courage in your convictions. But never feel you are safe.
‘You believe it – you do it. But before you do anything you should be willing to pay the price. There are certain stories that are important because they can shape the future…you feel the importance of these stories. They deserve courage, determination. I don’t think we should put our lives in danger for something the world will not notice.
‘I have faith that if fate comes, it comes. And there are no guarantees either way.’
Acknowledgements/
If ever there was a book that was the sum of its parts, this is it. I cannot thank enough all the people who contributed, whether in name or behind the scenes. You are all street-smart geniuses. Never mind a war zone, I would carry you in my bag everywhere I went if I could.
Chris Cobb-Smith has acted as my personal encyclopedia of all survival knowledge. There’ll be a crisp, cold lager waiting for you at the Windsor Castle whenever you want one, Chris – thank you.
And I am especially grateful to Mark Brayne, psychotherapist and former BBC correspondent (www.braynework.com), whose invaluable work with trauma and journalism forms the backbone of chapter 15.
I am indebted to Kathy Rooney for her faith in both me and the idea for this book. And to Nigel Newton and the rest of the Bloomsbury team for their ability to see past my terrible driving and lectures on the delights and doldrums of Doha to a potential author lurking inside. It has been a fantastic privilege to watch Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation Publishing grow from seed and now be a part of it.