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Ever since the Libyan uprising began last February, the small Mediterranean island of Malta which I call home has been a vital cog in the vast humanitarian machine in operation. It started as an evacuation hub for thousands of people and then became a critical transit point for humanitarian aid. Several months later, Malta continues to play its part.

I got the call from The Times news editor to head to Malta’s international airport VIP lounge around lunchtime, to photograph Shwejga Mullah arriving on the island for medical treatment. Shwejga Mullah is the Ethiopian nanny who was recently discovered weak and alone in the home abandoned by deposed Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi’s son Hannibal. It’s been reported that Hannibal’s wife Aline threw boiling water over her, causing horrific scald burns and scars, when she did not stop his daughter from crying and refused to beat the child.

As she was being brought over in a private plane chartered by the Maltese government, there wasn’t going to be any need to shoot on a long lens from outside the airport perimeter fence. The government officials wanted to show the world that Malta was still playing a crucial humanitarian role in the Libya crisis. We would be allowed right up to the foot of the stairs of the aircraft, so just 2 camera bodies, one with a 70-200mm lens and the other with a wide angle would be necessary. This was what all the other photographers were doing.

But this was one of those instances in which a persistent voice in my head kept telling me I was going to need something longer. So, I decided to take my 6kg (13 pound) 400mm f/2.8 lens with me.

The arrival of the plane kept being pushed further back. What should have been a fifteen minute wait soon stretched into a three hour wait.

When the aircraft finally arrived, it taxied to a spot on the apron right in front of us. We all prepared to move to the foot of the stairs as soon as the engines stopped, when suddenly, some security officers decided we couldn’t approach any closer. They said they hadn’t been consulted regarding our photo position, though for three hours we’d been told the exact opposite.

My gut feeling paid off – I was the only one in a position to get good quality shots of Shwejga as she was slowly helped off the plane and walked to a waiting ambulance. Sure, you can always crop an image, but the loss in quality often renders the image unusable.

Important lesson learned; if your gut feeling tells you you’re going to need a particular piece of your camera kit even when reason tells you otherwise, follow your gut feeling even if it means lugging around extra heavy equipment for a few hours.

Once she boarded the ambulance, everyone decided “to hell with the security guards” and started running forward, creating a scrum around the ambulance door trying to get an image of some sort. Personally, I’ve always felt that once a patient is inside an ambulance, then they’re entitled to their privacy and should be left alone. I was somewhat disgusted at the pushing and shoving taking place, though I can understand the pressure my colleagues would have been under to get a usable image.

After exchanging a few angry words with the security personnel who were responsible for this ruckus and bringing my profession into disrepute, I noticed that a high-ranking government official was helping some cameramen into the ambulance. So, I deduced Shwejga herself must have had no problem with the cameras. The crew of the U.S. TV network CNN which had originally broken her story was even joining her in the ambulance for the journey to the island’s main hospital, so it seemed like a good time to shelf what I thought was a sacred principle. It seemed to no longer really apply and as the saying goes – if you can’t beat them, join them. So into the melee I plunged and came away with some tight portraits, which I hoped preserved the dignity of this quiet and demure woman.

My hunch is that Shwejga will be in Malta for quite a while as she undergoes medical treatment and recovers. The Maltese government has offered her asylum, should she want it. She has said however that she wants to eventually return home to Ethiopia.

For centuries, Malta has been known as ‘the nurse of the Mediterranean’ – and it seems it will continue to be known as such for many more years to come.

http://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20110417/local/Right-next-door-to-hell.360692

The western Libyan city of Misurata is under siege by Muammar Gaddafi’s forces. Darrin Zammit Lupi spent a few hours in the city harbour before all hell broke loose.

It’s a familiar sound I can hear rolling in from the distance, but I know right away it is not the cacophony of petards and fireworks.

This is no village feast, no festa season. It’s Misurata, a city that has been under siege by Muammar Gaddafi’s forces for close to two months. The sound is the constant thud of artillery and mortar shells crashing into the city. Nato fighter jets and bombers can be heard flying overhead.

Misurata is the last remaining rebel-held stronghold in the west of Libya, 210 kilometres from Tripoli. Its only lifelines are the sea routes to Benghazi, Tunis, and Malta, from where a steady stream of supplies has been trickling in over the past few weeks.

The trip was one of the humanitarian aid missions – a 43-metre French trawler, chartered by the Malta Red Cross and the French Red Cross, bringing 86 tonnes to supplies – water, food, medicines, nappies – to the beleaguered city, in its second such mission within a week.

The ship had arrived off the Libyan coast at dusk on Tuesday. It was too dangerous to enter harbour at night – there is no lighting, and even if there were, lighting up part of the port at night would be an invitation to be targeted by artillery.

A Nato helicopter flew over us, talking to the captain via radio and checking us out. Just outside Libyan territorial waters, the Canadian frigate HMCS Charlottetown was monitoring the area.

Radio contact was made with us to verify that the vessel was actually carrying humanitarian supplies. For those on board the aid ship, it was a reassuring sight. Should we run into serious trouble, help would not be far.

The approach to the port on Wednesday morning was fraught with apprehension – distant columns of black smoke could be seen rising into the sky. A small vessel was spotted approaching us. Several crew members on the bridge grabbed binoculars, straining to make out what it was.

For around five minutes, you could cut the tension with a knife. Was the boat hostile or friendly? It turned out to be the sort of boat one would expect when entering a harbour – nothing more innocuous than the harbour tugboat coming to direct us to our berth.

Misurata has two ports – a commercial port on the northern side, and a private port alongside a steel factory further south. The plan was to dock at the private port, but as we approached we could see a number of refugees had set up camp on the jetty by the water’s edge.

Beyond the port’s gates, out of sight, thousands of Egyptian refugees on the road leading to the city were clamouring to get in. Tension between them and the rebels was rising. Docking there would only stir trouble.

The French captain turned the boat around and headed for the main commercial port. Since then, many of the Egyptians have been evacuated to Benghazi by sea.

The ship docked on the quay closest to the harbour mouth. It looked dilapidated and deserted, save for a few people waiting.

Remains of destroyed vehicles, containers and an anti-aircraft gun were scattered around. Within moments, we could see clouds of dust whipped up by vehicles approaching us.

Rebel soldiers were in their technicals – civilian open-backed pick-up trucks turned into fighting vehicles, with 14.5 mm KPV heavy machine guns mounted on top.

They were quickly followed by Red Crescent personnel and a steady stream of volunteers arriving in cars and trucks.

The rebels were asked by the Red Cross to leave their weapons in their vehicles when they approached the ship to help with the unloading, both for safety reasons and because the Red Cross strictly maintains its neutral status during armed conflict, concentrating on its humanitarian role.

The ship’s French crew, all wearing Red Cross vests, and the three Red Cross representatives, two French and one Maltese, quickly set about organising the unloading of the supplies.

Human chains were formed, Red Cross and Red Crescent people working side by side. The ship’s cranes activated, and within minutes a highly efficient operation was underway. To cries of “Allah hu akbar” boxes were hastily passed from one man to another, while the cranes disgorged the heavy pallets of mineral water directly onto the backs of trucks.

The director of Misurata Red Crescent, Omar Abouzeid, appeared visibly moved by the activity and is fiercely proud of his society’s involvement in the humanitarian efforts.

“This is the proof that the Red Cross and the Red Crescent are noble societies, supporting people everywhere, especially in Misurata and Libya at the moment.”

Stressing that Misurata is a city under siege, he pleaded for more supplies, offering the Red Crescent’s assistance to any non-governmental organisations coming to Libya to offer support.

The unloading took around four hours, far less than originally anticipated. Everyone was keen to get the job over and done with as quickly as possible.

The situation appeared safe, but only because military action at the time was happening closer to the city itself, as well as in the city centre, confirmed by two rebels I spoke to.

In retrospect, we were not safe at all. Just lucky. Only hours after we departed to Malta, evacuating six Ukrainian medics and a family of seven Syrians as well as a British ITN TV crew, the port was heavily bombarded, leaving several casualties. It has not let up since.

A group of youngsters played on the cannibalised Soviet-built quad ZPU-4 anti-aircraft gun, its four gun barrels missing, facing the open mouth of the harbour.

Next to it was a container which must have served as a temporary home for the gun crew. It was riddled with holes from a bomb. A shattered television set, charred remains of a TV satellite dish, kettles, food and milk cartons littered the floor.

Shrapnel fragments were scattered all around. Spent gun cartridges from the ZPU-4 were half-buried in the dust. Further along, I came across more destroyed containers and the remains of vehicles which had been bulldozed into piles. A hundred or so metres away a truck lay abandoned, tyres burst, its side riddled with shrapnel marks.

In the city itself, the situation was critical. Misurata is split in two. The resistance fighters, few of whom are professional soldiers, have their backs to the sea and are under attack on three fronts.

Pro-regime snipers target anything or anyone that moves while mortar and artillery shells rain down onto residential areas. Tanks have taken up position close to the city centre, safe from Nato attack because of the confined space and proximity to innocent civilians.

The resourceful rebels have rolled container trucks packed solid with sand into the middle of the city’s main thoroughfare, in effect making gigantic sandbags trying to offer some form of protection to people attempting to cross from one side to another, as well as blocking the tanks’ passage deeper into the city.

There have been reports of regime soldiers being chained to their posts inside their tanks to ensure they do not run away or stop fighting. One dead tank driver was found handcuffed to the steering tiller, with the words ‘Sorry Misurata’ next to him, scrawled in his own blood.

The local hospital is unable to cope with the influx of injured, most of whom are not fighters at all. Photos and video clips shown to me by a member of Red Crescent are too graphic to publish.

They form a gallery of stomach-churning horrors: dead and injured children with the most horrendous wounds. One picture shows a child whose body is riddled with bullet wounds. It is evident that many were deliberately gunned down by snipers.

Echoes of the siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s ring loudly. US President Barak Obama, British Prime Minister David Cameron and French President Nicolas Sarkozy, writing a joint newspaper article, described it as a “medieval siege”.

This is a city  Gaddafi is determined to subdue at all costs, pounding it into submission by targeting its civilian population and infrastructure. Residents know they will be slaughtered should the regime’s forces break through the rebel defences.

There is no easy solution. Delivering humanitarian aid, of course, helps the people on the ground, increases their odds of survival, but it will not stop Gaddafi’s assault. International leaders are aware of that, and now openly say they need to go beyond the remit of UN Security Council resolution 1973 in order to remove the Gaddafi family from power and in doing so secure the safety of civilians in Libya.

A ship delivering 350,000 litres of drinking water to a city with a population of 550,000 means less than one litre for each person for a day. It’s a drop in the ocean. It will take many more drops to make a tangible difference. And many more drops will surely follow.

The Malta Red Cross and French Red Cross, as well as other NGOs, are determined to keep the aid flowing, and are planning further trips. Malta has been the main aid lifeline to the city.

There has been talk among government officials of shipping wounded people from Misurata to Malta. Every day of waiting and talking about what to do means more innocent people on the ground die.

An aid mission to the besieged Libyan city of Misurata returned yesterday with 12 terrorised evacuees, including two young boys, some of whom only just managed to leave the conflict zone.

The captain of the 43-metre French tuna trawler, chartered by the Malta Red Cross and the French Red Cross to deliver 86 tons of humanitarian aid, had to make the painful decision of leaving without six Ukrainian medics who were scheduled to leave with the boat on Wednesday afternoon.

A group of Syrian nationals, two men, three women and two boys aged five and seven, were on board but the Ukrainians were late.

Staying longer increased the risk of an attack by pro-Gaddafi forces. In fact, shortly after the vessel left, international agencies reported that the port fell under heavy shelling from pro-regime forces.

But as the ship was some 50 metres offshore, three Red Crescent vehicles were spotted driving at breakneck speed towards the pier with the evacuees.

 The vessel was manoeuvred back into position so the six visibly relieved evacuees, five women and a man, could scramble aboard.

None of the evacuees was very willing to speak but a Ukrainian nurse, who has been living in Libya for years, told The Times the experience had shaken her deeply. She swore she would not return to an Arab country every again after the experience of the past weeks.

She could not describe the fighting, as her group would cower indoors, with constant gunfire rattle and mortar explosions in the background. However, she described harrowing scenes at the Misurata hospital, where young children and babies have been treated or brought in dead following gunshot wounds.

Pictures and video footage shown to The Times by Red Crescent personnel, too graphic to publish, showed cadavers of children with direct sniper hits to the head and other parts of the body, supporting reports from the ground of indiscriminate targeting of civilians.

The city, which is 210 km to the east of Tripoli on the Mediterranean coast near Cape Misurata has been under siege by heavy artillery, tanks, and snipers for more than two months. 

It is understood that the city is facing a three-pronged attack by Gaddafi forces near the centre, the outskirts and the port. Members of a British ITN television crew who also were evacuated to Malta aboard the vessel yesterday described the situation as another Sarajevo in the making.

For the last three weeks, the city has had its water supply intentionally shut off by Gaddafi’s forces, augmenting the isolation of the city from the rebel held east through the continuous onslaught.

In fact, the aid missions which have been leaving from Malta bring to Misurata vital supplies which include food, milk, diapers, medicines and water.

Shortly after the ship docked into the harbour, two pick-up trucks with mounted heavy- machine guns and packed with rebels armed to the teeth came thundering to the scene.  Red Crescent volunteers quickly followed, and pitched in to complete the unloading operation in just under four hours.

The mood at this point was light, in stark contrast with the tension on deck as the vessel approached the harbour in the early morning. Everyone scanned the surroundings for signs of any hostile vessels.

Eventually, a crew member spotted a tug boat, which was clearly headed for the aid vessel. After some moments of anxiety, it was confirmed that it was a friendly vessel on its way to provide berthing assistance.

All Wednesday morning and afternoon, the dull thud of artillery barrages could be heard from some five kilometres away, plumes of black smoke could be seen wafting upwards on the horizon. The roar of NATO fighter jets could be heard overhead.

The ship left Valletta on Monday night and arrived in Misurata on Wednesday morning, berthing at the end of a pier close to the entrance of the city’s commercial harbour, the furthest possible spot away from any military action on the part of Muammar Gaddafi’s forces.

 The quay is littered with the remnants of bombed out trucks and containers.  A cannibalised Soviet-era anti-aircraft gun, its four gun barrels missing, points in forlorn fashion towards the harbour entrance. Razor sharp pieces of shrapnel and gun shells are scattered about the dusty ground.

The convoys leaving from Malta are bringing to Misurata desperately needed supplies, but the aid trickling in is not enough to stabilize what looks like an increasingly critical and desperate situation.

Hundreds of thousands of civilians are staring death in the face, a death many of them will surely meet should Gaddafi’s troops break through the rebel defenses.

The main part of the thesis, or major project as we called it on the course, was the production of a photo book – as explained in an earlier blog post, I dealt with the issue of irregular immigration to Malta, and the resulting book is Isle Landers.

September 25, 2005

I was at the bottom of the clay slopes at Gnejna training for my upcoming expedition to Mount Kilimanjaro on my day off when I received the phone call I’d been expecting for several weeks. It was the AFM’s Operations Room, and they’d just given the order to deploy a patrol boat to rescue a group of irregular immigrants stranded several miles off Malta. Having made prior arrangements with the army to accompany them on a rescue mission at the first available opportunity, I knew this was a chance I couldn’t turn down, though I had no idea how I would manage to get myself back up the clay cliffs, across Ghajn Tuffieha Bay to my car, drive home to Msida to collect my camera gear and reach the Maritime Squadron’s base in Pieta, all within half an hour. Being in relatively good shape at the time, I scrambled up the slope in record time, sprinted to the car, and then drove as fast as I safely could. Luckily this was before speed cameras were dotted all over the place.

To this day I don’t know how I made it, but I did. The Protector-class patrol boat had already set out to sea when I got to the base, but a couple of soldiers were waiting for in the boat’s RHIB (Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat), so I jumped in, and we sped off after the patrol boat, which was now outside Marsamxett. Docking with it with a more violent impact than I expected (I know now that the soldiers did it on purpose as a bit of a lark), my camera bag and specs flew to the front of the RHIB, but everything survived in one piece. I clambered on board P52, introduced myself to the captain and other officers on board, and immediately got briefed on the situation. A boat carrying an estimated 180 immigrants was stranded some 30 kilometres southwest of the island after running into engine trouble. A smaller patrol boat was already on site, and P52 was heading there in order to negotiate with the immigrants, and effect any rescue that might be necessary.

It took a couple of hours to reach the area. What first appeared as a little dot on the horizon soon grew into a sizeable fishing boat sitting dead in the very calm waters, packed to the hilt with people of all ages. Several were leaning over the side, attempting to drink sea water, something which would only dehydrate them further and eventually kill them. P52’s captain and a handful of crew members crossed over to them on the RHIB while the patrol boat kept around fifty metres away. It quickly became clear that the immigrants had no intention of stopping in Malta, and asked the AFM to provide a mechanic who could fix their engine so they could proceed towards Italy. Seeing their demands were impossible to accede to, they were left alone a while to discuss among themselves, while the Maltese patrol vessels monitored the situation from a short distance away. Meanwhile, soldiers brought several packets of bottled water up on deck, loaded them onto the RHIB, and transferred them to the immigrants’ boat, with the soldiers tossing a steady stream of bottles to the occupants. I knew I was witnessing what no Maltese journalist had up till then, and made sure I had all the pictures I needed to illustrate it.

The 180 immigrants eventually agreed to be taken to Malta. Since then, I’ve covered several rescue operations out at sea. Yet of all the thousands of pictures I’ve taken of immigrants reaching Malta since then, the one I got that first day of soldiers tossing water to the desperate immigrants remains the best I’ve shot, making the front page of The Times the following morning, as well as being published in newspapers, books, magazines and online all over the world countless times.

Armed Forces of Malta marines toss bottles of water to a group of around 180 illegal immigrants as a rescue operation gets underway after their vessel ran into engine trouble, some 30km (19 miles) southwest of Malta September 25, 2005.

I’ve shot thousands of images over the past years. Though from each shoot, I’ve always had a shortlist, I feel it may be a good idea to go through everything again, gargantuan a task that may be, as I’m always amazed how much good stuff is missed in a first edit. In most cases, I’ve never been back through the files to see if I missed anything, so now might be a good time to start.

The intention is to show the life of irregular immigrants, most of whom come from Sub-Saharan Africa, in Malta, encompassing rescues out at sea and their arrival in Malta, their life in detention camps, their subsequent lives out in the wider community or in so-called open centres, and for the lucky few, their moving on to other countries in Europe. It would be ideal to be able to cover something of the immigrants in Libya, before they set out for Europe, but access is proving to be next to impossible. Libyan authorities have not been cooperative so far, and Libya’s not the sort of place where one can just go into the country and wander around taking pictures. I’m also looking into the possibility of doing something further in Africa through an NGO, but that’s unlikely to work out, given the costs and time needed. I’ve got something in the pipeline for next year, but for the purposes of the MA project, that will be too late.

There are currently an estimated 4,000 immigrants living in Malta. So far, in 2010, there have been very few arrivals, a mere 27 on one boat, as opposed to 1,397 in 2009 and 2,775 in 2008. Whereas in the past, the media were given information and assured access to the army maritime squadron’s base to cover arrivals, a change in the upper echelons of the army command seems to have changed that, with the media only being informed of incoming arrivals after the operation was over, a far cry from the time when the army would actually take us out to sea on rescue missions. Whether this is a policy that’s here to stay is anyone’s guess, but we’re working on trying to get things changed. What I’d ideally be able to do is, if there are further landings over the next couple of months, is be on the rescue boat when the immigrants are picked up, pinpoint a couple of individuals and then follow them in Malta, in the detention camps, At the moment, I’m working on covering the story of the 4,000 who are living here, spending time at open centres and making contact with the various NGOs who work with migrants, documenting aspects of their daily lives. There’s also the matter of covering the rise of racism and xenophobia.

Opening chapter will deal with rescues at sea, of which I have plenty of good shots. The final chapter has also been taken care of – A few weeks ago I got on a plane to Paris, accompanying of group of around a hundred immigrants who were being relocated to France. The pictures worked well and wrap up the story effectively. Whilst it would be good to go back to France and do something about how they’re settling in and integrating there, (the French Embassy here has already said they’ll be more than happy to help out with that in any way they can), I think that it would only work as part of the story if I also manage to document something of the lives of these people in Africa, before they set out for Europe in search of a better life, as well as showing something of the journey they make across Africa to Libya. Good ideas perhaps, but quite impossible to undertake just now, once again because of costs and time needed, even if I managed to get a substantial grant to enable me to do so (not something I’m actively looking into at the moment).

I’m thinking of a book as the final product – whether I’d find a publisher who’d be willing to take it on board is yet to be seen. For purposes of the MA, I’ll present it as a book in PDF format. The likelihood is I’ll continue working on it even after the MA is completed, and only once the book covers everything I want would I approach potential publishers.

The story of immigration to Malta has been covered internationally, though not in any great detail. A recent cover story on Time magazine about immigration to Europe didn’t even mention Malta, talking only about Italy, Spain and Greece, even though the problem is far more pronounced in Malta, considering the number of immigrants compared to the size and population of the island. Sporadically, there has been interest by various newspapers and magazines in running stories, but they tend to be one offs. Magnum’s Patrick Zachmann included Malta in his long term coverage of immigration, making two visits to the island in 2009. Sebastiao Salgado’s magnificent work on migration very briefly skirts over the issue of immigration from Africa across the Mediterranean, concentrating on Gibraltar.

I remain a bit unsure of how best to tackle the critical essay side of the assignment. Do I more or less write a sort of history of irregular immigration from Africa to Malta, full of facts and figures, and if so, how do I relate it to documentary photography? Or should I do a series of interviews with immigrants and relate their stories, or trawl through countless back issues of newspapers and dig out stories from there? Or do I write about how Immigration and Malta has been handled visually by the international or local media?

All questions I’m asking myself which need to be answered soon.

Yesterday I faced what I felt was one of my greatest challenges ever as regards photographing theatre. “Ospizio”, by Theatre Anon, a company I’ve followed closely since its inception and photographed countless times. The site-specific production, part of the three week long Malta Arts Festival, was held at the Ospizio in Floriana, just outside the capital Valletta. It was once a powder mill built by the Knights of St John, and later used as an institution to house the more vulnerable members of society – the old, the sick, the infirm, orphaned and unwanted children, prostitutes and the destitute. All in all, a magical performance space.

Immensely challenging because of the sheer overwhelming volume of visual feasts – afterwards I referred to it a a photographer’s paradise, wonderful dream, but also a nightmare. Not because of the low light as some suggested, but simply because half the time, one didn’t know where to look in order to get the best shot, or where to place oneself (the audience, always on its feet, moved through the complex as the play progressed and much of the action took place among the audience). Definitely the sort of production one ideally needs to have watched a couple of times before attempting to shoot it.

I really wish I hadn’t more or less lost touch with the company members – many are old friends I hadn’t seen in a long while. I’d have loved to have been involved from the start, late last year, documenting the whole process of how the production came about – could have made a great medium term project.

The final scene, in an underground chamber, where an artificial lake was created as the main acting area, was one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever watched, and boy was it frustrating. One of the most important attributes of a theatre photographer is sensitivity to the production. At its most obvious, that means flash photography is an absolute no-no (could never understand how people could even dream of using flash when covering productions – what an insult to the director and lighting designer, apart from the distraction to the performers!). Equally important is the element of noise. This was a scene which relied heavily on silence, and the sound of dripping water. A single shutter click would have shattered the illusion. So I had to make do with some quick pictures as the audience made their way into the space, and two frames when one of the few lines in the scene got a loud laugh from the audience. Yet throughout the scene, I never lowered the camera from my eye, never removed my finger from the trigger, never stopped focusing…… never stopped cursing at the impossibility of taking the picture.

Still, I don’t think I did too badly. Thirteen pictures used on the wire, one making top 24 pix of the day. So on the whole, a good day.

Ospizio in Pictures

Passengers burst into applause and cheered as flight BLE0348 touched down at Charles De Gaulle Airport, outside Paris on Monday.

Under normal circumstances, this may come across as somewhat naff but this was no ordinary flight. Ninety-three refugees had just completed the final stage of a years-long journey that started in Somalia, Sudan, Eritrea, Liberia and Iraq, a voyage fraught with danger, often beset by tragedy, across deserts, across the graveyard that the southern Mediterranean has become in tiny rickety boats. In sharp contrast, they were now flying in style.

The relocation programme was initiated in 2008 when French Ambassador Daniel Rondeau flew in a French military helicopter, forming part of the Frontex mission, on a surveillance mission south of Malta. Flying 100 metres above sea level, he saw dolphins, whales, turtles, fishermen, two empty dinghies and an old boat packed with more than 100 men, women and children. Their position was radioed to the operations centre but those people were never seen again, they never landed anywhere, were never intercepted or rescued.

Horrified by what he had seen, knowing he had become a witness to the tragedy that had befallen thousands of immigrants trying to reach European soil from Africa in search of refuge and a better life, Mr Rondeau, a writer, set about publishing articles in the French press. He explained that the issue of immigration was not a Maltese problem but a European one and drew particular attention to what was happening out at sea.

Before long, on a French initiative, the European Pact on Immigration and Asylum was agreed upon and the intra-EU Relocation from Malta pilot project set up.

The group of 71 adults and 22 children was the second to be relocated to France, the first having left Malta a year ago and, according to the ambassador, now settling in and integrating remarkably well.

Instrumental in the success of integration of both groups is the International Organisation for Migration, which provided pre-departure orientation classes and assisted refugees with boarding procedures.

The French Office of Immigration and Integration assists the refugees with their year-long integration programme.

Farewells at Malta International Airport were long, intense and often emotional. Maltese, African and Middle Eastern friends turned out to wish the 93 bon voyage. Those left behind put on a brave face, hoping that perhaps one day it would be their turn.

The refugees, many dressed in suits and fedora hats, walking through the departure gates displayed a mix of excitement, happiness and more than just a little bit of anxiety. Few, if any, had ever been on a plane before and they were all aware of the huge challenge ahead.

Several nervously clutched their travel documents as an airport coach took them to the waiting aircraft. The English and Maltese they had learnt over the years would have to be put aside and a new language learned from scratch.

One refugee taking a photo of some of his friends counted “one, two, three” before taking his picture and was good-naturedly admonished by a French Embassy official. He must now say: “Une, deux, trois”.

The passengers spread themselves comfortably throughout the chartered plane. Mr Rondeau, who joined them on the flight, was almost accorded superstar status with many wanting to take their picture with him and repeatedly shake his hand or hug him.

Some took the opportunity to sleep after their in-flight meal; others gazed in wonder out of the windows, lost in thought.

Hassan Elmi Abdisamed from Somalia, travelling with his wife and eight-month-old daughter, could only describe himself as “very happy, happy, happy, hoping to live the good life!”

Abraham Abdullah Ismahil, 22, who fled his home in Darfur seven years ago, said: “I always wanted to move on to another country in Europe. I used to keep going to UNHCR asking if I could go and just now I’ve achieved my dream. I’m very happy.”

“I want to get a better education, go to school and get a job like everyone else.” His motivation is clear: his family still lives in Darfur and he hopes to be in a better position to help them.

Mohammed Adan Abdi Salan, born in 1981 in Somalia, lived in Malta for six years. Throughout that time, he begged to be allowed to bring his family, currently seeking refuge in Ethiopia, to Malta but was told it wasn’t possible because the island is too small. He understood the problem and found that, by and large, the Maltese were very helpful and friendly towards refugees. So he decided to try to relocate and now knows the odds of being reunited with his family have greatly increased.

Esam Ali Ele Beyati was once a poorly paid soldier fighting in Saddam Hussein’s army, serving a tyrannical regime he hated. He fled Iraq in 1995, arriving in Malta in 2002. Now, together with his five-year-old son Mohammed, he was staring in awe out of the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the French mainland through gaps in the cloud while his wife fed his other child in the seats across the aisle.

He is thrilled because now he is certain his children, born in Malta, will have a much better childhood than he had, living in a liberal democracy, not under a dictatorship.

Once the plane touched down in Paris and started taxiing along the runway, many of the over-enthusiastic passengers immediately leapt to their feet and tried to retrieve their carry-on bags, much to the chagrin of the French cabin crew.

When they were finally given the go-ahead to move and the aircraft doors were opened, loud cheers and applause erupted as French Immigration Minister Eric Besson appeared in the doorway and called out: “Bienvenue en France!”

With the biggest grin imaginable, one French-speaking immigrant lifted his bag over his head and powered his way down the aisle, overwhelmed by his own enthusiasm.

A VIP reception, including several French media outlets, awaited them: speeches, drinks, food, interviews and flashing cameras.

Before long, IOM personnel were gathering the different groups who would set off for Champigny-sur-Marne, Soissons and Oissel, small towns in northern France. The new arrivals would go their separate ways, learn French, adopt the French Republic’s motto of liberty, equality and fraternity as their own, taking the opportunity to build their own future.

“Take this chance and you’ll be part of our common future,” promised Mr Besson.

Originally published in The Times, Malta, July 7, 2010

THIS ISN’T OVER YET …

In 2009, in what was meant to be the EU’s Year of Creativity and Innovation, cases of censorship in Malta were plentiful. Once the Film and Stage Classification Board opted to ban the Unifaun Theatre production of Anthony Nielsen’s Stitching, calling it “an insult to human dignity”, the floodgates of censorship seemed to open. The only porn cinema in Malta, which had been operating for over 30 years in the centre of the capital Valletta, just round the corner from the city police station and national Law Courts, was raided by police, films confiscated and the owner arraigned in court on charges of screening pornographic films; police ordered a shop owner to dress up nude mannequins in his shop window, part of an art installation creating awareness on sex trafficking, after “someone influential” complained; a student newspaper was banned from the university campus, and its editor and the author of a fictitious article prosecuted in court by the police (both face prison sentences if convicted), prompting the editor to set up the Front Against Censorship ; TV production houses had their knuckles rapped for allegedly showing programmes in bad taste. Following pressure from the extremely powerful Catholic Church Curia, gearing itself up for a papal visit, police presence during a spontaneous, radical carnival on Malta’s sister island Gozo earlier this year was drastically stepped up, to ensure that no revellers dressed up as priests, nuns or Jesus Christ, as happened in 2009, resulting in several revellers being arrested and arraigned in court – A planned ‘march of the thousand Jesuses,’ organised by a Facebook group in protest, where everyone would dress up as Jesus, never got off the ground ; at the same carnival, the police announced they would vet the lyrics of songs being performed by live bands, and only backed down when faced with public outcry and ridicule over their move. The same Curia then found itself on the receiving end, fearing crucifixes in public places may be banned following a controversial European Court of Human Rights judgment, prompting the Archbishop of Malta to decry censorship in this case. The country became divided between those who wanted freedom at all costs, and those who feared the cost of freedom. On both sides of the fence, people became emboldened and more outspoken, filling newspaper columns and online blogs, flooding TV chatshows. The whole saga is by no means over. New incidents crop up constantly, even if only brought up by petition-waving private individuals and not the authorities. As the situation continues to develop on a regular basis, I opted to leave the book I designed unfinished – I left blank pages in, text placement was done haphazardly.

The project was shot between December 2009 and May 2010. I opted to shoot this project on pinhole cameras, using a combination of digital pinhole and zone plate cameras, as well as pinhole blender cameras, because of a subtle link I could see between the pinhole and the peephole. The discreet pinhole cameras helped the illicit element of the picture making in many cases. The inherent blurring in pinhole images became a form of censorship in themselves. With pinholes being a derivative of the camera obscura, literally meaning ‘dark room’, and the fact that illicit activities that may be censored often take place in dark spaces, I found another reason to shoot the whole Rethink project using pinholes. Some of the images involved changing the composition midway through the exposure, enabling me to show different viewpoints in the same picture. One of the difficulties I had to overcome was how to depict incidents of censorship that were already past events. I got round this by shooting portraits of the protagonists, and in one case, using a form of multiple exposure technique, showing a pinhole rendition of a detail from an older conventional photo with a pinhole image of the location. In addition, I wanted to rethink my photographic technique, and do it in a manner as far removed as possible from the news and sports photography I do on a day-to-day professional basis. Hence the creative documentary style of the project.