Conor Ashleigh photo

My journey to Gaza

2010-01-16T05:56:00.001-08:00

Hello everyone,

Firstly let me apologise for not writing earlier, since arriving back from Gaza I’ve given myself a well needed spell of down time to ground myself and find a sense of normality after what has been one of the most intense weeks of my life. I now write from Cairo where eager government officials on both sides of the Rafah crossing have forced me.

My journey to Gaza - Conor Ashleigh 2010 ©

My journey began on December 26th or Boxing Day as its known in Australia, three plane trips and 25 hours later I emerge through an early morning haze of pollution in Africa’s biggest city, Cairo. I head straight away to meet up with two Australians who have been working in the region for the last year and have both been involved in the Gaza Freedom March and previous delegations to the Strip. Over a glass of coffee I get an update on the march, the murmurs I heard before my departure are confirmed, its quite clear that the Egyptian Government doesn’t intend to let the 1400 strong international delegation into Gaza. I was so disappointed by this news all the effort to generate support to travel to Gaza seemed pointless, at least for a few hours until the two Australians propose that I travel with them to the border town of Rafah to establish a protest camp from where we can attempt to enter Gaza. Trusting their sense of judgment coupled with the idea of being stuck in crazy Cairo with 1400 extremely frustrated peace activists the decision was made, I would leave as soon as possible for the border. After a few hours racing around Cairo buying supplies which included a huge canvas tent we jumped in a mini bus filled with locals and zoomed off towards Al-Arish.

Al-Arish is the closest city to the Rafah crossing and a central hub for goods traveling into Gaza via the tunnels. Throughout the day reports had been flooding in that foreigners were being refused entry and that people already based in the city for the march were being held in their hotels under house arrest, while this was a concern we had been in contact with certain people in the port city who promised to hide us as long as we could reach safely. With the girls covered in headscarves we slipped through two checkpoints, while just 200 kilometres from Al-Arish we reached a more established point with at least 20 Egyptian security. Again the door to our mini bus was opened and people were asked to show their Egyptian identification cards, unfortunately I was next to the door and my sleeping act was interrupted by a police officer demanding my card, after replying to his barking demands with blank stares it became clear I was not in fact a local but one of the foreigners the many extra security officers were stationed to find.

Caught, we piled out of the mini bus grabbed our bags and tent from the roof and sat down while the many plain clothed security officials discussed our situation. We had stupidly handed over our passports and being an identifiable fugitive wasn’t particularly appealing so a quick escape wasn’t possible. Once the initial hype settled we realised there were two Britons also waiting at the check point, soon after another two foreigners were stopped and order out, our group refusing to return to Cairo had quickly become eight. While the security officials continued to tell us that our only option was to return to Cairo we maintained our peaceful protest and refused to move, the police and security detail weren’t sure what to do with us but our presence at the checkpoint was not appreciated. Constantly the security men tried to intimidate us by screaming in our faces ‘yalla yalla’, which is Arabic for ‘go go’. We refused to move for quite some time, eventually another four vehicles full of armed plain clothed security arrived, the intimidation mounted until we were given no other option but to move up the road. By this point it was well past midnight, no one had eaten and multiple layers of clothing were being creatively added, once we established our canvas mansion we all collapsed to sleep for a few well-needed hours before the sun was on its way back out.

Waking in a canvas mansion in the Sinai desert wasn’t as romantic as it sounds, we had all barely eaten, while personally it had been 24 hours since my last meal. To pass the time we attempted a game of chess and even tried to entice the police to a game of soccer but inevitably these were all just small distractions from our hunger and lack of a plan. Eventually it was agreed that we must find food so three members of the group set out in the direction of a sign that indicated a petrol station wasn’t too far back along the highway. After a few hours the three returned bearing gifts that seemed all so incredible considering our lack of nourishment pita bread, cheese, bottles of water, canned beef, apple juice as well as exciting news of a possible alternative to our situation. As we made a respectable arms length circle from the goods we made our way through enough food aid to relieve a small refugee camp. We mixed bread with cheese and tahina, while our scouts then went on to share exciting news about meeting a local Bedouin who through the language differences understood our dilemma and offered to help us through the desert and away from the police.

Throughout the day the police presence at the checkpoint had grown to at least 200 personnel including 6 large riot buses full of armed soldiers. Slipping away from the police into the desert with the Bedouin man was not straight forward, as our passports would only be returned if we agree to return to Cairo. We packed down our tent and approached the head security official where we managed to negotiate to have our passports back and return to the nearest town where we could find food and water. Surprisingly the police agreed and hailed down a taxi, after close conversation with the driver we were able to load on our bags and start squeezing into the taxi, as we attempted to affirm with the driver that we would stop in the next town the police interjected saying that we must travel directly to Cairo. In a unified protest we grabbed our bags plus the canvas mansion and made our way back down the highway with passports in tow. After managing to get a kilometre away we stopped behind a house and called our contact, within a few minutes we could see his ute driving down the highway looking for us, as it spotted us it pulled in quickly and somehow we managed to all squeeze ourselves and our gear into the ute and drive off into the desert.

Once we had negotiated a price and another ute arrived we set off into the Sinai desert. It didn’t take much to realise how well these men know the desert, maybe this has something to do with the fact that the endless mounds of golden granules all seem the same to me. My drivers questions and eagerness to talk became worrying when a few times he slipped off the track and we launched off a tuft of sand, It took quite some time to decipher the odd form of communication between the two cars, as we were scooting along sandy roads at 100km the leading cars lights would turn off or switch to just hazards while at other points the tailing car would kill its lights placing total trust in the path taken by the first. After two hours we stopped and were met by two men in a rather flash new 4WD, the driver told us to put our bags in the new car and as he waved his arm around I noticed the handgun tucked neatly under his arm with extra clips stowed under the other. I informed the others quietly about the guy we were now getting in a car with, before we had time to talk about it we were piling in to the car. Being the first to open the door to the back seat I couldn’t help but notice a vest that lay across the back seat, it didn’t take me long to realise it was filled with AK47 clips and without even thinking I picked it up and asked where I should place it. Once it was resting safely in the front next to the Kalashnikov our group like a three-dimensional game of tetris managed to squeeze into the car. After another few hours driving we arrived at a small thatched hut where a few very surprised looking men sat around a pit of glowing coals. The group in the little hut had tripled once our group arrived, after a cup of tea and a chat with the men the morning was fast approaching and we all fell into a hazy sleep.

The next day we awoke to find other men arriving in the little camp, with just Jessie speaking Arabic we managed to tell the Bedouins about our trip so far as well as our plans to travel to Gaza to take part in the Gaza Freedom March, the men were all supportive of our plan as well as the struggle of the Palestinians. It was interesting to hear the men talk about how they identify not as Egyptians but as Bedouins, as a people who move freely not bound by the typical borders, we heard stories of how these men guide refugees and goods into Israel as well as providing supplies for the tunnels into Gaza.

In true Bedouin fashion we were given more food then we could eat and once our expanded stomachs had resigned from what seemed like a bottomless plate of food we set off in two 4WD’s for the desert. As the cars turned off a sealed road into the sand dunes I wondered why they would feed us so well if they planned to take us into the Sinai and finish us off, soon enough we stopped on top of a large sand dune from where we could see Israel and Gaza. The men went about deflating the car tires and as we all hopped back in we started to descend the sheer drop of the dune. I am not sure if it is physically possible for a car to role end over end but I was convinced this was about to happen, the fear of rolling down the epic dune was shared with attempting not to land on the AK47 that bumped along on the back seat next to me, after starting slowly the driver then floored the car as we bounced away with our drivers giggling at our serious stares from the rear vision mirror. Once the novelty had worn off we stopped at a rather large house in the desert. We were ushered into a palace where elaborate ground cushions ringed the large marble floor. After our adventures from the previous few days I felt naughty sitting in this incredible house, we all seemed out of place but the head man of the house made us welcome and busied us with plates of food and cups of tea and coffee. After our second meal we made up our beds with the women sleeping upstairs and the men on the luscious cushions in the main room. My life experience so far has shaped my rational mind while my time in Egypt which included escaping the government’s check points and then being warmly welcomed by AK47 wielding desert people has totally crippled any sense of normality I have known and I still hadn’t reached Gaza.

The next morning we received confirmation that a bus with just 70 of the1400 Gaza Freedom Marchers had left Cairo for Gaza. With knowing little about the current politics of the Gaza Freedom March or the actions that had been taking place in Cairo which was where the majority of the marchers remained, we set out in the late afternoon for Al-Arish. Traveling in the second carload with the two Australians and a Turkish girl we sped through the desert at 160km loud Egyptian music pounded the car while a handgun and four mobile phones sat on the front seat between the driver and myself.

We arrived at the agreed Hotel in Al-Arish to meet the buses with the GFM delegation from Cairo, instead we were met by members of the Gaza Freedom March a few in particular who were trying rather aggressively to convince us not to enter Gaza. A meeting surrounding the politics of the buses entering Gaza swarmed inside, many people were quite critical of the token number of people given access while five members of our group decided not to travel. I am thankful that I left in the second car and didn’t have the best part of an hour to become overwhelmed by the intense negotiations that had been exploding at the hotel or take part in the larger issues that had been dominating the international delegation in Cairo while our adventure had been unfolding. I recognise the sentiment that a smaller group entering Gaza was a political sell out, but I also know that individual’s intentions for traveling to Gaza are very diverse, some members of the group who entered were returning to Gaza to see family they hadn’t ever met or seen for decades. Despite the messy politics involved with the trip, I came to Egypt for one reason and that was to visit Gaza, to bear witness and share the stories I was able to learn about with a wider audience in Australia and around the world.

So in short after the complicated arrival in Al-Arish I did board the bus for Gaza along with 83 other people including Palestinians living abroad, human rights workers, Orthodox Rabbis opposed to the siege, peace activists as well as a bunch of other incredibly talented individuals, journalists and story tellers.

My time in Gaza

After a delayed crossing in Rafah we were finally allowed into Gaza where we were greeted by a large contingent of Hamas officials who escorted the group to our hotels. After another late night and a few hours sleep the Gaza Freedom March awaited us, initially Code Pink the group organising the GFM had estimated that 50, 000 Palestinians would march in opposition to the continuing siege. After talking quietly with a few locals it was made clear that the march had been taken over by Hamas and many civil society groups who had been preparing for months were no longer welcome at the march. Hearing this news was devastating, I considered not attending in protest but I reminded myself that I came to Gaza to document and i'm sure I wouldn’t find much in my hotel.

The march was quite obviously not what anyone expected, there were barely any local women present and only 500 marchers at a generous estimate. Numerous Hamas police and security officers ringed the march in particular the Orthodox Rabbis from New York, it was an impressive sight to see these Rabbis marching along waving their Palestinian flags and holding anti-Zionist signs. Once the marchers reached the Erez crossing passionate speeches ensued as well as chants from the international delegation. After the march the foreigners were rounded up and taken on a bus tour of some areas that were badly affected by the bombings a year ago. It was extremely frustrating to be stuck on a bus and not allowed to interact with the local people, the strict leash Hamas held was starting to agitate many foreigners including myself. Once we returned to the hotel myself along with another Australian photographer Jessie Boylan escaped from the hotel and despite the security details attempts to stop us we marched off keen to experience some real Gaza. Jessie has been working in the region on projects for over a year and had already visited Gaza twice before, her knowledge and friends made it possible for me to learn about the reality Hamas desperately want us not to see.

Through Jessie I met an incredibly inspiring person named Doa’a, she is 25 years old and has recently graduated in Medicine from a university in Gaza. Outside the Emergency Department in the hospital where Doa’a works she showed us a tent filled with shrapnel from the bombings a year ago. Doa’s shared with us stories from the chaotic time when the bombs including white phosphorous fell on homes, schools, UN warehouses and other civilian infrastructure. Doa’a was obviously uncomfortable reliving these memories from a year ago, the conversation quickly turned to her engagement and upcoming wedding. When Doa’a is married she will move to Sweden to live with her husband also a Palestinian doctor, she seems understandably sad to be leaving her friends and family behind but at the same time life under the siege offers little opportunity or hope for young people such as Doa’a and an opportunity to work and study further in Europe would be hard to pass up.

As the year of 2009 was fast coming to an end I found myself at a Palestinian hip-hop gig come candle light vigil. With a full moon watching over what a friend Gazan friend Ahmad called ‘the worst year of his life’, the candles and somber mood seemed fitting for a moment of reflection. P-Unit is a hip-hop crew who use their art form to tell of the injustice and struggle Gazans face, P-Unit took to the stage and it didn’t take long to have the crowd going crazy, people were cheering and dancing on top of chairs which pushed the rappers even harder with their Arabic rhymes. After just the second song the Hamas security officials decided people were having too much fun and shut down the show, it was so disappointing this happened but the rappers themselves told me it happens to them quite a lot when they perform. While Gaza is a war zone it is also a place of incredible culture where education and the arts are highly regarded therefore witnessing this censorship was important as it allowed me to understand the lack of freedom many people face in Gaza.

The next morning, the first day of 2010, Hamas had another bus tour planned for the group however Jessie and I had other plans. After avoiding the bus we met up with a friend of Jessie’s who had organised a press taxi that was fitted with a police siren and driven by a man who used to drive for the previous political leader in Gaza, I believe it. After flying along the coast we ended up in Rafah the area that borders with Egypt. The siege of Gaza means the closure of all borders into the territory, in order for the 1.5 million people to survive tunnels under the Egyptian border have sprung up throughout Rafah. I was able to visit the tunnels and to see first hand the process of survival, it was seven metres below the surface in a small tunnel where I met 20 year old Mahmoud. Mahmoud has been working in the tunnels since he was 17, he works for 12 hours each day and earns $45 US a day. Not a bad wage in a place where most people survive from aid deliveries but the catch being the danger associated to working in the tunnels. The week before I stood there hunched over three young men just like Mahmoud died in a tunnel collapse, it’s a common occurrence I am told made worse from Israeli bombings.

Moving through the tunnels is everything from petrol to fruit and this lifeline is soon to be stopped, the Egyptian government recently announced their plans to build a large metal barrier under the border crossing. I asked the man in charge of the tunnel what would happen when Egypt completes this underground barrier he told me with conviction that they will find a way to penetrate it, I believe they will but what will be the costs in the meantime and how will Gazan’s manage to survive with growing prices for basic essentials.

Since the Israeli withdrawal from the Gaza Strip in 2005 eerie remains of their former settlements still stand as reminders of their dominance and control of Gaza. I was walking close to the ocean through the skeleton of an Israeli green house when I heard the distinct sound of rapid gunfire. We drove down to the beach where we met Gazan border police who confirmed the gunfire was coming from an Israeli patrol boat that patrolled just a few kilometres off the coast. In order to survive fisherman head out in their small boats only to come under fire from Israeli patrol boats who accuse them of crossing into Israeli waters. As we set out for Gaza city I scanned the landscape and watched the Palestinian boats zip across the water in a game of cat and mouse while on the shore the Strip’s sewage flowed freely into the ocean, this siege affects every part of life including the most basic forms of infrastructure.

Once we arrived back in Gaza City Jessie invited me to visit a family she knows well, Gaza is reportedly the most densely populated region in the world and this family like their many neighbours live in an overcrowded apartment. The home I entered was lovely, everyone I spoke to inspired me with his or her courage and intelligence in particular Asma. Asma and her family experience a lot of social stigma for the fact that she is divorced, she is harassed for her work as a writer and activist while the facts that she has male friends and doesn’t cover her head also cause her trouble with Hamas. Currently writing her third book titled ‘Gaza is Haram’, Asma knows that when it comes time to be published she will have to leave Gaza for sometime as it wont be safe for her to remain with the expected religious backlash. While sitting and chatting with the family in the lounge room the sound of a not too distant bomb fills the room, Asma’s mother instantly reaches for the radio as she holds it to her ear her fingers furiously turn the knob searching for a station with information. Nothing is known about the bomb as night falls and unfortunately we must leave this incredible family to return to the hotel where the international delegation is meeting for a presentation from the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights.

Without knowing my last night lay before me in Gaza I sit down and chat with my new friends and make plans for the next week, as we sit smoking a shisha and drinking Turkish coffee I received a text message from another young Gazan inviting me to stay with her family for the rest of my time in Gaza.

Hope must be exceedingly hard to find in a place where freedom is only an intellectual notion but as I sat talking and joking with such a well educated, creative and ambitious group of youth I am sure there is much hope for the future of Gaza.

The following morning I awake before the sun and meet up with Jessie and a Gazan named Ahmad who has a great sense of humour, we shake off our yawns and head down to the sea for the daily fish markets. These markets must be a bizarre display from a distance as men gather round a particular box of seafood and aggressively bid until a winner is found, then just as abruptly as the catch has been won the tightly formed crowd shuffles to the next box. After a while of wrestling my way through these circles we walked down to the port where the fishing boats are docked, the shoreline is scattered with remains of buildings that lay as a constant reminder of the reality in Gaza.

Pushed for time we head back to the hotel to pack, the majority of the international delegation is leaving after the short window of time given by the government has come to an end. While people mill around saying goodbye to family and friends, myself and a group of others who intend to stay longer in the worlds most densely populated region try to avoid being shoved onto the buses. As the buses pull out from the hotel my Gazan friends join me as we plan for the day which includes visiting the Jabailya refugee camp and meeting the family I will live with for a week. As we attempt to leave the hotel a wall of Hamas security officers stops us, while I have been able to avoid the spook’s grip in previous days the suit and sweater types barricading the doorways are determined to not allow any of the foreigners out of the hotel. After an emotional few hours where I couldn’t help but cry my friends told me ‘Conor, smile, your in Gaza’, after an hour or so my Gazan friends were forced to leave the hotel, at this point sitting in the lobby surrounded by Hamas guards I felt very much alone. Elsewhere in the hotel other internationals that planned to stay longer tried to hide in the hotel but were eventually rounded up, then we were all dumped on a bus from where we watched Gaza leave us behind as we drove silently to the border. As we drove along at dusk I sat there still in shock that my time had come to an end so quickly, I had planned to be in Gaza for another week and the idea of just so few days experiencing life there was heartbreaking. The official reason that our stay couldn’t be extended was that the Egyptians would close the border at midnight and after that we wouldn’t be allowed to leave, after a painfully slow border crossing into Egypt I arrived in Cairo around 3am dumped my bags in Jessie’s house and fell into a deep sleep on a pile of cushions on the ground.

Reflections

In the days since I left Gaza it’s become quite evident that in fact the border was not totally closed as Hamas stated. It is difficult to not let my frustration overwhelm my other emotions and experiences from my time in Gaza, Hamas didn’t allow us the freedom to document and listen to the people in Gaza but the time I had with people in Gaza I was met with such openness and warmth that I distinguish greatly between the people and the government. Finally, I must acknowledge how lucky I am to possess a passport that allows me to leave Gaza under siege unlike the many Palestinians that desperately need to cross the border to receive medical care or try to return to university in Egypt.

It has taken me quite some time to process my experience. I avoided putting pen to paper for a few days in Cairo as I felt totally overwhelmed by my intense journey and I was quite insecure about writing this story in a manner that would do justice to the places I visited and the people I met.

I am sending this to you from Goa, India where I have just arrived to photograph a friends wedding where I will be working on stories here in the Indian sub-continent. I will be returning to Katmandu and Calcutta to work on child labour and homelessness and mental illness in the respective locations as well as documenting the world’s biggest gathering of humans also known as the Kumbh Mela.

I will update more often from now on, I hope everyone is well and making the most of 2010 in its early stages, thank you for all the love and support I have received from the many incredible people I know.

I have also just uploaded my photo story from Gaza onto my website titled A Year After the War, it can be found under the Stories tab.

Kind regards,

Conor

Here we come Gaza

2009-12-21T22:41:00.000-08:00

Christmas greetings all,

its all starting to heat up in Gaza...http://english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/2009/12/2009122114107274661.html
here an article on al jazeera records how the Egyptian authorities plan to build an underground fence to counter the hundreds of tunnels that go under the Rafah crossing. While these tunnels are illegal they are the life line for many...
http://english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/2009/12/200912221028665461.html
While Israel is still negotiating a deal to release 1000 prisoners in exchange for Gilah Shilat who has been help in Gaza for almost three years. 1 prisoner for 1000, i find this hard to comprehend, this exemplifies the disparity between the value of life between many people from around the world...
Anyway this is all for now, there is some speculation that the marchers wont be allowed to cross into Gaza, however the march is continuing as usual.

I intend to update this blog as much as humanly possible while im away.. I hope you are all well,
Conor

2009-09-28T19:54:00.001-07:00

Hi guys

so im off to gaza in December, yeah things move quickly...

So this email ive been sending out details more information about my trip as well as a catalogue of the images that i am selling to help raise funds to get there...

read on......

Hello friends,

I address you all as friends knowing some of the people behind these email addresses well, while I also recognise there will be many people reading this who I haven’t had the opportunity to meet. If this is the case, please allow my photo stories to act as an appropriate introduction, see www.conorashleigh.com .

My name is Conor Ashleigh, it is fair to say I am many things to many people, while for the central purpose of my work and mission in life I can comfortably say I am a storyteller that is driven by my passion for social and environmental justice.

In December I will be travelling to Palestine to document the freedom march for Gaza http://gazafreedommarch.org/, the gathering is focused on raising awareness of the atrocities that continue to take place in Palestine. The United Nations Special Rapporteur for Human Rights in the occupied Palestinian territory, Richard Falk, condemned Israel’s siege of Gaza as amounting to a “crime against humanity.”

It was less than two weeks ago that I was told about the event in Gaza and I knew quite instantly that I would be there come December 27 no matter what it takes. The next morning I made my way into a travel agent with only $90 in my bank account knowing a deposit would be needed on the spot, there wasn’t a choice to be made, but rather an intense bout of brainstorming surrounding how I can raise funds to make this journey happen. Approximately $2000 is what I need to pay for my flights to Gaza and to cover the basic living costs the Gaza Freedom March organisers are asking for registration, camping and food. My three-hour train trip from Sydney back to Newcastle the following day gave me the time to finalise a body of 25 images. The photos are from my journeys in Australia, South Africa, Uganda, India, Nepal and East Timor, I chose them as I feel they broadly encapsulate some of the places and people I have been able to capture along my journeys.

The 25 pictures I have chosen can be viewed by downloading the attached pdf document. I am selling A3 (29cm x 42cm) prints of the pictures for $50 which includes postage and handling anywhere in Australia. The size of the images in the pdf catalogue have been reduced so they could all fit on a single document that wouldn’t overwhelm Internet connections, so please don’t worry about the quality as they will be printed at their highest resolution.

Speaking to friends over the last two weeks about this trip, it seems there are many people who strongly support the plight of Palestine but wont be attending the freedom march. I see my presence in Gaza as a set of eyes and ears that represent a wider community. I will regularly update my blog, website and group emails which will be my portals to keep people connected with my journey. Once I return to Australia I hope to have an exhibition from which you are all invited to attend.

I will be taking orders for prints until October 30, the pictures will then be printed and sent out on the following Monday November 2^nd. The easiest way to make a payment is a direct bank transfer with your name in the transaction description and a confirmation email with an attached or cut & copied receipt. Once I receive a payment and email I will reply with confirmation and also notify people once they have been sent out. Also if people check my website www.conorashleigh.com and would prefer to have an image printed from there please contact me and I can also have these printed.

I have recently returned to Australia from East Timor where I have been working on photo stories on the journey of coffee as well as covering the 10-year anniversary since Asia’s youngest nation voted for independence. If you think someone you know might be attracted to my work please pass on my website and contact details and know that all money is going towards covering my costs to visit Gaza so that I can learn, understand and experience what life is like in Gaza. Similarly if people are interested in staying connected with my journey please write and let me know this so I can store your email address and I look forward to staying in touch for what will be an incredible experience.

In solidarity,

Conor

Banking details

Name- Conor Ashleigh

Bank- Commonwealth Bank

BSB- 062 563

Acc #- 10030204

Timor's 10 Year Anniversary Since the vote for Independencece

2009-09-01T19:00:00.000-07:00

Last Weekend marked the 10 year anniversary here in Timor since the vote for independence.

I have included just a few images for you all, more can be seen on my website in the near future.

Bondia hau Timor Leste

2009-08-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

Hello again from Timor,

writing is a big part of the routine i've settled heavily into here in Dili. Routine good and bad at the same time, I know my local shop keeper and his family by name, this relationship makes buying hot bread and water in the morning more personal as I feel compelled to wrangel together my pidgeon Tetun to ask a few questions and find out what they have planned for the day.

Dili is still hot and the lures that the last of the picking season comes to an end makes me want to run up the mountain at once, but one thing ive learnt is invaluable in Timor like many other places, patience. Im still waiting for mine to arrive, but im trying my best to sit things out and work closer to home for the moment and wait for my ride up the moutains later this week.

So I have a few pictures from the orphanage where I have been living.

While my shopkeeper Augusto Peres sells me water to see me through the next few days.

Children from Bobonaro, an area close to the border of West Timor dressed up in traditional tais perform in Dili.

These are a few pictures from a salt baking community, the landscape of these people is so harsh, so incredibly baron and hot as they burn fires with intense heat in order to extract the salt and hope to sell a bag a day which will make them $2, it sounds as though it’s a lucky day to sell more then a bag.

These are a few images from the story on the orphanage ive been working on, hopefully soon i will have a complete story and text ready for publication.

article

2009-07-29T19:05:00.000-07:00

So this article was published on monday about me, im not sure how i feel about it, for sure its good press but it also eeks me out a lil, hmm, is that normal?

http://www.mn.catholic.org.au/newsroom/auroraissues/aurora85_story2.htm

some more stuff from round Timor's tracks

2009-07-25T23:21:00.000-07:00

Caption- Sunset drive through the mountains Baucau to Viqueque.

So I am still in Dili despite some yearnings to get up to the mountains. It isn’t all bad, ive meet a great bunch of people here in the last few weeks and have been quite busy trying to organise access to photograph with the PNTL- Timor’s police, as well as spending time with some of the young radical up & coming journo’s of Timor. I have moved out of the over priced airconditioned fish tank that has been rapidly sending me broke and have swapped it for an orphanage. It will be an interesting few weeks here, everyone is up rather early, I feel naughty waking up at 7am as I know everyone else has been up for nearly two hours already, give me a week and ill be writing here how great it is to be up before the sparrows.

For reasons unknown ive been graced with a tropical infection that has left my left knee looking and feeling like I should just have finished up in hospital with a knee replacement, its ok though, I know that all good things come to an end and the loads of funky stuff coming out of it means its on the mend…

A great group here in Dili are ICFJ- the international centre for journalism, they are focused on providing training and development for local journalists as well as other services in the community, cool meeting of the community development and journalism worlds…

I have a few random images, including;

Sunset drive through the mountains Baucau to Viqueque part2

Political slogans on the back of a public bin here in Dili.

Fruit seller along the beach front in Dili.

Kids playing @ sunset along Dili beach.

A woman waits for a ticket to train by ferry to the East Timor enclave of Ouecussi, ferry’s leave twice a day and are quite competitive.

This is all for now,

cheers

A quick hello and some stuff from Timor Leste

2009-07-17T22:37:00.000-07:00

Another update from Timor Leste, I now write to you from Dili where I am just finishing up my time on assignment with Catholic Mission. Ive had a great last two weeks or so, ive been able to bear witness to some amazing projects already including two separate orphanages & agriculture projects as well as a boarding house for underprivileged students and a leprosy clinc- the only one in Timor in fact… funny leprosy seems to be rearing its head in my life quite a bit as of late…

So since being back in Dili ive been busily editing the last bunch of images from the leprosy clinic before Lana leaves for Australia, while Im also settling in Dili for a handful of days hoping to meet up with various people and organise my trip to Emera District- the coffee growing district to start work photographing the coffee growing process ‘from the tree to the cup’, I will be staying back at the Bakhita Centre where I spent a good portion of my time last trip I was here in 2005…

My initial trip to the cock fights in Baucau grew into a daily routine where by the end was just 'that' crazy white guy with a fascination for the only form of legal gambling in Timor… it’s a ruthless fight, sometimes its over in seconds while in other rounds (there is usually 5+ fights a day) it goes on for a few minutes whereby both cocks have been badly injured and end up collapsing simultaneously and finishing in a draw, the punters are never happy in this instance however in some ways I feel it fitting… Watching this game I naturally detatched myself from the cruelty of it, however I still couldn’t get past the pile of prizes (aka cocks that lost)who are shoved in between old pieces of corrugated iron and fence posts, some still alive and slowly bleed out as they watch the battle for their next comrade in the loosing pile…

Last Sunday myself and Lana hired two microlets and took the Sisters, members of the live-in leprosy community and the boarders down to Baucau beach… (just to clarify a microlet is a 1.8 L van that holds upwards of a soccer team, they are usually covered in terrible kitsch indo-western idols including shakira, britney spears and other demi-gods in the emergying western music scene of timor…) Our day at the beach was brilliant it included teaching the boarders how to float on ones back- such a simple thing to us water borne Australians, as well as dancing the timor 2 step-1 step dance on the sand while also enjoying a feast that seemed very lush and left me with a pang of guilt that I was at the centre of the special occasion. By 5pm it was time to head home, I could feel the suns burn starting to take hold on my white skin and I new a coffee was in order before I returned to the cock fights.

I spent time travelling between communities in the outer reaches of the Baucau district, I spent a few days in a town called Viqueque where I was able to photograph the local soccer semi final game. It was a big affair for the community, the rocky field was ringed with fans mostly shy of 20, while a strong Timore police and UN police group blocked the fans from the field, this was in response to the previous semi final the day before where it ended with opposing fans throwing rocks and the game was sadly cancelled. After a goalless game it trickled into a penalty shoot out that ended out equal, meaning another penalty shoot out where a winner was eventually found in the orange ‘Tatu Hada FC’-you can see some of my stuff from here on my blog. I finished off my rural trip in Ossu, we rounded out our time here with lunch of rice, tempeh & palm wine- don’t ever be deceived that this stuff resembles wine in any way, the only thing under 20% about the stuff is the amount of respiratory function one can enjoy after enjoying three full glasses. The stuff isnt remotely close to its shiraz cousins, After another hour on the road back to Baucau the steep drop of the palm wine finally took flight and I slept rather groggily for the reminder of the trip back to Baucau along some shocking roads Im glad I didn’t have to consciously travel.

The sunburn is fading and so are the 17 degree winter days of Newcastle/Sydney, I treated myself to a beer in an international pub this afternoon, watched BBC World and giggled as I saw Australia’s east coast weather report- the grass is always greener and for once im glad im not in Aust!

After the fires....

2009-06-30T20:20:00.001-07:00

These are a collection of images taken after the bushfires in Victoria, Australia. On Febuary 7th 2009 deadly fires swept through South East Victoria killing hundreds... Below are a few images taken 2 months later... all copyright Conor Ashleigh 2009 ©

2009-06-30T19:57:00.000-07:00

1st of July, ive traded Sydney for warm Darwin, its great up here, nice and warm, never to warm for a latte though... im enjoying a week of doing not a whole lot, so far ive just hung out with some family friends im staying with who are great fun, caught up on some dvd's i havent seen but have been wanting to for some time and filled in time with updating this, ive also dug out some images i havent had the chance to put up yet, these are from some small projects ive been busying myself with...

This image is Fode Mane he is a Senegalese drum & dance teacher in Newcastle Australia, he moved here a few years back to join his wife and daughter, he now runs classes as well as spend alot of time working in the African community in Newcastle.

Fode trains some of the West African guys in soccer regularly and you will see him lean build bouncing around above the usually stocky Liberian's and Sierra Leonian teenagers who push to keep up... Fode also spends time with a bunch of West African teenage girls who he helps with dance moves, recently this bunch of hip hoppers have been working on a hybrid flow of modern breaks mingled with some traditional West African dance moves and its looking good. Some of these girls have children so a rehearsal is stopped for feeds and nappy changes while alot of the time these cute 0-2 year old kids look on as their Mum's bust a move. I have written an article and will hope to publish it some time soon along with a photo essay, but for now this is all...

seeing out Aust before i head to Timor

2009-06-24T23:10:00.000-07:00

so i'm down in Sydney hanging out with the fam and enjoying my last couple of free days before i head for Timor via a week in Darwin. . . Ive been lucky enough to have friends from Newcastle to score a house & car in Darwin for the week im there, so it seems ill have a place to stay and a car to get about in. Im looking forward to escaping to the warmth, i have no plans for Darwin except catching up with a few friends and journo's i know up there. Then after the D-Win i hit the ground running in Timor.

Im working on assignment with the NGO Catholic Mission and am lucky enough to have them pick me up from the airport, we will head around the country side for 11 days and then afterwards ill head up to Emera the hilly country where the coffee is grown..

Drought in central western New South Wales, Australia

2009-05-09T17:23:00.000-07:00

So I'm back with another update,

this time not from my recent trip to the Indian sub-continent but in fact some work from rural New South Wales in Australia, an area heavily affected by the prolonged 10 year drought.

Witnessing the struggle and despair of farmers was quite intense and i have compiled a few images together from that time. I had a great time out bush, particularly at the Manglesdorf property where i spent much of my time, i hope to return out this way soon enough to spend more time documenting the drought.

This image is fertilizer being shifted from the

delivery truck to the farms truck, Ben Manglesdorf the youngest child of Howard Manglesdorf the farm owner tightens the band important to the fertilizer moving out as quickly as possible.

This next photo is of a seemingly dried water dam from a property outside the town West Wyalong. I decided the dry dam was worth capturing, so after jumping a fence i got stuck

into framing the cracked earth, i didnt notice the change in colour and as i photographed my way into the middle i stupidly stepped right into undisturbed mud in the middle of the dam, sucking me into chest deep mud, my camera went in front first before i did. My initial reaction was to throw the camera up the bank as i then turned to try and pull myself out of the mud.

It was intense, as i attempted to use my legs to peddle out i became further entangled in the mass of mud, i settled myself and reached out and started to hold onto harder parts of the dried mud on the outter of the soft stuff, once my arms had climbed up and found some solid ground i managed to pull myself out of the crazy sucking mud bath!

Once i was out and realised I was OK, my attention turned to my camera that resembled more of a muddy blob then my work horse! I stripped off (as my clothes had taken on a good few kilos) and carried the muddy clothes in one hand and my muddy blob of a camera in the other back to my car. Here i washed myself and gave the camera the initial scrape down of the rough layer of mud and headed for the farm knowing the farmers would have a right giggle when they heard my story!

The image on the right is what were once my clothes!

I am hoping to develop my work on the drought in the near future and am aiming to return to the region towards the end of the year.

Cheers

Conor

www.conorashleigh.com

+61 431 455 792

Welcome to my photo blog. . .

2009-05-09T16:55:00.000-07:00

hey all,

i have played around with blogs for a while, but have decided to dedicate regular time to keeping an update blog surrounding the stories i am currently working on as well as some of the assignments Ive been completing.

Attached are a few images from my time in Ladakh in India where i was completing a photo story on climate change some of the images and the press release can be seen on the link below..

http://www.350.org/en/about/blogs/action-spotlight-350-climate-change-festival-ladakh-india

This next image was taken from inside the old and no longer used Muslim school in the capital Leh where i spent time with the Imam Gulam who leads the community at the local mosque.

I spent the best part of a week visiting the Jamia Masjid for afternoon prayers, i would talk with men who came to prayer and enjoyed sitting down afterwards to talk about religion, the world and other topics that were translatable.

I learnt a lot about Islam during this time, i firstly developed a stronger sense of the importance of community that exists within Jamia Masjid as well as the deep commitment demanded as being a good practitioner. As well as spending time at the local mosque, i also visited Buddhist temples and Buddhist NGO's which gave me the flooring for the photo story on Islam and Buddhism i completed called 'The Fire of Allah & Buddha.'

This next photo was taken from within the solar powered kitchen in the Ladakhi NGO LEDeG http://www.ledeg.org/ where i spent time developing my photo story on climate change in Ladakh. I was interested in some of the current community responses to climate change, seeing that Ladakh is already being effected by the changing climate and its inevitable this will intensify with thousands of local residents eventually having to relocate.

So that is all for now,

to see some of my current work please visit my website

www.conorashleigh.com

to contact me regarding work please see my contact page on the website.

Cheers

Conor