Zalmaï's best photograph: an Iraqi refugee boy reunited with his uncle
Invervied by Tom Seymour
Written by Zalmaï
The Guardian
This was taken last September in a Hungarian village called Röszke, near the border with Serbia. A thousand refugees passed through the village’s railway station that day, then stood in the rain waiting for buses to take them to a detention centre.
Ali, who was originally from Iraq, had lost his uncle while queueing for food. He was almost crying, but he was brave. I began to talk to him in Arabic using a translator. He had some food in his hand, but couldn’t eat it. We searched for his uncle, finding him after 30 minutes. That’s his hand, wiping Ali’s tears away.
Ali is part of someone else’s war – a boy who has left his home, school, friends and family behind, crossing border after border. All he has is his uncle, and all his uncle has is his dignity. But Ali was lucky. I saw many children travelling alone. I recently saw a headline saying that more than 10,000 refugee children went missing in Europe last year. How is this possible? They’re not in far-flung jungles, mountains or deserts. They’re disappearing from cities or detention centres in Europe.
I think some of them find family, or go into hiding because they’re scared of being sent back. But I think many others are sold into the slave trade, or for sex and organ trafficking. Imagine if 10,000 children from the UK just disappeared? But here, they’re barely worth a headline.
I was born in Afghanistan and had a very comfortable life in Kabul. I used to read National Geographic when I was growing up. Then, in 1979, Russia invaded. When you go, you go quickly, not knowing if you’re ever going to return. Suddenly your life becomes mountains and borders.
I left without my parents. It took me four months to reach Switzerland. In the mountains near the border with Pakistan, I walked for eight nights and hid during the day. If the Red Army saw us, they’d shoot straight away. That was the hardest time of my life.
When we finally got to the border, there was a small house with an Afghan flag on one side and a Pakistani flag on the other. Beyond that was normal land, normal soil. Both sides, I realised, were the same. The border was in our minds. I’ve never forgotten that.
I tell the refugees I photograph where I’m from. I tell them I know what they’re going through, that my camera is for them, to show they exist, to protect their rights. I feel part of their story. When I look at this refugee boy, I see myself.
CV
Zalmaï. Photograph: Luc Presse
Born: Kabul,1964.
Studied: School of Photography of Lausanne, and the Professional Photography Training Centre of Yverdon
Influences: Luc Chessex, Robert Frank, W Eugene Smith.
High point: “Receiving a copy of my first book, Eclipse.”
Low point: “When I see photographers trying to get sensational shots without understanding their subjects.”
Top tip: “Try not to be too close – or too far away!”
Source: www.theguardian.com