January 1, 2002 The Strong Will to Live Over the last two and a half years, I have traveled around the world to photograph sites where sudden conflict and natural disasters have occurred. These activities began with my visit to Kosovo in July 1999, just after the conclusion of the conflict there. "In the middle of the night, the Serbian police forced their way into our house and shot my parents. Whilst the house was being overturned and electrical appliances and valuables were being seized, we were warned to, "Get out of here!" The remaining six members of my family fled. We ran through the night, escaping into neighboring Macedonia," cried a 47 years old Albanian woman named Maliqi. I saw burned houses with no roofs, sites of slaughter in the mountains, children's dolls with broken necks… scenes of the deeply-rooted hate connected with ethnic conflict right before one's very eyes. From the many other graphic eyewitness reports I have heard, it became obvious that the so-called Serbian "terrorist purge" was just a name to camouflage an act of atrocity involving ordinary civilians. However, people caught up in the atrocities didn't necessarily all sit around feeling sorry for themselves. Those who have reclaimed their lives and composure have heartily welcomed back their neighbors returning from surrounding countries. They do not hide their joy at achieving peace and they discuss it freely. Some people have already started to make a living for themselves by becoming taxi drivers for members of the press. In the towns at night as well, the hitherto banned Albanian language music rings out triumphantly, and young people amuse themselves dancing on the sidewalks. The atmosphere is far from restrained. Having overcome their sorrow, the citizens rejoice as they return to their homes in Kosovo with their family and neighbors. So, is this really the site where the lives of so many people were sacrificed? The conditions that I saw were more varied than what I had learned from research. In August of 2000, I traveled to an area of Turkey devastated by an earthquake. A year later, 32-year-old Maride Chakul is still confined to living in a tent. She drew close to me, looked me straight in the eye and commenced talking intensely. "At the time of the disaster, I was buried under the rubble of the house for 15 minutes before I was rescued. I now must pay three months worth of hospital fees, and because I have no work experience, I sit on the sidewalks selling clothes. There are reports in the media praising the wonderful assistance that has been given, but many victims have not benefited from it. Our situation is critical. Let me show you my tent." Women brought up in an average Turkish home, other than those who pursue careers upon graduating from university, normally follow the tradition of studying to become housewives and marrying after school. Because of the earthquake, Maride has been forced to make a living for herself and the experiences she has had with money have been undoubtedly trying. However, she has approached many journalists and has continued to talk of improving life here. Society cannot be changed if one keeps silent. That's what she's learned as an earthquake victim. So she will continue to speak her mind. Women struggling to survive are overflowing with a powerful life force. From Kosovo and Turkey, I moved onto the troubled areas of Eritrea and Macedonia. I have also visited the sites of natural disasters in Taiwan and India. And although the political situations and interests differ from place to place, I never cease to be moved by the common ground shared by human beings doing their best to survive impossible circumstances. From visiting average households, I was naturally drawn to the women, perhaps, because I, too, am one. The selflessness in the way the women protect their husbands and children, parents and families; the smiles they produce as they strive to maintain a cheerful sense of balance; the way in which they embrace those around them; their indomitable spirits. I never cease to be amazed at how these women are able to soothe the wounds of their families with basic and warm homemade cooking, families whose only fortune are their ruined houses. In extreme environments, ordinary women are able to exhibit a great strength that enriches the lives of others around them. The expression on the faces of people living with adversity is unusually animated. There is a sharp intelligence in their eyes that typifies humanity. When people are facing death, it is then that they come to respect the dignity of life. I notice that I have become overwhelmingly fascinated by the "strength" of such women. Sharing time with them, I watch the way in which they conduct themselves. Despite their vulnerability, I come away drawing courage from them. Any human, when driven into a corner, is capable of reaching down and producing whatever resources are necessary to solve a problem as quickly as possible. When that happens, the spirit to "reverse the situation" rises, turning weakness into strength. This positive "human will to live" is universal, and independent of country and race. Disaster victims learn to overcome the difficulties of their situation, and I feel that keenly from women struggling to stand on their own two feet again. Through photography, I have had the opportunity to visit regions wracked by conflict or a natural disaster. And these experiences have had a strong effect on the way in which I live my life. These experiences are very precious. I think I have become stronger because of the places I've been and the things I've seen. I want to show how disaster victims live to shed light on their positive, forward looking attitudes, their strength and fortitude of character, instead of simply emphasizing the bleakness around them. As a freelance photographer, my desire is to fulfill a role different to that of news agencies. Foreign news stories can seem very far removed from the average Japanese citizen, and there is often a perception of such events as being "extraordinary". I feel that it is important to present documented material in a way that is both positive and easy-to-understand. With regard to a photograph I took in July 1999 in Kosovo of a "Sleeping Mother and Baby," a young man in his early twenties once said to me, "Just think. I lay in my mother's arms like that once." His comment struck me as rich in profound sentiment toward his mother and it gave me great joy to think that people can relate to my photographs in this way. When photographing disaster victims, I try not to send the message of: "Don't you feel sorry for these people?" When my finger is on the shutter, my aim is to forge a common bond between all people who live their lives to the fullest, so that everyone is inspired. I hope that my photographs instill viewers with a sense of freedom and liberation. Those who look at my photographs may feel something different from my own sensibilities, and I am always happy to receive their feedback. I cherish the tripartite relationship that is created when photographer, subject and observer come together. That is the motivation behind my photography and it nourishes in me "a strong will to live." (Published in SOGO JOURNALISM KENKYU (General Journalism Research), issued by Tokyo-sha, No. 179, Winter Edition, 2002)