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If he could choose, the photojournalist Moses Sawasawa would be capturing the soft moments of kindness between the people of his city. But his home in Goma, in the east of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, hasn’t known peace in his twenty-five years. On the border with Rwanda and at the center of mining operations that export gold and minerals that power batteries, “green” technology, and computers, Goma has experienced the brutality of wealth and power. “It’s war that chose me, not me who chose [war],” Sawasawa told me in a Zoom interview in April. “It’s an obligation to do this kind of photography.”
In his five or so years as a photojournalist, Sawasawa’s work has been published in major international outlets including the New York Times, The Guardian, and the Associated Press. He often works with foreign media to help translate and coordinate reporting, and is always looking for new ways to persuade publishers to care about the more than four million people who have been displaced by the fight for mining control between rebel groups and the government in the eastern DRC. In April, we spoke about the risks he faces when working in conflict zones, and about his experience of starting a project, Collectif Goma Oeil, to encourage young people to tell their own stories through photography. “The biggest challenge is fear,” he said. “But you must ask yourself: Why are you doing this? What is the cause? This cause is the one that also pushes us to sacrifice our lives, to tell the stories of our fellow human beings, of our peers.”
Since that interview, the people Sawasawa photographs haven’t changed, but international interest in their struggles has—and so have his personal risks. The deadly virus mpox is ravaging the war-stricken eastern provinces of the DRC and has made international news; last month, the director of the World Health Organization declared the upsurge of cases in the DRC and other African countries to be a public health emergency of international concern (or PHEIC). According to Doctors Without Borders, there have been more than fourteen thousand suspected cases in the DRC since the beginning of 2024, in twenty-three affected provinces. Due to the crowded conditions in displacement camps in the eastern provinces, there is even greater concern about rapid transmission there.
Sawasawa has spent the past month reporting on the outbreak in this region, where vaccines are still in insufficient supply. (A vaccination campaign is set to begin in the DRC next week; yesterday, President Joe Biden announced at the United Nations that the US will donate a million mpox vaccines to African countries.) One of his recent photos shows an older man’s face, close up with a narrow depth of field; the man’s eyes appear tired as he looks just beyond the lens. Another of Sawasawa’s photos depicts a small child, their head smeared indiscriminately with white lotion and tilted back while gloved hands use a tongue depressor to keep their mouth open.
I spoke again with Sawasawa in early September, after he returned to Goma from Kamituga, in South Kivu—a mining town that sits near the borders of Rwanda and Burundi, and is known for its rich deposits of gold and artisanal mining. The town’s people have also been struggling with the mpox outbreak for over a year. We spoke about the new challenges that Sawasawa is facing in his work, the importance of keeping in contact with his subjects, and the evolution of his career so far. Our conversation, translated from the French, has been edited for length and clarity.
LW: The last time we talked, it was about the war. This time, it’s about mpox. When did you start photographing mpox patients?
MS: Almost a month ago.
But mpox is not exactly new to the DRC?
No, no, no, it’s not new to the DRC. It’s a disease that’s been around for a long time. But now the world and a lot of people are paying attention to it.
Mpox has received a lot of coverage since the WHO declared the situation a public health emergency of international concern. Has that attention changed anything in the DRC?
The current situation in the DRC, especially here in the eastern part, is still complicated—especially in the province of North Kivu, where we have a lot of cases of mpox and these patients are people displaced by the war. They arrive in the camps and then the mpox arrives. It will not be just one story. There is the story of displacement, the war, and there is also a [story of] mpox that comes and affects the displaced people more than other people.
It’s the same population that you were photographing for the war?
Yes, it’s the same population, unfortunately—the same displaced people.
What is your impression of going through the treatment centers?
My impression is that it is really a big emergency. The state must take precautions. In most [of my] interviews, patients ask for the vaccine. I think that is the priority in all treatment centers.
Mpox is a virus that can be transmitted through skin-to-skin contact and by respiration, which makes it quite dangerous to be reporting on patients. What kind of personal protection do you use during your work?
There is some equipment that I like: masks, gloves, medical gowns, and the ECO-DIO [a pit-latrine system that is meant to improve hygiene]. I feel protected because after I leave the hospital, I spray all my belongings with chlorine; I wash my hands and spray my devices with alcohol.
It’s very different protection from what you need to cover conflict?
Yes, it’s very different.
You’ve said on Instagram that you spend a lot of time with your subjects, their families, and caregivers before you photograph them. How do you decide who to spend time with?
I often listen to the people who are caring for the sick person. Often, it’s mothers who look after their children, because most of the people affected are children. What I put on Instagram was a special case of an old man who was ninety years old and had mpox. His grandson was caring for him. I wanted to highlight that there are also adults who are infected with this disease. It’s not just children. The old man was asleep. I waited at least twenty minutes, speaking with his grandson in the hospital. Then I did a close-up portrait of him, after learning a lot about him from his grandson.
Do you ever have the opportunity to follow up with your subjects?
Yes, this is really my practice. I don’t take pictures and disappear. I like to follow the person. It can be from near or far. I remember, four years ago, I was in the mines of Kamituga. I talked with a woman [during my recent visit] who I had photographed then. I don’t cut communication with the people I have photographed, especially with mpox. It’s really hard to really stay in touch with everyone. But I try—I do my best.
What do you think about the coverage of mpox by foreign journalists? Is there anything you think is missing or should be added?
I don’t think there is anything that they can address or add. At the beginning, when the WHO declared it a public health emergency, there were quite a few media outlets that were interested. And we, as local journalists, worked very well with a lot of international media outlets. Then, about three weeks ago, they also started sending correspondents. Often, we work together, and everything goes well.
How is the coverage of mpox different from that of the war in eastern Congo? Are there similarities in the photography work for you?
It is different because I have often photographed conflicts or war, and here I find myself photographing another crisis. Even though I use the same camera, the protocols are different. In war, I wear a bulletproof vest and a helmet. For the virus I wear different protection and must move differently through the spaces. It changed a lot.
How do you prepare yourself mentally for each story?
I often tell myself that my job is to tell what’s happening. That’s what gives me courage. I tell myself that if I don’t share what’s happening, no one will. I take it upon myself to be the only one responsible for sending this information to the whole world. And I mentally prepare myself for that.
You have almost twenty-seven thousand followers on Instagram. When you post about the virus or the war, do you get a lot of feedback from your followers?
Yes, there is a lot of feedback. Most of my followers are not from my community; there are a few who are Congolese, but many of my followers are from foreign countries. There are people who send me feedback directly in the comments and others who write to me privately. I think that’s also what gives me courage, when I see my work is of interest to many people, to make sure that my work doesn’t go unnoticed. Because often, even me, if I put myself in the place of the displaced, if you come with your camera and you photograph me every day, I’m going to be tired. But if there is a good return, there are people who send me something for stories that I have published. For example, there was the story there of a guy who dreamt of being Messi, who dreamt of being a soccer player. I had a lot of replies and, thanks to that, someone sent him a jacket and a soccer ball.
When you finish covering an intense story, how do you take care of your mind? You mentioned conversations with followers, but is there anything else you do for your mental health?
That’s a really tough question because there are some horrible stories that we’ve covered. It can affect our mental health. It’s really important to take breaks and distract yourself in other ways. I have covered very horrible stories where I have seen people killed—not once, not sometimes, but many times. I think that we, as photojournalists or journalists, really need to look at the science and the psychology [of processing what we experience]. I often relax. I go see my family to forget. I often play PlayStation—that’s my favorite distraction.
You said in an interview with the Associated Press that even amid bad news, photographers have to find something beautiful. What is your definition of beauty?
As a photographer, you have to find beauty everywhere, [even] in difficult moments. We are here to show the story, but with a bit of beauty. We shouldn’t have someone come across your photo and close their eyes and say, This photo is horrible, I don’t want to continue. So I think that we, as photographers, are here to tell stories, the truth as we experienced it, and also to show the beauty of each photo.
Do you have anything else you’d like to share?
I do not know how to handle a weapon of war. I don’t know how to fly a warplane. I don’t know how to treat people sick with mpox. But I’m here, and I’m trying to take a good picture. I think I was born to be a photographer and tell stories. I think everyone needs the truth, and we are here to show that truth. Because I work for the truth.
Other notable stories:
- Conflict continues to escalate in the Middle East: Israel is still striking targets in Lebanon; meanwhile, a Hezbollah strike in the direction of Tel Aviv was shot down. (We wrote about the situation in Lebanon yesterday.) In other news from the region, CJR’s Feven Merid profiles a project aimed at archiving the online testimony of vulnerable journalists and other civilians in Gaza. Drop Site News reports that Israeli forces in the West Bank recently raided the home of Mujahed al-Saadi, a prominent Palestinian journalist; the soldiers reportedly beat al-Saadi and his wife before taking him into detention. And CNN issued a clarification after it repeated the false claim that Rashida Tlaib, a Democratic congresswoman, said that Michigan’s attorney general had only charged pro-Palestine protesters because she is Jewish—though critics want CNN to retract the claim entirely.
- For Vanity Fair, Paul Farhi explores why major outlets decided not to publish documents that were passed to them following an apparent Iranian hack of the Trump campaign. Editors’ reluctance, Farhi found, did not reflect ethical concerns or regret over their decision to publish hacked documents from the Clinton campaign in 2016, but rather the fact that the documents are “a dud,” offering little newsworthy information. (We wrote about the hack last month.) Meanwhile, Popular Information’s Judd Legum reports that the hack may be ongoing, after he was offered internal Trump documents dated ten days ago. Legum also decided against publishing the documents he was sent since they “do not provide the public with any fundamental new insight about Trump or his campaign.”
- Katie Robertson and Mike Isaac, of the New York Times, report that news outlets are increasingly experimenting with Channels, a newish feature on WhatsApp that allows publishers to send one-way news alerts to followers. Traffic from WhatsApp “still pales in comparison with what Google and Facebook send to publications” and publishers are conscious that Meta, its owner, has burned news organizations before. But “Channels is one of the few sources of traffic trending upward, and is part of a push by many publishers to develop direct relationships with audiences and, potentially, drive them back to outlets’ home pages or apps, rather than rely on the social media platforms.”
- According to Sara Fischer, of Axios, the private-equity arm of Koch Industries is in talks with an Indian-born businessman about partnering on a bid for Forbes. (While the Kochs support right-wing causes, the private-equity arm does not meddle editorially when doing media deals.) In other media-business news, unionized journalists with the Southern California News Group, which is owned by Alden Global Capital, voted to authorize a strike. And, amid mass layoffs at its parent company, Paramount Global, CBS is cutting several senior journalists—including Jeff Glor, the former host of its nightly newscast.
- And Harper’s raised eyebrows recently when it published a cover that appeared to classify The Atlantic as a big tech company, alongside the likes of Meta and Google. Now Harper’s tells the journalist Simon van Zuylen–Wood that it did so because The Atlantic has effectively become “a subsidiary of Apple and a tool of OpenAI,” adding that the cover aimed to dramatize the magazine’s “sellout to big tech, and also to sound the alarm in general about Silicon Valley’s corrupting influence on the American media.”
ICYMI: In Lebanon, a ‘silent’ war grows louder
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