Dear Brother, You’re Free Now
I breathe deep. The knot in my throat feels like I’m trying to swallow a moving train. At the cemetery in Benghazi, five feet before my lens, is the weeping family of Abdul Faraj, killed yesterday by pro-Gaddafi forces while fleeing a nearby city. His three brothers collapse next to the fresh grave of their fallen loved one, crying uncontrollably with a level of raw emotion that I have never before witnessed. “Dear brother, you’re free now.” One cried.
“This is too much,” I think to myself. My heart begins to tell me that this too agonizing to witness, let alone document. A tear smears my viewfinder as I find a way to recompose myself. I know that in this moment, to leave would be an act of selfishness. “I am here for a reason,” I remind myself. “This is important. These people have real stories and they need to be told. They must be told.”
The tale of Abdul and his family is a tale all too common in Libya. According to the Obama administration, the death toll already exceeds 30,000 with tens of thousands more wounded since the conflict’s Febuary inception. In a country of barely 6 million people, nearly everyone is impacted by the war, with most having lost a friend or loved one during the fighting. With dreams of liberation dwindling, the only freedom found for many Libyans is the freedom found in sacrifice—the freedom found in death.
This project, titled “Dear Brother, You’re Free Now,” seeks to educate and inform viewers of the devastating war being waged on both the civilian and military populations of eastern Libya. The current essay will expand in both still and multimedia formats to include (1) the documentation of the current siege on the port city of Misratah, (2) the resumption and progression of daily life in eastern “Free Libya,” and eventually, (3) the awaited overthrow of Gaddafi.
To tell these stories—to show them—I cannot work alone. The deaths of Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros, along with the government-sponsored kidnapping of dozens more journalists, serve as tragic reminders of how dangerous and cruel covering conflict—especially in Libya—is for photographers. As a freelance photographer, i’m required to personally finance all transport, body armor, satellite communications, and living expenses.
My most recent project, “For The Love of Hate,” was selected last year for the final round and was simultaneously picked up by editors at TIME. I apply for the student project award with the absolute faith and conviction that receiving the award this year will directly impact my ability to tell Libya’s story. I will be able to work more safely and effectively, with greater exposure and impact. LUCEO’s support and contribution to the essay will challenge and inspire viewers to think of war not as an entity fought with machinery, smoke, and ammunition, but as one fought with the loss of human lives—brothers, fathers, children, and friends. I deeply thank LUCEO for the opportunity to share this vital story. If there is anything that I can do to personally assist with your selection, please do not hesitate to contact me.
