Being safe

Carrying this camera around makes me feel very vulnerable. It does not seem implausible to imagine that while I have my eye screwed up to the viewfinder someone can come behind me, knock me over the head and steal my camera. I hate that I feel like this. I want to be excited by capturing special moments that occur in the normal course of the day (like the two women on the mattress in the bus shelter). Instead I have to think about safety. Of course the reality of the situation is that the camera can very easily feed a family for a couple of months (or someone's drug habit).

I love South Africa. We have travelled the world and I am always happy to come home. I love the physical beauty, the spirit of the people, the road we have travelled and the transformation we have been part of. I love all the ordinary people who strive every day to make this a better place for us to live in - the gogo in the township, the projects like Project Playground and the musician who gives his time to teach children in the townships.

Every time I return home, though, the news of crime on the television and in the newspapers feels like a physical onslaught. I think that when I am home I develop a certain immunity which is necessary for survival. And of course an automatic vigilance which makes sure that the car doors are locked or that my bag is slung across my body when I walk out in public, and so on.

Moving away is not the answer. I don't know what is. But I do think we need to make more of an effort to  be part of a community that looks out for each other, that takes back the park or the street. A community where we can call on our neighbours. A community that cares. A community where I can feel safe enough to take a photograph.