Only the begining...

It is easy to underestimate the power of a dream. Easy to brush away a whim and say it will never be of any consequence. It is easier still to underestimate yourself. When I started this journey I had no idea that it would soon become my reality. In six weeks time my journey truly begins as I take up a photojournalism internship. The very internship which sparked this blog and has featured much in my posts thus far. While I am filled with apprehension and I still doubt my ability to make it in such a tough industry, I intend to go for it with all I have.

I hope you will join me on this journey as I try to make it as a travel photojournalist and science writer. In the meantime I leave you with some images from my recent trip to the transkei...

There is more it than that...

Rob Anybody -

Illustrated by Paul Kidby

http://www.paulkidby.net/

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'Rob had mastered the first two rules of writing, as he understood them: 1) steal some paper 2) steal a pen. Unfortunately there was more to it than that'.

Sir Terry Practhett* - A Hat Full of Sky

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As with many activities in life having the correct equipment does not necessarily mean you will be any good at it. Many people took great pains to stress this to me when I bought my SLR camera and announced I wanted to be a photojournalist. Like Rob I decided to try anyway... I am pleased to report that I have been shortlisted for a journalism cadetship based on my article 'The Namibia Shot' (See first post to this blog). Recently, upon hearing I wanted to pursue photojournalism, one of my ecology professors told me I should 'stick to the science '. My advice to him is ‘stick to the science’ and leave the advice up to those who know better .

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*It never ceases to amaze me how well Terry Practhett understands the human condition. He so fundamentally understands humanity that he manged to produce a series of books where the world is flat, troll rights are an issue and death is a friendly skeleton, and yet manged to pass it off as a satire. Not only did he pull it off but he was knighted for his efforts. Incidentally Terry Practhett started out as a newspaper journalist. For more information on Terry Practhett and his books go to http://www.terrypratchettbooks.com/

What do you do when all your dreams come true?

A while ago I was offered what I thought was the position of my dreams. A chance to study chilid fish in the African lakes... one catch I had to relocate to Grahamstown for about 8 years while I completed a masters and PhD. This is what what came out of that experience.

The thing about dreams is that deep down one never expects them to come true and if they do you never expect it to be a hard decision to follow them. But life is funny cause dreams are born in your mind and the half world between fantasy and reality. While you live on earth. A world of responsibility and practicality. A world of plans and people. If following your dreams means everything else changes, is it still your dream? Do you take the adventure, swallow your fears and forgo your plans to jump right in?Will you always regret it if you don't? And what of those dreams you sacrifice to make it happen? Do they fade away or will you always wonder what if? You never expect when all your dreams come true to be wondering what to do...

The Namibia Shot: from ecologist to photographer in a single frame

Sunday to Friday Express. It was the name painted on the side the tour bus. The bus driver ironically seemed oblivious to the sign since, although it was Saturday, we were crossing Namibia’s vast gravel plains on route to Skeleton Coast National Park.
Starring out the window felt somewhat fruitless as all I could see was kilometre after kilometre of desolate plains. To pass the time I pulled out my camera and reviewed the last week’s worth of photographs. All I needed was one good shot for the assignment. Although I had over three hundred photographs of sand dunes, lizards and grass, none felt quite right.
The bus came abruptly to a halt. My first thought was that the bus driver had realised it was Saturday since we did not appear to have arrived anywhere in particular. As I stepped out the bus a wall of dense, hot air engulfed me. I looked around me, squinting in the bright desert light, and thought, ‘Great, more gravel’. Far in the distance I could see the edge of the northern dune sea. That was where we were heading. The Sunday to Friday Express, it seemed, would take us no further.
The steady, rhythmic crunching of stones beneath hiking boots was almost hypnotic. Half an hour later with the dunes seemingly no closer I stopped to catch my breath. Sunblock mingled with sweat dripping down my forehead making my eyes sting. As I lifted my shirt the wipe the moisture from my face, I noticed a small dead shrub out of the corner of my eye. This meagre, bare shrub was the only sign of plant life in sight. I bent to tie my bootlace while thinking about how one lone plant could have come to grow there at all. From my crouched position, I looked up once more at my shrub. It dawned on me suddenly that this was the shot. In the distance the dunes rose high above the gravel plains. My shrub was small yet strong against this backdrop. The colours appeared almost bleached contrasting the dark near black of my shrub whose branches mingled with their own shadows such that you could hardly tell which was which.
I lay down on the hard gravel and focussed my camera. The ground was searing hot and each sharp stone was like a tiny poker branding those exposed parts of my skin. Grimacing I took the shot. I knew I had it right before I even looked down at my camera’s review screen. This was Namibia in a single frame: harsh yet resilient and heartbreakingly beautiful. In that moment I knew I was going to need a bigger camera…