NOTE: This is a belated post–quite belated, in fact–but I though I’d share it because it’s a nice intersection of international travel and the domestic road trip.

With Romy riding shotgun, we headed south to Portland with camping, climbing, and other gear strewn about the wooden sleeping platform in the back of my Subaru. Late as usual, and getting later, we nudged through an early rush hour watching the clock. We had a fundraiser to get to. (at right: romy in the subaru)

This extended weekend was the first short road trip in a long time for my lemon of a car. It was warm enough we drove with the windows down–all but Romy’s since the electric motor is out. The part costs $180. It is one of a long list of ailments: cruise control: not functional; horn: dead; power outlet: fried; drive axle boot: leaking; brake caliper mounts: rattling again; clutch throwout bearing: sounding less like a mouse and more like an overgrown hamster; that engine oil leak: still untreated. I wanted to show Romy a slice of the “real” America, the grand open spaces, mountains, and the beauty of the open road. Assuming my car made it. When we got home, Romy would comment, “I guess it runs ok.”

Our first destination was a cute wine bar in Portland where the Transitions Cambodia (TCI) founders, James and Athena Pond, were hosting an event. I’d never met Athena, but I knew James from one rather intense month in Cambodia. He set me up with a lot of my contacts, gave me organizational access no other NGO was willing to offer, spoke in my support when I was slandered, and would often meet me at a watering hole we grew to love. I think I saw him almost every day he was in Phnom Penh and, when he left, the cityscape felt a little empty. James is the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, is no-bullshit, and works to get the job done. I like that ethic. (at left: athena and james pond)

The event started slow, giving me a chance to meet some of the board members and Holly writer and producer Guy Moshe, but it quickly built. With live music in the warmth of the open cellar, it was a pretty cool event. Romy and I were fortunate enough to meet two supporters of TCI, Sherry and Mellani. Good friends, Sherry is a very successful sales person and Mellani is the Queen of Benefits for the recovering addict. The next day she would give us a tour of Central City Concern in downtown Portland.

I like Portland, I enjoy exploring it and doing so with Romy was fun. We had met in Cambodia and this time, instead of cruising around on her moto, we had my beat up car to tour with. In true travel form, we wandered from person to person, place to place. Mary, a new FEAR Project volunteer I met in Seattle, came down from Centralia and we had a chance to check out the bar scene and, the next day, the coffee shop scene. (at right: Transitions Cambodia board member Erin McNamara and Holly screenwriter Guy Moshe)

I had a chance to meet with Wendy Freed, a prominent researcher in the field of human trafficking, as well as Keith Bickford, the sole officer comprising Oregon’s anti human trafficking task force. I find Keith’s willingness to be challenging and forthright in a very delicate field admirable; things don’t get done by standing on the sidelines, but with the political and ethical issues coming to light in domestic human trafficking, striking a balance is no small feat. Wendy, after she learned I had worked with Lucy Berliner at HCSATS took her card back, put down her personal email and phone, and began a more candid conversation. (at right: Q&A after the screening of Holly. James, Jaya, Wendy, and Keith with my pictures on screen behind)

I’m still learning just how far Lucy’s influence spans; she is a friend and mentor to many, a strong leader, and I’ve only realized recently just how valuable that first interview years ago was for me–had she not taken the time I sincerely doubt FEAR Project would exist or that I’d be as involved in anti-trafficking as I’ve become. (at left: Jaya Sry at the theater for the screening of Holly, a film about sex trafficking shot on location in Phnom Penh)

Romy and I stayed with the Ponds where we saw Jaya (pronounced Zaya) the director for Transitions’ Phnom Penh aftercare facility. Ever smiling, she denied being jet lagged however the next morning she didn’t emerge until nearly noon. This was her second trip out of Cambodia; the first was in February when she went to Bangkok. James lost her in a large department store, a scale she had never seen before, and didn’t find her until he remembered she liked smells. Like Ferdinand amongst the flowers, they found her in the perfumery.

We headed south to Smith Rock, a climbing crag I used to make regular weekend pilgrimages to. There we woke to the scent of juniper and sage, shared campfires in the Grasslands (now called Skull Hollow), and spent hours climbing on the sharp-edged volcanic tuft. The usual suspects, locals and seasonal locals, were there as well; comforting in their seeming permanence. (at left: a wind turbine near the Columbia river)

Taking Highway 97 north, we drove through open range land, dined on authentic taco truck cuisine (Romy loves Mexican food–something I miss when I travel), and found the wind farm I’d longed to photograph several years ago when it was being constructed. There’s something about seeming the swooping blades of a massive turbine carving across the horizon which, when you crest the gentle rise, you see is but one set of hundreds spread across an open landscape of green grass and dull rock.

We took some time to drive amongst the forest of towers, crisscrossing fields on gravel access roads. The light never quite got right for the pictures I was hoping to make; we could have stayed the night and waited, but home called us on so we headed north into the gathering dusk. (at right: looking like a space ship, an under construction head of a turbine lies flat on the ground)

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With 5 year-old Riki, the world’s cutest adopted kid. When Jon worked at AHC they would have about one orphan per month left at the hospital; staff would take them home, friends of staff, or even patients.

“I looked down at her, a tube in her nose, a tube in her mouth,” Jon said of the tiny, premature baby he saw. “I said ‘I’ve been waiting 50 years for you.’ The nurse across the incubator from me said ‘Yeah Jon, this one’s for you.’”

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“Dr. Hal” waiting for his hair cut and shave.

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Holding still for the straight razor.

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Jon’s commute to work is through the grounds of Angkor Thom. Amazing.

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On “The Farm,” Jon and Mieko’s 14 year creation. A Swiss Family Robinson series of connected ‘buildings’ with a kitchen and pantry on the ground floor, it is solar powered with a satellite internet connection.

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Getting dinner going on the grill.

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The outdoor towel rack in the orchard.

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One of two outdoor showers with hand-drawn water from the well. Quite nice in the warm evening light.

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Final dinner prep.

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Dinner by candlelight. It gets dark at about 6.30. Since they don’t use much electricity that means early to bed…and early to rise. It’s a farm…so we’re talking with the pre-dawn light.

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I’m getting a little beat down by the NGO politics, the country politics, the continual fight for access, connections, story leads; I am expanding the story and sub-stories but I have to keep circling back to make sure I’m following up with the earlier pieces.

This is a self portrait down near the Independence Monument on my way from the nearby Java Online to Freebird. Both are popular expat hangouts, both have wi-fi, but Pat and Kath were in Freebird and I’m always afraid of running into the wrong person in Java. I arrived in-country with complications and they’ve only proceeded to blossom. Yet another reason to be tired.

I was keeping a bit of a diagram on my guest house wall in dry-erase pen. One of the desk staff saw it on Allison’s last day–she was keeping stuff in my room before departure–and exclaimed “Oh my god! My boss!” but I assured him it would come off. It became a long-running joke, him threatening to visit my room and “clean” it.

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I met a 13 year-old librarian the other day. She catalogs the books by difficulty, both English and Khmer. But the fact that she was once one of the vulnerable, living at the city dump, foraging for recyclables to sell, and is now living communally with other orphans receiving an education speaks volumes for yet another NGO. Even though she doesn’t know the Dewey-Decimal system, she is 13 and it is her library.

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I’ve expanded my skill set to video. It’s only a consumer-grade HD camera, but it shoots video. It’s also makes my job that much more expensive to do, not to mention it’s something more to lug around. But sometimes you want a talking head interview. (It does other stuff too, as I’m learning).

Srey Neth (pronounced Sray Nite) is now on staff for Transitions Cambodia and will become a spokesperson for the NGO, not only doing home assessments and outreach, but putting a personal story to the world of trafficking and sex slavery. She was once a victim herself.

Our set up was nothing like the pared-down (a dozen) cases of gear used by the NBC Dateline crew. It consisted of a black cloth taped to the wall, a couple of florescent desk lamps, a piece of synthetic white lace, and the room light. I put a lapel mic on her, asked the other girls to quiet down at the center (and turn off the ever-present TV), killed the room fan and did take after take.

Like my difficulty with some Khmer sounds, Neth finds trouble with “V,” “X’” and the ubiquitous American “R.” But I think we did alright.

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I’d never been to the “backpacker” area, the well-known “lakeside” so I went with Phnom Penh local Allie and her visiting younger sister Jessie. Allie works with Build Cambodia and is the person who introduced me to the Andoung Relocation Site. She is currently introducing her sister to Phnom Penh, trying to show a troubled 20 year-old American the depths of Cambodia and in this the possibilities within her.

We admired a beautiful sunset amongst the fisherman-pant wearing, sunburnt, budget travelers. This is the budget crowd, the most temporary in Phnom Penh. However, I’m not so sure the room rates are all that great of a deal.

On an off-color note, this is where (so I’ve been told by a source who shall remain anonymous) NGO women can go trolling for temporary dates. “Unfortunately, you have to take them back to your place and give them a shower, but the great part is they’re gone in a few days.”

Later I got to check out Allie’s well-located and quite nice pad. I was envious of her outdoor kitchen; it has been awhile since I’ve had the opportunity to cook for myself.

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They left a bottle of Ensure at my door this morning. Julie and Stuart, two more traveling Seattleites who were here for a few days.

“That’s wrong, that’s just wrong,” James said when I told him. But I kind of see their point. I just finished with my third bout of fever and GI-tract issues in about five weeks. I think it’s the same bacteria I got first time around; I think it just lies low when I’m healthy and hits me when I’m run down. So I’m committing to a round of Cipro. (at right: looking haggard while out on the town with Phnom Penh lifestyle writer Charis. photo by Dan Aylward)

I weighed myself the other day–I’m down about six pounds. Allison said my cheeks were looking thinner, but I’m sure some of that is also muscle loss from not climbing; I already went through the massive callous exfoliation on my hands. With my sparse eating habits, often due to running around too much, or the “hungry but no appetite” effect of heat and dehydration, I might be turning to the Ensure. Ha! That’ll be the day.

Still Rachel, the ex-radio reporter, has warned me to slow down. So have others. Rachel, on her short trips to Iraq and Afghanistan, would work at breakneck pace for 5-10 days then go back to the UK and collapse. I’ve still got a month to go and I suppose I could lose another few pounds without digging myself further into the out-of-shape-for-climbing hole. But I’d rather not. (at left: dinner at Setsara, street 278, with Rachel Reporter. photo by Dan Alyward)

Maybe they sell Ensure by the case here.

On second thought, James is right. It’s just wrong.

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What I love about TV is light. They bring a lot of it and they control it incredibly well. Dateline NBC made the florescent glow of Transitions Cambodia into a comfortable studio environment. With their “small” kit of only a dozen cases of gear. (at left: James on the monitor)

In a follow up from their 2004 story on sex trafficking in Southeast Asia, correspondent Chris Hansen worked with a team of freelancers–based in Singapore, Bangkok, and the producer, Cindy Babski in France–to revisit the same places and people but also added James Pond, who with his wife founded Transitions Cambodia.

The Ponds saw that 2004 Dateline story, watched it again with their kids, and decided as a family to move to Cambodia and do something about the problem. Three years later, they run a unique non-governmental organization in Cambodia and its fund raising 501(c)3 out of Portland. (at right: correspondent Chris Hansen)

What is special about Transitions is that while most victim aftercare shelters work with girls 15 and younger, Transitions takes teenagers and helps them “transition” to adulthood by showing them dignity and respect and helping them find their voice. It is the micro model for what the entire country needs; victims of trauma often lose the ability to speak for themselves, to understand they have a choice in life. Transitions seeks to empower the young women by giving them a chance to learn marketable skills and live a “normal” teenage life. The hope is these teenage women will recapture their dreams and then try to follow them. (at left: Dave and Cindy discuss the setup)

James says the two and-a-half years the entire family spent in Cambodia was “a trip of humility.” There were multiple cases of E Coli, one of Dengue Fever, and one of Hepatitis E. They had left suburban Sacramento, leaving behind a six-figure job as a regional sales rep in the plastics industry, BMW’s in the driveway, and a “Christmas that didn’t mean anything anymore because we were just handing out checks to the kids. We couldn’t buy them anything they didn’t already have.”

What struck the Ponds in that 2004 Dateline special were the interviews with the victims and seeing their eyes as they spoke of their experiences. But even his son, who was in 8th grade at the time, said “If it’s just for you and mom then I don’t want to do it, but if it’s for all of us then I’ll go.”

And so, home and possessions sold, they arrived at the airport with three children and 15 bags, ready to go to Cambodia to start a new life, one of purpose. It was, James said, “a giant breath of fresh air.” (at right: one of the TCI girls goes to school)

The Dateline crew was great and I think James did a wonderful job in the interview. Next week I’ll be with Transitions heading to Sihanoukville for a reintegration and later to the no-man’s land between Cambodia and Vietnam for a repatriation. Two of the girls from Transitions are ‘graduating’ and moving on to a new life. (at left: the Dateline crew with James, Zaira, the center director, and the four social workers)

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In an odd instance–this is the dry, cold season after all–it rained last night. Not a drizzly Seattle rain, but a raging torrent of water. The day had been overcast and had that electric and heavy ‘feel’, but save for a light misting the skies held off until dark. Then they opened in a flood. (at right: on the way to dinner during a lull)

I’m running in expat circles right now where opening conversation goes “and what does your NGO do?” It’s interesting because I’m finding one NGO leads to the next and to the next; a new economic development project was transfered from World Vision to another agency just last Friday. It’s important because economic development is part of the trafficking ‘prevention’ component. This project, once I know more, could be good because it’s in Koh Kong where I am trying to go later in February. Apparently it’s an idyllic and beautiful seaside town on the Thai border with some labor exploitation issues. So this might be a good double-project trip.

That is, if it all pans out–which is kind of how all of this stuff works. I was going to dinner with Pat, who works on land mine issues and I met Mick who does economic development. I also met a well-dressed ‘backpacker’, a friend of a woman who is returning to Pittsburgh in a couple weeks–where my sister, whose master’s degree is in international development, lives. Did you follow all that? But, get this, the ‘backpacker’ makes his living off of online poker. No, seriously. (at left: Mick and Pat)

It rained some more in the night, leaving me to a cool but humid run this morning. My first since I got sick last week. It was lethargic but enjoyable as I trudged around the Olympic Stadium track a meager 12 times, past the guys running backwards while doing interesting stretches with their arms. It’s an odd, odd scene. Must be the pre-dawn hour.

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Content Warning: Further exposition on illness.

From one sickness to the next, with a little overlap in the middle. I now have James’ “death-warmed-over” head cold. I’m not feeling as rotten, though maybe it’s relative compared to my G-I tract experience. None the less, my face was a faucet on Sunday and by today, Tuesday, it’s gained a foothold in my chest and I’m filled with a general malaise.

Fortunately, I was only to make pictures yesterday but James had lost his voice on Sunday and was supposed to be doing interviews with Dateline, NBC. They are here doing a follow up for a piece done in 2004; his story is about an American family being so moved by the trafficking issue they relocate to Cambodia to do something about it. He and his family were here two and-a-half years, only recently returning to the States, be he still spends a good half of the year here getting a new facility–and concept in victim care–running steady.

Anyhow, in the one week here I’ve been hammered in the gut–with fever–and knocked in the head by a full-blow cold. It’s a little humbling, especially when all you can do after a day’s work is collapse, fetal and still clothed, to wake up 12 hours later in the same position. But at least I was able to avoid taking Cipro and, while I’m a little gun shy about food, it seems like part of the process for calibrating to the local intestinal flora.

But it sure would be nice to have the energy to go running again.

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Apparently I made a mistake in eating internal organs. It is now advised by the wiser expats: avoid organs and do not eat the pork balls, as they are processed, undercooked trichinosis gut bombs. I am carefully learning where the expats eat–in western-style restaurants and various hole-in-the-wall places. Oh, and being sick? Apparently it’s just the way things are, even if you’ve been here for a year. At least I haven’t–and hope not to–shit my pants. Which also seems to happen.

Did I mention the fecal dust?

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When my old friend Kelly Tysseling disappeared to the eastside of the lake for a job (she even moved to Kirkland) I really had no idea what she was up to. Something medical at a startup; it would pay better than the university research she’d been doing and I wouldn’t see her at the climbing gym–or in general–since the work was quite demanding.

What she was doing was building a medical training lab in the shell of an office park building in Redmond. I was impressed with the tastefully stylish
lobby, reinforced steel I-beams to hang the spider-armed medical equipment, and a multi-table instruction room with super-ultra-mega resuscitation annies. (if you remember what those are).

The company she works for is EndoGastric Solutions; they have developed a device which can do stomach and esophageal procedures orally. Kelly was looking for some large-format images of the device in use. Knowing my skill at “documentary” photography, and wanting to help a friend out, she had me come in one day while a couple of UW doctors played with the device.

Corporate photography isn’t necessarily my “schtick” but I won’t turn it down. And this one was special because I was getting to see Kelly’s accomplishment (the lab), be proud of her success, and help her with the finishing touches. For her, she was able to send some work my way, knowing what I do “on the side” is humanitarian project photography.

Not long after the shoot she got a dog–and bought a house–making me even happier about her success. Not because she is now in possession of the accoutrements of suburban life, but because in her accomplishments she is finding her center, a place of rest and satisfaction.

While I will always remember that hard-charging climbing girl and adventure racer, who once screamed at me to “move it!” when, after 22 hours of climbing and constant movement, I just wanted to sleep beside the stream, I know through our long conversations we have both sought balance in our life pursuits. I think she may have found some. You know, I just went and made some pictures that day, but it was also so much more. And it was good.

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Images from the night

I laid in bed, the cold night air brushing my nose and cheeks through the cracked window. I thought about how comfortable the flannel sheets were and how it would be two months before I’d experience them again. (at right: me with jenny. photo by andrew hida)

I had stumbled home from the bar after hosting a fundraiser, emotionally drained and exhausted from two weeks of non-stop tension and last minute projects. It was no more than a month earlier I decided to commit to reporting on anti-human trafficking work in Cambodia–I couldn’t say no, for one opportunity after the next had appeared. It only made sense to seize them. The problem is there is very little money in it and I don’t have much myself. The 100 or so uncompensated hours per month I put into the FEAR Project, plus the inherent lack of revenue in my line of work, leaves me in a continual “college student” economic state.

But it is a choice I make. While it does not give me the same sense of satisfaction, I could do more weddings or focus on stock photography. (at right: a very drunk andrew hida)

And so I appealed to my community, first starting with people of financial means or professional interest. While successful, it wasn’t enough. As I spoke of my efforts, people I knew of lesser means questioned why I hadn’t asked them. They wanted to give. $25, $100, $200 contributions came in. One of my apartment neighbors was reading my fundraiser invite, laundry basket in hand, and kept on saying “I want to donate.” She did.

The night before I bought my plane ticket I asked one of my supporters, an elderly, accomplished gentleman, what he might advise. His response? “Go for broke.”

And so I did, knowing that even if i raised the funds I thought fair to bill one of the NGO’s I was working for, I would still come home with March rent paid and $0 in the bank. It would set me back against all the gains I’d made on my debt–I’d have to get a “real” job and go back to eating ramen. (at left: jenny and jenna)

But, really, this isn’t about the money.

This is about a community of people who understand their role in the world and how their actions have an impact. And this is about a groundswell of support I didn’t know existed in my circle of friends, acquaintances, and people I’ve never even met. And it is–and it isn’t–about me. (at right: me with miho, a radio producer. photo by andrew hida)

That is actually one of the more difficult parts for me to conceptualize; I want it to be about the work, but I’m coming to understand there is a component I bring to this story that allows my community to connect. It is strengthening, endearing, but also weighs heavily; before the responsibility was only to myself and my subjects but now it is to people who believe I can do this work, who look at me and say “I think it’s awesome that you’re just going for it.” Ever the one to minimize my accomplishments I stare back thinking, “It’s just Cambodia.”

And yet, I’ve been on the other side, the one looking in awe at another’s adventurous spirit. Part of the reason I am here is because a dear friend of mine, only weeks before she died in a climbing accident, said generally “Tim, it’s not that you can’t do it, it’s that you don’t have the balls to do it.” And I quote directly.

Lara Kellogg lived an incredibly rich and challenging life–because she went for it. In her death, and the things that followed afterwards, I found a greater sense for our mortality, the fragility of life, and how we get one chance to do something we can feel satisfied with. I am looking to live my life purposefully. (at left: projection and linda. photo by andrew hida)

And so it was in the afterwards of the fundraiser, in a quieting bar that I drank with Aaron, the bartender, who had facilitated the fundraiser. Clinton, one of the owners, had cut me an $800 check–my split of the burger-two-beers for $20 offering. In my pocket was $250 in cash from the raffle and another couple hundred in checks–as well as a few pledges people had made earlier. I had raffled some camelbaks, Outdoor Research apparel, Black Diamond ski gloves, and some of my prints which I heard were a real hit. We had packed the place with around 70-90 people, catching the kitchen off guard.

People were there because they wanted to make a difference. They wanted to be aware, to learn how they could act, to be part of anti-human trafficking work. For them, I was a crucial component to this.

One friend said “Tim, if you come back and lose your (apartment) you can stay with us for a year if you need to. I’m serious, and I’m not drunk. If you were just a dirtbag climber, that would be different, but what you are doing is important. And what you see here is one-thousandth of the support you have from this community.” (at right: kasi and i discussing last minute business in the wee hours. photo by andrew hida)

Later, as I lay in my bed, I stared out the window at the night sky and let my body relax. 24 hours to go, my bags still to pack, work to do, but at that moment it was all immaterial. I closed my eyes and cried with exhaustion and thanks.

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Many thanks to everyone involved–the attendees whose support was overwhelming; the Park Pub staff; my friends Dan and Allison who set up the projector system, were a sounding board, and were simply there (and who will be here in Cambodia shortly); Deb, whose idea the fundraiser was in the first place; Jenny and Roger who donated raffle items; Mary Sue who gave me the projector and an unwavering pledge of emotional and financial support. There are others too, but the list is long.

But I especially want to recognize these people who donated:

Chris Alliegro
Dan Aylward
Jason Bremer
Mary Sue Brenner
Stimson Bullitt
Christopher Croft
Aaron Ducat
Inge Falk Van Rooyen
John Giebelhausen and Erika Obrietan
Deb Hinchey
Mileva Huljev
Eric Jackson
Casey Jones
Leah Kiviat
Kathleen Karn
Andrea Leuschke
Linda Loft
Dorothy and Yas Matsui
Jerry and Mary Ellen Manock
Michelle Puryear
The Park Pub and its exceptional staff
Kim Siebs
Allison Stevens
Kari Stiles
Roger Strong
Jenny Uehisa
Kasi VerBrugghen and Andreas Schmidt
Elliott Waldron
Jenna Wellman

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Over the next two months I will be in Cambodia working with organizations who provide health care and participate in anti-human trafficking work. My purpose for working with them is two-fold. First, I am to create media to help the tell their story which will help them build their donor base, enabling greater direct services to their clients. Second, I am pursuing to greater depth the project photography I began last year on human trafficking.

My list of organizations and contacts is about a dozen long, but for simplification these are the three main organizations I will be working with:

The Lake Clinic Cambodia (TLCC)
www.lakeclinic.org

The Lake Clinic is building out its services which are to provide a floating medical clinic for the 1.1 million residents on the Tonle Sap lake in the heart of Cambodia. Healthy families are more productive, less vulnerable and less susceptible to trafficking. Human Translation is the 501(c)3 Fiscal Sponsor for The Lake Clinic. Reports are monthly to TLCC; expect to wait two months for your tax receipt.

Tax Deductible Contribution, Write Check to:
TLC at Human Translation
1241 Adams Street, Suite 1096
Saint Helena, CA 94574
USA
Annotate: for Media Production Budget / Tim Matsui Photography, LLC

**$4000 left to raise for TLCC media production

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Stop Exploitation Now (SEN)
stopexploitationnow.org

Stop Exploitation Now! (SEN) was established to stop the exploitation, abuse, and neglect of women, children, and the disabled in developing countries. We also provide basic support such as food, shelter, healthcare, and educational opportunities to impoverished individuals in Southeast Asia. Our goal is to implement projects that have major and lasting impacts on the lives of those in need.

Tax Deductible Contribution, Write Check to:
Stop Exploitation Now!
15100 SE 38th Street
Suite 101 #753
Bellevue, WA 98006
Annotate: for Media Production Budget / Tim Matsui Photography, LLC

**$1000 left to raise for SEN media production

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Transitions Cambodia
transitionscambodia.org

Transitions Cambodia works with teens who are trafficking victims, providing rehabilitation and repatriation as an immediate response but is also focused on creating policy for government and other organizations to unify the response to victim needs.

Tax Deductible Contribution, Write Check to:
Transitions Cambodia, Inc
6617 NE Marina Ct.
Hillsboro, OR 97124
Annotate: for Media Production Budget / Tim Matsui Photography, LLC

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While I am being marginally compensated and being provided with personal referrals, logistics, and other indirects, my plan of action would make a first-year MBA student cry. I am doing this at great personal financial loss, but to not do it would be an even greater loss.

The reality is, if an organization has a $60,000 annual budget for 2008 and it would cost a very reasonable $10,000 to produce a 3 minute multimedia piece for a fundraiser, web, and collateral use, can they afford to contract the photographer? In the very real choice between direct services and capacity building, I would have to take direct services.

This is where you come in; please consider donating to one of these agencies in support of media services (or direct services if you would like). If you feel comfortable in a direct non-tax deductible contribution to my work with these organizations, please use the PayPal button in the right-hand column or contact me directly.

It’s not all about money. There are other ways to get involved or provide support:
• consider linking to this blog
• sharing it with friends
• talking with your community about anti-human trafficking work
• consider having me do a presentation when I return
• buy a print
• query me about how you can volunteer. I will provide referrals or background.
-if you have medical, dental, or counseling skills
-if you have grant writing experience
-if you can provide administrative support, database, etc.
-if you are a graphic or web designer
–I will keep you posted as I learn more

Thank you for your time and consideration.

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The last time I was here I was four and-a-half. I remember telling my dad I could swim; I was bobbing on my belly in six inches of water. I also had a horrible sunburn on my shoulders which grandparents salved with something in the bathroom. I don’t remember the pain, but I know it hurt something fierce. And I remember asking my parents if the rain was warm, if could I shower in it. (at left: in the midst of a rain storm)

30 years later I have returned to this “Island Paradise” for a family reunion. I arrived yesterday on a new Airbus A330 which, with its new chairs, power plugs and on-demand video, made the 6.5hr flight quite nice. I bought a $350 Alaska Air ticket awhile ago (the only reason I can afford to be here) but they put us on a “bigger” Northwest Airlines plane because of the headwinds they’d be facing. I asked the AK Air guy if it was because their plane was underpowered…I don’t think appreciated it (they only recently started service to Hawaii). (at right: cairns and a tortured landscape)

It’s flooding in western Washington right now; a few feet of early-season snow is being decimated by rising freezing levels and persistent precipitation. Along with closing Interstate 5, avalanches killed two, injured one, and three others are missing.

Here in Hawaii a storm has ripped out power poles, hit wind speeds in the 60 mph range, and caused a fair bit of flooding. We’re in a less affected area, but this evening we drove through rain so intense cars were creeping along at 25 mph, lighting flashed like dance club strobes, and water rushed in streams down the roads, littering them with rocks. (at left: Kilauea Caldera)

I started the morning two hours behind Seattle and needing to finish a proposal, send some emails, and make a few calls. I accomplished some of that but am sure that a couple of my board members for the FEAR Project are thinking “Isn’t he supposed to be on vacation? WHY is he dealing with this stuff right now?” I’m sure I’ll relax over the next few days but, really, the work needs to get done and I don’t know the meaning of the word “vacation” any longer.

However, there was a moment earlier today, at the 4000 foot Volcanoes National Park when I separated from my parents. They were going to look at the sights on the loop road and I picked about 10 miles of trails to run, one which descended to and crossed the Kilauea Caldera. I broke from the jungle path into sheets of rain and a steady 30 mph wind to see a lunar landscape of frozen lava stretching out into the gray distance. I stood on its cracked and undulating surface and screamed into the wind. I was happy–I was purely, absolutely in the moment, releasing endorphins by running and exploring a cloud-covered landscape devoid of others. (at right: Kilauea Iki Caldera)

Buffeted by the violent wind I ran as best I could over the shattered surface, cognizant that a fall would leave me cut and bleeding, but thoroughly enjoying the storm’s gusto. Though soaked by the rain, I was warm enough I could have stood without shivering.

30 years later I have an answer. You can take a shower in the rain here.

(sorry for the low quality: photos made with a Motorola V3 cellphone camera)

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It’s the first of December and it’s snowing outside my window. It’s also my first run in weeks and what better time, what better place, than in the crisp and cold winter air with fresh snow beneath my feet.

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Well, not really dawn but it was early. Andreas threw out the idea of heading up to Snoqualmie Pass before work on Friday. Feeling more and more chained to my chair I said yes, I *need* to get out.

The snow was light and fluffy but the base wasn’t there yet; at the closed lift area (Alpental) the run we wanted to do (International) was a mass of barely-covered boulders. We traversed climber’s-left to the top of Chair One and skied down amongst the bushes to an open glade where–for a short pitch–the turns were heavenly. A couple yo-yo’s and a core-shot to one of my skis and we were back to the car.

I didn’t really take any pics except as an afterthought, with the cell phone, when Andreas boarded down the bridge. A whole posse went out to Mt Rainier on Saturday for higher-elevation snow but Friday was a trial run for my tweaky knee; I felt I should wait a little while longer lest I put myself out for the season. So I went for a run instead, my first in weeks. It was good.

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I was speaking with Scott Leist, a deputy prosecuting attorney for King County, about his work and what it means for him when he gets a conviction. Scott kind of shrugged and said while he does acknowledge his successes, they are something he expects of himself and he is quick to move on to the next task at hand.

Similarly minded, I was recently chided for not acknowledging two compliments given directly to me while in front of a group I was speaking to. So, I am going to take a moment to share this.

I shoot Canon equipment but was contacted by Sigma, a Japanese lens manufacturer, and asked if I would use their lenses to make some images. They would license some for a three year international advertising campaign in the photo industry. With some compromises I agreed and shortly more lenses than I had asked for were sent to me including a few macros, an ultra-wide, and the 100-300 f2.8. I now have a double set of lenses and have found the Sigmas to be fairly rugged, effective, and for everything but the 100-300 f2.8, quite competitively priced in comparison to Canon.

The above image has run in US photo magazines and, more recently, as a full spread in a Japanese photo magazine. There will be other images in their calendar, catalog, website and large display in their Tokyo store. I hadn’t thought I would ever be endorsing lenses, much less internationally, but there you have it. Especially with this image which was shot in one of those moments of “huh, that looks kind of cool.” Thanks to Andreas Schmidt who continued standing on that rock for a few frames.

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I’ve found it hard to get into hospitals, prisons, and the collegiate greek system to document the affects of sexual violence. How about the access (beheading risk, or endless detainment by coalition forces) challenges of working with the Iraqi insurgency? With the war coverage becoming less and less balanced, this film looks like it will provide at least a glimpse of the ‘other side.’

Movie Synopsis: Meeting Resistance
“What would you do if your country was invaded? MEETING RESISTANCE raises the veil of anonymity surrounding the Iraqi insurgency by meeting face to face with individuals who are passionately engaged in the struggle, and documenting for the very first time, the sentiments experienced and actions taken by a nation’s citizens when their homeland is occupied. Voices that have previously not been heard, male and female, speak candidly about their motivations, hopes and goals, revealing a kaleidoscope of human perspectives. Featuring reflective, yet fervent conversations with active insurgents, MEETING RESISTANCE is the missing puzzle piece in understanding the Iraq war. Directed by Steve Connors and Molly Bingham, this daring, eye-opening film provides unique insight into the personal narratives of people involved in the resistance, exploding myth after myth about the war in Iraq and the Iraqis who participate. Through its unprecedented access to these clandestine groups, MEETING RESISTANCE focuses the spotlight on the “other side,” leaving the viewer with clarity as to why the violence in Iraq continues to this day.”

And a little more on photographer Ashley Gilbertson. Having found me on Technorati, the University of Chicago Press emailed me to say they’d added a video interview of Gilbertson talking about how he made some of the images in his book “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.”

Click here to view the 30min video (in whole or in parts) or see it in six parts on YouTube (link at left).

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