The year is 2023.
Five years ago, when SustyViber and mother, Ajirioghene Amadi, wrote on Port Harcourt soot and her son’s health, we knew things were grievous. Our people protested; our demands were loud—until they were drowned by the sounds of new protests and more mothers whose late sons they still cannot find.
I was a teenager: by many accounts, a child when that testimony was published. I remember wondering how grim the soot was and discovering the work of Bernard Kalu. I will never forget the image of the black-clouded bare feet on the harder-to-see wooden floors. It was the Unsootable story. A time we do not speak enough of.
It would be years before I picked up a camera of my own. It was something to do—a thing to enjoy. And as a volunteer at SustyVibes, it was one sure way to meet my documentary photography hero, Bernard.
I would meet him in 2021. SustyVibes’ Communitrees was in full swing, and I was actively participating. I made friends, met royalty, shot more than enough bad photos and took just enough great ones to ignore the fact.
It bothered me that out of my thousands of photos, less than fifty were excellent. When I told Bernard, he had one thing to say: “You should shoot more”. “I will”, I replied, slightly disappointed. I would listen eventually, but only when I felt like it. That could not be the answer, I thought. But two years later, I can tell he was right.
Nothing prepares you enough for how to tell stories you have never lived through; for some, you will have years to tell, but for many, you will have half of a second. If you hold a camera enough times, you will become two things: a professional and a student—that will never change.
The work will not begin when you pick up the camera. It will not end when you put it down. Over time, you will need to ask: why do you photograph? What do you expect from your work? Film, phone, DSLR, or mirrorless, is your tool the problem, or is it you? What is a bad photo? Are you ready to do things differently?
You should know that the answers to these questions come with experience not time.
The year is still 2023. You have 133 days to tell the most necessary story of your life or at least start trying to.
There is no single story. There is no perfect way to tell the trillions that exist. You will take bad photos, perhaps your whole career. Take them anyway, and take many more until you outwork your self-doubt. You are the reason someone else will tell their story. Act like you know that.
Written by Tam Olobio.