Covid-19 pandemic has disproportionately affected communities and individuals who are poor, marginalised, discriminated; has brought to light the existing inequalities and injustices and in some cases how the impact has generated wider repercussions.
Through an Open Call, began at the heights of the global pandemic in 2020, Photojournalism Hub has been collecting photo stories, articles and multimedia pieces on the impact of Covid-19 on the most vulnerable, including the poor, BAME communities, refugees, the elderly, women, the stateless, and asylum seekers.
The submitted stories have been published on the Photojournalism Hub website providing an independent visual investigation on governments missed opportunities and on the scale of systemic failings which have caused sufferings and losses.
We would like to present this independent visual investigation in a series of public events, including a photography exhibition to present a body of evidential work that would leverage and provide a platform for a public discourse to enable recommendations and key actions, for improved, cohesive and inclusive protection of the most marginalised, discriminated and disadvantaged and would provide accountable points in order to advance to social justice for all.
NUESTROS +ESENCIALES (OUR +ESSENTIALS)
Photography by Sebastian Ambrossio
This Photographic-Documentary Report came from a personal concern to show, narrate and visually document through photographs the work of health professionals, of the essential workers who work in the hospital in Mercedes, and those connected to the hospital who work to combat the pandemic. The project explores how health workers dealt with this virus, leaving everything to give the best to patients. Blas L. Dubarry Acute General Zone Hospital, Sanitary Region X – Mercedes, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Photographer Krzysztof Maniocha has documented anti-lockdown protests in Dublin, Ireland. Ireland had one of the longest lockdowns and some of the most controversial restrictions in Europe. His photographs are presenting moments of clashes between police and protesters, as well as uncovering the existing issues externalised by the imposed restrictions: religion, identity and people’s resistance.
The current Covid-19 pandemic has disproportionately affected communities and people who were already marginalised, discriminated, and at the throng of continuous injustices and inequalities. We are bringing together stories, investigations from around the world to highlight and advocate and create the important exposure to leverage and bring about positive changes.
In the 11th edition of the Journal on “Injustice & Inequalities: Covid-19”, we present the work of Guilherme Bergamini which exposes some of the contradictory messages given by government officials. At the start of the pandemic, Guilherme listed 27 countries cited in the news above published on March 3, 2020, He searched Google “Street View” at random and appropriated each photograph, covering the people in the image with red circles. The monitoring carried out by the Federal Government is contradictory for what he observed in the actions taken by the President of the Federative Republic of Brazil. What is at stake, as he understands it, are the lives of millions of Brazilians who survive each day with minimal wage or nothing, an unjustifiable and impractical social inequality.
Searching the Internet about the new COVID-19 around the world, I saw the website of the Ministry of Health of Brazil. I came across a list of 27 countries that are being monitored by the Federal Government. I listed these 27 countries cited in the news above published on March 3, 2020, I searched in Google “Street View” at random and appropriated each photograph, covering the people in the image with red circles. This monitoring carried out by the Federal Government is contradictory for what I observe in the actions taken by the President of the Federative Republic of Brazil. What is at stake, if he understands it, are the lives of millions of Brazilians who survive each day with minimal wage or nothing, an unjustifiable and impractical social inequality. And in this conflict of vanities, interests and power, we can come to an unprecedented tragedy. Never imagined that i would live an experience of pandemic and social confinement. From that I remember a passage from the inauguration speech of the President-elect of the Federative Republic of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro, on January 1, 2019, in Brasília, in the Federal District, Brazil:
“May God bless this great nation. Brazil above all. God above all. This is our flag, which will never be red. It will only be red if our blood is needed to keep it green and yellow.” – Part of the inauguration speech of the President-elect of the Federative Republic of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro.
Reporter photographic and visual artist, Guilherme Bergamini is Brazilian and graduated in Journalism. For more than two decades, he has developed projects with photography and the various narrative possibilities that art offers. The works of the artist dialogue between memory and social political criticism. He believes in photography as the aesthetic potential and transforming agent of society. Awarded in national and international competitions, Guilherme Bergamini participated in collective exhibitions in 44 countries.
The current Covid-19 pandemic has disproportionately affected communities and people who were already marginalised, discriminated, and at the throng of continuous injustices and inequalities. We are bringing together stories, investigations from around the world to highlight and advocate and create the important exposure to leverage and bring about positive changes. In the 10th edition of the Journal on “Injustice & Inequalities: Covid-19”, we present the work of Kasangati Godelive Kabena. Kasangati shares a photo documentary tracing the complex relationship during the period of confinement imposed by Covid-19 pandemic guidelines and the practice of faith in Kinshasa in DRC. As the practice of faith is very much part of daily life for the communities in Congo and in Kinshasa, Kasangati explores through photographs the emptiness that confinement has created in the society.
ALMOST EMPTY Photography & Text by KASANGATI GODELIVE KABENA
Il était important pour moi de comprendre un peu cette relation complexe pendant la période de confinement entre le covid-19 et la religion en RDC. Pendant la période de confinement, je suis allé en ville, à Kinshasa (République Démocratique, pays où la majorité de la population est chrétienne) pour voir l’état des églises, les rues presque vides, les lieux étrangers et familiers (amis etc. ). Ces lieux n’étaient plus fréquentés car ils ne pouvaient plus accueillir plus de monde. Cette imposition indirecte et directe était fatale surtout pour les églises aussi pour nos relations amicales etc.
It was important for me to understand a little this complex relationship during the period of confinement imposed by covid-19 pandemic guidelines and the practice of religion in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) . During the period of confinement, I went to town, to Kinshasa, where the majority of the population is Christian to see the state of the churches, the almost empty streets, the foreign and familiar places (friends etc. ). These places were no longer frequented because they could no longer accommodate more people. This indirect and direct imposition was fatal especially for the churches, but also for our friendly relations etc.
The current Covid-19 pandemic has disproportionately affected communities and people who were already marginalised, discriminated, and at the throng of continuous injustices and inequalities. We are bringing together stories, investigations from around the world to highlight and advocate and create the important exposure to leverage and bring about positive changes. In the 9th edition of the Journal on “Injustice & Inequalities: Covid-19”, we present the work of two great photographers Richard Juilliart and Tomás Cajueiro.
Richard Juilliart shares his in-depth and poignant documentary on the conditions of the Rohingya displaced population in Bangladesh. For over twenty years, the Rohingya people have suffered the atrocities of racism, violence and displacement. Their plight has only intensified with the current Covid-19 pandemic rendering them extremely vulnerable to infections due to poor, inadequate, and terrifying living conditions in the refugee camps of Cox Bazar in Bangladesh.
Tomas Cajueiro’s work maps the emptiness of our known world filled by the incessant work of volunteers. Interposing the empty streets with the portrays of those filling them, Tomas is presenting a touching documentation of collective and personal experiences of the Covid-19 pandemic.
The pandemic has widened social inequalities and injustices and this journal is sharing realities, issues and disparities that we need to see, reflect upon and action.
The Rohingya people are a stateless Muslim minority in the western Myanmar state of Rakhine. They have been forced out of Myanmar (also known as Burma) by violence and racism for more than 20 years. Myanmar’s government refuses to recognize the Rohingya people as one of the 135 official minority groups in the country, denying them citizenship as long as they identify as Rohingya. The most recent crisis began in August 2017 when hundreds of thousands of Rohingya people — more than half of whom were children —fled violence against them by seeking refuge in neighboring Bangladesh.
Currently estimated to include a million people, most of these refugees have settled in the Cox’s Bazar region of Bangladesh, living in sprawling refugee camps. The largest camp houses as many people as the City of Baltimore but in a space occupying only five square miles (13 square kilometers). These temporary settlements were put up very quickly, leading to concerns about WASH (Water, Sanitation and Hygiene), shelter and safety for women and girls.
The arrival of COVID-19 in the Cox’s Bazar area has raised concerns about the health of the Rohingya refugees occupying the settlements. The tight spaces, accompanied by the lack of access to basic services, especially healthcare, leave those residing in Cox’s Bazar especially vulnerable to the virus. As a result of these concerns, Bangladesh imposed a complete lockdown on Cox’s Bazar with only critical aid and healthcare staff being allowed to enter and exit the area. Aid agencies working in Cox’s Bazar have mobilized Rohingya volunteers to support hygiene and prevention messaging in order to avoid the spread of COVID-19. As they work to limit the spread within the camps, relief and response workers have started transitioning away from collective points of distribution into delivering supplies directly to the households of people at high-risk of COVID-19.
Despite the best efforts of healthcare organizations, aid agencies and Rohingya volunteers, the first case of COVID-19 in Cox’s Bazar was confirmed on May 15, 2020, with the first death confirmed on May 30, 2020. As of Dec. 31, 2020, more than 360 cases of COVID-19 have been confirmed among the Rohingya refugee community in Cox’s Bazar with another 5,200 in the surrounding region. Of those cases, 10 members of the refugee community have died from COVID-19 along with another 72 from the surrounding region. In addition to the toll COVID-19 is taking on the physical health of Rohingya refugees, the increased restrictions on aid and aid workers have also reduced the amount of mental health support available to these displaced people.
Newly arrived Rohingya refugees waiting for food aid at Kutupalong camp on April 16, 2018 in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.
Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
Rohingya people walk around as shelters are seen behind them at Kutupalong refugee camp in Maynar Guna, near Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh on April 16, 2018. Rohingya people, who fled from oppression in Myanmar, try to live in hard conditions at makeshift settlements made from bamboo, adobe or nylon at Kutupalong refugee camp. Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence
Newly arrived Rohingya refugees waiting for food aid at Kutupalong camp on April 16, 2018 in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.
Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
Newly arrived Rohingya refugees waiting for food aid at Kutupalong camp on April 16, 2018 in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
Rohingya refugee at the Kutupalong transit center . Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
A Rohingya refugee woman holds her young child .
Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
Rohingya refugee is seen at hospital at Kutupalong camp on January 17, 2018 in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.
In November 2017 there were 7 named camps in Kutupalong, now there are 20 and there are now approximately 600,000 Rohingya refugees in the Kutupalong refugee camp of Southern Bangladesh. While preparations are now being made for the Monsoon season which is fast approaching.
Rohingya refugee is seen at hospital at Kutupalong camp on January 17, 2018 in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.
In November 2017 there were 7 named camps in Kutupalong, now there are 20 and there are now approximately 600,000 Rohingya refugees in the Kutupalong refugee camp of Southern Bangladesh. While preparations are now being made for the Monsoon season which is fast approaching.
A 90-year-old Rohingya refugee talks with his granddaughter. They walked more than 7 days before crossing the border at the Kutupalong transit center. Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
Rohingya refugee at the Kutupalong transit center . Over 650,000 Rohingya have crossed the border to Bangladesh since August last year, fleeing the violence.
It was March 2020 when suddenly everything stopped. Gone in an instant cars horns and noises, the shouting in the bars, the curious glances in the museums, the screams of the kids in the park. Maybe we’ve never really given the proper attention to the importance of all those small details as they have always been there available. Why worry about losing something that we’ve never lost? Then COVID came, and suddenly everything was not there anymore. In just a few weeks, all changed, and we were deprived of these simple but essential things. Nothing has been the same as before. Suddenly the world became empty. However, that void was immediately filled by the volunteers who, wearing a mask, placed themselves at the service of all those who held out a hand in search of help. Volunteers were the human face emerging out of the emergency.
It was in such a situation that ‘Dal vuoto, al volto’ was born. ‘Dal vuoto, al volto’ (‘From the void to the face’) is a photo reportage produced by Tomás Cajueiro that register Turin in the pandemic period through the eyes of a photographer who was recently arrived in the city. A photographic journey under the banner of the strength of a community that, while facing an epochal challenge, sees an important part of its citizens unite to fight the immediate social effects of the inevitable economic crisis.
A project that combines the emptiness of the streets with the faces of the volunteers. Taken partly in the streets of different neighbourhoods and partly within non-profit associations that continue to work, the reportage ‘From the void to the face’ creates a historical testimony of a particular moment characterized by isolation and social distancing but which brings many citizens closer to the values left out in everyday affairs.
Under the silence of the main streets and the solitude of the parks, Turin society has moved and has shown enormous strength and resilience, which is highlighted in the second part of the series: portraits with and without masks, in the foreground, of the volunteers who fight the pandemic in its various aspects. Pictures that show the faces behind the masks, which give a human look to the emergency.
The images were taken in various Turin associations, in partnership with Torino Solidade, Volontariato Torino, Circo li Arci and Case del Quartiere. Remember who the volunteers are facing the health risk, have been at the forefront in the fight against the social impacts caused by Coronavirus emergency.
Tomás Cajueiro is a photographer with a long experience in producing reportages capable of proposing with feeling a reflection on people’s lives and how differences, starting with cultural ones, can ennoble and enrich the world around us.
The Turin Volunteer Service Center promotes and supports Volunteers’ presence and role in Third Sector Entities, with particular reference to Volunteer Organizations, providing free technical, logistical, training, and information support services.
The Turin Volunteer Service Center enthusiastically shared Tomás Cajueiro’s project. It offered a privileged position to tell the world of Turin volunteering and how it mobilized to provide immediate responses to the new needs arising from the health emergency.
The current Covid-19 pandemic has disproportionately affected communities and people who were already marginalised, discriminated, and at the throng of continuous injustices and inequalities. We are bringing together stories, investigations from around the world to highlight and advocate and create the important exposure to leverage and bring about positive changes. In the 8th edition of the Journal on “Injustice & Inequalities: Covid-19”, we present the work of four great photographers Nic Madge, Victoria Herranz, Zula Rabikowska and Valeria Luongo, who present and share realities being effected by the ever changing society during the pandemic from the tremendous challenges of the refugees and impoverished populations in Sicily, the documentation of the social impact of the pandemic on the people of St Albans in the UK , the vulnerabilities of the elders in Italy, and the enormous human rights strike on the right of abortion for women in Poland. The pandemic has widened social inequalities and injustices and this journal is sharing realities, issues and disparities that we need to see, reflect upon and action.
Living through the Covid pandemic is the biggest challenge faced by the people of St Albans for over seventy years. It is also history in the making. December, when St Albans was only in Tier 2, feels like history. The impact of the virus has changed so rapidly that December 2020 is indeed history. Future generations will study the pandemic and analyse how it changed the social, economic and political fabric of this country.
As a photographer living in St Albans, I am working with St Albans Museums, The Herts Advertiser, St Albans BID, local community groups and businesses to record the way in which we are surviving the pandemic. I am doing that by making portraits of people, mainly in the Market Place, but also elsewhere in town, as they go about their daily lives; shopping; working; exercising etc. I am taking photographs of people both wearing and not wearing their Covid-safety masks. I am asking everyone photographed to write a few words about the pandemic and how it has affected them. I am producing the portraits as digital diptychs – portraits of each person with and without a mask, side by side, with a short caption beneath. The portraits reflect the vitality and diversity of St Albans.
In return for participation in the project, I am emailing a free portrait to everyone photographed.
As well as photographing in the Market Place, when able to do so, I have collaborated with local community groups and charities to photograph their members, including Open Door (housing for homeless people), Passport to Leisure, The Daylight Club (both giving support to young adults with disabilities) and the Sopwell Community Trust (which inter alia delivers food boxes to vulnerable people).
The captions enable the people of St Albans to express themselves; to reveal their experiences, both bad and good; and to mention their hopes and fears. The project has shown that, although St Albans is a relatively affluent city, there are huge disparities in the way in which the pandemic has affected people. The lives of some have been devastated. Others have hardly been touched. The comments included in the captions are very varied and provide a real insight into the effect of the pandemic. They show great public strength and resilience, but private pain and angst.
I hope the project will run for a year, with images and comments divided into monthly chapters so that we can see how experiences and attitudes change over time. Clothing will reflect the changing seasons and perhaps even evolving moods. The portraits with captions will enter the archives of St Albans Museums so that future generations of Albanians will be able to see what we look like and read our short comments about the pandemic. They will also be exhibited in the Museum + Gallery when it re-opens, hopefully on May 17th (after lockdown) until September 30th. They will also be preserved in the British Library digital archives and be exhibited on the Photojournalism Hub website. And, after completion of the project, the diptychs will be available to be exhibited elsewhere either (i) as one multi-media presentation; (ii) a series of monthly multi-media presentations; or (iii) as traditional photographic prints.
But I don’t want this just to be a dry historical record. I want this to be an immediate, ongoing, inter-active project involving all the communities of St Albans. I am uploading a monthly collection of diptychs with a soundtrack onto YouTube. Here are hyperlinks to the monthly editions for October, November, December 2020, January and February 2021. I am also making the images immediately available via Instagram and Facebook (including the All Things St Albans; St Albans Past and Present; St Albans People and Isolation Arts Café Facebook groups), web-sites, digital screens in local businesses and the local press. For example, Ashtons, estate agents in London Road, are displaying some of the images on their street facing digital wall and including them in their newsletter. Some have been reproduced in the Herts Advertiser, My Local News and on the BBC website.
Weather permitting, I will be standing outside the old Town Hall which houses the St Albans Museum + Gallery a couple of days a week. If you wish to be photographed, please email me at nicmadge@ntlworld.com to agree a mutually convenient time and date.
I am very conscious of Covid-safety issues and ensure that social distancing is maintained at all times. I provide hand-sanitiser. All photographs are taken in the open air.
Nic Madge I am a photographer who lives in St Albans. I have recently completed an M.A. in Documentary Photography and Photo-journalism at the University of the Arts, London. Previously, I have published photo-books and had solo exhibitions of my portraits/street photography at the British Museum and the Swiss Cottage Gallery, as well as several joint exhibitions.
Protesters take to the streets to show their rejection of the government’s ban of abortion in October 2020.
Protesters in Cracow, Poland October 2020 responding to government’s decision to ban abortion.Heavily armed police getting ready to respond to the abortion ban protesters in Cracow, Poland October 2020.
Palermo, the capital of Sicily, and the collateral consequences of the pandemic. In a broken land, punished economic and socially, without jobs, with a high rate of exodus and migration, the situation has been aggravated because COVID-19 lockdown. Now, Palermo is face to face with a known enemy: the hunger, the fear, the death. Different organizations and social movement have joined forces to improve quality of life for all citizens. It doesn’t matter where you were born, the color of your skin, your faith. You are sicilian now. And we’re in the same boat… Frontiers begin to open three mouths after lockdown. But the pain of hit, in this wounded land, will last a long time. Beyond the crisis, the Mafia and the pandemic Palermo resists.
Victoria Herranz http://www.victoriaherranz.com/ Instagram: victoria_herranz
LATER LIFE
Valeria Luongo
Rome, December 2020 – January 2021
What does it mean to give up a year of your life when you are elderly and considered among the most vulnerable group in society?
Since the beginning of the Covid 19 epidemic in Italy, the country in Europe with the oldest population, people over 65 at a higher risk of infection have been asked to take a very different sacrifice to the young in society; to potentially spend the final years of their life in quarantine. Old people have been constantly fearful of becoming new victims. Even those who would still otherwise be mentally, socially and physically active found themselves completely isolated from their youngest relatives or friends.
I photographed and asked old people, all over 65 and under 100, to talk about their first covid year, to imagine their future and that of society and to reflect about later life in times of pandemic. They shared an insight about the passing of time, the challenges and hope for the future. As the members of society with the most life experience it was interesting to hear what they had to say about the current crisis that sees them at the center of it.
Agostino e Bernardo, 68 and 72, retired butchers.
“I still prefer the poverty of my childhood to what we have now. It was a more honest, healthy environment. Today we can count on big industries but inequalities are stronger than ever”.
Isa, 81, retired tailor
Marisa, 88, retired housekeeper
Flavio, 93, retired engineer
“The world is changing in a radical way. I was part of it: I was born within the change, I saw its development and I can still see it going further. The world will become more homogenous and I am really positive about this process”.
Antonietta, 77, retired administrative assistant
“If there weren’t books, cinema, radio I would have got ill. How could we live without the arts? Knowledge is so necessary to survive hard times. In these past months this has been my window to the world”.
Romolo, 77, retired traffic policeman
Beniamino, 71, dentist
Benedetta, 95, housewife
Virginia, 70, unemployed
Amleto, 94, retired paint shop owner
“The crisis started as soon as we abandoned the land. We are not walking on the right path: we need to take a step back and start again from there. The land is the base of life”.
As Coronavirus continues to spread throughout the world, it is increasing social injustices and bringing inequalities to the forefront. In the 7th edition of the Journal on “Injustice & Inequalities: Covid-19”, we present the work of three great photographers who share the tremendous challenges of those in the grips of poverty, homelessness. The pandemic has widened social inequalities. And injustices are strongly lived among the most poor hit hard by the pandemic and regulations that do not protect them. The divide is becoming greater. These are issues we need to see, reflect upon and action.
Since the state of alarm ended and the courts reopened, dozens of evictions have been scheduled, of families in vulnerable situations, with women survivors of gender violence, refugee families, young pregnant women, elderly people with health problems. The pandemic has increased inequalities, has further impoverished those most at risk, and institutions are not able to manage this problem, and don´t offer a housing alternative, so these families are forced to occupy empty homes belonging to the bank, sharing a house with many more people -increasing the risk of contagion-, or staying homeless. A decree has recently been approved that prevents evictions due to covid without a housing alternative, but … what happens to families who have been dragging this situation since before this pandemic?
Cris Aznar. 1981. Zaragoza. Photographer. Artivist.Independent communicator. A woman who looks and observes, studies photography to feel and understand, to express in her exhibitions and react to reality with senses and feelings, gray lights and gender colors that shape her involvement as a person in the defense of human rights. His eyes have passed through Europe, Asia, Africa and America. Energy, intention and heart in photography, seeks real reporting, documentary and humanism focused on art as a form of expression and engine of change.
Mompiche is a fishing village located south of the city of Esmeraldas in Ecuador, where I spent two months of quarantine with the local people. This place was affected due to the health emergency caused by the Covid-19 pandemic, since its main source of income is a tourism and artisanal fisheries, reducing its activity between half of March and April. More than 4000 fishermen in the area had to stop working. They have had problems buying food for their family because they are still stranded without being able to fish and more than 70 other fishermen have left the activity in which they have been catching for more than 20 years. The artisanal fishermen are a vulnerable group since they have few labor rights and most have no social security or labor insurance.
After the closure of the borders very little food arrives and its price increases more and more. The limited circumstances lead us to collaborate with the fishermen in their work to obtain our portion of fish, becoming our first activity of the day.
Barbara Traver – I am not from here or there, I was born in Madrid (Spain), but since I was nine years old I have lived in various places in Spain and also outside of Spain. Currently, my base is between Valencia, Spain, where I settled in 2014 to study at the Espai d’art fotogràfic school and finished in 2017 with the Master in Photography: Creation and Production. At the end of 2017, I moved to Madrid to take the course “Creativity and strategies in contemporary photography” at the EFTI school, taught by Javier Vallhonrat. Thanks to this course, I started to develop my project “, te quiere, mamá”, showing it in several festivals like the seminar of photography and photojournalism in Albarracín or in the cultural hall CC Pati Llimona, in Barcelona. I have also been invited as an artist in the project “Un mundo paralelo” (Spain, 2017) curated by Joan Fontcuberta I have also self-published two photobooks, exhibited in different national and international spaces, and giving several talks.
It is early in the streets and the cold of a January morning creeps into the bones and Dona Juana Serrano, who is 63 years old, has already started one more day of work. She is one of the “little ants” who travel the city every day with a broom, sack and dustpan and has done it with pleasure for more than 28 years, she is the person who has worked the longest in the cleaning crew of the city. The pandemic has not slowed down her work or her spirits: “I really like my job, because I had nothing and all I have is thanks to what I do, it is also like cleaning my house, the street is my house and I like to take care of her “- says” Juanita “as the merchants call her who greet her as they pass. Despite her age and the risk that she implies, she continues with her work. 2 months ago one of her colleagues contracted COVID while doing her work and even had to be hospitalized to recover; “I do want to get vaccinated, because I’m always on the street and I don’t want to make anyone sick in my house, I’ve already lost many of my people”, says Juanita, referring to her husband who died of influenza a month ago and her brother died from complications with diabetes a week ago, she lives with her two older children and a one-year-old grandson.
Due to the health crisis, of 100% of the manual sweeping cleaning staff, only 40% is active to avoid contagion, so the workers divide the 32 cleaning areas that make up the historic center. A good strategy would be to prioritize the application of the vaccine among municipal cleaning personnel, due to the nature of their work and the risk it entails.
As Coronavirus continues to spread throughout the world, it is increasing social injustices and bringing inequalities to the forefront. In this sixth edition, documentary photographer Chiara Fabbro shares a story of refugees seeking asylum in the city of Trieste, Italy. A powerful reminder of the plight of refugees whose journey to safety is often interrupted by violence and unwelcoming measures, increasingly impacted by the current pandemic with the tightening of borders and further securitisation. These are issues we need to see, reflect upon and action.
Seeking refuge in the time of Coronavirus
By Chiara Fabbro
Faces and feet telling the story of a long journey. Walking for hundreds of kilometers, across mountains and rivers. The fear of getting caught. The appalling, repeated, pushbacks at the borders, often violent and degrading. The disrespect for human life. The relief of having made it to Italy, mixed with the uncertainty of what to expect, in a country that is forgetting how to welcome people and learning ho to keep them out instead. The commitment of those who every night take care of the people in transit from Trieste. Every night on the street to treat the feet, fill the stomachs and change the old shoes for a new pair, to walk on the next road.
I met these young men in Trieste, at the end of the Balkan route, during their journey in search of asylum in Europe. Access to temporary shelters here, like elsewhere, has been limited due to COVID-19 measures. This means that people in transit, like them, have been left with no other choice than to sleep rough. The impact of the pandemic has been, and still is, very hard on those seeking asylum. Borders have been further tightened, with increasing reports of pushbacks. Alongside this, the pandemic has fuelled negative feelings towards migrants, accused by some of spreading the virus. This has worsened the unwelcoming climate that people seeking refuge are often faced with.
In this small corner of humanity, I met the volunteers from Linea d’Ombra and Strada Si.Cura. Helping the people in transit from Trieste with the basic necessities after such a journey, but most importantly showing them that there is someone who cares. An asylum seeker in Calais once told me, about the NGOs, that even more than the practical help, what is really important is being there, offering a friendly smile…creating a little corner of humanity, as a place for healing, however temporary. For Lorena Fornasir, co-founder of Linea d’Ombra, in fact, “the hardest part every night is walking away, turning your back and going home…”.
As Coronavirus continues to spread throughout the world, it is increasing social injustices and bringing inequalities to the forefront. In this fifth edition, documentary photographer David Gilbert Wright shares the touching photo story of Paul, a homeless man who he became friends with during the current pandemic. This photo story highlights the impact of years of austerity on the most poor and exposes the further impact of the outbreak on them. The story of Paul speaks of the many which were already at the receiving end of funding cuts and support and they now in a lot worse conditions. These are issues we need to see, reflect upon and action.
Homeless and Locked Down Paul’s Story
by David Gilbert Wright
It was springtime, and the weather was beautiful. The skies had been clear for several weeks and the sun had been warming up the earth. But this was no normal spring. England was in the grips of an unknown pandemic and the Government had ordered a lockdown. Everyone but a few, were staying home. Buses and trains were empty, roads were empty and we were all trying to adapt to a new way of living. Rules about when you can go out and for what were in place. The population were being ‘frightened’ into believing that hundreds and thousands would catch this new virus and many would die. I was out walking the dog in nearby woods when I came across a tent pitched deep in a thicket, out of sight. I was intrigued. It took several more days before I plucked up the courage to investigate. That was when I met Paul. He was homeless and living in these woods. He was locked down too! Over the next 3-4 months I got to know Paul and he is the subject of this story.
Paul is 52 years old. He had a brother who died in his forties and a sister. He told me that his Mum left home when he was 15 years old. That was the start of things. “I left home and came to London. London was a terrible place back then and being homeless was very dangerous. I was sleeping rough when some one picked me up and took me along to a kind of hostel. You had to ‘book’ a night and then get out in the morning. I think they felt sorry for me and gave me a job sweeping and cleaning the rooms. That saved me. I lived in a house in Thurrock at some point and had a sort of job. I had to go sick and so I lost that job and couldn’t pay the rent so they evicted me. I have been on the move ever since. I don’t like towns. They are too scary. I decided to get a tent and live out in the country somewhere so here I am”. He got up and started to make a little fire. “Now it is warming up, the midges are starting to get on my nerves so I light a fire and the smoke keeps them away” he said laughing.
Paul often walked up to the town. He had broken his hip some time in the recent past and suffered from terrible sciatica. “I have to take pain-killers” he told me, “so I come up to the chemist every week or two to get me repeat prescription. Trouble is, people try to mug me and take my drugs”. We sat for a while in the warm sun and then this woman came along. Her name was Lizzie. She told me that she was what some call a ‘sofa-surfer’. “That’s someone who is homeless and manages to get a place to sleep in someone’s house.” She was in her 50s and had been homeless since the breakdown of her marriage. She was very guarded but alluded to being badly abused and beaten by her partner until she couldn’t stand it anymore and managed to escape. She had several grown-up children and managed to see them occasionally but she also was living a hard life. She told me how difficult it was in the winter. ‘We both try to find something a bit more permanent if we can because you can freeze at nights’ Paul told me.
We were talking in his encampment in the woods one day and he started to tell me about his Faith. It surprised me somewhat. He rummaged around in his tent, beer can in one hand and pulled out a book. It was the Pilgrim’s Progress by Chaucer. I see myself as a kind of pilgrim, always on the move. I am like the guy in the book, in search of something. It is something I can identify with. He rummaged a bit more and pulled out another book. “This is my Bible”. He said “I pray everyday. I try to speak to God. I think He loves me despite my faults. He loves me unconditionally. He does not expect me to change. I feel he forgives me for all the stuff I have done. He is my rock. Later that morning, we were walking up to the town together and he started reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
I asked Paul what he did for food. He told me that he visited a food bank in Brentwood. He told me where it was and I realised that it must take him nearly an hour to walk to it because he was very slow, due to his arthritis and needing a crutch to help. “They are very good and deliver stuff to me sometimes”. The food bank only opens twice a week between 10 and 12 midday. Paul was not usually an early riser. I often got to his tent mid-morning to find him sound asleep. “Jem looks after me. He will always open up if he is around”. So one afternoon we set off on the walk to the Food Bank. We talked about all kinds of things as we walked. Steve was the priest. He found a whole lot of food and Paul was so pleased with the large tin of assorted biscuits, like you get at Christmas. It was then that I realised first-hand how important these food banks are to people like Paul.
“I used to have another guitar but when I stayed a night with this woman she stole it and sold it for 5. Probably spent the money on drugs. Someone gave me another one then a bloke grabbed it off of me. I chased and tracked him down to this shed and got it back. Thing is, the E string was broken, that’s why I haven’t managed to replace it yet. I do a bit of busking to earn a few bob. I like Reggae and Punk and usually do a bit of both or improvise”. He started strumming something with a reggae beat and then sun along. He was making the words up and they were about him and his God or ‘Jah’ as he liked to call Him. On another occasion, we were walking past a charity shop and he saw a violin in the window. He went in and persuaded the assistant to let him try it out. Clearly, Paul was musical. When he came out, I asked what he thought of the violin. “The strings on the bow were all frayed so it was not a good bargain”.
“Some guys came to my camp one night and tried to rob me. It is very dark here in the night and they didn’t have lights. I am pretty good in the dark because I know where everything is. I managed to roll away into the undergrowth and just hide. They couldn’t find me and got very angry. I heard them say something and then heard a ripping sound. Once they had gone I discovered they had ripped me tent. This isn’t the first time” he said pulling out a roll of Gaffer Tape and starting to repair the ripped canvas. Camping out in the woods his not such a halcyon existence!
As the days wore on, I noticed Paul’s demeanor change. He didn’t seem so happy-go-lucky. At one point in June he disappeared for a couple of weeks. He had a phone but often as not, he had no credit or it the battery was flat. Out of the blue, I got a call from him. He told me he had been in hospital. I asked what was up and he said “I have been feeling very low and things got to much and I tried to top me self”. He told me he was being transferred to another hospital and hoped to be out soon. I went by his camp each day to check on things and one day I found him asleep in his tent. He was out of food so I went with him to the food bank. Jem was just leaving but when Paul told him about his illness, he agreed to open up and give him some supplies. Jem went off inside and we sat out in the sun. Paul was sitting very quietly waiting. I couldn’t help seeing the picture in front of me. Here was someone who really needed to talk.
While Paul was in hospital his tent got vandalized again. “Someone slashed it again” he said. I told him I had seen a bunch of teenage kids riding around his camp. “All me stuff got soaked cos the rain came through the whole” he lamented. Paul looked like a shadow of the man I had first met. As we sat quietly, he hung his head and said “I’m not happy, I don’t like living like this. People think I’m happy but I’m not.” I could see he had tears in his eyes. He looked up to the sky and shouted “This is not Heaven!” It was then that I realised that he yearned for the safety and security of a home and a family that many of us take for granted.
I saw Paul several more times then he disappeared and I never saw him again. I don’t know what came of him. All I do know is that when I went back to his camp one evening, I found that his tent had been pulled down, poles broken, bedding scattered around and his clothes flung into the surrounding bushes. Then I spotted his guitar or what was left of it. It was completely smashed up and the pieces were strewn around near what used to be his campfire. But that wasn’t the thing that really got me! As I looked around I noticed something white under a bush amidst the leaf mold of the forest. I went closer and realised I was looking at the discarded copy of his Bible. It was open at the penultimate chapter of the New Testament. It is about Jude, who was also a traveler. He went from city to city spreading the gospel. His name was Judas but has become shortened. He was a living example of faithfulness to Jesus Christ, in contrast to Judas Iscariot who betrayed Him. The picture of the Bible, its pages dirty, crumpled and tattered is a poignant ending to this story about someone who was also ‘discarded’ and homeless during the Lockdown.
If you have work which highlights the social injustices that are being intensified or laid bare by Covid-19 please submit your work to the Photojournalism Hub. Next deadline is the 4th January 2021. Please submit your work to Cinzia D’Ambrosi, cinzia@photojournalismhub.org Further details on how to submit on our Submission page https://photojournalismhub.org/contribute-submissions/
As Coronavirus continues to spread throughout the world, it is increasing social injustices and bringing inequalities to the forefront.
In this fourth edition we show you two strong photography contributions. Firstly, Erhan Us shares a powerful insight into women’s lives and the harm that is inflicted upon them by patriarchal family structures in Iran which is being exacerbated during the pandemic. Secondly, Jo Fountain shares interviews and photographs that focus on the pandemic’s impact upon communities in Manchester.
These are issues we need to see, reflect upon and action.
Mummy
By Erhan Us
‘The Mummy Project is created to criticise the ‘ornamentation’ and disidentification of women in Iranian society that have their freedoms and preferences exploited. Since lockdown, I wanted to raise awareness on the harm patriarchal family structures incur onto women’s identity and equal rights.‘
About Erhan
Us is a conceptual artist and author. After studying at Bilkent University in TH Management; he was granted to 25+ local and international / honorary awards. He has participated in 70+ exhibitions in 20+ countries. He continues his studies in Sociology & Philosophy at Istanbul and Anadolu Universities. Us is a member of Photographic & Visual Arts Federations, whose book ‘Digital Prestige’ was published in 2018.
“It is true that this world where we have difficulty breathing Now inspires in us only evident disgust A desire to flee without further ado And we no longer read the headlines” A Disappearance by Houellebecq
‘This photo project aims to break down social barriers to reflect how people have stood together as a community during this time despite extreme isolation. It allows us to see the common threads of human experience and within this highlight inequalities and injustices amongst us. There is a power of support and acknowledgement that this is a shared responsibility. We stand together to create our own narratives. The portraits have been collected from around Manchester in the UK and with an open brief people were asked to write messages and signs to summarise their experiences or give words of support out to the world. The response has been varied, highlighting familiar phrases, funny, invites protest, politically charged, esoteric, others personal. Accompanying the portraits are interviews collecting oral histories of personal experiences and issues that have been highlighted such as effects of isolation on mental health, issues with state support responses, social care, lack of funding, and prejudices that have been brought to the foreground to be questioned.
Overwhelmingly people have struggled with the constant and crushing weight of relentless news stories covering daily atrocities and global crisis. There is a network of support around you if you look for it and take part. The window acts as both a lens and a reflection on the messages that have been created. It highlights the power of the word, graffiti, and protest banners. Even in simplified language, and sometimes especially, there is a re-narration of our view of the world.‘
Meave’s Interview
Meave Cohen
It’s been awful. Just fucking awful. I’ve had many conversations with people and they’re like “I don’t think the pandemic’s been that bad. I’ve been able to think about me and do my yoga and do my music and do my cooking and I’m like fuck you. Tens of thousands of people have died. Fuck you. I’ve absolutely hated it. I genuinely thought I would never see my mum again and that was awful. I’ve not been able to see my niece, like, see’s only a week and a half old but … my brother wasn’t even in the same fucking hospital when his baby went blue. It’s been fucking awful.
It’s been really tough with my mum but even that’s loads better now. Since we’ve been able to see her she’s been loads better. We can’t ‘see’ her, see her, we can just see her through the glass but now that she knows we’re alive I think she’s … I rang her yesterday. So when you ring her you sing songs and sometimes she would join in and sometimes she doesn’t. But yesterday she was singing all the songs and then she made up a little song. She made up this little melody, so I finished singing a song and she just kept singing this little melody she had made up. Adorable. We’re four of us, she’s got four children and we’re all really engaged with her care and really engaged with all of it…. old people with Alzheimer’s I can’t imagine, like millions of people would have died of loneliness.
My friend has got a chronic lung condition and he’s gonna get a letter through the door soon saying it’s OK, you don’t have to shield anymore. He isn’t going to go out the house. If he gets it he will die. So he’s going to loose his job now because the government said he can work now, but he can’t work. They are just not able to test or trace where anything is so you are having these local flare ups like Leister is in lockdown again. Apparently Bradford is really bad and fucking nobody knows what’s going on because they never managed to get rid of the virus anyway and they can’t test for it, or trace for it in the way that would be useful because they’re fucking useless. So people like him will just never be able to leave the house. Or, when am I ever able to give my mum a hug? Children died, children died on their own, it’s awful. Then you’ve got fucking Dominic Cummings driving up to Durham. It’s just awful. People died alone, people couldn’t hold their dying children. I’m working on this local economic… it’s called Local Economic Development but it’s basically how local authorities shape their economies. It’s called Community Wealth
Building, and the whole idea is retaining and creating wealth within the communities. So right now we have a model, for example, if a hospital got it’s laundry done by a local supplier instead of say, Serco. That wealth goes back into the local area, so that local people get employed to do that work and they then spend their money in the local shops and cafes.
In my opinion they should have had lockdown much earlier than they did. Not like you can go out one exercise a day or… like all of that shit that was completely un-policeable so everyone is just doing the fuck they wanted. Obviously we don’t have a fucking police force because they cut that to shit so they had no-one to police it anyway but .. got rid of the virus then we could have had a gradual easing of the Lockdown.. But because we didn’t really lockdown hard enough and we definitely didn’t lockdown early enough we’re in this kind of semi-lockdown, until when?
This is a crisis of globalisation. This crisis basically means the end of Globalisation because it was able to travel so fast and because when trade ceased and when the borders closed, Britain in particular was in a real problem because we don’t have places that produce PPE or places that produce hand sanitiser and we had to mobilise our industries to try and create these things and we had mass shortages. This is why the supermarkets ran out of food. Instead of having spare stuff to sell it’s as and when you need it, and we’re gonna have to move away from that model. Basically we have to make our supply chains much smaller to be able to cope with things like this. People are making tonnes of money out of this it’s perverse. So people that already have money can make more money but people that have no money are just fucked.
The entire world is in transition and transitions are very unnerving and we have no idea what the other side is gonna look like and it’s incredibly anxiety inducing then on top of that hundreds of thousands of people had died. And you read things like today the US has bought up all of this specific drug. It’s not a vaccine but it’s basically like right well so… Africa can just die. India can just die. Europe can just die. So the way that patents work is that you make money out of curing diseases, which also applies to pandemics. It’s just fucked. So you have to disengage a bit, I think.
Pete’s Interview
Pete Keeley
“I was freaking out because I couldn’t get any food, and it was like what the fuck, how am I going to do this!?
I stick my foot out of the window with a bucket on a string and wait for attractive ladies to come and give me food. But I’m still waiting for them man! I’m starving!
I joke. Dad dropped some stuff off and my mate Mark came with 4 big bags of stuff and I ate chicken boob for about 25 days. The government food package took about 3/4 weeks. I could have dropped dead in that time if people hadn’t have been there. It was pretty nuts. For a lot of understandable reasons people have been very critical of the governments response, but once this food thing was started it was incredible the way that they were getting through to people like us. I got a letter from the the doctors saying that I needed to shield. The way it effects Cerebral Palsy is that even when I get a cold, if I start coughing, my whole body shakes and I have to hold on to something to stop myself falling forward. My body kind of goes all over the place. I think they said that I was okay to calm me down because I was freaking out.
The next thing was, you need to stop yourself going mad, and work, like I say I’ve not worked since 1997. I would have gone super loopy without writing for theatre. That, and I have been making Grandmaster Pea videos. A character I had developed before, who claims he is the Tsar of the disabled, although he is self-appointed.
I kind of felt that there was something coming and I needed to be more safe than other people. I got this feeling and I just shut the door and that was it. That was 3 and something
months ago. I would say that lockdown has been difficult. Just trying to keep yourself going. Once you’ve found a way of doing that, it’s okay. It was worse for me because I lost my Mum as well. She got ill last September and died just before Christmas and dealing with that has been tough. It wouldn’t really go away. I was really close to her and you know, she doesn’t leave me, but that doesn’t stop you missing somebody. It’s a weird acceptance but also hell.
My twin brother is in a residential home which has had people with Covid in so that’s been a concern, but I’ve been phoning and face timing him and he’s fine with being shut in because he is on a bed a lot of the time. It’s kind of normal for him. He has the staff and he has some connection. It is terrible, I’m not saying it’s great, but what I am saying is that in terms of my brother, he doesn’t come out of his room much, he watches TV so it’s been a different experience for him because we cannot visit.
They had the problem like a lot of people, where they couldn’t get PPE, and so thats the other thing about Grandmaster Pea as well, I gave some of the videos to a comedy night to help raise money for actors who needed food. That was good, I felt like I was doing things for other people, at a time when I felt like I couldn’t do anything or help. As a
disabled person, you don’t actually get the opportunity to give back to people. This was a time when I could do that.
I also gave money to the NHS in Mums memory, because she was a midwife, and quite complicatedly she was a midwife, and we were born on the ward she ran. She had brought many babies into the world and saved them from the fate that me and Christopher were not saved from. She always blamed herself I think. We had conversations about it, I think she wanted to be working and giving birth at the same time. I think she felt guilty, which she shouldn’t have done, but I think that she did, bless her. Unfortunately the NHS let her down a number of times. So, that was difficult because everyone was clapping and I was angry and annoyed, but I still gave money to them.
When she died she wasn’t treated well, they made what was a very difficult situation worse. They said under no circumstances can you move this woman as she won’t be able to walk, and that’s what they did. It’s really difficult to process that kind of brutality. I mean this is a woman who gave years of her life caring for people. She learnt Arabic in the early 70s and felt that people should be understood. That was the incredible thing about her. What killed me, was she was that compassionate and helped people and that’s how the
NHS sort of thanked her for it. So I have a really weird relationship with them. I mean when the thing with PPE happened I gave money to that immediately. A big chunk of money, not that I’m a millionaire but I felt it was important. The idea that people were risking their lives to save other people, it’s an amazing thing that people wanted to do that, and that they were brave enough to do it. The idea that they were not being given the support was just disgusting”
Pete
Jag
Claire Mooney
To keep up with the story, or take part please visit lockedinlight.com or re-post your own using the signedtimes hashtag. Extend perceptions, deepen resonances, reinforce connections. Jo’s has a background in Visual Anthropology, oral history and photojournalism.
If you have work which highlights the social injustices that are being intensified or laid bare by Covid-19 please submit your work to the Photojournalism Hub. We will be adding a dossier page on a monthly basis. Submit by October 30th to be included in the next dossier.
We are witnessing disregard for basic human rights in every continent: restricted access to health care, lack of government transparency, deepened poverty, inadequate financial protection, racial discrimination and increased risk of domestic abuse.
Photographers and photojournalists have submitted material to the Photojournalism Hub’s Third Edition of the Injustices & Inequalities Covid:19 Open Call. The work in this dossier page gives us a powerful insight into human frailty at the hands of injustice and the inequalities being intensified in new and tragic ways during the pandemic. Contributors to this edition have highlighted economic inequalities in Italy, the critical lack of water in an area of the Republic of the Congo and how people in the UK are struggling with lockdown.
These are issues we need to see, reflect upon and action.
Daily Life: Coronavirus Water Woes
Moses Sawasawa
Every day, often in the pre-dawn darkness, countless women and children in the eastern Congolese city of Goma set out loaded down with scuffed yellow jerry cans to collect water for their families. The sprawling capital of North Kivu province sits on the rugged volcanic shores of Lake Kivu, a 90-kilometer long, 50-kilometer wide body of water, and one of Africa’s Great Lakes.
Goma is also is a major hub for the world’s second largest United Nations Peacekeeping operation and for hundreds of humanitarian aid organizations that spend millions of dollars monthly on local operations, and yet the city has virtually no running water. Many of the upscale hotels dotted along the city’s scenic waterfront have water delivered by pumps or by trucks.
The rest of the city’s two million inhabitants get their water for drinking, washing, and cooking either directly from the lake or from water sellers who charge up to ten times more than Regideso, the public utility responsible for supplying water in Congo’s urban areas. Charities also distribute water in tanker trucks, but there is never enough and water taken directly from the lake or from other contaminated sources causes frequent outbreaks of cholera and other diseases. Deadly reservoirs of methane and carbon dioxide gases also lurk beneath Lake Kivu’s surface, putting people collecting water at risk of asphyxiation and death. And as Congo contends with both coronavirus and an Ebola epidemic, the lack of access to water, sanitation and hygiene is putting millions of people at greater risk of contracting COVID-19.
Congo passed a law in 2015 making access to water and sanitation a fundamental right guaranteed by the Constitution. It also stipulated that such services ” are not free” and shifted the responsibility for maintaining infrastructure to the provincial level.
Goma’s water woes are a microcosm for the rest of the country. Congo is Africa’s most water-rich country, holding more than half of the continent’s fresh water reserves, but 75% of the country’s 80 million people have no access to safe drinking water and sanitation. This, coupled with poor hygiene, are among the top five risk factors associated with death and disability in the country. The long hours spent waiting for and transporting water also limits the time adults have to earn income or for children to attend school. Congolese women and girls are exposed to physical, sexual, moral and psychological violence during water collection, according to UNICEF.
“We wake up at 9pm, or midnight, or 2am, we don’t sleep,” said Maman Gentille, who was wrapped in a thick blanket for warmth while waiting in the dark at a water point. “There are people who can wait two days without getting any water. And for us women, it’s perilous because we can be raped by bandits and then be abandoned by our husbands.”
Goma’s water system was already dilapidated and leaking before it was further damaged in 2002 when the nearby Nyiragongo volcano erupted and a river of lava oozed through the city, burying entire neighborhoods. Various water projects have been launched since then, but the government’s poor infrastructure and lack of funds means that foreign donors provide nearly 99% of water sector financing in Congo.
“The solution would be for Regideso to supply water into people’s homes for those who can afford it,” said Aziza Bitnu, who operates one of the city’s communal water points. “And those who can’t can always still come to the water points.”
But with little capacity and poor governance, the country relies on outside support. The World Bank’s Urban Water Supply Project is a $190-million initiative to restructure and improve the performance of Regideso. Mercy Corps is also implementing a seven-year UK government-funded program that aims to provide improved access to water, sanitation, and hygiene up to a million people in Goma and Bukavu, a city located at the southern end of Lake Kivu. Such projects span years, however, and don’t meet the immediate needs of Goma residents struggling for clean water.
“They say that water is life, but we don’t have access to it,” said Maman Gentille, still waiting her turn in the darkness. “Yes, it is free but we don’t see how that matters when we don’t get any.”
Map of Buenos Aires, area of the country with the highest % of femicides during Covid-19.Until June 30, 82 women were murdered by men, where 78% of the femicides were committed in the victim’s home.
From January 1 to June 30, 2020, 162 femicides occurred in Argentina. To this scenario of violence was added the “preventive and obligatory social isolation” decreed by the government since March 20, which aggravated the situation. Women victims of gender violence are more exposed during quarantine, since in most cases they live with their aggressor. Until June 30, 82 women were murdered by men, where 78% of the femicides were committed in the victim’s home. In this particular moment, where femicides continue to increase (ONU calls it “the other pandemic”) and the characteristics of isolation aggravate it, many women are unable to isolate themselves from their aggressors.
Covid19 pandemic is a worldwide problem, as are the femicides, particularly in Latin America, which is one of the regions with the highest rates of gender violence. In this project we look at the uncomfortable, focus on the femicide and how isolation affects and increases gender violence and femicide. We are interested in digging into their stories, running the surface of each case and ask ourselves who is this man? where male violence nest when in its greatest degree goes so far as to kill a woman because of her condition as such?
Hands of Pablo G. Jofré. He is one of Karen Alvarez’s femicides. Karen was 14 years old when she was taken to the outskirts of town, near the racetrack. There she was raped by several men, beaten with a rock on her head and hanged with her own jean. Karen was last seen on October 24, 2014, her body was found two days later. Pablo G. Jofré is serving a life sentence in the Provincial Prison of the City of Viedma, Province of Rio Negro.
Lucas Azcona case file. Self-inflicted scarification (I love you dad) by Lucas Azcona the day before he was handed over to the police by his father and sister for the femicide of Nicoles Sessarego. They saw in the news the videos of the street security cameras that filmed the persecution of Lucas Azcona to Nicole Sessarego and Milagros, Lucas’s sister, recognized him for his way of walking.
Satellite view of the city of Buenos Aires. Surveillance cameras from shops in the area where Lucas Azcona’s pursuit of Nicole Sessarego was seen minutes before the femicide was committed. In this capture Nicole is seen walking towards her home. Lucas did not know Nicole. The morning of July 15, 2014 he saw her, followed and killed her with 11 stab wounds.Satellite view of the city of Buenos Aires. Surveillance cameras from shops in the area where Lucas Azcona’s pursuit of Nicole Sessarego was seen minutes before the femicide was committed. In this capture Lucas is seen a few seconds later passing by the same place as Nicole. Lucas didn’t know Nicole. The morning of July 15, 2014 he saw her, followed and killed her with 11 stab wounds.
Portrait of Carlos G. Mobilio in the Provincial Prison of General Roca, Province of Rio Negro, where he is serving a life sentence for the femicide of Karen Alvarez.
Room B of the Criminal Chamber of Viedma resolved: 1) To sentence Carlos G. Mobilio and Pablo G. Jofré to life imprisonment for being considered co-perpetrators criminally responsible for the crime of aggravated sexual abuse […] and for having killed a woman through gender violence.Mauro Bongiovanni case file. Diagram of injuries suffered in the body of María Eugenia Lanzetti as a consequence of the blows inflicted on her by her husband Mauro Bongiovanni. Maria Eugenia filed a complaint at the police station and was examined by a forensic doctor. A drawing of a male human body was used to represent the injuries sustained on her body, although the victim was a woman.Portrait of Lucas Azcona at Ezeiza National Prison No. 1, Buenos Aires Province, where he is serving a life sentence for the femicide of Nicole Sessarego.
The Federal Court N 15 of the Federal Capital resolved:1) To sentence Lucas Ariel Azcona to life imprisonment for being considered fully responsible for the crime of aggravated homicide for having been committed with malice aforethought and femicide.Left: Lucas Azcona case file. Photo of a tattoo on Lucas Azcona’s arm with the figure of a woman. Right: Poem written by Lucas Azcona and dedicated to his mother. The poem was written inside the prison while he was serving his life sentence for the femicide of Nicole Sessarego.Almost 40% of the femicides in Argentina are carried out with sharp weapons. In most cases, women had previously reported gender-based violence.
Left: Mauro Bongiovanni case file. Knife used by Mauro Bongiovanni in the femicide of María Eugenia Lanzetti.
Right: extracts from the denunciations made by María Eugenia Lanzetti against her husband Mauro Bongiovani (from whom she was separated). The accusations are for gender violence and because Mauro broke the restriction measures on several occasionsMauro Bongiovanni case file. Maria Eugenia Lanzetti’s apron at the time of the femicide. Marita (as she used to be called) was a kindergarten teacher and worked in a kindergarten. On 15 April 2015 her husband Mauro Bongiovanni (from whom she was separated) broke into the kindergarten and in front of the children and another teacher who was there in the classroom with Marita, killed her with a knife.City of Viedma, Province of Rio Negro. Satelital view of the outskirts of the city where the Hippodrome is located and where the lifeless body of Karen Alvarez, 14 years old, was found on October 26, 2014. Karen was raped by several men, beaten with a local stone on her head, and hanged with her own jean.Lucas Azcona case file. Sentenced to life imprisonment for the femicide of Nicole Sessarego, a 21 year old Chilean student who was murdered on July 15, 2014. In Argentina, life imprisonment means 35 years of confinement, since there is no such thing as life imprisonment.Lucas Azcona case file. Blood traces found at the site of Nicole Sessarego’s murder.Front of the family house of Maria Eugenia Lanzetti and Mauro Bongiovanni. Marita, as she was commonly called, had a restraining order against Mauro her husband. He violated this order on several occasions. Most of the violence that women suffer takes place in the family environment and inside the home.Photos from the family album of Lucas Azcona femicide by Nicole Sessarego.
Rueda photos are Daiana Valencia and Celeste Alonso. Both are freelance photojournalists and documentary photographers, based in Buenos Aires Argentina. As collective they deal with gender, social, cultural and current affairs issues. Their first work was in Haiti covering the presidential campaign of candidate Maryse Narcisse in the October 2015 elections. They have published in media such as El Pais de España, Cosecha Roja, Revista Crisis, El Grito del Sur, Bex Magazine and British Journal of Photography. They work “30000” was selected and exhibited at the Haroldo Conti Cultural Centre of Memory,2017. Argentina In October 2017 they were selected to participate in the Photographic Brigades of the FIFV (Valparaiso Photography Festival) where they developed the work “Diversidadxs” which was exhibited in the Plaza La Victoria in Valparaiso, Chile. Images of different works are part of the book “Ser mujer Latinoamericana”, Mexico 2018. They won the best portfolio in the Biennial of Documentary Photography in Tucumán, Argentina 2018. They participated in the collective exhibition organized by House of Girls, Berlin, Germany 2018. They won third place in the “Photographic Memory: Migration and Human Rights in South America” contest, December 2018. Part of their work ” Morenada porteña” was published by World Press Photo and AJ Español in 2019. As a collective they are part of the Foto-Feminas and WomenPhotography platform.
Since the beginning of the spread of the Corona virus and the imposition of curfews in Egypt, people have started to restore old habits, discover new ones, or change their old habits. Some people have become closer to their families by spending a lot of time together watching TV , cooking , conversing, laughing. This was not their usual way of life. This is happening because people are in lock down and have more time which they can use to spend with their families and getting away from feeling of depression .. It is a time like a truce.
People have started to discover themselves, what have they done , and what will they do next. They also invest their time indoor in learning new things, practising a new sport or content themselves in relaxing activities such as spending their time playing or chatting with friends through social media and video.
Daniele Napolitano (Photography) and Serena Chiodo (Article)
“Our effort should be an exception, instead we realize that it is and will be normal,” says Pietro Vicari, a member of the Quarticciolo neighbourhood committee. Thirty years old, he lives in a six-storey building, once the Casa del fascio, then the police headquarters. Now it’s a residential occupation, on the facade of which stands a huge mural of Blu. It stands out in the center of Quarticciolo, a neighborhood on the eastern outskirts of Rome. Blocks of council houses one in line with the other for about six thousand inhabitants, many of whom have been waiting for a council house for years: in the meantime they make do as they can, often in cellars and in overcrowded conditions. The unemployment rate is very high compared to central areas of the city, as is the school drop-out rate. Speaking of abandonment, the role of the institutions comes to mind: totally absent. A lack that manifested itself in all its seriousness during the health emergency linked to Covid-19.
The emergency within the emergency
“I used to do a lot of jobs before, all in black. Now, of course, I’m stuck”: so says Christian, 18 years old, who lives in an occupied house: “We didn’t receive the vouchers that were supposed to arrive from the city hall. There were days when my girlfriend and I looked at each other wondering, “What are we gonna eat tomorrow?”. Anna, a 60-year-old Ukrainian woman, echoes him. “I was working in a hotel, with a contract renewed month after month. Obviously, since March the hotel hasn’t worked, so neither have I. Since I don’t have a real contract, I have no support: I had to start using my savings”. These situations are common to many people in the neighbourhood, who have received little or nothing from the institutions: some have received the 600 euro bonus – which for rent, bills, expenses end very soon, even more if you have children – or the redundancy fund, with the delays that have united the whole country. Many saw nothing coming, to be workers without a contract or unemployed, and from one day to the next they were left without any source of income. Municipal spending vouchers were delivered partially and with very serious delays. The mantra repeated by commercials, institutional communications and social messages – “stay at home, everything will be fine” – shattered over the concrete experience of a country in difficulty and over problems that have lasted for years.
“Luckily there are volunteers who distribute the boxes,” says Anna, referring to those who immediately thought about how to move in the context of the pandemic so as not to leave anyone alone: the members of the neighbourhood Committee. Faced with the increasingly heavy institutional absence, in fact, here – as in other districts of the capital – the difference was made by the citizens, self-organized to put into practice forms of solidarity and self-determination important when not essential.
From the first week of lockdown, from the window on the sixth floor of the building in the centre of the square came music, words of support and appeals to the sense of community and the need to be active protagonists of one’s daily life. This was soon accompanied by material support, with the distribution of masks, disinfectant gel, gloves: “A lady brought us masks sewn by herself, a neighbor gave us a lot of amuchina and we distributed it. But we immediately realized that the need for food was predominant,” explains Vicari. So, every Tuesday and Saturday, in front of the Red Lab – the social centre on the ground floor of the former police headquarters – boxes of fruit, vegetables, pasta and bread were distributed for two months: products collected thanks to the support of private individuals, shopkeepers, farms and producers. 40 kg of oranges arrived from the farmers of Rosarno. “It is clear, however, that you don’t just live on this: there are people who don’t have the money to charge their mobile phones for distance learning for their children, or to repair the car to go to work.”
From the institutions nothing came, except requests for help: the volunteers were contacted to bring groceries to people in difficulty. “We went there, of course. But we have to think about a city with drones, police and military in all the streets, where there is no one to do the shopping for the elderly,” commented the members of the Committee, who alongside the necessary support for people – over a hundred families assisted – has always made a strong complaint about the institutional absence, even with targeted actions: “These needs cannot be discharged to the volunteers”, they said on 8 May, while symbolically unloading the empty boxes in front of the local Town Hall, and then participating, together with other groups of volunteers active in the capital, in the demonstration in Campidoglio square, which called for the distribution of shopping vouchers. “For months politicians have been announcing measures to support families: measures that simply do not exist,” they denounced, urging politicians to quickly find the means to act. Neither the local administration nor the city council gave concrete answers, and once again the neighbourhood had to organise itself.
“From the suburn to the suburn”. “Dalla borgata per la borgata”.
After all, self-organisation has for years been the basis for the management of the neighbourhood, which has never been the subject of institutional accountability. From this absence, a group of young people decided to take over the situation, initially with the recovery in full autonomy of the boiler room of a building of the Ater – Aziende Territoriali per l’Edilizia Residenziale – in a state of neglect for over twenty years: since 2016 it is open to the neighborhood as a popular gym. “In 2015 we occupied these spaces to denounce the absence of activity in the neighborhood,” explains Emanuele Agati, thirty years old, member of the Committee and boxing coach in the gym. “We pay particular attention to the needs of youth groups, even those who do not train spend the afternoon in the gym to see the others. There’s nothing else in the neighborhood”. In the meantime, two young people have become competitive boxers, finding their own value in sport. One of them is Amr Abdalla. Nineteen years old, he voluntarily participated in the distribution of the boxes: “I am very happy to help. I see a lot of people in trouble, and not only during quarantine. And I am proud of this activity”.
At the beginning of this year, the gym finally received the official assignment from the Ater, who recognized its value for the neighborhood. In the meantime, in recent years, actions have multiplied around sport: a self-managed after-school, attended by about forty children, workshops in schools focused on the recovery of the anti-fascist historical memory of the area, and the creation of the Committee to claim the rights of citizens, especially those, many, in housing emergency. Everything happens with a constant attention to the sense of community and aggregation: since 2016 every year the square is animated by a neighborhood party totally self-managed and accessible to all. Also this year it took place, despite the Covid-19: indeed, just this year it was felt even more necessary. And so, while after the acute phase of the health emergency, institutional policy insisted on economic recovery, the Quarticciolo found a way to be together. Because it is in a moment of crisis that a community aware, participated, sensitive to the needs of all responds: with masks and food, but also sociality and sharing. All sides of the same picture, made up of knowledge and care of the territory.
Serena: Serena Chiodo born in 1984 in Carate Brianza (MI). Cultural mediator, she got a master’s degree in Communication and Social Sciences focused on migration, than specialized in Communication and International Relations and Applied Social Sciences. She has been working for years in the field of migration and human rights protection, especially in advocacy, research and communication activities. She is a freelance journalist currently based in Rome, focussed on migration, human rights and social issues.
Rocío’s daughter preparing the menu to eat while watching the cartoons.
Piece of pizza from Telepizza de AbrantesA mother hands over the family book to check if her son is on the list.A father carrying four meals for his childrenEmployees have disinfectant gel for parents to sign and collect foodA Telepizza employee indicates that there is a waiting lineThe police supervise that the separation of people is respected when collecting mealsParents waiting their turn at the Telepizza in San FerminA father who has collected three meals for his childrenA mother shows us the meal, a pizza, three nuggets, and a drinkIn the Telepizza of San Fermin, they do include the saladYury’s son eating while watching television
“Have your family book in hand,” shouts a policeman in front of the Telepizza on Abrantes Street. A patrol is monitoring that parents who go for their children’s meals maintain the separation recommended by health authorities. Outside, about 15 parents queue with the family book or a document that accredits the name of their children.
In front of a personal Telepizza table, they do what they can in the face of the avalanche of names of different nationals that they are told. Many are not on the charts and have to wait for second confirmations. These lists are the ones that the schools send about 11,500 students who have a reduced price in the school canteens for belonging to families that receive the Minimum Insertion Income (RMI). It is an agreement that the Community of Madrid reached with the companies Telepizza and Rodilla to supply the meals.
Rocío, a neighbor of the Carabanchel neighborhood and with a daughter in her care, who lives in the San Isidro area, arrives on her scooter at the Telepizza on Abrantes street at 12:30 p.m., time and place that has been assigned to her, at about 4Km from her home. In front of her are other fathers and mothers who the police are trying to organize. Two mothers have had to turn around because they were not on the lists, one of them is shouting “Shame, shame”.
The Community of Madrid is paying 5 euros for each meal to these companies, about 60,000 euros a day in total, however, the cost is being lower because since it began to distribute this Wednesday, only about 2,000 meals were collected by parents and about 3,000 this Friday. The main issue is the organisation of the lists in which not much of the children and the distance appear. A family member can only go individually from Monday to Friday between 12 am and 3 pm to collect the food at the assigned establishment. Many parents fear being fined and others see insufficient food being offered.
“I’m going to show you what the menu is today,” a mother in Abrantes complained this Friday. A small pizza, three Nuggets, and a drink, which would correspond to the school meals 3 offered there, but without salad. Rocío’s turn comes, she signs on a list and takes the food after almost an hour of waiting. When arriving home, the girl without much enthusiasm eats the first slice of pizza.
These meals that are received by the minors in the most vulnerable situation are made up of pizzas, hamburgers, salads, and nuggets for the children who receive it from Telepizza, and for the students who get their food from Rodilla to eat, at their main meal of the day, sandwiches, salad and snacks, accompanied by two pieces of fruit.
At the Telepizza de San Fermín in Usera, there is a municipal police car on patrol. The relatives who are queuing begin to say that “yesterday was impossible to collect the food because nobody was on the lists,” says a father of three children. Today they are and the people who have to leave without the meals are fewer.
Jury, a mother of two children, arrives at 2:30 p.m. to collect only her young son’s meal. She has been luckier than Rocío, she is only two subway stops from Telepizza and she has been given School Meal 3 with salad. When her son arrives home, around 3.30 pm, who is watching television, he says “he already wants to go back to school.”
Two short films Turk made in the first week of the UK lockdown when everybody was ordered to stay inside. The first film is based in a rural location while the second part focuses on London. It is the responses of his own friends and neighbours when they were asked the question ‘When did Covid-19 get real for you?’ . He decided to title it ‘Unprecedented’ as it was a buzz word at the time. He comments, ‘it was everywhere and pretty annoying to be honest! So I thought it fit an annoying and sad situation’.
If you have work which highlights the social injustices that are being intensified by Covid-19 please submit your work to the Photojournalism Hub. We will be updating this dossier page on a monthly basis. Submit by August 31st to be included in September’s dossier pages.
