Always nice to come across a worthwhile participatory photography initiative, even nicer to find one set up in my old manor. Fotosynthesis was established in 2010 by a group of professional photographers, and is now based out of the Lilian Baylis Old School in Kennington, South London.
They run a darkroom and studio space where they provide training in traditional b&w as well as digital photography. Private classes are available for community projects, and seminars are hosted for emerging artists to promote their work.
‘My grandmother’ by Diana Garcia.
The photo triptych above was exhibited at the British Film Institute for Refuge In Films 2012 in partnership with RefugeeYouth. Refuge In Films is a film festival curated by young refugees, who produced their own films and organise the event. It aims to raise awareness about the representation of refugees and migrants’ issues. Fotosynthesis exhibited a series of photographs at the festival that showed the life of three family members who migrated from Colombia (grandmother, mother and son).
Participants discovering their first films
Ingrid Guyon, one of the Dirctors of Fotosynthesis says,
“We aim at giving a voice to marginalised people, provide educational activities and encourage community cohesion using photography. We use participatory methods to provide a supportive and inclusive environment where people can develop their critical thinking and engage with each other in a stimulating way.”
Rebecca Kamara in her village studio. Rebecca has set up her own photography business in her village in Sierra Leone.
I picked up this interesting initiative from a tweet by duckrabbit this morning. The BBC story is rather inspiring and worth a read. I won’t regurgitate it here. However, in summary – the photographer, Lee Karen Stow, was born in Hull, which happens to be twinned with Freetown in Sierra Leone. She went to the country to deliver greetings cards produced by women in Hull and organized a workshop. Fifty women turned up wanting to learn photography. It was the women’s enthusiasm that sparked off ’42′ (named after the life expectancy of a woman in Sierra Leone). The rest is history. Check out the article for more details.
The project is an example of the role participatory photographycan play in engaging communities and, in some circumstances, generating income (see my article‘Participatory Photography – Jack of all trades, master of none?‘ for more on this). As in many cases, what starts as a small scale initiative develops a life of its own. In reading about ’42′ I was reminded of Yasmine Eid-Sabbagh’s work in Lebanon.
My favorite quote from the BBC article on Stow is this;
“Credit and publicity for the photographer doesn’t put food on the table. It is very disappointing; the whole idea for the project is to train indigenous photographers because I believe we do get a more balanced view of the world that way. Gone are the days of the wealthy Westerner taking pictures of poor people in Africa.”
If only that were true. And yes, the debate over the advantages of local over foreign photographers will no doubt run and run. However, for me the benefits of hiring locally outweigh jetting someone in. Local knowledge, language, cultural reading, not standing out, access, ability to spend lengths of time with subjects, developing local talent…not to mention less carbon footprint. There will be many variables and considerations – not least other aspects of identity such as class, ethnicity, gender and religion within countries that will also have an influence. I am open to the advantages an outsider can bring which could be described as being able to ‘see the woods for the trees’ due to the newness / uniqueness of seeing for the first time. But what ever side you come down on Stow is right for another crucial reason – the reality is that there are an increasing amount of competent and talented local photographers quite capable of delivering the goods (not to mention an avalanche of digital images from everyone else). The economic realities of that will win the day.
From what I can gather this is part of an EU-China government project looking at the impact of ‘village self governance‘ reforms in rural China (grass-roots democracy). Basically, they went to 10 villages and gave 100 people either a stills camera or video camera and asked them to record the politics of the village. Now that has to be interesting!
The guy in the video is Jian Li, a film-maker interested in the changing social dynamics related to China’s fast-paced economic growth.
Apparently, one outcome was a documentary called ‘Seen & Heard‘ which was screened around the world. I can’t find it on-line so if anyone knows where a copy lurks please let me know.
I was at the British Embassy in Kathmandu a couple of weeks back to attend a gathering on enforced disappearances. The event marked the 6th anniversary of the killing a 15-year-old girl, Maina Sunuwar, in 2004 by the Nepal Army. The main draw was the première of a short film entitled, ‘Awaiting Justice‘ (presented as ‘Nyay Kahile?’ in Nepali, which literally translates as ‘Justice When?’). The film documents a visit in December 2009 by nine top diplomats to Bardiya District where a high number of people were ‘disappeared’ during Nepal’s decade long conflict (1996-2006).
I was looking forward to seeing the film, but the title had already begun to raise questions in my mind. I tend not to be a pedant when it comes to language, but I have seen such passive terminology far too often when referring to rights holders in Nepal. ‘Waiting’ is a term that is unfortunately reflected in the way many of the individuals are represented, not least by the human rights movement.
Since the end of the conflict there has been a concerted push by human rights organisations, both national and international, as well as some embassies and the UN (particularly OHCHR – Nepal), for investigations and prosecutions into past abuses. This has mainly focussed on case documentation and political lobbying via legal argumentation. Despite this there are those of the opinion that survivors and the families of those ‘disappeared’ or unlawfully killed have been, up until recently, marginal voices in this campaign, with their priorities given less prominence in the face of the more powerful international ‘human rights project‘. Some would even say that the families agenda has been deliberately distorted to fit that of the international community. A cynical analysis would be that this agenda centres on furthering international human rights law through work in politically weak and conflict damaged countries, with an emphasis on ‘putting people in prison‘ rather than delivering to the wishes of those who suffered most (which tends to centre on material and emotional relief). Not that justice isn’t a good thing, it just raises the question of who all this effort is actually for? If in reality things are far more complex than the cynics may have you believe, this is not to say there is not an element of truth here. There are certainly legitimate questions to be asked about the independence of some CBOs in Nepal, and whether undue influence is exerted on them to be ‘on message’ with the bigger agencies controlling the agenda and funding. What interests me most though is how this plays out strategically and representationally?
Few resources and time appear to have gone into growing the public profile of the CBOs and winning arguments amongst the public to mobilise support. The ‘legal-first’ strategy that is pushed so hard by the various human rights agencies is making slow progress exactly because it is not duel tracked with a wider communication strategy that seeks to garner support beyond a narrow constituency of human rights activists and lawyers. Documentation of cases and legal arguments saturate the landscape, with a war of words occupying what small amount of media space is given over to these issues. Almost forgotten are the lives of those who live on. When we do hear from them it is usually to recount, once again, the painful episode that took their loved ones away from them (‘the case’).
The embassy film thus takes a now predictable format – a parade of ‘cases’, narrowly defining the individuals in the context of the abuse rather than as complex and dynamic people. This is particularly evident in the main segment of the film where the diplomats are petitioned by a group of people who lost relatives or were themselves tortured. The decision to include so much of the meeting is questionable as it fails to engage after a short time. Not that the testimonies are boring or unmoving. What they are is contextually adrift in a barren meeting hall, where embassy staff sit silently as if holding court before their 4×4 convoy returns them to Kathmandu. There is no attempt to break down the empathic gap between the audience and people featured. More surprisingly, there is almost no explanation about why the diplomats made the trip to Bardiya, possibly underlining the exclusive nature of the product (i.e. it is for those who know rather than to info those who don’t). I am also unable to tell you what the film is for or how it will be used.
This is not a criticism of the international community in Nepal, they do good work – and this initiative may turn out to be well placed. The criticism is this – firstly, if you are to spend time and money on visual media then a lot more thought is needed than appears to have gone into this production, that even at 10mins failed to engage me or generate empathy due to its narrow passive ‘victimisation’ of those it represents. The second criticism, and the more important as it goes beyond one short film, is why such representations persist (when there are obvious alternatives) and whether they expose a dynamic between the rights holders and those agencies who take a ‘for the community’ rather than a ‘with the community‘ strategy?
It is strange that despite the involvement of the self organised community based organisation – Conflict Victims Committee – there is no representation in the film of the substantial work they have done in campaigning for justice. In fact I have not come across one substantial piece of visual media that looks at these CBOs in Nepal (though that doesn’t mean such work isn’t out there).
Of course, it is unrealistic to expect embassies to be masters of visual communications, and the fact that they even thought about filming their initiative (which was mainly symbolic – the abuses are already well documented) is positive. But such agents need to realise that winning the legal arguments is only half the battle. Failure to generate a ground swell of public solidarity with those who fight for justice and reparations will at the very least hamper progress, at worst make you irrelevant.
A more thoughtful approach is taken in the 2009 International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) film, unfortunately with an equally passive sounding title, ‘The Wait Continues‘. The film narrows its focus on one incident where 17 workers from Jogimara were reported killed whilst working at an airport construction site in Kalikot.
The film is a more considered affair than ‘Awaiting Justice’, where the audience is firmly placed in the context of the 15 families who lost their sons. They are interviewed in their village and homes. We see them going about their daily lives. Yet it is what the family members recount that is most notable. Rather than presenting details of ‘the case’ (we learn only the basic facts of what happened) they tell us about their hopes and fears, their doubts and ways of coping. A particular poignant moment is when one man relates how his neighbour has moved away to escape the memories of his son. But asks, ‘What will he do with his son’s plate, and the glass he drunk from?’ immediately summoning a human universal of the memories evoked in us by objects used by the ones we love.
Towards the end of the film ICRC reps walk into the village. This is probably the most awkward moment throughout and draws attention to the fact the focus is on a community that has found it difficult to represent itself effectively (though it does note that others have). It is an all too familiar image – the human rights /UN worker who comes to the village to ‘extract’ research information, maybe never to return, leaving the interviewees disheartened and suspicious of their intentions. This cannot be a direct criticism of the film itself, which is well made, or ICRC for that matter, but does highlight the lack of visual media that presents the pro-active, self organisation of many families across the country to fight (rather than ‘wait’) for reparations, truth and justice. The ICRC documentary is complimented by a set of decent stills by K.Kayastha that begin to scratch a surface that could do with a bit more scratching.
Raj Kumari Gurung lost both her brothers-in-law. Their mother, Moti Maya Gurung is convinced one day they will return. Copyright ICRC / K.Kayastha
The ‘legal-first’ singular track has produced a stack of reports. Much could have been done to wed these with a visual advocacy strategy – much in the way OSI has done in recent times. A couple of reports illustrate a lost opportunities. The ‘waiting‘ continues in two reports by the Nepalese human rights organisation Advocacy Forum (AF) and US based NGO, Human Rights Watch (HRW). AF is an excellent organisation, and I have worked with them in the past. However, a strategic shift in the representation of survivors and rights holders would be a positive step.
Two reports – ‘Waiting for Justice‘ and ‘Still Waiting for Justice‘ – present excellent documentation on over 60 cases of ‘unpunished crimes from Nepal’s Armed Conflict‘. In many instances AF has fought hard for these cases to be investigated by the police, despite obstruction. However, once more we enter the territory of passive victims, illustrated in the first report by the widely used (and rather tired in my opinion) photographic technique of representing ‘disappearances’ by having family members hold up photos of those that are missing (in the second report photos are abandoned except for the cover, which incidentally is one of mine – where at least we see the family members out on the streets protesting).
What surprises more is that HRW did not do more to improve the visual representation. Over the last couple of years to their credit they have done much to adopt more visual tools in their work, particularly on their website.
Other examples are the reports by OHCHR-Nepal on abuses in the Maharajgung army barracks and in Bardiya district. The Maharajgung report does not feature any photos at all. A glossy summary version of the Bardiya report (the original version having almost sunk without trace on it launch) contains eight un-captioned colour photos – with none of the photos being self explanatory enough to stand alone. This disappoints all the more because UN agencies, including OHCHR themselves with their work on prison conditions in Nepal, have grasped the value of visual media in providing context and building understanding in the wider population. I covered this here.
It is obvious from such laudable initiatives, such as A People’s War trilogy, that with some effort and thought a more diverse and nuanced representation can be produced. The thing the project did best was invest in a time scale that allowed the people pictured to become rounded individuals to the viewer. Through the follow-up book, and last in the trilogy, ‘People After War‘, we are able to travel along a narrative that leads the reader away from a black and white reading of events and people. The exhibition that travelled across the country drew huge crowds (allegedly 350,000), with some of their thoughts recorded in the second book in the trilogy, ‘Never Again‘. Six thousand copies of ‘A People War‘ were distributed to schools and libraries for free. So, why did one publisher decide it was necessary to have such a public debate on these issues, but not one human rights agency has come close to producing an initiative that stimulates such a public interaction?
Obviously, an argument can be made that all these representations differ due to the agents responsible for them, their objectives , expertise and the time available to produce them. This is a fair point – as it is fair to say that factually people are ‘waiting’ due to the state being the agent to deliver some of the things they want. But what ever your appraisal of these different approaches it is hard to deny that what is lacking is a substantial participatory communication approach that puts the power of representation in the hands of the families and survivors (at the very least this would enhance historic documentation). This may open up more space to discuss some of the issues of social exclusion that lead to the violations in the first place and remain un-resolved. A coherent communication strategy that looks to engage with a wider public audience in Nepal in order to increase pressure on political actors wouldn’t go a miss either.
These would not only go some way to addressing criticism that families lack control over how they are represented, and how their priorities are not accurately portrayed by the mainstream human rights community. It could also begin to break down societal barriers that currently block the establishment of a wider debate and recognition of the injustice that is being perpetuated. Whether participatory or not, a venture that focussed more on ‘campaigning‘ rather than ‘waiting‘ would be a good start.
Examples from other countries should inform those working in this sector in Nepal of what is possible. From a professional point of view the work of Paula Allen with the women of Calama in Chile stands out as a committed and long term approach. Marcelo Brodsky’s work ‘Buena Memoria‘ from Argentina provides an inclusive and personal documentation and memorial to those who were ‘disappeared’ from his school (watch the video for the event held to remember those who were killed). Omar D’s work on ‘disappearances’ in Algeria, ‘Devoir de memoire/A Biography of Disappearance, Algeria 1992-, commissioned and edited by Autograph ABP, is also worth noting. As is the discussed at an LSE conference on ‘disappearances’ in Algeria in 2008, raising the question;
‘How we can disseminate the truth about events that are officially denied or obfuscated by the legal system, how to lobby for the application of UN resolutions on forced disappearances and whether human rights organisations can overcome post-colonial and economic interests. Can imagery be more potent than text in bringing human rights issues into public knowledge? Can we talk of a politics of aesthetics in the context of subjects who have been stripped of their civil existence? How can the invisible be made visible?
To watch a video introduction to the LSE event click here.
Displaying the portraits of the disappeared in October Square in Minsk. From 'Existence Denied' by ICAED.
Also worth checking out is the ‘Existence Denied‘ book produced by the International Coalition of Enforced Disappearances (ICAED) that pulls together a series of stills from around the world that illustrate the emotional impact of those whose loved ones have been disappeared, as well as the activism they themselves have initiated to find out what happened and bring perpetrators to book.
'Angels on the march against disappearances in El Salvador. From 'Existence Denied' by ICAED.
Agencies can also explore the value of participatory photography as a tool for communication within and across communities, for understanding and reconciliation, but also for historical documentation. Not that such methodology is without its faults, but as I discussed in this post it lends itself to just this situation. A good example is the TAFOS (social photographic workshops) project in Peru which took place in the context of political violence, extreme poverty and lack of political representation – a situation similar to Nepal’s.
Much of the value of the project is encapsulated in this quote, which I will leave you with;
… “TAFOS was a project of visual inclusion, with pictures that, in its character of a documentary mirror, made visible the invisible and took risks for a country still alive. Their pictures show us a country struggling for respect and recognition of basic rights for its people; a country in the process of consolidation and transformation that, however, still enjoys life; summing up, a country with a clear bet for life and change”.
Huarcaya, Roberto. Hacer visible lo invisible. In: País de Luz. Talleres de Fotografía Social, TAFOS. Perú: 1986-1998. Lima-Peru: Pastor y Müller, 2006. p. 44-47 (English Translation).
Paul Close's photographic project 'The Snakebox Odyssey' asked a simple question, 'Is there one thing that could make your life better?' and in doing so was one of the most creative uses of photography I came across this year.
I know, I know, its a bit of a headline title but as this article rounds of one year dedicated to looking at the use of photography, video and all that other visual stuff used in social activism I thought it appropriate to end with a grand claim. But to be honest with you I can’t answer the question of ‘How NGOs should be using photos and video in social activism‘. Not that you needed telling that because, as regular readers will know this just takes us back to all that ‘does dieting work‘ absurdity. The other reason is, despite having looked at hundreds of examples of visuals put into the service of social activism, I feel that the answer will always be evolving. This is particularly the case at present with the explosion of possibilities offered by the digital revolution and Web 2.0. We are like frontiers men in new territory (minus the genocide of indigenous people that is, unless that is photographic film…hmmm probabaly wise to leave this metaphor alone).
Activists demonstrating in support of a photography exhibition "Into Exile: Tibet 1949 - 2009" at the Drik Gallery in Dhaka. Drik came under tremendous pressure to close down the photographic exhibition from both the Chinese Embassy and officers from the Bangladesh Police Special Branch. This was one of the most powerful reminders of both the power of images and governments desire to censor.
I started The Rights Exposure Project blog in February 2009 in an attempt to answer two questions. One of them is;
‘How can I use visual media better in my work as a human rights campaigner?’
Eight years working at Amnesty International in London is enough for me to say with some authority that both personally and as an organisation we are not using visual media as well as we could. I do not mean that we are not using enough photos and video (though sometimes we do not), or that they are not of an adequate quality (though sometimes they are not), but that we have failed to recognise the true power of these media as a tool to increase the impact of our work. We are effectively tying one arm behind our backs. Our one good arm (the most widely staffed and funded) remains the tried and tested research that Amnesty International is known for. Presented as written reports, the organisation must bang out around one hundred of these every year (a quick search on the Amnesty library turns up 119 written reports verses 13 audio-visual products in 2009), year after year, sending them off to governments, business leaders, academics, NGOs and the media. These are accompanied by numerous press releases and briefing papers. All good stuff, a veritable production line of evidence documenting human rights abuses across the globe delivered directly to those with the power to make the required changes, assuming there is the necessary political will.
Will we ever see Green Dam girl represent Amnesty International research?
Girl on Roof by Suchitra (used with permission from Kids with Cameras. Copyright Suchitra/KWC)
‘Proxy wars’, do diets work ? and the 2009 Ashes series
OK, I am going to be a bit flippant and suggest first-up that the debate about whether participatory photography (PP) represents the greatest thing since sliced bread or is an ineffective use of resources that perpetuates neo-colonial attitudes in development is;
1) a stupid debate on a par with ‘Does dieting work?’
2) a ‘proxy war’ about participatory approaches and visual representation in development, and as such, best tackled head on.
Now, there is a temptation to take that as a cue to stop writing right here, crack open a cold-one and get back to the serious task of watching England and Australia battle it out in the Ashes (for the uninitiated, this is THE most important cricket series in the world!). After all, there are serious questions to be discussed, such as should England play Harmisson at Headingley instead of Broad, and will Flintoff be fit (and if he isn’t then don’t we need Broad)? But unfortunately before we can get to such matters I feel an obligation to explain my flippancy. So, here goes.
Over the last decade there has been a marked increase in the use of PP in development, education and human rights work. Yet, in contrast to this surge in popularity, it has drawn significant criticism. This article will analyse why something seemingly straightforward has been hailed both as an antidote to the ‘picturing of poverty’ and condemned as ineffective, or even damaging. Through this analysis I will try to show that much of the criticism has been too generalised to be very useful, with ‘over claiming’ by PP practioners contributed towards this. I will suggest that the crux of the debate currently centres on the broader issue of representational power relations and ‘authentic’ viewpoint that require practical solutions based on a better understanding of subjects and audiences. I conclude by suggesting that it will only be through the use of mixed visual media practices, presenting a variety of diverse viewpoints, connected as a ‘conversation’ that we can not only create a more accurate representation of the issues, but also facilitate a more dynamic activism across communities.
Before going any further I would like to thank the following people for their insight and materials that made this article possible; DJ Clark (multi-media journalist), Shahidul Alam (Drik), Rebecca Burton (Kids With Cameras), Ross Kaufman (Director of ‘Born Into Brothels’), Sara Parker (Liverpool John Moores University), Tiffany Fairey (co-founder, PhotoVoice), Yasmine Eid-Sabbagh (photographer), Sara Sehnaoui and Ramzi Haidar (Zakhira).
The Right Questions to Ask?
Mar Elias refugee camp, Beirut - Copyright Khalifeh Muhamed Khalifeh / Zakira
It could be said that any analysis of participatory photography (PP) needs to look at two issues;
1) Does this tool offer an antidote to how people living in difficult circumstances (usually marginalised groups facing economic hardship or social discrimination) are generally represented through photojournalism and NGOs?
2) Can it really deliver on all the multiple claims made in its name?
Although the issues these questions raise are interesting, and I will touch on these, I give primacy to another question;
‘Did the PP project you ran do what it set out to do?’
And this can only be answered for each individual project by an evaluation that is conducted over time and looks to the original project strategy objectives. As Rebecca Burton at Kids With Cameras told me;
“As for advice to those running a similar project, I would recommend that they reflect upon the ultimate goal. If the goal is to bring the world of photography to children as an art form for creativity, then their approach may be very different than someone who wants to teach photography as a life skill. The approach would be determined by the desired outcome.”
The reason the first two questions are not especially helpful is that one cannot ‘grade’ PP by generalising about – it is too broad a methodology and as Rebecca says, each project outcome is different. That is not to say there are not general rules that can help avoid some of the mistakes commonly made by practioners, particularly in regards to ethics and impact, but let’s not enter the territory of ‘Are diets any good?’ The chocolate and beer diet was just CRAZY (well, at least after day 2), but that steamed fish and veggies one kinda worked (though I did keep thinking about beer and chocolate, go figure?).
Having said this, let’s not throw out both these questions whole sale. I will come back to the first one (‘antidote’) later as it will lead us to broader issues that I believe have turned much of the analysis of PP into a kind of ‘proxy war’ about power relations and ‘authenticity’ in ‘picturing poverty’. For the second I will use it to look at examples from experienced practioners that can help us put the benefits of PP in perspective, and so connect its real benefits within the frame of the first question.
'Self portrait' by Jesula (used with permission from Kids with Cameras. Copyright Jesula/KWC)
A bit of background
I first learnt about PP when I met Tiffany Fairey (co-founder of the UK based NGO, PhotoVoice) at a photography fair in London some years ago. The fact I had not heard of PP until then is in part an indication of how far behind the work of the human rights movement was in regards to ‘participation’ by right claimants compared to the development sector. In Amnesty International, just about to launch its ‘Demand Dignity’ global campaign (focussing on ‘poverty‘, with emphasis on ‘slums’ and ‘health’) there was no talk of ‘agency’ or a push for participation until a couple of years ago. It is only now organizing its first PP project.
There has been much written about the history of PP so I will not waste space repeating it here. Briefly, participatory photography (PP) as a methodology is far from new, and stems from academic participatory methods such as ‘Participatory Rural Appraisal’ used by Robert Chambers. It was video rather than photography that kicked off participatory methods using visual media, such as Su Braden’s work in Viet Nam. The use of photography for development research can be traced back to work by Caroline C. Wang and Mary Anne Burris from the University of Michigan who worked in Yunnan province in China. Other pioneering practioners include Wendy Ewald who in 1975 founded the Mountain Photography Workshop with children in Appalachia, Kentucky. Edwald is now director of the Literacy Through Photography programme at Duke University, North Carolina. Participatory photography grew in popularity, through community projects, emerging as an NGO tool in the early 90’s, eventually gaining mainstream exposure through the Oscar winning documentary ‘Born Into Brothels’ in 1995. PP is now widely practised around the globe, from micro projects run by individuals with a handful of participants, to huge initiatives like ‘Lazha’ run by Zakira in Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon involving 500 children.
Cover of the book produced using the photos from Zakira's 'Lahza' participatory photography project (Copyright Zakira).
Despite variations in how projects are run the basics remain the same – social activists or professional photographers train a group of people (usually kids) in difficult circumstances to use cameras in order to improve their situation. Groups targeted for such projects tend to be marginalised or discriminated against for a variety of reasons, and do not have access to such art based educational opportunities. The objectives for each project vary, with PP being used in many different ways. It is partly this diversity of outcomes that explains the many benefits claimed by PP, and for people to question PP’s ability to deliver. Can it really be a ‘jack of all trades’, and does this make it ‘master of none’?
I have just contributed an article to the Amnesty International Australiawebsite looking at the use of visual media in campaigning for the rights of individuals at risk
The article briefly addresses issues such as the power of images to bring individuals together, allow people to tell their own stories (including participatory techniques), the increasing availability of digital recording technology and web-based platforms, and the need to link images to campaign mechanisms for people to take action. Check it out here.
‘This is Kroo Bay’ is an interactive multi-media participatory web project working from the Kroo Bay slum in Free Town, Sierra Leone. This Save the Children (UK) project presents a series of four interactive ‘scenes’ or ‘webisodes’ based around panoramic photos using Flash Panorama Player (similar to the work done by Gideon Mendell for The Guardian newspaper called ‘Salvation is Cheap’) where visitors to the website can view the living conditions of those living in the slum. Within each ‘scene’ there are opportunities to learn more about their lives, including video and slide shows on issues such as malaria, flooding from the river and which English Premier League teams the residents support! There are reports from a citizen media team run by kids, and profiles of those involved in the project, where visitors can send messages of support and questions.
The site provides options to make financial donations, information on the substantive issues impacting the lives of those who live in Kroo Bay, the work being done to improve conditions, relevance to the Millenium Development Goals and regular updates. The site also uses Google Maps to locate Kroo Bay and give further info on the slum.
