Last bus to Islamaphobia.

Some thoughts on Islamaphobia.

I watched a programme on ABC recently, it was entitled "should America fear Islam" and was hosted by Christiane Amanpour, upon reflection a better title might have been "why does the American media promote fear", or maybe "why are many Americans predisposed to fear". I say this because in truth I am rather fond of Americans (they invented the ice cream sundae), moreover, I know for a fact, several Americans are rather fond of me.

I once travelled across America in a wheelchair (another story), during this time I was amazed at how often complete strangers would come forward with offers of help and assistance. So if you're American and reading this, give your self a big pat on the back. Then again, an Englishman in a wheelchair isn't very frightening, even if I am strange.

The ABC debate bothered me, it was full of the usual purple faced, rhetoric spouting types. One gentleman in particular reminded me of Senator Joseph McCarthy, a rather colourful demagog who scared everyone into thinking anyone who believed in communism was a threat to the united states. (Incidentally, when George Clooney made the film "Good night and good luck" McCarthy's part was played by McCarthy himself. They spliced in actual film footage taken during his speeches. When showed early screen tests of the movie, most viewers found the part played by McCarthy to be none believable due to his over the top performance).

Last week as per usual Im in the middle east (it really doesn't matter where), and I find a bunch of these old American buses parked in the sand. I love to see these big Yellow vehicles in the USA, I have always found them visually iconic, so it was almost surreal to see about fifty of them parked in such unusual circumstances. They still had, "school bus" written in large black letters, and most retained the original notices and signs on them, for example, one said, "hows my driving?" and had a Chicago hotline to call.

I started to photograph the buses and after a few minutes another bus came bowling through the sand and rumbled to a halt in a big cloud of dust. The door opened and out poured the drivers of the buses I was photographing, all of them were Pakistani, dressed in Shalwar Qameez, many of whom wore a topi (skull cap) and most had cool looking little beards.

The drivers then see a strange Westerner, (that would be me) armed with a rather large camera. Moreover he's busy taking photographs of their buses, they wander over and immediately strike poses, hoping to be included in the shots. The atmosphere reminded me of excited school children hoping to be picked for something fun. It wasn't easy to photograph them because they turned out to be habitual gigglers. As soon as I had done a portrait of one I would let them preview the image on the little screen on the back of my camera. This usually invoked more giggles and also a sense of pride on the person photographed. All in all it was a nice atmosphere.

Within a few minutes the drivers had prepped their vehicles and were gone, many of them giving me the thumbs up as they disappeared in a large cloud of dust. Now heres the deal, and the point of my story, lets reverse the situation, imagine a bunch of bus drivers turn up for work in Chicago and find a strange bearded guy from Pakistan wearing a Shalwar Qameez, photographing the vehicles with a large camera,……..you get the picture (no pun intended) ....................Im just saying......................

As that last bus drove off , the impish child in me kept thinking I should dial that Chicago hotline number and scream "oh my lord I just saw your bus full of bearded men dressed in Shalwar Qameez, it was speeding recklessly ". Might set a few pulses racing at Homeland security. But that would be wrong :).

As Franklin D. Roosevelt said in his first inaugural address "So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself -- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror".

I have always thought most of us (me included) suffer from a slight touch of Xenophobia (fear of strangers) possibly a throw back in our genetic makeup, I imagine it was once a rather useful phobia especially in neanderthal times. A nifty knee-jerk reaction prompting one to leg it at high speed upon seeing some rather large Neanderthal from a strange tribe. I could be wrong (I usually am) but it would now seem that this throwback phobia blinds us. Or maybe its Optophobia (fear of opening one's eyes) thats causing the problem.

I think my message is this, we probably all suffer from one phobia or another to a lesser or greater degree, but phobias are an irrational fear, they stop us from growing and from living life to the full. My own father was slightly Neophobic (fear of anything new) because of this he went to his grave never having eaten a pizza, imagine that.

I would say more, but cannot due to my own phobic nature, I suffer from Liticaphobia (fear of lawsuits) and Phobophobia (fear of phobias).

Disclaimer:- Any reference to persons or agencies, living or brain-dead is purely cynical.

Photographs courtesy of a rather dashing and wonderful man!

Lou Garbus Memorial Blog: Lou Garbus 15 October 1917 ~ 11 October 2010

Lou Garbus Memorial Blog: Lou Garbus 15 October 1917 ~ 11 October 2010: "Dear Friends and Family of Lou Garbus (a.k.a Louie) With a heavy heart I report that dad died suddenly this afternoon in Belfast, Maine in ..."

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16, 2010

Lou approved of this portrait of him, he thought it was accurate, I remember him laughing and saying "wow, you got the hands". He particularly liked how I captured his knuckles, and I was impressed with myself for having impressed Lou.

I first Met Lou in his old farm house kitchen in Maine, It was deepest of winter and Lou was holding court and working the crowd, I should say in typical Lou style, but here's the deal, this is also my style, I knew I had finally met my match on the talking front.

When I learnt that Lou was a photographer I reached in my pocket and pulled out a Leica proclaiming hey I'm also a photographer. His reaction was "wow a Leica, you earn too much money". He turned to my girlfriend and laughingly in a stage whisper said "you should marry this boy, he can provide". That was it, I was hooked, I had met someone who talked more than me and he shared my love for photography.

I returned to see Lou later in the day and showed him my portfolio, every time he saw an image that moved him he would shout "beautiful look at the way you captured the scene", this usually prompted him to go and get a similar photograph from his bedroom next door, I in turn liked his photographs . It was wonderful two photographers chatting away and prodding each others egos. I liked Lou immediately and recognised something between us. I should also say that the age difference melted away, after that day Lou was just my friend.

I was still an amateur back then, I left America a frustrated photographer toying with the idea that I could someday turn professional. I remembered Lou's words "from this you can make a living" a phrase his mother would say to him, whenever he spoke of photography.

Whilst Lou wasn't the only person who helped and convinced me to turn professional, he was the only photographer, and that meant a lot to me.

I never had enough time with Lou due to the huge distance in miles between us, but I was always pleased to hear Dana Rae say he mentioned me often, sadly I never reciprocated the compliment back to him, I wish he knew how I regularly spoke to people about my photographer friend Lou.

To summarise my thoughts and friendship with Lou, I would like to show a message that I posted on the internet . Whilst we shared lots of themes photography was probably the catalyst for our friendship hence me posting this on an international website for photographers. Before I do I would also like to share my deepest condolences with Lou's family and friends.

Enough Already.

My Photographic friend and mentor Lou died this week aged 93.

Lou was a passionate photographer. He held his last exhibition this summer in Maine. Lou thought the way to get better at photography was to become a deeper human and to be curious about everything and every one regardless of race or religion.


He transported captured German soldiers back home to Europe after world war two, being Jewish he was told that he should hate them. Typically, Lou gave cigarettes to them and listened to their stories of home and how they missed loved ones. He thought we are all the same, but become misguided due to demagogue politicians and a polemic media, he never felt any hatred towards them, I think thats says a lot about Lou.


Lou worked the streets during the depression, his last job paid for his next roll of film, he thought digital makes us wasteful, the ability to keep shooting loses the moment in time, he always thought it better to shoot fewer shots as it makes you think more and compose better.


In Lou's mind, a photograph did not have to be technically perfect as long as it captured the moment and meant something. Lou taught me the art of photography, yet we never talked technical, he was always saying he wanted to see more of me in my work. When I showed him images he approved of, he would clap his hands together and shout "beautiful a Nigel photograph".


My fondest memory, is a conversation I had with him about our friendship, I told him the Spanish have a good word to describe it, Its called "Simpatico". He had a sharp intake of breath then looked at me with a serious face."Thats it" he said, "your right simpatico" and laughed repeating it over and over.

The image is my last shot of Lou taken about two months ago, He was being rushed out of the door by his home help, I feel bad because I never said goodbye properly. ""Genug shoyn my friend" its yiddish for "enough already", our little private joke should I find out he's gone.

Lou always said my photographs had a piece of myself in them, "that little bit of Nigel", however I should end with this, I would like to think my photographs will always have "a little piece of Lou in them".

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)