A picture of a distant Syria

two years away from that day. So far, I have gained and lost: "gain" has been earned every day since then, regardless of joy or sorrow, and "loss" has ascended to heaven as close at hand to my Egyptian colleagues who have worked together for nearly a year. Five people went and four people came back. The trip was vivid in my memory, but it was rarely mentioned.

I have been working as a photographer for Xinhua News Agency Cairo Branch since September 2013, responsible for photographic reporting in Egypt and some countries in the Middle East and North Africa. At that time, the Middle East and North Africa were a treasure land of news-the reality was so cruel, but the pain for the common people was the "joy" of journalists, especially for photographers. such experiences and experiences are beyond the reach of peers and peers. In Egypt, I experienced a curfew, shook hands with gunmen, mingled with thousands of people in marches, walked between clashes between military police and demonstrators, and took close shots of the scene after the terrorist attacks.

after returning to China, many friends mistakenly praised me as a brave "war reporter." Despite reporting in conflict areas and denying this "title", I sincerely pay tribute to those colleagues around me who have worked in war-torn areas for a long time or have been working in war-torn areas. I think there are probably only two types of people who can afford this honorable title: those who have died for work in the field, who we call "heroes" but cannot write at this time; and those who are working for work in the field. We call it "occupation" and have no time to write at all.

Let's get to the point. After 874 days abroad, I once really set foot on the "battlefield."

in late May 2014, the Xinhua News Agency Middle East Branch organized a reporting team to Syria to cover the country's seven-yearly presidential election. On the one hand, the country is in a state of civil war; on the other hand, the Syrian government has poor relations with the West, so few foreign journalists have been able to obtain official visas to enter the country. Because Xinhua News Agency is China's official news agency, my colleagues, Chen Ying, Sun Xinjing, Ahmed Hassan (Egypt), Chen Mu Nong, and I applied for and got this visa with the significance of an "invitation letter" in Cairo, Egypt.

this is a short-term visa issued by the Syrian Embassy in Egypt

Ahmed Hassan is an Egyptian cameraman employed by the Middle East Branch of Xinhua News Agency. When I first arrived in Cairo, I learned from my colleagues that, unlike other Egyptians, he was silent, punctual, and steady. As a photojournalist, I worked with him the most. I gradually found more characteristics in him in my work and life-serious, shy, and very popular with women because of his handsome appearance. "Hobo" is his nickname among young colleagues. The lovely Arabic word, which means "love" in Egypt, was spread by a colleague after talking about a relationship with him.

Hobo has worked for Xinhua News Agency for many years. In addition to reporting social unrest in Egypt, he has also been to Libya, South Sudan, and other war-torn countries. He is an experienced "war reporter". The trip to Syria was supposed to be a routine for him. However, while applying for and waiting for a visa, he expressed "fear" and "nervousness" to me and another colleague, in sharp contrast to those of us newcomers looking forward to setting foot on the battlefield for the first time.

I thought he was reluctant to part with his new wife, but I looked back and found that maybe it was a biological premonition of danger.

at Cairo Airport, a Syrian took pictures with his mobile phone before flying home to participate in the election.

Cairo Airport, a Syrian girl played with toys at Damascus Airport before flying home

Damascus Airport, we were "invited" to be reviewed in a staff office

May 29, 2014.

Cairo Airport, a Syrian took pictures with his mobile phone before flying home to participate in the election. Five people from Cairo met with resident journalists Liu Yang and Zhang Fengjie in Damascus, the Syrian capital, and joined hands with several Syrian journalists hired by Xinhua News Agency to cover the election.

Damascus is an old city surrounded by mountains. We live in the city center controlled by government forces, and a three-kilometer radius is said to be "absolutely safe". However, my feeling is not the optimistic-the sound of mortars can be heard from afar, there are thousands of holes in the protective walls next to important buildings, and there are few pedestrians in the streets. When we are new here, we are restricted to travel, asked to stay away from windows and be cautious about the use of shooting equipment. I just realized that the real battlefield is not a heroic scene with a hail of bullets, but a gloomy space where even the air is condensed.

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in the face of a tense and complex situation, there is nothing we can do about the report, especially the picture report.

A woman walks through the streets of Damascus

several men are in a cafe in Damascus

an old man sits in front of a closed shop. The facade is painted with the Syrian flag

A huge portrait of presidential candidate Bashar al-Assad hung on the streets of Damascus

the second day when I came to Syria, my colleagues and I, led by the locals, got to know the city of Damascus. Although we were allowed to shoot and interview conditionally, the material was not as rich as we expected. In the evening, camera reporter Sun Xinjing and I emboldened each other and decided to "sweep" the streets near the hotel. I brought a camera and an iPhone phone, he brought a camcorder, and two people who looked like tourists but could not be tourists roamed the streets of Damascus. By the way, the impression of a "war reporter" wearing a helmet and bulletproof vest is often unrealistic, because the costume is cumbersome and conspicuous, which is not conducive to the interview and is more likely to be the target of attack. Therefore, during the interview in Syria, all the reporters of our party were exposed to danger.

this "street sweep" is not for nothing. We met supporters of presidential candidate Bashar al-Assad in the downtown square. At the rally, people who were already in high spirits were even more enthusiastic after seeing foreigners taking pictures, waving national flags, whistling for fun, shouting slogans, and taking photos with giant posters. Soon, while filming was raging, we were invited back to the hotel by the military. I sent the shot back to the editorial department, and after the photo was broadcast immediately, it was adopted by international media, including the time website of the United States.

Young people who support presidential candidate Bashar al-Assad hold high the national flag

supporters of presidential candidate Bashar al-Assad put up posters of his profile picture on car glass

Xinhua News Agency published photos adopted by the time website of the United States

so-called everything is difficult at the beginning. After mastering the balance skills of tension and interview shooting, our party's work was carried out in an orderly manner. In the following days, we conducted street interviews, exclusive interviews with government officials, polling sites, and visits to refugee camps. Along the way, while listening to the sound of shells from time to time and accepting the security checks that appear every few hundred meters, I got to know an ancient historical city that slowly unveiled the veil of war and revealed the flavor of life.

A man bikes through the old city of Damascus

A taxi driver on the streets of Damascus

A taxi driver on the streets of Damascus

A child feeds pigeons

A makeshift refugee camp in Galamara district of Damascus

A teenager in the Galamara district of Damascus

takes a photo of a teenager on a football field.

A child feeds pigeons in the old city of Damascus.

A child feeds pigeons in the old city of Damascus  Our party went deeper and deeper under the appearance of "peace" and was no longer satisfied with interviews in the capital, but decided to rush to the central city of Homs, which had just been recaptured by government forces, on the eve of polling day. Before leaving for Syria, I saw a documentary program "going Home" produced by Western television about the return of people displaced by the war in Homs, an important town in the middle of the war between government forces and the opposition. At that time, if we make the trip, we will be the first Chinese journalists to enter this war-torn city.

with the long journey and many hurdles, our party did not show any tiredness all the way north from Damascus. Chinese pop songs are playing inside the car, and outside the window, you can see the natural scenery changing between yellow sand and green trees. If I hadn't been stopped and checked by armed soldiers from time to time, I would have mistakenly thought that I was traveling by myself in a country in West Asia. It was only when I occasionally saw a few broken Syrian flags flying that I came to my senses. I was on a reporting mission in the field.

Hobo sat in the copilot, silent as usual, taking out cigarettes from his front chest pocket from time to time, politely handing out a circle, and smoking alone.

the nearly five-hour drive is nothing more than high-speed rail time between two giant cities in China; in Syria, you can see the difference between war and peace.

soldiers on the streets of Homs are checking passing vehicles

Government soldiers on duty on the severely damaged streets of Homs

Government soldiers on the streets of Homs said to me: please do not take pictures

this is a street storefront damaged during the war in Homs

A resident who finished voting walked past a badly damaged building in Homs

two days of interviews in Homs, each of us. On the one hand, they follow the command of the local soldiers to complete the report on the election process; on the other hand, they are eager to film and know the stories of the local people. But whenever we raise a camera or a mobile phone to take pictures, even if the soldiers don't strongly refuse, we can't bear it. At this point, I don't want to talk about the ethics of news photography. Vultures crouching behind African children can't stir up my mind as a photographer. But only when I walk among the "ruins" can I understand the meaning of "respect".

on the return trip from Homs, the atmosphere was not as relaxed as it was when it came. The incident caused by the driver's mind wandering added a bit more thrilling-our car drove into a path and vaguely saw a checkpoint in the distance. Because the driver could not see the signs on the station clearly, he mistook it for entering opposition territory. He unconsciously slowed down and even had to go backward. At this time, two soldiers in the distance came to us. Almost everyone in the car seemed to be waiting for the trial of fate, gazing with breath.

the driver rolled down the window and handed over everyone's passports. "We are journalists from China."

Welcome. When the soldier smiled, we dared to laugh.

it turned out that this checkpoint belonged to government forces and was changing flags, which aroused the suspicion of drivers.

Damascus, the Syrian capital, June 4, 2014. Our party will complete the last task of this report. Video reporters Sun Xinjing, Hobo, Syrian driver Hassan and I drove from the downtown hotel to the country's Supreme Constitutional Court in the evening to interview and film the voting results of the presidential election. On the bus, Hobo still took out cigarettes and each handed out one. This time, we all took it, as if to celebrate the coming end of the war trip. "after this fight, I can go home tomorrow," I also patted Hobo on the shoulder and asked playfully, "do you want to be your wife in Egypt?" He nodded.

A soldier rests at a polling station in Damascus

that night, Syrian officials announced that candidate Bashar al-Assad won the election with a higher number of votes. At 21:20, after completing the shooting task, we walked out of the Supreme Constitutional Court and prepared for location shooting by the working practice. Sun Xinjing and I stood on both sides of the Hobo, facing the courthouse building and holding up the shooting equipment.

I heard a crisp "Ding" and Hobo fell to the ground with the camera. I saw blood dripping from his head and face. I squatted down subconsciously and guessed that the sound was the sound of a bullet breaking my head. I seem to be calmer than the people around me. They scream, flee and pull. I'm not too nervous except for gasping for breath. After I confirmed that there was no second bullet, Find one side of the colleague Sun Xinjing and the driver Hassan. It is not suitable to stay here long, they should go back to the office first, and I chose to take Hobo to the hospital.

with the help of Syrian youth, I sent Hobo to another kind-hearted man's car. He speaks Arabic and I speak English. I can't understand each other, but we know we have to go to the hospital. Hobo lay on the young man's lap, in the back row; I took all the camera equipment and sat in the copilot. I shouted to Hobo, trying to get his soul back; he breathed hard, but each breath brought more blood. I remember the road to the hospital for a long time, so long that I had time to be afraid. I was afraid that Hobo would leave like this. I was afraid that I would get hurt, too.

when we got out of the car, the young man and I picked up Hobo and entered the hospital. Along the way, I could not see the doctors and nurses coming for first aid, and the stretcher was delayed by lazy nurses. When I walked into the hospital, I found that there was a line of patients waiting for first aid, children, women, and the elderly, covered with white bandages everywhere. I was a little out of control. I stopped anyone in a white coat and told them, "I'm a Chinese journalist." This is my cameraman. Please help him! " I pulled out all the papers and currencies in my pocket and his pocket and shouted, "Please help him!"

several doctors surrounded him, put up a ventilator and saline, but there were no more measures. After filling out the basic form and calling my colleagues, I walked up to Hobo. I could see that his chest was still undulating strongly, but there was no answer to my cry. Several caregivers and I pushed him to the second floor to take pictures of the brain CT. The doctor shook his head at my inquiry.

I don't know how long later, two Syrian colleagues came to the hospital with helmets and bulletproof vests. They asked me to put them on and told me, "it's a battlefield outside!" After the handover procedure, I walked out of the hospital gate, looked up, and found that the night sky had been cut by a bullet. The ballistics set against the dark screen is like fireworks by New Year's Eve of the Chinese lunar calendar.

I hesitated when I came to the driver of Hassan's car. According to the rules for the survival of journalists in troubled areas, I should have chosen the back seat, but somehow, one hand pushed me to the copilot with a higher "risk factor". Along the way, I saw soldiers and civilians fighting together to celebrate the president's re-election by firing shots into the air. But I vaguely saw someone sweeping with a machine gun. Then came a loud noise and tinnitus for a long time.

when I got back to the office, I was able to walk on my own, but by the sofa, my legs softened. I cried because I couldn't hold on to the emotions I had accumulated for too long in front of my colleagues. The news of "China News Agency reporter was hit by a bullet" was rolled on the TV in the office; at the same time, the driver Hassan told me that the back seat of the vehicle had just been pierced by three consecutive bullets, leaving the fuel tank close at hand.

I was almost up all night. The next day, the hospital in Hobo was instructed to return to Cairo without having time to go to the hospital again, and some colleagues were left behind to deal with the aftermath. On the way from the office to the airport, I saw piles of shell casings on the road and smelled the smoke in the air.

after several days of rescue, Hobo was finally declared brain-dead in Syria. Leaders of the Xinhua News Agency Middle East Branch, colleagues, and his family took his body back to Cairo. Later, my colleague told me that I found a newly obtained marriage license in Hobo's luggage. This piece of luggage makes me once again believe in the power of the underworld.

Hobo is receiving first aid in the hospital

this is a bullet hole in the rear seat window of the car that has been shot.

it should be said that the aftermath of Hobo has been dealt with best. Just before I left Egypt, my colleagues often visited his home and graveyard together. But for this detail, I have never dared to recall and record it. Even with our best colleagues and closest brothers, we have a tacit understanding not to talk about it.

Today, most of the colleagues who worked with Egypt and Syria at that time have returned to work at home and continue to work in obscurity. As the only one who witnessed the whole process, I chose to record the trip to Syria bluntly two years after the incident. I am very ambivalent. On the one hand, I do not want to add any labels to myself in the name of Hobo; on the other hand, I want you to know that there was a young Egyptian who gave his life for China's journalism.