In the Shadows: Reporters’ Notebooks
While diseases like AIDS, malaria and Ebola get most of the global health headlines, mental illness is actually the leading cause of disability worldwide, and it remains one of the world’s most neglected diseases. The numbers are staggering. Depression is the third leading cause of disease in the world, with more than a million people dying of suicide every year. Every seven seconds, someone is diagnosed with dementia. Mental illness surpasses cancer and heart disease, making up 14% of the disease in the world.
Global mental health remains one of the most neglected stories in the world.
UBC’s Emmy Award-winning Global Reporting Centre would like to change that, by sending teams of journalists to Africa, Asia and the Middle East, to document efforts to address this largely hidden health crisis. Throughout December we’ll be sharing their notes from the field here.
Olivia Fellows
India
December 18, 2014
The last two weeks were wild. Wild in many ways. Overwhelming, exhausting and incredibly exciting. I cannot get over how lucky I was to be part of this project. I am proud of our work and the relationships we established from village to city to slum.
There were many surprises along the way and one of them was especially personal. I didn’t cry. I am a crier and I didn’t cry in India. Why didn’t my eyes well up when I saw extreme poverty? When I watched people in pain sobbing? When I felt joy? I heard stories of people’s misery and of those who beat the odds. The only time I had to hold tears back was during an interview was when I was sitting across from someone.
Then it hit me. I spent most of my trip looking through my camera’s viewfinder.
My camera allowed me to keep my mind alert and my heart intact. I was able to enter spaces I never thought I would go. I filmed sensitive moments without flinching. I tried to capture the emotion as best I could. My teammates went quiet at times, some stayed back, others shed tears, but I was fine.
I knew what we were seeing, I understood the circumstance and the sadness, but I was okay. I was doing my job and keeping my shots steady.
Darryl Hol
Jordan
December 18, 2014
There’s about 10,000 kilometres between Vancouver and Syria.
We hear about the conflict there in the news, but it can seem a world away. It’s easy to think that wars like that only happen to other people in far away places.
Syrians once thought the same. Time and again we heard people say they never thought this could happen to their country.
When the fighting began near their homes, many of them left food in their fridges as they fled to neighbouring countries. They thought they would only be gone for a few months.
It’s been four years.
As I get ready to return to Vancouver, I’m thinking of the millions of Syrians who want to do what I’m doing.
They just want to go home
Emily Fister
India
December 18, 2014
It’s funny when you don’t have a good Internet connection. Disconnect, I’ve learned, is a quirky little blessing.
The last two weeks have been challenging for all of us. We’ve traveled a lot and witnessed the distinct challenges and successes of mental health care across India. Our stories took us to the cotton fields of the Vidarbha region, a Quranic healing clinic in Ahmed Nagar, the slums of Pune, and and inside institutional outreach in Delhi.
I wrote more at the start, then once we got to Vidarbha I suddenly wanted to put my pen down.
Everything was happening too quickly for me to process.
It wasn’t until just a couple hours ago, at home with Videsh and her mum, that I realized why.
I never wanted my experiences to be a generalization.
A lot of these stories will affect our team for a long time – and we still don’t know how. The people we’ve met opened up to us. We came to know their struggles. We saw their resilience.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to put these stories into words. But for now, they repeat again and again in my mind. I’m travelling home humbled and inspired.
Emi Sasagawa
Vancouver
December 18, 2014
After two weeks reporting and a 27-hour flight, I am back in Vancouver. Jet lagged, hungry and in desperate need of a shower, I’m trying to put the last weeks into perspective. I wonder about things like how much of India I’ve taken with me and, in turn, how much of me I’ve left in India — I wonder if I’ll remember all the details. The smells, the tastes, the feelings — in a few months. I wonder how our stories might impact the lives of the people we met and interviewed. Will they remember us? It’s hard to say.
Maura Forrest
Togo
December 12, 2014
Driving in Benin and Togo is like being on a roller coaster without the comfort of knowing that you probably won’t die.
Two million people live in Cotonou and during our time here we saw one working traffic light. The only rule of the road is that whoever is most aggressive wins. Lane markings seem to be suggestions. The way to let someone know that you’re passing them is to honk – repeatedly. Many people ride scooters weaving in and out of traffic and swearing at all the cars.
Most roads are impossibly bad especially outside of the main cities. It often takes an hour to drive a few kilometres, because vehicles have to crawl through all the potholes. I remember seeing a 30 km/h speed limit sign along one dirt road and thinking that was optimistic!
Some of these roads are under construction. Construction here takes years and in the meantime, cars have to detour through the dirt beside the main road. It’s a bit like being in an obstacle course.
Thanks to our fearless driver, Jean, we survived. So…maybe this is making us stronger?
Darryl Hol
Jordan
December 12, 2014
The hospitality is truly incredible here.
Today we were welcomed into a family’s home and presented with a huge platter of Jordan’s national dish – something called “mansaf” When our plates were empty, they were quickly filled with more. Then came tea, called “shai.” Our guide had to inform us that we would have to excuse ourselves or the food and drinks would keep coming. When we wrapped up our work, we couldn’t leave without sweets and coffee. We learned that saying you’re full isn’t an option.
Even those without much to share went out of their way to provide a warm welcome. Yesterday we visited the Za’atari refugee camp. It is home to 80,000 Syrians. These people left their homes and everything in them behind. Many families use their precious trailers to make guest rooms for visitors. We were welcomed into one. It was immaculate, prepared in anticipation of our arrival. The UN-issued cushions were carefully arranged for us to sit on and aid blankets stretched out to provide a carpet. This family relies on food rations, yet they rushed to provide each of us with tea. We tried to give the kids some Canadian maple candies and their first reaction was to share them with us.
GP Mendoza
Lome, Togo
December 12, 2014
Team Benin… aka Team Togo will wrap up in Lome today. Dave is off to the East Coast as Linda, Maura and I take a few days in Togo to relax and explore (in that order).
We end our trip with a mix of emotions. We have learned a lot of fascinating things about the spirituality of mental illness in Benin and Togo. We’ve also seen and captured a lot of really powerful material.
Its not everyday that you get to climb rusty water towers with a camera on your back; drive for hours on rural dirt roads; shoot video in crowded markets; and, run across traffic-congested bridges in the middle of the Porto Novo for the perfect sunset shot.
I’ve observed how people perceive journalists in Benin and Togo, and experienced the challenge of trying to work while constantly being asked for spare change.
I’ve learned a lot and I’ll be much more aware if I ever get the call to do video work in places like this again.
Emi Sasagawa
India
December 10, 2014
With 20 years of experience in the art of chewing gum, I thought I knew it better than anyone. Its varied shapes, sizes, textures and purposes.
Yesterday I learned how a piece of gum can save a day.
We stopped for a short break on the side of the road. Our driver stepped out and notice here was something blue leaking from beneath the car. He seemed worried. He ran to a nearby store. He returned with a piece of gum in his hand. He then opened the hood of the car. He discovered a crack on the coolant tank.
He nonchalantly chewed the gum and stretched it over the crack. He clapped his hands in contentment and smiled at us. We climbed in and hit the road once again.
Darryl Hol
Amman, Jordan
December 8, 2014
In Canada, we take it for granted that we can set up our camera and film in public spaces. You may get some funny looks and you might upset a person or two, but that’s usually the worst of it.
Not so in Jordan.
We knew it was going to be a challenge to film in the refugee camp. That’s why we started corresponding with Jordanian officials weeks ago. We received our official permit just days before leaving. We breathed a sigh of relief.
What we didn’t know was that the bigger challenge would be filming in the streets of the capital. You know the shots: pretty sunset over the city, people going about their busines, the images that give a flavour for the place. We discovered we need a permit for those too.
Today we were summoned to the headquarters of Jordan’s Media & Press Office. We came up with a list of locations and rehearsed what we were going to say. That was unimportant. Instead, the director whisked in and began an animated conversation in Arabic with our guide. We watched intently as he waved dismissively in our direction.
It turns out he didn’t much care for what the project was about or what we wanted to film. He just wanted to know the day, so you can imagine his displeasure when we asked for a week. We wanted flexibility, but that was “not allowed”. He told us two days maximum. We convinced him to give us three. He said our permit would be ready the next day.
And that was it he was off to another meeting.
Pauline Holdsworth
Pune, India
December 8, 2014
We just got back from two days in farming villages in rural Maharashtra. We were looking at a community mental health program created to try to provide a solution to a sharp rise in farmer suicides.
I was not expecting so many community members to come out and watch us conduct interviews. It makes me wonder how many documentaries have been filmed with 20 or 30 people trying to see the action.
On one hand, it’s lovely that people are there to (theoretically) support their neighbors or find out more. But, it poses some pretty serious challenges when you’re asking people intimate questions about their mental health. At one point, we were interviewing a woman and we realized her husband was signalling for her to say certain things.
On our second day, we traveled 3 km out of the last village to interview a cotton farmer in his field. We hoped it would be a more intimate setting, but right after we got there, motorcycle after motorcycle pulled up loaded with people. It was a challenge to try to convince these 30 very cheerful people (many of whom didn’t speak English) to stay out of the field. Here’s a picture of that crowd:
Valentina Ruiz Leotaud
Amman, Jordan
December 8, 2014
Today we interviewed the man we travelled here to meet, Syrian psychiatrist Dr. Abo-Hila.
As soon as we started talking him, his wife Hala, and his mother sat down close to us. They listened carefully to the interview. His mother prayed for the whole hour we were together. We could feel her presence. She was taking care of her son. She laughed when her son asked her how much of the interview (in English) she understood. She said she didn’t need to understand the language because she could feel the magnitude of what he was saying.
Then there was Hala, the doctor’s wife. She shed some tears during the interview, but with her answers she showed the physical and mental strength of women who try to keep their families together during a crisis.
These women are resilient and having Dr. Abo-Hilal with them makes them aware of the impact of stress and anxiety. We will follow up and find out more about those consequences for them and for the 700,000 Syrian refugees living in Jordan.
Emily Fister
En route to Agra from Delhi
December 8, 2014
The only way to wake up at 5 a.m. in Delhi is if you know that there’s a warm cup of homemade chai waiting for you.
It was Thursday morning – our designated “tourist” day. After filming a Human Rights Watch conference on women’s mental health Wednesday, we decided to do a little sightseeing and film at the Taj Mahal.
We were on the road by 5:30 a.m. after downing our chai, which has become our journalistic caffeine kick. Even though it was dark, Delhi was bustling.
By 7 a.m., we watched the red sun rise over the dusty horizon. It was like driving through a film. One moment an impromptu barber shop on the roadside – the next moment we see a family of pigs weaving in between stalls.
The soundtrack to this movie was provided by our driver. He was blasting songs that fused traditional sitars and drums with synths.
Around 8 a.m., everything came to a halt.
Our driver got out to deliver something. Within seconds, two men carrying monkeys on leashes approached our car. At first, we thought the monkeys were cute. Emi, designated cute creature photographer, couldn’t resist.
“Monkey picture charge!” The men yelled and demanded we pay for the photo. They knocked on our windows and even opened my door. I’m not very good at raising my voice, but my teammates can attest to my firm “NO!”
This picture ended up costing us almost 1000 rupees (though we only paid 100) and some panic.
We locked our doors. When our driver returned with his Hindi techno. Time for a getaway.
The Taj Mahal was majestic and yes it is “one of the seven wonders of the modern world” but that day is now burned in our minds as the day our teammate Emi announced: “No more monkeys.”
Linda Givetash
Benin
December 8, 2014
I expected to find a rich culture in Benin and I knew it would be quite different from my own. I didn’t expect much western influence, since I knew this was a poor country with limited opportunity for trade. I was wrong.
My team was in a rural community about 150 km from Cotonou two days ago. On the road, we passed a tiny shop that had a cell phone data ad posted out front. The ad had three cupcakes on it; the enormous cake in the centre was decorated with the Facebook logo and the two cupcakes to the sides featured the Twitter and What’s App logos. It was a striking contrast to the woman pumping well-water and a man walking beside a herd of cows.
Advertisements feature models who have lighter skin than the local population. More disconcerting are the billboards advertising skin lightening creams.
I saw a shop in Cotonou called Worldmart. It uses the colours and logo of Wal-Mart. Our hotel restaurant serves Lebanese food and plays Top 40 — including dated tunes by Britney and Gaga — at dinner. We found a restaurant that claims to serve the best pizza in Africa. This could all be an attempt to please Western tourists. But I wonder about the impact of all this in the future.
Darryl Hol
Amman, Jordan
December 7, 2014
Part of the fun of spending ten days on the road with your teammates is you learn new things about them. It turns out that our fearless leader, Dan McKinney, is not only an ace with the camera but also a Buddhist chanter. The first night we fell asleep to the sound of his deep baritone resonating through the apartment. Of course we wanted to try for ourselves the next morning. We set the watch for 10 minutes, but Valentina and I started giggling after six.
We’ll keep working at it…
Maura Forrest
Bohicon, Benin
December 6, 2014
St Camille patients working at the farm in Bohicon.
Yesterday, we drove five hours to film a scene we didn’t need. We knew we didn’t need it. But we did it as a favour. A man we’re interviewing who insisted that we come and see his training centre for patients recovering from mental illness. We didn’t want to offend him.
Still, I know that if we had been on assignment for a news network, we would never have made the detour.
So how do you deal with personalities and expectations while reporting in a foreign culture and in a second language?
I understand French. It’s the culture I need translated. Our fixer, Ulrich, has helped. He taught me that, in Africa, you have to call sources a day after you interview them to thank them. He’s been teaching us how to cancel interviews without upsetting people.
But how would we even begin to learn these things if we only had two days to report? How could we possibly avoid being disrespectful?
I don’t know what the answer is. I’m just glad we had the time to make that trip.
Hala Kamaliddin
Amman, Jordan
December 6, 2014
Hala Kamaliddin
Amman, Jordan
December 6, 2014
It’s 5:39 a.m. Round three of the dawn call for prayer, ezan, broadcast from a small nearby mosque. The dogs are barking; then come the roosters. Its a memory-filled melody for me.
From the balcony, I see a yellow moon. Take a deep breath… Amman air smells like dust and sand… a cluster of sleepy men slowly march through the wide streets below me. Quiet and persistent, these morning ghosts are first to head to the mosque… Another call for prayer I know I won’t sleep.
This is the moment I’ve heard so much about. Some Arab immigrants lament it; some live for it. “It’s as if we’ve never left,” or “This is where I belong,” or even, “Home has always been here.”
Nine and a half years and I am back in the Middle East. My ‘other’ homeland. Standing here on the balcony while my IRP teammates doze off I’m trying to decipher what I’m feeling. The cold makes it difficult to be profound and its so early in the morning!
I know its surreal. My history, my heritage, my school years, even my favourite singers, are here… and so was my family during 9/11. Then came the invasion of Iraq, and the surge of Iraqis who fled here to Jordan seeking refuge.
I don’t have a sense of belonging; more of a void filled with nostalgia and dreams of a better life.
As I turn my thoughts towards tomorrow, I’m reminded that this is why my team is here in Amman: to tell stories about Syrian refugees seeking the comforts of home.
GP Mendoza
Porto Novo, Benin
December 6, 2014
Its early in the morning. The smell of fresh incense and smoke fills this tiny room. Time for a quick prayer at a shrine for the virgin Mary. The healer we just met that morning turns his attention to the man lying on the ground. He’s a prominent Beninese politician. His wife brought him here after he started experiencing symptoms. It may be some kind of dementia.
He started suddenly splashing him with holy water as the room filled up with his assistants, bringing candles and more incense.
Maura and I tried film quietly in the cramped space amidst the incense, heat, and stale air. We were surrounded by four men in white robes singing loudly, praying and splashing the man on the ground.
This was the surprising start to our third (or fourth? I can’t remember at this point) day in the Republic of Benin.
We are learning about how people here connect the spiritual to common illnesses. Earlier we tried to film in a market where herbs used to make remedies are bought and sold. We caused a commotion. So much to learn. So many conversations. So many questions.
Valentina Ruiz Leotaud
Amman, Jordan
December 6, 2014
We landed in Amman a few hours ago after travelling for 20 hours.
Mohammad Ghazal and his brother Ehab, fixer and driver respectively, greeted us with smiles, good energy, and a great desire to get to work.
But, first things first. We needed food.
They took us to a local food place called Ghaith located at Jabal AlHussein area. We feasted on bread (so much bread) and earthy humus, shawarma, fresh tabbouleh, and aromatic baba ghanoush. The meal was paired with great conversation and talk of logistics. Our journey had begun. We rushed to our place, a 150 square meters-apartment filled with Arabic-style furniture. But then we realized an oversight. No supplies; no toilet paper; no dish soap. Our first assignment: shopping! Reporting abroad is not only about finding great stories its also about taking care of the little things.
Dave Rummel
Benin
December 6, 2014
Team Benin works for the high shot. In Benin, West Africa with intrepid reporters Linda Givetash, G.P. Mendoza and Maura Forrest.
Darryl Hol
Vancovuer, Canada
December 4, 2014
Team Jordan about to depart YVR… did we bring enough stuff?
Linda Givetash
Benin
December 4, 2014
I do not speak French. I gave up on the language mid-way through high school. If I had known that one day I would be reporting in a French-speaking country I don’t think I would have quit.
Reporting in Benin is incredibly challenging and frustrating. I sometimes feel completely out of control and unsure of what’s happening. I don’t understand and that’s not good when you need to be negotiating access or asking tough questions.
Thankfulky, Maura (fellow student) is bilingual and we have a fantastic local journalist working with us. I’m finding it uncomfortable to have to be so dependent on other people. I’m used to doing things on my own. Now I’m relying on someone else’s ears.
I’ve resolved to sign up for French language classes when I get back to Vancouver.
Better late than never.
Maura Forrest
Porto Novo, Benin
December 3, 2014
There is no Ebola in Benin. But Ebola has struck this small African nation.
Jean, our driver, works for a tour company that offers cultural tours in Ghana, Togo, Benin, Nigeria, and Burkina Faso. He told me the tourist season runs from August to January. The weather is dry then and they can run tours pretty regularly.
It’s different this year. Jean hasn’t worked since August.
His company doesn’t go to any countries with Ebola. But it doesn’t seem to matter. People from the developed world have been scared away from the entire region of West Africa.
Jean isn’t the only person suffering. We are the only guests at our hotel in Porto Novo, Benin’s capital. We’ve heard that a Canadian medical school that sends students over every year for There is no Ebola in Benin. But Ebola has struck this small African nation.
Olivia Fellows
Delhi, India
December 3, 2014
One of our first days in Delhi was dedicated to running errands. We decided to have sleep sheets made for the team. We want to make sure that the bed bugs don’t bite. These men work in a shop close by. They cut and sewed our sheets for us.
Maura Forrest
Cotonou, Benin
December 2, 2014
After a 48-hour trip that included an overnight stay in Paris (such hardship!), Dave, Linda, GP, and I arrived in Cotonou, Benin.
The first thing we had to do was fill out forms to prove we don’t have Ebola. Then we waited in line with the hundreds of passengers to show our medical documents to officials in latex gloves and face masks. We were advised they would take our temperatures, but somehow that never happened. After that, another line this time to have our passports checked before waiting 45 minutes to get our luggage. Even the shuttle bus was slow as it crept toward us through honking cars and angry drivers.
But we made it, finally, and only slightly the worse for wear. Tomorrow, we start our reporting from West Africa!
Pauline Holdsworth
Delhi, India
December 1, 2014
Delhi smells like car exhaust and marigolds. There are no lanes here – it’s a constant fight for right of way between autorickshaws, cars, buses, motorcyles, pedestrians, and stray dogs and cows.
Remember when your mom told you not to stick your hand out the window of your car because a bus would come along and chop it off? In Delhi, that’s true.
We got here this morning (3 a.m. and 9 a.m.), and we’ve spent a lot of the day riding around in autorickshaws running errands and going to markets with Videsh. Our throats and noses are covered with dust, but hurtling along side streets is an amazing introduction to the city. Here’s what the view from an autorickshaw is like:
Peter Klein
November 27, 2014
The idea for In the Shadows, IRP’s project about global mental illness, dates back 11 years, to a night in a dingy motel in southern Iraq. I was lying in bed, petrified from fear – not of IEDs or insurgents, but of a steady drip of dingy water just inches from my head. I have obsessive-compulsive disorder, OCD, a condition that has debilitated me at different times of my life. This was one of those times.
I had a full day of reporting and filming the next day, on one of the biggest stories of the century, but all I could think about was that brown drip, drip, drip. I stared at the puddle of drips all night, paralyzed with anxiety.
It was in rare moments of calm that my mind drifted, and I began wondering how people in places like war zones or poor villages deal with things like germaphobia. I’m embarrassed to admit that I naively thought OCD was a “first world problem,” like Starbucks running out of soy milk for my latte. Don’t people in the “developing world” have more important things to worry about?
Despite all the work that has been done in North America to de-stigmatize mental illness and present it as a medical condition, I fell into the trap of thinking OCD was an indulgence of comfortable living. Of course, OCD is a disease, connected to imbalances of certain neurotransmitters, so why would this condition discriminate based on economics or location?
Last year, when IRP Advisory Board member Dr. Videsh Kapoor pointed out that the World Health Organization had highlighting global mental health as a “hidden crisis,” I knew it was the right time to tackle this complex story.
Since we started this project, I’ve heard several people reveal the same ignorant blind spot I had, with comments like: “People in Africa have schizophrenia?” and “They treat clinical depression in India?” They certainly do.
The numbers are pretty staggering, and we’ll report on those in our stories in the spring, but suffice it to say the majority of people suffering from mental illness are in the so-called “global south.” So not only do these people have to suffer in countries that typically do not have the resources to treat these conditions, but they also have to try to function in societies that are, in many cases, far behind on appreciating that mental illness is a medical illness, and nothing to be ashamed of.
The good news is that we have found some remarkable programs that are trying to address these issues, and many are having real success. Stay tuned as our IRP fellows share some of those stories over the next few weeks.