Photo: Alex Stonehill

In the gray light of my first morning in Pakistan, the thick salty smell of sulfur introducing me to the seaside city of Karachi, the streets were full of men.

Destinations

Community Connection to Pakistan

With few exceptions it was men congregating in front of the still dark airport, men piled onto buses carnival decorated with Technicolor and chrome and men weaving through the thickening traffic on motor bikes and rickshaws.

I thought back to my trip to Pakistan in 2006, when one of my greatest regrets was that I hadn’t had the opportunity to meet and hang out with more women.

Sitting at a stop light en route to our hotel (also staffed entirely by men) watching a group of teenage boys crowded on the sidewalk watch me through the taxi window, I promised myself that I would pursue more diversity in my reporting this trip and make a point of finding out what women think about this critical time in their country’s history.

It didn’t take much doing on my part.

By the next evening I found myself at a party with new friends in a wealthy neighborhood, in a suburb of the city. Almost immediately upon arrival in the light strung garden the men declared they would retire to the dining room, leaving us women to enjoy the newly cool evening with windows open and the TV on in the living room.

The Flogging In Swat

Photo: Alex Stonehill

At the first mention of gender segregation my heart lurched with jealousy. I fought back the assumption that the men were sitting down to a round of cigarette smoking and political discussion that excluded me.

I feel anxious enough in female exclusive social situations at home, and through a jet-lagged fog I nervously wondered what these women, some in full burka, might think of me, what they might want to talk about.

My questions were answered soon enough as breaking news of the most recent bombing in Islamabad crowded the T.V. screen. The room came alive with political chatter and I was immediately drawn into the fervent discussion about the rising violence in Pakistan.

“Did you see the video of the flogging in Swat?” one woman asked me anxiously, referring to a grainy cell phone video of a seventeen year old girl being whipped as punishment in the Swat Valley—an area now ruled by Sharia (or Islamic) law and largely controlled by Pakistani Taliban—that has provoked anger throughout much of the country as it’s circulated continuously on national and international news.

Before I could answer, Pakistani President Zardari flashed on the T.V. screen. “Nobody likes Zardari here,” a teenage girl seated next to me on the couch in a brilliant pink shalwaar kameez volunteered. “We think he is weak and corrupt.”

Soon President Obama, addressing the G20 summit, appeared on the screen, his now familiarly handsome and confident image launching a discussion of Pakistani perceptions of the new leader.

A Look In The Mirror

A question from across the room caught me off guard: “What about the violence you have recently been experiencing in your own country?”

It took me a moment to register that she was talking about the New York shooting of the day before (which incidentally Baitullah Mahsud, the leader of the Taliban in Pakistan had briefly, and by most standards here, comically, attempted to take credit for).

“You also had a shooting at a nursing home recently as well isn’t that right?” the woman, an educational administrator, continued, “Where does this violence come from in the U.S.?”

Struck by the realization that the United States must also come across on the evening news as a violent and inscrutable nation to many here, I stumbled around in a rambling monologue about gun laws and insufficient access to treatment for the mentally ill.

Graciously, a dental surgeon squished onto the overstuffed couch to my right came to my rescue. “I think we are all wondering why,” She said quietly, “we are all wondering why this violence is happening.”

That sad and quiet “why?” passed between women at a dinner party somewhere in the maze of high white stucco walls that house Karachi’s elite became a populist roar the next day.

Photo: Alex Stonehill

The Women Stand Up

The viral video of the Swat flogging had created a backlash among urban Pakistanis, especially women, and a ladies protest was gathering downtown at the imposing white tomb of Pakistan’s founder Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

10,000 women and children (men were excluded from this protest and forced to mill around in a cordoned off area), were waving sheer black flags of protest in the smoggy evening under a banner declaring:

“Public flogging of an innocent girl is an act of terrorism; we condemn this barbarism and demand arrest of the perpetrators.”

Through the confusion of protest leaders’ pronouncements and heavily armed military police, women in simple shalwars and burkas jostling babies and urdu placards sat in rows, occasionally bursting out into chants of “Whose Pakistan? Our Pakistan!” making for a strong visual antidote to the angry anti-Western and male dominated protests that usually capture the attention of American news in this part of the world.

I sat briefly among these women on the dusty green mats that had been pulled out for the occasion.

We were the only Western media there and in a weird post-modern moment, Pakistani reporters turned their cameras on me as I simply asked, “Why have you come here today?”

Eyes Of The World

Photo: Alex Stonehill

My translator could hardly keep up as they shouted back their responses.

Some said they were here to support the MQM (a popular political party here in Karachi which had organized the protest), others pointed to the tomb of Jinnah, saying that Pakistan was founded as one nation and the current situation in Swat was undermining the unity of the country.

Many were concerned that incidents like the flogging were defining Pakistan and Islam in the eyes of the international community and were there to show that Islamic militancy should not define their country, politics or their religion.

But it was one older woman–cross legged in a worn black shawl–who grabbed my hand and shouted, “We are sisters, you are my daughter and I am your mother. You think these actions are wrong and so do I, if you had been flogged I would be protesting for you as you would do for me.”

As the evening dimmed, and large hawks mingled with black balloons released by protest organizers into the wide city sky, her words embarrassed me.

Not A Footnote

When Americans think of political instability in Pakistan we don’t think of the Pakistani victims of that instability, we think of our own security.

When videos of angry militants and suicide bombings occasionally make their way onto our computer screens and into our papers, we somehow forget that it is mosques and bus stops full of Pakistanis that die.

And when the blurry cell phone video of a teenage girl being beaten in a distant street shows up on the nightly news, most of us muse at a frightening culture we feel we can’t understand before we consider any sense of solidarity.

Women in this part of the world are often cast as an exotic political side note in the U.S. When I promised myself that I would pursue “more gender diversity in my reporting” I was imagining occasional context to the real war news of this region.

Instead women are in many ways at the forefront of the conflicts here. Their voices aren’t a footnote to the politics of this country – I’m realizing they are the politics of Pakistan.

This article was reported with funding provided by the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.

Photo by Chrissy Olson

One of the first pieces of advice I received before leaving on this reporting project was from an Ethiopian diplomat in the States who requested that I “not be a typical journalist” in my coverage of Africa.

What he meant was that he didn’t want to see any more stories about African poverty in the news.

“Why don’t you write about positive things, like investment opportunities,” he suggested cheerfully as we toasted with Ethiopian honey wine in his spacious suburban home.

This is an increasingly common attitude in the media world as well, one I’ve even heard myself espousing at times. The concern is that coverage of Africa has been reduced to abstract misery; conflict, disaster, and of course, shocking poverty.

This numbing loop has left many Westerners dulled to images of violence and need.

A few days ago I had drinks with an American correspondent in Nairobi who said she felt that Americans were tired of images and descriptions of African poverty, that they no longer made an impact. Her answer was to focus her reporting on the Kenyan middle class as a way of humanizing African citizens.

This is another conversation I’m familiar with, one that pokes fun at reporters that go looking for the news clichés of “babies with flies in their eyes,” or “mothers that can’t find enough food to feed their families.”

Making An Impact

Before judging reporters for their insensitivity, keep in mind that our job is to get stories into the media and our hope, most often, is to ensure that those stories will make a lasting impression when you read them over your morning coffee.

This is a job that often requires unsettling ethical calculations as we strategize ways to convince editors to take another story about infant mortality, and whether that story will emotionally resonate with our relatively comfortable audience thousands of miles away.

Recently a piece I wrote comparing my water-wasteful lifestyle in the United States with the stories I’d reported of water shortages in rural Ethiopia–specifically how one father had lost four children to waterborne diseases–was classified by one reader as just another “guilt trip.”

Yet most of the reporting our team has done on this trip has centered on the larger environmental and political explanations for water shortages and water-related problems in eastern Africa.

African poverty has certainly made appearances, but it hasn’t seemed like a crucial focus of our work. That is, it hadn’t until I visited Kibera township.

The Face Of Poverty

Photo by Chrissy Olson

I traveled on a series of crowded matatus (minibuses) blaring African rap and boasting stickers declaring “Kibera ni Moja–Kibera United” and ended up in one of the world’s largest slums.

It was about 7am on a Saturday when I arrived at one of Kibera’s many entrances. Despite it being the weekend I watched as an endless line of people passed on foot in the still faint dawn.

I stood quietly as Nairobi’s factory workers, maids, cooks, nannies, security guards and drivers entered Kibera at the end of a long nightshift or trudged out for another day of work.

There was no hard news reason for me to be here. The post-election violence that put Kibera on the media radar this winter was long over. The displaced people were still displaced and the burned homes stood in charred ruins.

All that was left for an American reporter to see was the cold reality of life in one of the world’s most impoverished communities.

A Desperate Affair

Life inside Kibera, whether journalists and editors deem it worth repeating or not, is a desperate affair for those that call it home.

The Kenyan rainy season has begun and the tiny paths that connect homes and businesses have turned into a slippery clay-like sludge. Open sewers flood with human waste, corroded pipes unload brown water into backyards, tiny kids dressed in almost humorously ill-fitted and tattered outfits chase each other over mountains of shredded plastic bags and scraps of rotting food.

Kibera has been growing steadily since it was first settled by Nubians brought here to build the country’s railroad, and a century later it is home to an estimated million people who still live without basic services.

The Kenyan government is hesitant to legitimize illegally squatted land. That means there is no sewer system, no garbage pick-up, no piped water, no regular electricity and no government schools.

It means that residents, most living on less than one U.S. dollar a day, must fend for themselves without any illusions that their government or the rest of the world cares.

And before I lose my readers’ attention with generic descriptions of urban squalor, before you decide–as I have on occasion–that this story has been told and doesn’t properly represent life in Africa, or think privately to yourself that there isn’t much you can do and anyway, “the poor are always with us,” let me place these scenes in the terrifying context they deserve.

By The Numbers

The United Nations Population Fund estimates that 1 billion people live in slums like Kibera. That’s one in every six people in the world. In Nairobi it’s 60% of the city’s population.

The UN predicts these numbers will double over the next few decades.

Given this perspective, investment opportunities and Africa’s “middle class” suddenly don’t seem like the most relevant stories to tell here.

The other day, as I stood in a cloudburst on a muddy hill above the train tracks that cut through Kibera and looked out on a landscape of rusted tin roofs, I couldn’t shake the rising fear that I was looking into the future.

I felt beyond a shadow that I was looking at the makings of the permanent underclass required to support the polarized global economy we are shaping today.

And I wondered if we, citizens in the rich world, hadn’t already steeled ourselves to this cruel reality. If this callous resignation isn’t the reason why we’ve tired of reading about twenty-first century poverty before the magnitude of it is even realized.

Because Kibera isn’t a story that’s already been told-it’s a story that’s being written.

What are your thoughts on writing about “real issues” such as global poverty? Share your thoughts in the comments!

I will always be learning about how to become a better travel journalist.

I’m no expert, but one of the great things about journalism is that there are no experts; the best travel journalists are curious, engaged people who are always ready to learn something new.

In this guide I’ll try to impart some of the lessons I’ve learned (functional and philosophical) in reporting internationally over the past year, in hopes that I can help demystify how a feature article actually gets found, reported, written and produced.

How to find a story

Paying attention to the news is the best tip I can offer. Most of our stories have come from leads I’ve found in the news sources I follow.

Another good avenue is NGOs (non-governmental organizations or nonprofits) in the region/country you’re covering. They usually have their ear to the ground and know what the most current issues are.

Also, be sure to always keep your ears open, even in social situations. Many of the stories I’ve written emerged from casual conversations with people at parties, bus-stops, etc.

Shaping your Story

Again, NGOs are the best place to start. I usually do a general search for NGOs working on the issue I hope to cover and start making phone calls from there. Nonprofits are very open to media attention and eager to give you background information and additional contacts.

When I decide on a topic, I always do general searches to find out what has already been covered and how, and try to shape my story to address what has been overlooked or ignored. The best way to get noticed, even in saturated markets, is write your story from a fresh angle.

Basic Tools

You’ll need a notebook and pen, an audio recorder of some kind, and a photographer. I’ve found that reporting with another person who can act as a note taker and extra set of ears is very useful.

Most importantly you need to bring curiosity, engagement, and flexibility to your interviews-if you’re interested and passionate about your subject, the people you’re interviewing will be too.

It’s also important to let the story change when appropriate. Almost no story I’ve embarked on turned out as I’d originally expected. Don’t force your agenda if it isn’t working–be ready to let the story tell itself.

Look for a Main Character

Once you’ve obtained background information and know your basic thesis, look for a main character whose experience can personalize the issue or destination. Start asking your contacts if they know of people who can offer firsthand accounts.

In my experience, personal testimony is what drives your narrative, attracts your audience, and makes a story intimate and engaging. Also, look for an event (a festival or event, for example) that helps make your article timely and relevant and can work as a scene setter.

Find Experts and Opposing Voices

Look for people (through internet searches and independent research) who can speak as “objective experts” or even as opposing voices.

I believe that “experts” should never be weighted more heavily in your story than firsthand accounts and experiences, but I also believe that the depth and texture of a story is improved when people recognized as “knowledgeable in the field” offer some perspective.

An opposing voice (if appropriate) is important as it challenges your readers and encourages dialogue.

A Few tips for Interviews

Don’t be afraid to relentlessly revisit a question or topic that you feel hasn’t been properly addressed by the interviewee. Sometimes people need time to warm up to you or to a topic, or will respond better if your question is worded differently. Keep trying.

Continue taking notes even after the interview is officially over. People can say the most revealing or intimate things when they feel that they’re out of the “hot seat.”

Another great question is “Why do you care about this issue?” This can be an effective way to get a strong and emotional quote about why the topic you’re covering is so important.

You can also ask for the turning point in a story, the moment when everything changed or catalyzed. This can help you shape the narrative of your story as well.

Be Fearless and Confident

Be confident and people will respond in kind. Remember that even if you’re new to this you’re a writer all the same.

Call yourself a writer and act professionally. Don’t apologize for a lack of experience and never say, “I’ve never done this before.” You’ll be amazed how many opportunities open to you once you start calling yourself a travel journalist.

This article was adapted from journalistic tips offered to writers for the Common Language Project.

What are your tips for writing feature articles? Share in the comments!

Sarah Stuteville writes for The Common Language Project – dedicated to developing and implementing innovative approaches to international journalism by focusing on positive, inclusive and humane reporting of stories ignored by the mainstream media.

These are some basic pointers to help those without professional training to take professional looking photos.

I’m not going to get very technical here, other than to strongly recommend using a digital camera — preferably one without a delay between when you hit the button and when the picture is actually taken. And set it to as large a file size as is possible given the storage space available.

Know the basics

Get comfortable with the technical functions of the camera you’re using – but don’t get too caught up in the gadgetry of it. Mess around with the camera to find a setting that works for you, and stick with that. Most of the special functions on your camera are much more trouble then they’re worth.

Make a plan

As you go into reporting a story , think about the kind of shots that you want to get and what purpose they will serve in the final package. As you go along, keep re-evaluating this plan in light of what seems realistic, what good shots you’ve already taken, and how many different photos you need for your story.

Get Action or Characters

Always try to photograph some sort of action or event that relates to your story if at all possible. Press your sources for some sort of happening relating to the story that will make for good visuals. If it just isn’t happening, fall back taking great photos that humanize the characters in the story.

Be ready

Have your camera out of its case, turned on and ready to shoot as quickly and as often as possible.

Take tons of shots

Erase the bad ones later. You’re more likely to get something good, and as your subjects get used to you constantly taking their picture, they’ll act more natural and forget you’re there.

Don’t be shy

The confidence you exude when taking photos plays a surprisingly large role in the reception you get from your subjects. Act like you know what you’re doing and have every right to be doing it and the people around you will most likely pick up on your confidence and assume the same. On the off chance that someone gets really mad, you can always delete the picture (or just pretend to).

Beg forgiveness, don’t ask permission

Its polite to ask if you can photograph someone, but sometimes it’s a bad idea (unless you’re pretty sure they’ll say yes). If you just do it and they protest…well at least you got a couple of shots in first. Also, once you point out to them that you’re taking their picture by asking if its okay, they’re likely to stop acting natural and start posing.

Humanize!

Pictures without people are almost always boring. Your story is probably about people, so show us what they look like.

Get close

Extreme close ups of people’s faces tend to humanize them more in the eyes of the viewer. Action up close draws the viewer’s attention. Don’t try to get too many elements in one frame – pick one and make it awesome. The closer you are to the subject the less you need to rely on zoom, telephoto etc. You will have more interesting angles and higher resolution.

Maximize depth

Put as many layers as possible in your photo. If you want to show a landscape, put something in the extreme foreground to make the picture more interesting. If you’re close up on someone’s face, think about what’s happening in the background in the rest of the frame. If you’re showing a crowd of people, make sure there’s at least one person relatively close up for the viewer to immediately engage with.

Rule of thirds

A general rule for visually appealing photos, put your subject or the focal point of your shot off center, dividing the frame into thirds from side to side and/or top to bottom.

Get up early

Everything looks a hundred times better just after sunrise and just before sunset, so if you have a choice, try to shoot in early morning or late afternoon. (Also, if you’re inside, a light source coming from the side is better than one directly overhead).

Do it now!

If you see a photo you want to take, TAKE IT! Even if it means stopping a car, running after someone etc. Don’t put it off, thinking you’ll get another chance to take that photo later. Chances are you won’t.

Don’t be afraid to stage

In the end, it’s all about the great shots you get, not your personal scruples.

Obviously, faking entire events is a big no-no, but if you have a willing subject, there’s nothing wrong with asking them to sit or stand in a certain place, hold something significant to the story, or even do some simple thing while you photograph them if makes the photos more interesting or relevant to the story

For example, if you’re story is about a farmer, put him in front of the barn, or shoot him plowing his field. Also, if you shoot them while they’re being interviewed, you’ll get more animation and emotion out of them.

Sarah Stuteville writes for The Common Language Project – dedicated to developing and implementing innovative approaches to international journalism by focusing on positive, inclusive and humane reporting of stories ignored by the mainstream media.

Journalism is a creative job. Despite all the professors who told me articles were a fixed formula plugged up with simple facts and despite the avalanche of clichéd crap that passes for most mainstream journalism, I stand by that statement.

Like any creative profession, you use your perception to re-interpret the world around you. You try to engage an audience with ideas and issues-you create something meaningful from all the incoherent information and noise out there.

But here’s the catch: good journalism is dependent on a total stranger’s cooperation and participation.

At the heart of this issue is the interview. The finished product may be a piece of writing that you craft, but the material a result of the interviews you conduct.

And while sources vary-some people know exactly what they want to say while others love to make you sweat for a basic quote-how you conduct the interview has more to do with the outcome than anything.

It’s odd that so much emphasis is put on teaching journalists how to write an article when that skill is useless without also teaching journalists how to develop strong interview techniques.

In an effort to help other aspiring reporters develop this crucial skill-I brought together some of my colleagues and journalist friends to ask them what interview tips they think are most helpful:

#1 – Find a good location

Avoid Starbucks! It’s often easiest to suggest a centrally located corporate coffee shop but if there is any way you can interview in a place that has some relevance to the story or your subject you’ll have much greater success.

Not only because you’ll gain a further sense of context, people are often more comfortable (and open) when they’re in a familiar place or what feels like “their territory.”

Ask to meet at your subject’s house, work, or the location of an incident relevant to the story. Even meeting at the interviewee’s favorite restaurant is more interesting than a Starbucks.

#2 – Prepare Your Goals Ahead

Know what questions you’re going to ask and why you’re going to ask them.

Heading to an interview with a sense of what you want to get out of it (a colorful re-enactment of an event, an on-the-record opinion on the issue you’re covering, general background, etc.) is critical to conducting a successful interview.

You should already be thinking about what you want your piece to look like and what you need from this interview to get your article closer to that end result.

#3 – Write down your questions

Be sure and bring prepared questions with you. I usually go into an interview with twice as many questions than I expect to ask. The security of knowing that I’m not going to get stuck helps my confidence and you never know what question will get you the information you’re really looking for.

#4 – Work on your flow

This is probably the most challenging, but also the most important interview skill you can develop.

You want to strike a balance between a conversation (which helps make your subject feel comfortable and aids candor) and getting the job done. As your subject is answering your question, be thinking about what you’ll ask next and why.

The flow of questions needs to seem natural and conversational, don’t spin your subject off on a completely different topic just because that’s the next question on your list-think about segue’s and transitions.

This way your subject doesn’t feel forced to give you sound bites and may open up a little (particularly important for anyone working on an audio piece where you may need blocks of the raw interview).

#5 – Think about the medium

Interviewing techniques defiantly vary for different mediums. If you’re interviewing for audio or video you want to ask two part questions which encourages subjects to talk for longer blocks of time.

Conversely, when you’re interviewing for print, try and break questions up so you can get shorter and more concise answers (easier for taking notes and for quoting later). You can be more conversational with interviews for print, you can say “yeah,” and “uh-huh,” etc.

Not doing this is one of the biggest challenges when you’re interviewing for audio. Nodding and smiling accomplishes the same sort of conversational encouragement and keeps your tape clean.

Another great trick for audio interviews is to have your subject re-enact the story. It makes for good sound and helps you avoid having too much of your own narration later on.

#6 – Bring a buddy

I find having a second person as a note taker and extra set of ears can be very useful.

If you don’t think another person will overwhelm or distract your subject (I find that is pretty rare) it can be a lifesaver to have that second set of notes to check your quotes and information.

#7 – Avoid Obsessing

While good notes and recording are very important, you can do yourself a disservice by obsessing about recording every little detail of what your subject says.

As you’re interviewing you should be able to discern the gems from the chatter-focus on the quotes and info you know you’re going to use and make sure you get that right!

#8 – Be a little annoying

Don’t be afraid to relentlessly revisit a question or topic that you feel hasn’t been properly addressed by the interviewee. Sometimes people need time to warm up to you or a topic, or will respond better if your question is worded differently. Keep trying.

#9 – Be a little sneaky

Continue taking notes even after the interview is officially over. Sometimes people say the most revealing or intimate things when they feel that they’re out of the “hot seat.” If they don’t say “off the record,” it’s all game.

#10 – Empower them

A great question to ask if you don’t fully understand the perspective of your interviewee is “what is your ideal solution/resolution?” Obviously this only works in certain circumstances, but when appropriate it can help clarify a person’s point of view or opinion.

#11 – Work them up

Another great question is “Why do you care about this issue?” This can be an effective way to get a strong and emotional quote about why the topic you’re covering is so important.

You can also ask for the turning point in a story, the moment when everything changed or catalyzed. This can help you shape the narrative of your story as well.

#12 – Endure awkward silences

I know this is totally counterintuitive. My instinct is to keep chattering and asking questions to keep people feeling comfortable, but sometimes, especially when you’re dealing with sensitive subjects, you need to shut up and wait.

Ask your question, let them give you the rehearsed and generic answer, then sit there quietly and see what comes next. You’d be amazed how often this technique yields powerful results.

#13 – Ask for what you need

Seriously, sometimes interviewees are frustrating not because they’re trying to bust your chops but just don’t understand what you want from them.

I find that many interview subjects get a kick out of having you “pull back the curtain” a little and tell them about your process.

You can say, “Listen, I really need a quote from you encapsulating your feelings on this issue,” or “I really need you to walk me through the chronology of this,” or even, “I really need you to take me to a location that is relevant to this issue so I can set a scene.”

For the most part people want to be helpful and you just need to tell them how they can.

***

As you gain more experience interviewing, you’ll hone your own techniques. Your personality as an interviewer also plays a huge role in how you develop your approach.

In the meantime use these hints to help you mine the information you need to get down to the creative business of crafting a great piece of journalism.

Sarah Stuteville writes for The Common Language Project – dedicated to developing and implementing innovative approaches to international journalism by focusing on positive, inclusive and humane reporting of stories ignored by the mainstream media.

Any other journalist techniques you’ve found effective for interviews?

There’s some pretty powerful propaganda out there romanticizing my profession.

Whether it’s Blood Diamond’s Jennifer Connelly scooping the dirt on an evil civil war, dodging bullets and out flirting African militiamen only long enough to fall in love with Leonardo DiCaprio and pull down the greedy international diamond cabal —

or the stoic portrayal of Edward R. Murrow exposing the free-speech hating Senator McCarthy as America watched on the evening news in last year’s Good Night and Good Luck, I can understand why some of my idealistic peers might want to pursue a career in journalism.

I did.

But after my first year as a full-time journalist for The Common Language Project, an online multimedia magazine covering domestic and international social justice issues, I feel it would be unfair not to start by trying to dissuade you.

I know: what sounds better than a career exploring the world, challenging power, championing rights, indulging your curiosity, and writing about it? At least once a week I describe my job to someone new and their reply is something like “Ooooh, international journalist! How exciting! I would love to have your job.”

Ironically, the first thing to understand, future journalists, is how infrequently it actually qualifies as a “job” (in the money for services sense of the word).

I can only speak to those of you who are considering devoting yourselves to freelance or independent journalism. (I’ve hear rumors that there is still a scattering of jobs in mainstream news outlets that serve up regular paychecks to a chosen few).

By far the majority of journalists I meet are like me, underpaid and wild-eyed, trying to claw their way to the next grant or random payout from a piece that was finally picked up. Often these same journalists must work multiple jobs because they write for independent sources that can only fantasize of paying more than a token amount to their contributors.

The thing about not getting paid much is you have to work your ass off. And I’m not talking about tromping-through-African-jungles and outsmarting-devious-bad-guys hard work either.

I’m talking about tedious stuff like internet research, cold calls, and scripted interviews with self-important bureaucrats. Most of my time is spent waiting for people who don’t want to talk to me to call back before I wear out their voicemails.

Of course, with any given story there are the days you spend actually traveling to some new place, interviewing a truly fascinating or courageous person, and “getting the scoop”. I’m just warning you, those days can feel awful few and far between, and I’ve yet to meet anyone that faintly resembles Mr. DiCaprio while on the job.

Now that you understand that you’ll work hard and get paid little, let’s revisit the “glory and admiration” you’re supposed to receive.

For every occasional movie that comes out weakly reminding Americans that journalists are the watchdogs of our democracy, there is a flurry of (sadly well-deserved) jabs at how corrupt, sleazy and bought-out the media is. Just last week I was introduced to someone as, “Sarah, she’s a journalist, but don’t worry she’s nice.”

Enthusiastically sharing their disdain for cheap saccharine journalists is pointless. Tutoring them in the finer distinctions between People Magazine and Mother Jones, or graphing media consolidation in the for-profit world of news and information, often earns blank stares.

Seems no matter how you try to define yourself, you’re eternally the “exploitive TV journalist” shoving a microphone up the nose of a defenseless victim or throwing soft-ball questions to a deceitful politician so as not to offend the advertisers.

Just about a year ago, my professor said it pretty succinctly in the final hour of my final class in my final quarter as a media studies major: “Don’t get into this profession if you need people to like you-it’s in opposition of what you’re out there to do.”

OK, I concede that I was asked to write this piece in response to the question, “How do I break into journalism?” and you may notice that I’ve avoided favored the more abstract and rambling Why? Instead of the pragmatic How.

In fact, the How is surprisingly simple (and unfortunately also a corporate slogan): Just do it.

As I mentioned above, if you want experience, really all that’s required is a willingness to go out there and teach yourself. Find a story or subject that interests you and start reporting. If you have a notepad and pen, an audio recorder, a camera, and a genuine curiosity, you’re outfitted.

As for a place to publish, the advent of online journalism has provided countless independent outlets for aspiring journalists, many that are more than happy to help people new to the field shape and develop stories.

I was first published by The Indy Media Center, an online media collective that has offices in American cities and worldwide.

Other online publications abound. A few to start with (specifically travel writing websites and sites that publish international stories) are:

World Peace Emerging, World Hum, GlimpseAbroad, World Changing, World Pulse Magazine

For folks interested in audio there is The Public Radio Exchange or Big Shed. And it’s always worth a try at your local National Public Radio affiliate.

A good place for video is Witness, Paper Tiger, and of course YouTube.

Now back to the Why.

It seems mean spirited that I would spend so much time outlining all of the reasons not to become a journalist, mention a few links if you haven’t been convinced to throw in the towel and leave it at that.

But I’m sure that anyone asking how to become an independent journalist is already afflicted by a passion for this job. This is a career that changes everyday and keeps you constantly engaged with the world, as well as a contributing to what has been called “the first draft of history.”

Maybe you’ve even had the experience of pulling a story from the chaos, shaping it into a narrative and hurling it back to the public in the hope of making an impact.

In short, you probably already know the Why.

Any aspiring journalist reading this is used to hearing that this is a hard profession to break into, that it’s underpaid and underappreciated. I still hear that all the time. But if you’ve been bitten by journalism you’re not going to be discouraged by me or anyone else.

If, like me, you can’t think of anything else you’d rather do you’ll jump right in. I did.

PS. Of course, I think the best way to break into multimedia journalism or travel writing is to write for The Common Language Project. Contact me at commonlanguageproject@gmail.com to find out how.

Sarah Stuteville writes for The Common Language Project – dedicated to developing and implementing innovative approaches to international journalism by focusing on positive, inclusive and humane reporting of stories ignored by the mainstream media.

This article originally appeared on Glimpse Abroad, an international news, culture and travel site that features stories written by students and volunteers living abroad.

As I woke to the muezzin’s wails straining through a riot of church bells in my cramped hostel room in Old Jerusalem, excerpts of the previous night’s angry conversations were already working their way through my mounting hangover. Shouts of, “how can you call them terrorists?” and “there aren’t two sides to this story!” and, of course, “What are you looking for anyway?!” pierced the headache I had earned over hours of politically charged debate and a steady stream of warm red wine. I rolled out of my narrow bed and groaned, cursing another day of reporting in this enraged and bitter country.

What was I looking for?

It was not my first time in Israel and Palestine. I had visited the region three years before as a tourist and student of journalism and was so captivated by the complex politics, passionate people, and heady religious atmosphere that I vowed to return as a reporter. I had visions of humanizing a land synonymous with hatred, of revealing positive, hopeful stories and bringing new insight to a seemingly intractable conflict.

Turns out that the summer of 2006 was a bad season for hope and insight in the Holy Land. When I landed at Ben Gurion airport along with my fellow journalists Jessica and Alex on June 28th we were well aware of the Israeli air strike that had killed a picnicking family on a beach in Gaza, and the Israeli soldier that had been kidnapped by Hamas a few days earlier. But we were full of energy and a fair amount of self-importance. Our online magazine had uncovered positive and unique stories in some pretty unlikely places and we were sure that we could do the same here – even in this land of perpetual war.

Almost immediately I sensed that the mood had shifted since my visit in 2003. Though suicide bombings and violence in Gaza were regular occurrences then as well, the people I had spoken with during those two weeks had seemed hopeful, open, and philosophical when conversation – as it inevitably did – turned to the conflict.

But the Jerusalem that enchanted me three years ago felt like a different city this time. The tension wires were pulled tight and a potent rage seemed to float in the ether, lighting and lifting at a moment’s notice.

We pulled up to our hostel in East Jerusalem and interrupted a shouting match between an Orthodox Jew and an Arab man over a bicycle accident. “Jew killer,” hissed our otherwise jocular cab driver, jerking his chin in the direction of the young Arab currently yanking twisted handle bars from the other man’s grasp.

Later, at the Western Wall, a place I recalled for its liveliness and beauty, the smiling and bearded men that once crowded to invite me to Shabbat dinner and ask what New York borough I lived in kept to themselves, impenetrable huddles of black hats and overcoats. The only interaction I experienced was with a seething security guard that shouted at me for wearing short sleeves.

On the way back a group of young men loitering in a pool of seedy yellow light shouted, “fuck your mother America” at my back. No flirtatious invitations to practice broken English this time.

I remembered feeling like a religious outsider during my last visit to Jerusalem. Being a non-religious person in the holy land had been strange. Your experience as a traveler there is largely defined by observing other people’s religious devotions. But my political ambivalence, largely a result of my journalistic training, had served me well here before. I recall my lack of “side-taking” as an invitation to some incredible conversations. It seemed to me then that people enjoyed speaking with someone who hadn’t firmly entrenched themselves in a camp, someone who just wanted to hear what everyone had to say.

Right away I realized that my neutrality was going to be cause for suspicion this time. Taking sides, it seemed, had become a prerequisite for most interactions. And it wasn’t limited to Israelis and Palestinians. The hostel conflagration, which resulted in some storming-out-of-the-room moments and icy breakfasts around the rooftop common table in the days that followed, was a reaction to our pitching story ideas to a group of American and European backpackers.

We raised some ire when we mentioned that we were looking to report on Palestinian NGOs working on issues outside the conflict (”how can you suggest that someone can work on social issues when they’re under occupation? Where’s your sensitivity?!”). But our biggest mistake was suggesting a piece that explored motivational links between Jewish-American settlers and activists working with the Palestinian International Solidarity Movement, [cue: out-of-the-room storming].

How were we supposed to report anything if we couldn’t even discuss ideas and pitch stories openly?

We weren’t trying to broker peace agreements or map out new borders here, we just wanted to challenge journalism to explore beyond the predictable political frames of conflict. But with every hopeful email sent out or lead explored that returned an angry political diatribe, that goal receded further into the realm of naive memory.

We finally just gave in. We focused our energy on a radio short that was basically a montage of Palestinian and Israeli voices-all ex-pats-and played more like an indictment of American culture (seems that no one has a problem with hearty criticisms of the United States these days) than a hard hitting discussion of the conflict or politics.

But producing a radio short takes time, in our case over three weeks, and while we may have had the media focus of our travels in Israel and Palestine worked out, it didn’t mean that we weren’t still suffering the emotional toll of working in a country that seemed to burying itself in hatred and intolerance.

It was strange to keep receiving emails from worried friends and family back home whose main concerns were for our physical safety when it felt like our psychological wellbeing was what was at stake. Just the simple fact that our radio piece required moving regularly between political, religious and ethnic borders made us feel isolated and suspicious – lonely in our unique curiosity.

Even in the rare moments when we allowed ourselves the luxury of stepping outside of our journalistic duties, when we were invited to a friend’s home for dinner and discussions focused on catching up on each other’s lives for example, it felt like politics loomed as an unacknowledged subtext. In the face of the overwhelming political identity and moral certitude of our hosts, there was no room for us to express our own feelings about politics or life. A guidebook that used the wrong geographical terminology, or even a misplaced sigh at the mention of violence, was enough to inspire terse breaks in otherwise lively conversation.

Then war broke out and I screamed at a priest.

It was the morning of July 13th and predictably the pressure that had been swelling for months – or I guess generations – exploded again onto Al-Jazeera and the BBC.

We woke to a surprisingly quiet hostel. Everyone, from backpacker to kid off the street looking for an update, was lined up on the dirty couches, faces tilted upwards to the TV, transfixed by the grayscale images and jerky camera work of war.

We had to get out of there. I couldn’t bear the idea of watching those tiny green explosions or the stupid talking heads or the sooty billows of smoke all day. Already, smug I-told-you-so predictions of doom were rising from the growing crowd. It was too much. We headed for the Mount of Olives, thinking that a walk, a view, or some time in a quiet Orthodox church would soothe us, give us perspective.

As we entered the dark, cool interior of the Tomb of The Virgin Mary I began to feel myself relax. I know it’s a cliché but I can’t help but say that I was comforted by a sense of timelessness. A gilt-edged pieta glowed quietly in the dark, deep woody incense infused the air, our flip-flops squeaked on the worn stone floor.

I even found myself smiling at a pair of young American men, resplendent in Bermuda shorts and dirty tank tops. “This place has seen it all, and silently carried on,” I thought, imagining that I was uncovering some solemn truth about time versus human drama, when a voice behind me stated in a thick Slavic accent, “you are not properly dressed young lady, please cover up or leave.”

I am no stranger to gender double standards. They abound in the States and are practically celebrated in many other parts of the world. But as this priest admonished me for wearing too low-cut a shirt we were both looking directly at the proudly displayed sunburned legs and shoulders of the two young American men as their Adidas sandals shuffled out the door.

There are probably only a few good reasons to yell at a priest, and I’m guessing mine doesn’t qualify in most people’s books. Really, screaming “hypocrite!” in the middle of the Tomb of The Virgin is extremely bad behavior-even among atheists.

But as the word rang out and echoed off the burnished stones I had just moments before been meditating over, I was wracked by anger. Anger at the judgment, intolerance, and yes, the hypocrisy we’d been steeping in – and perpetuating – over the past month. I was exhausted by diplomacy, and disgusted that the one truth I’d been able to uncover, for all my trouble, was that the only consensus left in the world is the communal laying of a smooth path to war. After three weeks in The Holy Land, the free floating rage had lighted on me.

It may be too late, but I don’t want to give the impression that everyone in Israel and Palestine is a fanatic, or that I was miserable and feeling sorry for myself twenty four hours a day. Actually, I had some profoundly hopeful moments and meetings there. Whether it was a young man in Tel Aviv working to begin an intentional urban community or drunken conversations with fervent young Palestinians over the meaning of democracy, there are a lot of sane, concerned people in that part of the world, desperate to effect positive change.

But there is something deeply paradoxical about Israel. The same land that produced The Prince of Peace has also somehow managed to create the perfect formula for endless war. A country meant as refuge is also home to the oldest refugee camps on earth. So I suppose that it’s fitting that my most hopeful moment came simultaneously with my most uneasy.

We were visiting Hebron, home to Arabs, Jews, and the famous Tomb of the Patriarchs. Our guide, Wesam, was a fellow American – of Palestinian descent – who agreed to accompany us to the troubled West Bank city. It was Friday evening. As we tiptoed through the Shabbat-emptied streets of the militarized Jewish neighborhood, we discussed strategies on how to evade the inevitable soldiers that would be guarding the religious site.

“We should lie and say we’re all Jewish,” declared Wesam, “then they’ll let us in.” “Or, I don’t know,” he faltered, “maybe only Muslims are allowed in on Fridays.”

“I think if we say we’re Christian it’ll be more likely,” I whispered back, spooked by the vacant dusty streets ringed by tangles of barbed wire.

“No,” Alex countered, “If we just say we’re all Americans it’ll work. They’ll like that we’re all Americans.”

This exchange perfectly mirrors the absurdity of so many experiences I had in Israel and Palestine. The four of us were all Americans, one a non-practicing Jew, one a non-practicing Muslim, and two non-practicing Christians. Actually, one thing we all solidly had in common (aside from being American citizens) was a healthy skepticism of religion and here we were, guessing at what religious lie would be most likely to get us into a religious site that had been a recent flashpoint for religious violence.

It’s also important to note that it is virtually impossible to predict what identity, religion, ethnicity or nationality is more likely to get you past a military checkpoint like the one we were headed for. It seems that in the spirit of confusion and arbitrary refusals the rules can change at a moment’s notice.

The one thing that an authority figure is sure to demand is that you take a side. No room for political neutrality here. Everyone, no matter how removed from the conflict, must declare that they are Jewish/Muslim/Christian/American/Israeli/Palestinian when asked. Whether you understand it or not, you must force yourself into their image. At the airport I had witnessed a conversation between a customs official and Jessica that went as followed:

“Are you Jewish?”

“I’m non-religious.”

“But are you Jewish?”

“No, then, I’m not Jewish.”

“Well, what religion are you?”

“I’m non-religious.”

“What religion is your family?”

“My family is Jewish.”

“OK then, you’re Jewish.”

As we neared the checkpoint in Hebron we fell silent. We had no plan as we approached the soldiers and their cement blocks and their jauntily angled guns. We sputtered awkwardly for a few moments as we stared at our distorted images reflected in the Russian soldier’s Oakleys.

Suddenly Wesam declared,

“I am a Palestinian-American, my family is Muslim.”

And I said, “I am an American, my family is Christian.”

And Alex said, “I am an American, my family is Christian.”

And Jessica said finally, “I am an American, my family is Jewish. We’d all like to visit the Tomb of The Patriarchs together please.”

Of course this tactic didn’t work, and we were turned away with a fair amount of disgust, but not before we had the pleasure of basking in the utter bafflement of the group of soldiers that were formed around us, and not before I had the chance to stutter out quite possibly the dumbest thing I could have said under the circumstances: “we’re a rainbow of diversity!”

I had meant for this to come out as a profoundly dry statement, but instead was embarrassed to hear myself utter it in deep earnestness.

Maybe inspiring a stunned reaction from a gang of soldiers seems like a small victory but it left a deep impression. The experience asserted a new idea for me, that in a world pulled apart by extreme sides, by animosities so deep and polarized they threaten to suck everybody into their dark centers; neutrality, humanity, skepticism, atheism, become a stand in and of themselves.

They can, and maybe should, become your position.

Sarah Stuteville writes for The Common Language Project – dedicated to developing and implementing innovative approaches to international journalism by focusing on positive, inclusive and humane reporting of stories ignored by the mainstream media.

What do you think about Sarah’s experience? Please share your thoughts in the comments.