I love kids, I really do. Okay, I love my kids – your kids, I’m not all that wild about. The truth is, I don’t understand people who don’t love kids, I’m perplexed when people choose not to have kids, and I am filled with sadness, anger and confusion at people who have kids and ignore, abuse or reject them. That said, when I work overseas, kids are one of the biggest pains in my… !  I’m not a fool, I understand why they harass me. They’re kids, but that still doesn’t make it right. When you arrive at a neighborhood, refugee camp or home, the kids start out in awe of you and keep their distance. Early in my career I would spend a few minutes connecting with the kids when I arrived on scene to ease the tension they felt. If I were honest, it had more to do with easing the tension I felt. After a few minutes of goofing around their assault would begin and they would take great liberties with me. Their tiny fingers would nip at my pockets filled with hard candy or chewing gum. Inevitably I would find small streak marks across the front of my lenses, like clues to a crime. Everywhere I went, a long line of kids, one telling another, telling another and yet another, all about the new push over with pockets full of goodies. Obviously I couldn’t understand the conversations taking place, but I’m sure they went something like this: "This guy is safe. He looks big and tough, but he’s actually a big sucker. In fact, in his left pocket he’s got some really sweet hard candies and in his other pocket he’s got gum. No man, he’s not holding that spicy gum, he’s got some Hubba Bubba and Big League Chew. Nope, grape flavor. How do I know all this? Because he’s dumb and already gave us some. He told us not to tell anyone else, but duh!  Hey, when he stops moving lets run our fingers all over his camera lens and block his photos, then we can watch him pull his hair out." This conversation happens about a hundred more times and suddenly a house that had two kids has 12, a neighborhood that had 20 kids has 50 and a refugee camp that had 100 swells to several hundred. I can’t even say where they all come from, they just seem to duplicate at the blink of an eye. The thing that always sets me over the edge is when I see something really great to shoot, such as a mother gently caressing her son’s hair, leaning ever so slowly to kiss his forehead to put him at ease. I raise my camera to shoot this exquisite moment and several of the "swarmer" kids scream out to the mother and son. They both sit straight up, brush themselves off and flash wide grins while staring directly into the camera. Because hey, you can’t have enough of those types of super revealing images to bring home. Seriously, at times, I have stormed out of a location, gotten back in the car, rolled up all the windows and pouted over a missed picture. Do you think the kids care? They don’t. They just swarm around the car pointing at the pouting foreigner, tapping on the windows with those little appendages, asking for more candy and I tell them, "no, I’m not talking to any of you right now, do you know how hard it is … " I rant on in a language they don’t understand and they laugh, hoot and holler. Eventually I end up laughing at myself and start handing out the candy. Needless to say I have had to switch up and refine my game with those tiny photo assassins. Awhile back I had to take that fun-loving guy personality and let it go dark when working. It was about the time I realized that there are no second chances in photojournalism and that I wasn’t going to be able to recapture a lost moment. When I realized that life only happens once and that it was extremely unlikely that I would ever be able to return to a country, or region, conflict or disaster and that I needed to make every moment matter. Every moment missed was gone forever.

Kids These Days

So I work my game like this; I don’t say a word, I walk in straight-faced, lips pursed. Outwardly, I look like I’m walking into a cage match. Inwardly, I’m enjoying how sweet and silly the kids are, but I look like I’m strictly business and will straight throw-down with little people if pushed. I walk around a while, slyly trying to anticipate a photographable moment, one that I can time just right, so as to shoot a few frames before they start screaming and warning the whole world I’m taking pictures. If they keep their distance, and I’m quick enough, I can usually catch a telling image. On the second day of our trip in Haiti, I came into camp and it was bad. I’m talking ‘Nam bad, they were all over me quick, from all sides, and they were brazen. My hard looks, sharp voice, "no touching" – it was no match for these kids, they were a bigger, quicker, more efficient type of kid. They don’t care that I’m big, bad and mad. These tikes are ticked off and they want some candy, they want to hear the camera shutter go off, they want to see the picture of my shoe they so rudely just took and they want to see me smile and laugh!

Win the War not the Battle

I stormed out of the camp and the kids laughed and mocked, okay maybe just laughed and probably not really at me, but it felt that way. They certainly didn’t seem to be laughing with me. But I had one last card to play. Thomas Hurst didn’t fall off a plane into Haiti yesterday. Actually, I did, but the point is I wasn’t going to be outwitted by the little people. I walked out of camp and sat out of sight for about 15 minutes. Aha, take notes rookies, this crafty vet’s dropping some knowledge. You see, time is in fact a kid’s one weakness, they forget quickly, and 15 minutes is a lifetime for a kid. After waiting, I get up and do a long slow stroll, seemingly totally uninterested with anything on the planet under three and half feet tall. I continue my stroll and make my way around a large building blocking me from the view of the kids inside the camp. When I reach the far side of the building, I slip in between the building and a tall wall surrounding the camp, it feels very much like a narrow alley funneling me directly into the camp, but because it will open out at the far edge of the camp’s boundaries there is no one nearby to announce my approach. As I get to the end of the wall, I am relieved that I have arrived undetected. Before I peer out and risk blowing my cover, I lift the camera, holding my longest lens, and check that my exposure settings are right. I lean just far enough around the corner to see completely into the camp and … Gotcha!  Now I see what you really do when you think no one’s looking!  You’re rejoicing in the sweet innocence God gave you. You are playing and laughing with each other. You have this seemingly innate ability to forget, even if for just a moment, all the pain and suffering you have felt, witnessed or are experiencing. You have this ability to rejoice and celebrate in such a simple and pure way. It’s like a deep well that you tap into at a moment’s notice. You don’t need something externally to start it because somehow it exists within you, it’s pure and natural, it doesn’t come in a pill, or out of a bottle, from another person or out of a wallet. It’s sudden and explosive expressions of joy without clear reason or explanation and it is one of the many gifts God has created in you, for you. As adults we don’t seem to experience that like you do, we don’t lose it, but we lose touch with it. And any attempts to hide it from me have failed and I will show the world what you have and what so many of us our missing – sweet, sweet joy. I love kids, I have two sons and they are amazing little warriors who I pray each day will grow to be big warriors for Christ. The kids I have met are resilient and beautiful and have been the reason for much joy and heartache over my career. Although technically this photo isn’t perfect – she is. Her face beaming towards heaven, what joy her heart must be feeling in this moment. Personally, this is one of the most beautiful images I’ve ever captured and I am blessed to share it with you. And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:2-3