Afghanistan Foreign Correspondent Jerome Starkey takes time out from reporting in Kabul to shed some light on working in a war zone.Watching the news at night, do you ever think about the person standing in front of the camera in some distant land? Wonder how they got there and why they’re risking their lives to tell us what’s going on all those miles away?
Currently somewhere in Kabul, Jerome Starkey, 26, decided to do just that, heading out to Afghanistan as a freelance journalist last year. He has since had stories in many of the national papers, including The Sun, The Daily Mail, The Mirror, The Independent and The Times, as well as reports broadcast on Sky News. If you ever thought about what makes a frontline journalist tick and how they got into the job, then read on.
Why did you decide to become a frontline journalist?
I’m not sure. It’s an adventure. At one point, I thought I wanted to be a travel writer until I realised how boring most travel writing is. I remember being completely enchanted when I was about seven-years-old by a book of black and white photographs from World War Two. There was one in particular of an Australian prisoner of war kneeling in an open grave. He had a blindfold on. His hands were tied behind his back, and his head was bowed. There were people crowded round and there was a Japanese soldier with a sword raised behind him.
I remember thinking how terrible and wonderful it would have been to witness it for real. I wanted to know more about the soldier, like where he was from, what he had done, how he’d been caught, what he was feeling and whether he died quickly.
Why didn’t you stay in London and work for one of the papers there?
Journalism is probably only as interesting as the story you’re covering, and as fun as your expenses can make it. If business or celebrities are your thing, then London’s perfect. I did a lot of death knocks and celebrity doorsteps for the Sun, which was fine, but it was never going to be forever.
How did you get into this?
I got on the Sun’s graduate scheme when I left uni. They sent me to do a post grad at City. Before that I wrote for my student paper, in Newcastle, which was terrible.
But I also did six months on a study exchange in America, where the student paper was incredible - 40,000 copies a day, with national, international, and campus news. I even got paid, about $10 a story. I left the Sun about 18 months ago to write propaganda for Nato. It’s incredibly easy, but completely ineffective because of the idiot soldiers in charge.
What would you say are the main responsibilities of a frontline journalist?
Not to take yourself too seriously! Enjoy it and try and tell the truth.
Where have your travels taken you so far?
In this job, all over Afghanistan. I’ve been north to Mazar-e-Sharif, east to Jallalabad and though the khyber pass to Peshawar. Most recently I spent Christmas in Helmand with the Royal Marines.
What are the most difficult things about your job?Freezing pipes, no electricity, smelly diesel powered heaters in our house, and minus twenty something temperatures at night. Dealing with over-worked, under-resourced and sluggish, stupid Nato press officers is also a regular challenge. There are occasionally a few diamonds in the rough though.
And the best things about it?
It’s a great feeling when a story comes together and it gets a good show in a paper or on TV. It’s even better if it gets followed.
Which story are you most proud of so far and why?
At the Sun I got the first picture of a three-year-old boy who’d been shot in the head, and we splashed it the next day. It was weird. Professionally it was a great day. We’d scooped the pack and got a great “collect”. I’d just been lucky and asked the right person the right questions. But it was the first time I’d been that close to an unfolding tragedy. Out here I did my first ever television package which I wrote for The Sun and filmed for Sky.
Have you been embedded with any troops yet?
Yes, the American army trainers in the north east, and the Royal Marines in Helmand, in southern Afghanistan.
What was it like?
Great if you like camping, rations and delays. The soldiers are usually really friendly and the RAF never fly on time. American rations are great because they heat themselves up, but it means no one ever boils water so it’s much harder to get a cuppa than when you’re with the Brits.
For anyone thinking about becoming a frontline journalist, what’s your advice to them?
Go for it. It helps if you’ve got a relationship with the people you want to work for before you leave, but at the end of the day the most important thing is to go to the place you want to report from and start finding stories. There are risks in a place like Afghanistan, and it’s important you try and mitigate them. I’m always asking advice ‘cos there’s always people with more experience. It could be because they’ve been in the business for years, or they just came from the place you want to go.
Have you ever found yourself under fire?
Only once, properly, and I loved it. It was a couple of days after Christmas and I was with 40 Commando in a place called Kajaki. We’d patrolled out before dawn into an abandoned compound on the frontline. The Taliban opened up at us at first light and all of a sudden there were guns firing everywhere. It was surreal and I felt strangely immune from the danger, worryingly.
I was just being a bit dozy and one of the lads pulled me into cover. But my overriding sense was of the courage or stupidity of the six or so insurgents who attacked dozens and dozens of marines and Afghan army soldiers, with air support.What are your overriding impressions of Kabul - the people, what it looks and sounds like, for instance.
I love Kabul. It’s filthy and overcrowded. Huge swathes of it are still half ruined by war. It’s dusty and polluted, and surrounded on all sides by mountains which trap the dirty air.
People live in unimaginable poverty, without water or power. Children, burqa-clad women and old jihadi amputees beg in-between gridlocked traffic, while drug lords and corrupt officials occupy enormous wedding cake compounds plastered with mirrored mosaic tiles and Pakistani-style bling. Ministers seal off roads so they can tear around in armoured Land Cruiser convoys. Sections of it are sealed off by ugly grey blast walls, with barbed wire crowns and security guards. In the summer it smells of the open sewers.
But the people are still proud, they’ve got a weird but wonderful sense of humour, they are invariably friendly and ready with a smile in the face of all their adversity.
How easy do you find it to get around?
Kabul is fine. I’m happy walking around and taking local taxis inside the city. A lot of NGOs, diplomats, and soldiers insist on only using private drivers or armoured cars. You can’t miss them, and the bombers know it. Things might change, but I hope not.
What inspires you in your job?
You know you’re doing something right when someone’s trying to stop you.
Who are your heroes?
There’s a few from the history books, but most of them are still in the game. I won’t name them in case I bump into them. There’s only a few bars in Kabul.
Do you feel you’ve learned anything from your experiences? If so, what?
No life changing experiences yet. Soldiers always tell you to keep your head down. It’s good advice.
Does it affect you when you hear about a journalist being injured or killed in a war zone?
Of course. It’s pretty sobering. Every time the Taliban or Al Qaeda kill or kidnap a journalist they consolidate the western military’s monopoly on information because they make it harder for us to tell it from their side. What happened to Daniel Pearl was grim. More recently there was an Italian snatched down south. His driver and fixer were killed but the government released a whole load of Talibs from prison to secure his release. The whole thing was a disaster.
Do you think it’s more important to tell the stories of the ordinary people caught up in the conflict, or to write about the conflict itself?
I think both. But you can’t really tell one without the other. Vaughan Smith, of Frontline fame, made a really good case about the need to show suffering in order to engender compassion, I think he’s right.
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