(MINNEAPOLIS)—Last Thursday (16 February) the journalistic community suffered a devastating loss. For millions around the world, New York Times Middle East Correspondent Anthony Shadid (43) was the eyes, ears, and voice of the average person trapped in turmoil.
For nearly two decades, Anthony covered the Middle East, sometimes under the most harrowing conditions, to tell us the stories of the people whose lives were devastated by conflict. His eloquent and unbiased reporting was a welcome breath of fresh air in the competitive business of journalism, where reporting has too often been marred by inaccuracies. Anthony was more than an incredibly gifted writer; he had a unique ability to draw his audience into the story. Whether he was reporting from a village under siege in South Lebanon or a bustling coffee house in Cairo, Anthony made his readers feel as though they were there, right beside him.
It is not unusual for journalists to become casualties while covering conflict. They could be caught in a cross-fire or deliberately targeted by one side or the other. In Anthony’s case, the cause of death was atypical. Anthony and photographer Tyler Hicks had snuck across the Turkish- Syrian border and spent a week documenting the unfolding tragedy in Syria where the government of Bashar Al Assad is desperately trying to maintain a media blackout. On Thursday, as the two journalists were making their way back out through Turkey, Anthony collapsed after suffering a severe asthma attack apparently triggered by his guides’ horses.
Anthony was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma to Lebanese-American parents. He graduated in with a BA in Political Science and Journalism from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He leaves behind a wife, Nada Bakri, their son Malik, a daughter Laila from his previous marriage, his parents, and a brother and sister.
Anthony, a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, had escaped death more than once, but this did not stop him from pursuing a story that he felt needed to be told. He survived a bullet wound while covering the West Bank in 2002. He also ran great risks while covering the 2003 bombing of Baghdad and the 2006 Israeli attack on south Lebanon. As recently as last year, he was captured by Moamar Kaddafi’s loyalists in Libya and held for six days with three other journalists. For many journalists, any of those experiences would have been enough to seek a graceful exit, but not for Anthony. He continued pursuing the stories that the world should not neglect. And that is what compelled him to make that fateful trip to Syria.
I was fortunate to have accompanied Anthony on his very first story, when he started reporting as an intern for the Associated Press in Cairo in the early 1990s. Anthony was studying Arabic at the American University in Cairo and we shared a common passion of wandering the streets in search of hidden cafes and bars that had a unique sub-culture in this multilayered city. Anthony took this opportunity to practice his Arabic, a language he was determined to master. This meant that he spent much of his free time in cafés playing backgammon and chatting up the local patrons. One day, he walked by a crowded café in a slum outside Cairo, and it caught his attention. Since he knew that I was a great fan of smoking Shishas (water pipes), he came up to me at the AP bureau and said, “Norbert I found this great café and I want you to check out with me.” And almost as an afterthought, he added, “And don’t forget to bring your camera because I’m going to write a story about it.”
We got into a taxi and after a long and bumpy ride through Cairo’s outlying slums we arrived at a café with a colorful façade. It was obvious why this place had caught Anthony’s attention. Above the entrance there were three enormous hand painted tacky murals of Egypt’s last three presidents: Gamal Abdel Nasser, Anwar Sadat, and Hosni Mubarak. As we got out of the taxi some of the patrons recognized Anthony and got up to greet him. I looked at him and asked, “So what’s this place, your regular hangout?” He sheepishly grinned and said, “No, I’ve only came here once before, but isn’t it great!”
Anthony was gifted at communicating with people from all backgrounds. He could interview a head of state and play backgammon with a factory worker with the same degree of ease. He never acted superior or aloof, even when after became famous. During the 25 years that I have worked with correspondents in the Middle East and Africa, I rarely met any journalist with Anthony’s sincerity, humility and compassion.
After Cairo, Anthony was transferred to the AP bureau in Los Angeles. He returned to Egypt as Middle East correspondent for the Boston Globe, at a time when the world was embroiled with the aftershocks of 9/11 and on the verge of war. During that time, I worked with him on a number of assignments. On one occasion, we went to Cairo’s Giza Square where Islamists were selling contraband DVDs and CDs of Osama bin Laden. Anthony wanted me to photograph people looking through the stalls in the crowded square, but I was hesitant to pull out my camera as vendors were visibly jittery and feared being caught. The only way I was able to sneak a few shots was by standing face to face with Anthony, so that he was almost hiding the camera that I held at waist level. My attempts were cut short when two plainclothes policemen came out of the crowd and grabbed me, Anthony, and our driver Mustafa and hauled us to a nearby police station. After hours of waiting followed by several interrogations, we were released with strict instructions not to go back to the square again.
Most journalists, including myself, would have capitulated at least for a day or so, but not Anthony. He was determined to get that picture to illustrate his story. As soon as we were back in the car, he turned to Mustafa and said: “drive around to the other side of the square, park the car and let’s walk back in and try to get the shot again.” Both Mustafa and I looked at each other in disbelief, but when Anthony stepped out of the car and headed back into the crowd, we both followed. On this second attempt, I managed to get the photo that Anthony was looking for.
Anthony would go on to become Baghdad Bureau Chief for the Washington Post and in 2010 he joined the New York Times reporting from Beirut, Lebanon. He won his Pulitzer Awards in 2004 and 2010 for work he did for the Washington Post.
Unlike many of his peers, Anthony never let his achievements get to his head. Every time I saw him, whether in passing on the street or while covering a story, he was always the same good- natured Anthony. He joked, smiled and behaved in the same unaffected way that always distinguished him. And unlike many journalists who become self-involved when they hit success, Anthony never bragged. In fact, our conversations were invariably about our shared memories. We reminisced about exploring the streets of Cairo, finding the most unusual coffee houses, enjoying a shisha, and drinking fine single malt Scotch on hot balmy nights. He also never forgot my attempts at spiting him by betting against his favorite football team, the Green Bay Packers!
Anthony’s third book “House of Stone: A Memoir of Home, Family, and a Lost Middle East,” is scheduled for release next month. It looks at the turbulent history of the Middle East through the story of his ancestral home, Marjayoun, a town in Southern Lebanon. It’s sad to think that a book he wrote with a great deal of passion will be released after his death.
About Contributor: NORBERT SCHILLER has lived and worked in the Middle East and Africa as a news photographer for over a quarter of a century beginning in the early 1980s. He worked for numerous news agencies, magazines and newspapers including the Associated Press, Agence France Presse, European Press Agency, United Press International and the New York Times and the German weekly Der Spiegel.
During that time he covered three Iraq wars; conflicts and famine in the Horn of Africa; Islamist insurgencies in Egypt and North Africa and the Arab Israeli conflict, to name a few. He also continues to travel back to the Middle East for work a few times a year.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect MPN’s (Mint Press News) editorial policy.