Leading his band of Iraqi photojournalists in Kirkuk in the initial days of the ISIS rampage, Kamaran was hit in the neck by a bullet. He was loaded onto the back of a pick up, which accelerated too fast. He fell off the back, and was picked up by ISIS sometime in the next few hours. On the way to the funeral the next day, I was informed that he was alive, and that he was being searched for. To cut a long story short, we’ve been looking for him since. It’s necessitated total radio silence, not wanting the militants to know who they had. Hope, while still there, hangs by a thread. And we talk about him in public now, we want the world to know that a dear man, the kindest of friends, is missing. The last time I saw him, he was running a free project in a park in Sulaymaniyah. We walked around that Friday afternoon, finding migrant workers from Nepal, the Philippines, India, Ethiopia. We had an outdoor studio, took portraits of people alone, in couples and groups, and then gave them a digital and printed copy. Whatever the situation, Kamaran was always working an angle to improve people’s lives and this small gesture was typical. I love you brother. We’ll meet again.
