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Chris Hondros

Chris Hondros was a prize-winning phtotojournalist who died in 2011 while on assignment in Libya. He worked in Angola, Sierra Leone, Afghanistan, Kashmir, the West Bank, and Liberia, and was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Spot News Photography in 2004 for his work in Liberia. He was awarded the 2005 Robert Capa Gold Medal, war photography’s highest honor, for “exceptional courage and enterprise” in his work from Iraq.


Haiti, Fallen

Spring 2010 | Essays

Haiti, as it turns out, isn’t particularly prone to earthquakes. Hurricanes and political turmoil, yes: it seems that every few years Haiti is buffeted with one or the other of those, and, either way, lots of people are killed. But earthquakes aren’t much more common in Haiti than in, say, the American Midwest. So the catastrophe that devastated Port-au-Prince on January 12 was a worst-case scenario: completely unexpected and centered essentially on the national capital and largest population center by far. It’s an unbelievably cruel stroke of fate and bad luck.

A Window on Baghdad

Summer 2007 | Essays

The window of a Humvee rolling through Baghdad’s dangerous streets is essentially a television, watched in the dark. The glass is dirty and three inches thick: everything has a hazy and muted look, like a rerun of an old seventies movie. Humvees are dim inside even on sunny days; you can see out, but Iraqis can’t see in, any more than a sitcom character can see us when we watch.

The Fire: The Price of Oil in Africa

Winter 2007 | Essays

Nigeria should be a massively rich country. It’s the most populous nation in Africa and the world’s sixth leading oil producer. Over a quarter trillion dollars in oil has been lifted from Nigerian soils and waters in the last four decades. But after years of military rule and rampant corruption, fueled by these oil monies, the country is mired in billions of dollars in debt and is wracked by poverty.

Inside Saddam’s Spider Hole

Spring 2004 | Essays

Two pairs of shoes still in their boxes: a pair of clean new Hongmahwang loafers and a pair of gilded, tacky Italian slippers. The footwear of a madman caught last December hiding in a rat-filled hole almost within sight of one of his many palaces.