At the same time as investigating U.K. employment, Ga was working with the ‘small charity with big ambition’ Mothers of Africa, a Medical Educational Charity that helps mothers during pregnancy and childbirth. Currently in Africa each day, the equivalent of three Boeing 747s full of mothers die in childbirth. A woman’s risk of dying from treatable or preventable complications of pregnancy and childbirth over the course of her lifetime is 1 in 6 (in developed regions, the risk is 1 in 7,300) Some countries, like Benin, have 1 anaesthetist per million people of the population (in Cardiff alone, there are 140). The main activities of the charity revolve around visits to Sub-Saharan Africa countries to provide training for anaesthetic medical staff at the front-line of maternal care. Back in 2011 this charity had seen Ga’s Cardiff exhibition of his Africa and India slum photos and contacted him about documenting the work they were involved in with pregnant women and local hospitals in Phebe, Liberia, West Africa. He didn’t need asking twice, and together we met to discuss the practicalities of this, in the home of Consultant Anesthetists that I crossed paths with in my Acute Pain Specialist Nurse role. In fact plans evolved as we poured over Ga’s previous imagery of African positivity despite poverty and one day I too would join them on a visit, utilising my nursing skills to benefit the local healthcare workers and women they treat. In our marriage tentative plans were being made for me and Ga, at some point in our future to go out to Africa together, a photographer and nursing team abroad. But at this point this was only embryonic in form.
As with all Ga’s trips abroad, the weeks prior to his flight leaving at the end of February 2013 were spent researching and planning for his week out there. He’d be going out with a team of anesthetists, midwives, and I.T. consultants, each with their own individual objectives. Liberia was emerging from civil war and Gareth wanted to hear first hand from the Liberian people about their struggles, and how their healthcare system was being rebuilt. He wanted to listen to how they were rebuilding their lives and able to forgive the terrible atrocities done to them. He was keen to see the Liberians teaching on the courses Mothers of Africa ran and get their feedback on them. Before he left the U.K. he’d already made contact with the former reverend and administrator of the hospital in Phebe, and the Minister of Health regarding these questions.
This would be the second trip he made in a professional Documentary Photographer capacity with an organised charity, and as such he made sure he was up front about his health. We made sure he had both personal and Mothers of Africa travel insurance. He was reviewed by his CF team a few weeks before and given a two week course of IV antibiotics prophylactically, to ensure he was in the best health possible before flying out there.
I was busy writing assignments for my Masters in Pain Management and the weekends of early 2013 were spent reading journal articles on the dining room table whilst he researched Liberia upstairs, our paths crossing for regular cups of tea and chit-chat. The week before he left, after I’d returned form a short stay in Belfast with my mum and aunt, the usual routine of packing began. I should have still been writing assigments but thankfully I decided to have a break and crack on with them once he’d left for Africa.
I’m oh so thankful I did that.
So I went with him to a local knitting and craft shop where he photographed a local group knitting jumpers and hats for Africa’s ‘fish and chip’ babies (babies who have nothing other than newspaper to be wrapped in when they are born – these items would be taken out with the group and distributed as needed). I knitted whilst he worked, but I was making a chunky, stripy scarf – the latest project in the knitting book I was working through and the first male item I’d made. Ga had been saying for a while when would I be making him something and now finally I was! It was a mixture of cream and charcoal grey denim-styled wool. Ga made sure he took a few shots of me working on that. After this we leisurely decided to eat lunch at The Happy Gathering – a chinese buffet restaurant in Canton where we were relaxed, and Ga laughed and took a photo of the mess I’d made on my side of the table cloth. In that photo I’m looking sheepish but not particularly repentant. It turns out that was the last photo he would take of me.
The night before he left I sat on our spare bed dispensing all his medication he’d need for each day into separate plastic bags, all labeled whilst he did last minute research on his computer. We had to be doubly organised as three weeks after he returned we were flying to South Africa for his close friend’s wedding. I always got a bit more edgy and anxious than normal in the days leading up to one of his trips. Worrying that he’d get sick out there. As soon as he was on the plane. and there was no going back my anxiety would subside somewhat but I never liked those last few days of preparation and having to mentally prepare myself for time away from each other with him being so far away. We both slept fitfully that night, and were awake before dawn broke.
Before we packed his suitcases into our car, Ga and I hugged in our living room. I remember it clearly, him in his winter coat, alert and energized with the task ahead of him. We hugged tightly, I looked him in the eye and I told him I was proud of him and what he was doing. I told him he had my 100% support in going to Liberia.
I’m oh so thankful I said that to him.
My last memory of him being ‘well’ was our last prolonged hug and kiss outside the black cab that was taking Ga, along with the Tei, the Consultant anesthetist and team leader, and an I.T. consultant to London, where they would catch their flight. Moments earlier, under the advice of the team, Ga had slipped off his wedding ring and given it to me for safe keeping (a wedding ring could tell the wrong type of people that there was someone willing to pay hostage money back home). Tei noticed my tense, worried posture as I waited for them to leave and she promised me she would look after Ga.
I’m oh so thankful that she did.
So the black cab went one way, and I went the other in our blue Ford Fiesta, taking a deep breath and leaving him in both the Mothers of Africa team and God’s hands. And I went home and got stuck into my university assignments for the next few days. Ga did text to tell me he’d arrived safely in Monrovia, the capital of Liberia and I tried to imagine what he would be up to, despite the limited communication. A week later and he’d be home with another set of high quality, striking images that would give a voice to a previously silent community.
Under the influence of six... 