I began the work in Rwanda, but I have been thinking about the year 1994 in relation to both countries over a period of ten or twenty years. I realized that children, especially in South Africa, do not carry the same historical burden as their parents. I find their engagement with the world very refreshing because they are not weighed down by the past, yet at the same time you see them growing up with these narratives of liberation that are, in some ways, untrue. It is as if you know something they do not know about the potential failure or shortcomings of these narratives.
Most of the images were taken in rural areas of Rwanda and South Africa. There is a thin line between nature perceived as idyllic and a place where terrible things have happened, marked by genocide, a constantly contested space. Seen as a metaphor, it is as if the farther you move away from the city and its systems of control, the more primal things become. At times the children appear conservative, living in an ordered world; at other times there is something wild about them, like Lord of the Flies, a place without rules. This is more evident in the images from Rwanda, where clothing donated from Europe, carrying specific cultural meanings, is transplanted into a completely different context.
Becoming a parent has drastically changed the way I see children, creating the challenge of photographing them without sentimentality. The act of photographing a child is very different—and in many ways more difficult—than making a portrait of an adult. The usual power dynamic between photographer and subject subtly shifts. I sought out children who seemed to already have fully formed personalities. There is a sense of honesty and directness that cannot otherwise be evoked.