WHAT IS A LIFE WORTH?

January 25, 2022

The answer to that generally depends on two things: whether the life in question is human, and, if it is not, what its value to humans is.

“Value” can mean different things. It can be positive or negative. For example, in many cultures, dogs are valued as pets, while rats are seen as pests. So we are outraged when someone mistreats (or eats!) the former, but will happily poison (or have someone else poison) the latter.

Most of us love wild animals. Love them! But, that love is rather more unconditional for wildlife that causes us no harm - elephants in a faraway country, for example - while we tend to become more ambivalent the more we are personally impacted. Just ask someone whose garden is regularly raided by said elephants. Or, closer to home, by wild boars.

Strangely, even avid conservationists often make a clear distinction between wild and domesticated animals. There are sound ecological arguments for why the survival of a species matters more than individual lives. But what, exactly, is the point of a species surviving if its members are suffering? Why do we value individual agency so much for humans, and to some extent for our pets, but no others? And why, if individual suffering is not unimportant, is a buffalo’s life worth more than a cow’s, a zebra’s more than a donkey’s or a lion’s more than a pig’s?

Obviously, there are pragmatic reasons for various compromises and ways of doing things. At the end of the day, though, all of it is entirely on our terms, with no consent - or even understanding - from any non-human required. Which, practical or not, we should give far more thought than we currently do.

This is Roncas, a 7-year old pig currently living at @quintadalruta_santuarioanimal farm animal sanctuary in Portugal. Going forward, sanctuaries, the animals living there and the people helping them is a topic I will be exploring more when I’m not traveling.

A 2021 highlight: The Guardian publishing a photo essay of my images exposing unsustainable forestry practices in Sweden.

2021 REFLECTIONS

January 15, 2022

It seems only yesterday that we were celebrating the end of a tumultuous 2020 and cautiously anticipating a “return to normal” in 2021. If by “normal” we meant something akin to 2019, then I suspect we’ll be waiting for a long time.

Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. Obviously, there are things I hope we can bid farewell to sooner rather than later, from travel restrictions and lockdowns to full hospitals and crack-pot conspiracy theories.

On the other hand, our sense of normalcy badly needed a shake-up. For too long, “business as usual” has been the go-to mode even when the long-term consequences of doing so will be far more catastrophic for the planet than those of Covid. Something definitely had to give. Was this the jolt we needed? I sure hope so, though it is by no means inevitable.

In many ways, 2020 and 2021 have felt like a single (albeit very long) year, one in which disruptions have been the rule rather than the exception. Obviously, it wasn’t great. Our guided Kenya and Malawi trips were canceled, as were all of my assignments for 2020 and most of those for 2021. Magazine and newspaper budgets were restricted even more than usual.

Still, I find myself grateful, too. Without all the canceled jobs, I doubt I would have turned my attention to the destructions of old-growth forests in my native Sweden. Documenting the shockingly unsustainable forestry practices there - we are clear-cutting forests at a higher rate than Brazil! - has become a major focus for me, and is now my longest-running photography project to date.

Also, as some doors closed, others opened. Despite not being able to travel much, I received more photography awards during the Covid pandemic than during the first nine years of my career combined. I became a regular New York Times contributor, a Sony Imaging Ambassador and a Fellow of the International League of Conservation Photographers. I launched an online print store of some of my favourite photos.

I also got to spend lots of quality time with my family. We moved to Portugal and adopted two rescue dogs - a puppy someone threw in a trash container and a 16-year old who had spent his entire life on a short chain. I made some wonderful new friends. I lost no friends or family members to Covid. And I did get to travel, spending four months on assignment in Namibia and South Africa in mid-2021.

Jess with our two rescue dogs, 16-year old Bruno and 1-year old Ellie.

And now?

I think 2022 will be different. I have a number of exciting assignments coming up, from Bhutan and Tajikistan to Central African Republic and Svalbard - not to mention going back to Sweden, Namibia and South Africa. We are also guiding what promises to be a fantastic safari to South Luangwa for Dazzle Africa in July. Whether these trips all end up happening remains to be seen - the reality of traveling being what it is these days - but, once again, I feel cautiously optimistic.

Cautiously optimistic is also my general outlook regarding the state of our planet. Not because I think we’re on the right track - we really aren’t - but because I think the last two years might just have been the beginning of something that can lead us to that path. Either way, losing hope simply isn’t an option, and I remain convinced that most people would rather be kind than cruel.

In fact, that seems like a great reminder to kick off the new year:

Be kind. Be grateful. Be curious.

Thank you all for your engagement, and for being part of my 2021 journey.

Photographing meerkats in Tswalu, South Africa. Image by Barry Peiser.

GALLERY: BEST OF 2021

January 2, 2022

A small collection of some of my best images from 2021, ranging from wildlife, rangers and researchers in South Africa and Namibia to deforestation in Sweden, hiking in Slovenia and surfers in Portugal.

KINSHIP

December 31, 2021

I have always found it fascinating how reluctant many people are to recognise our kinship with other animals.

Most major religions see us as being apart and above other living creatures, created separately and for a greater purpose. A far cry from the various manifestations of animism all our ancestors once adhered to, but which essentially disappeared as human societies grew larger and religions became more organised, interwoven with other power structures.

Humanism, though admirable in many ways, recognises the evolutionary link between all living things, but nevertheless treats non-human animals as lesser beings, unworthy of the rights we insist that all people should have. It is taken for granted that a human life is more valuable than any other, that we are set apart: there are humans, and then there are other animals, grouped together despite their manifest differences.

Part of this is as natural as it gets. Every species prioritises kin over strangers, after all. But we go further than that, continuing the religious traditions of distancing ourselves from even our closest relatives in order to justify our right to make decisions on their behalf, to have dominion over their lives. We gladly sacrifice billions of animals every year not because we need to for our own survival, but because we enjoy the taste of their flesh or milk. Billions more because we want their body parts for imaginary elixirs, decorations or entertainment, or their habitats for our own use.

Fine. (Though it isn’t fine.) But let us at least be honest about who we are doing this to. We were not created, nor is our intrinsic worth greater just because we were born human. We evolved. Together. A cow, a pig, a dog, a rhinoceros, a gorilla: they are not objects, not “things” to be addressed as “it”, but conscious beings: a he, a she, somebody’s child, mother or father, capable of feeling fear, stress, joy, affection or relief.

Yes, we have transcended evolution with the help of technology. Yes, prioritising our own species is natural. But devaluing the lives of others - and ignoring our kinship to them - is neither worthy, nor necessary.

❤️

FOOTPRINTS

December 30, 2021

“Leave only footprints behind.”

This is a noble concept, but some footprints are considerably larger and deeper than others.

Sweden’s unsustainable forestry industry is a topic I will come back to, often, so I won’t go into too much detail here.

Drone photography was not a part of my repertoire at all until just over a year ago, but is now indispensable for much of my photojournalism work in particular. Aerial images open up our eyes and minds to new and often unexpected perspectives.

PERSPECTIVE

December 29, 2021

So, this happened.

Not recently - it’s been a few years now - but it remains one of the stickier situations I’ve found myself in and, at least in hindsight, a surprisingly fond memory.

In a part of Ethiopia without much in the way of roads or mobile coverage, a friendly business arrangement quickly turned menacing when Muga here decided that he might be able to walk away with considerably more money than the modest fee we had agreed on. (As anyone who has been to the Omo Valley can attest, paying for photography is mandatory.) This was that moment. I took a few shots of Muga pointing his AK at us not because I’m particularly foolhardy, but… Well, it wasn’t going to change the situation anyway, and I thought it might be good to have a few photos of the turn of events. Just in case. And, if all worked out, I might as well be able to illustrate what I presumed would be a memorable story.

The whole situation was simultaneously threatening and slightly ludicrous, as Muga had let our second vehicle leave. In it was another of my friends. Who had photos of Muga on his phone. Some minutes later we pointed this out to Muga, suggesting that trying to extort money from us now was pointless and that the police would know exactly who to look for, but that logic didn’t quite sink in. His attitude remained steadfast: pay, or else. Or else what? I confess I felt fairly certain that he wouldn’t shoot us, but even with good odds, it seemed better to stay put and wait it out.

Waiting it out turned out to be a good choice, in the end. Three hours of 40-degree heat, during which I made an effort to seem completely unbothered by the stand-off by laying down to read a book, took its toll on Muga’s companions. They left one by one, and eventually, he agreed that $20 was sufficient payment to allow us to pass. Lucky for us, as it turned out, because when we finally rejoined the other vehicle, we found out that the local police couldn’t or wouldn’t help without the approval of the regional commander, who unfortunately wasn’t picking up his phone. Maybe tomorrow, they had informed my friend.

A few years later, when I was back in Ethiopia on a different job, my guide from that Muga trip told me that he had run into Muga on a fairly regular basis on other trips to the Omo Valley. Muga had no hard feelings at all and thought this was a very funny story to reminisce about. “Remember that time when I pointed my gun at you and you had to pay me?” Good times, right? Perspective is an interesting thing. Personally, I would love to see Muga again and ask him exactly what went through his mind that day. Something tells me he’d be up for it.

At least for a fee.

ANDRÉ & NDAKASI

December 29, 2021

This is a repost from early October, 2021, just after the death of Ndakasi was announced.

It is with great sadness that we learned of mountain gorilla Ndakasi’s death at Senkwekwe Gorilla Center in Virunga National Park, DRC. She drifted off in André Bauma’s loving arms on September 26th, 2021. André, who rescued her over a decade ago when she was a recently orphaned infant and with whom she remained incredibly close her whole life, always speaks of the center’s orphan gorillas as family. Watching them interact with André and the other caregivers, it was impossible to doubt the truth of those words.

There is much we have to answer for regarding our treatment of one another and our non-human friends and relatives, but the love and care given to Ndakasi and other rescued gorillas and chimpanzees at sanctuaries like Senkwekwe and Lwiro fills me with warmth and hope. Perhaps not of our overall impact, since without us there would be no need for such centers in the first place, but at least for the kindness and compassion we are capable of.

It's a Beautiful World

November 21, 2020

We absolutely need to be conscious of our carbon footprints, and the travel industry has a significant responsibility in that regard. However, I do not think that the answer will be to stop traveling, as much of our understanding of one another is facilitated by actually spending time together. Given the current state of the world - the fact that many of us are living under various degrees of lockdown and with increased levels of anxiety - I thought that a few reminders of the incredible natural beauty and cultural diversity of the world might do us all some good, so that is exactly what I will be sharing with you over the next few weeks and months.

Most of us, regardless of where we’re from, share a curiosity about exotic people and places. Exotic simply means “originating in or characteristic of a distant foreign country“, which essentially means that we’re all exotic to somebody. Discovering new parts of the world, and meeting people with whom I would otherwise never have crossed paths, has largely shaped who I am.

Traveling has sometimes been fun, but sometimes challenging, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes exciting and sometimes exhausting - and yet, always immensely valuable. I’ve been robbed, injured, cheated and threatened. I’ve contracted diseases and I’ve had heated arguments. I’ve seen things that made me cry with sadness and horror.

But I’ve also teared up from seeing places of indescribable beauty, and from witnessing acts of kindness and generosity. I’ve had wonderful encounters with people I would never see again, and I’ve made friends for life (including the woman who would become my wife). I’ve learned as much from my mistakes as from what I’ve gotten right. I’ve shared my story and my experiences, and I’ve listened to those of others. I’ve been constantly reminded that a smile, good intentions and a willingness to step out of one’s comfort zone can overcome pretty much any language barrier or cultural differences. I’m more convinced than ever that there is plenty of beauty and goodness in the world, even if that isn’t always what happens to be trending on Twitter.

While it won’t make Covid go away or replace actual traveling, I thought I’d share a few snapshots from some of the places that I’ve had the privilege of visiting over the past decade - a reminder of that beauty and diversity, and that there is more that binds us together than that separates us. Also, a chance for me to share some of my travel photography, which I don’t normally post so much on social media.

Stay safe, be kind to one another - and don’t lose your curiosity about the world!

*I posted a condensed version of this on Instagram, but with fewer images.

Q & A / Ask Me Anything #1

May 3, 2020

I received hundreds of emails, messages, and comments with questions following my Zambia photo essay & subsequent interview in the New York Times, and have spent a considerable part of the last few weeks answering as many as possible. Although I’ll probably be covering many of these topics in various lives, I thought it might be helpful to have a few of the more common questions - and perhaps a few less common ones - in writing, too. So let’s jump right in!

How did you get noticed? How did you start your photography career?

I figured it would make sense to start from the top, and this is obviously a common question, so here goes.. I started photographing professionally (if we take that to mean as my main activity rather than as my main income - it took me a while to start making money from photography) during my time in the Mara Triangle in 2011, when I was there conducting research for my thesis on wildlife tourism and conservation. I’d dome a bit of photography on and off - mostly off - for years before that, but never to the extent where I actually made much progress. As I mentioned in the interview, my photos really weren’t much good back then. So I tend not to count the time before 2011, even if I have the odd decent image from those years. Luckily I didn’t realize that I wasn’t any good - if I had, I wouldn’t have invested in more and better camera gear before my move to Kenya.

As for getting noticed - well, this is something that often needs to happen more than once for it to be truly helpful, as so it has been with me. I ended up blogging for both Africa and National Geographic early on - that was a case of right time, right place. That helped get me noticed by travel magazines in my native Scandinavia. I was a Wildlife Photographer of the Year finalist in 2015 - that, too, opened a few new doors. One thing tends to lead to another, and often you don’t know until much later which meeting or event will end up making a difference. Personal relationships certainly matter. My collaboration with NYT came about because I met and became friends with a wonderful travel writer several years ago in Uganda - we were on a media trip with the Gorilla Highlands initiative - and when he (he does have a name, I should add - Henry Wismayer) had a story pitch accepted by NYT Travel about a year and a half ago, I was the photographer he wanted on the job. If I can give any advice, it is that in addition to being good at your job, getting noticed for being a nice person is far better than the opposite, both for future opportunities and your general level of life satisfaction.

What was your most terrifying moment while photographing?

I don’t get rattled very easily, even when things get a bit too exciting. But back in 2014, when - having already had three lenses break on a 3-month trip to Africa - the strap on my backpack snapped at the airport in Addis. The bag crashed to the floor, and denting my 500mm lens. That wasn’t a fun flight home…

Have you ever photographed tse tse flies? Or other insects?

Hmm. Well, I normally try to stay away from tsetse flies. I do enjoy photographing some small creatures though - spiders, butterflies, dragonflies, bees. If I’m somewhere promising, then I’ll often go for a walk with a macro lens and a flash, especially at night, but I don’t necessarily choose my destinations specifically for this. I’m generally a fairly opportunistic photographer - I enjoy photographing lots of things and take whatever comes my way. Right now, in quarantine in Portugal and no lens for bird photography, that means getting artsy with the local flora.

What advice would you give to a new photographer, just starting out, who wants to pursue travel and wildlife photography?

My main advice is always to start local. Let’s assume you live in the US somewhere, although it doesn’t really matter. First, photographing near your home likely to be less crowded than, say, going to Kruger to photograph lions. I mean that in two ways: literally crowded, of course, but also crowded in the sense that you’re competing against everyone else who is also photographing lions, and that will include some of the world’s top wildlife photographers. Second, it means a smaller investment on your part (less travel). Third, it means you can revisit places, give yourself multiple chances to take images you’re after, photograph in different weather and different seasons. Fourth, it’s a matter of perspective. When we think of travel photography, we tend to think about where we want to go. To develop as a photographer and a storyteller, focus on where you are - which is still “elsewhere” to everyone who doesn’t live there.

I’m concerned about the impact of the pandemic on the animals — with fewer tourists and the camps shut down, will the poachers move in?

Yes, I do think we’ll be seeing a huge impact, in numerous ways. Both because funding runs out for actual conservation operations, and because, as you say, camps will close, potentially leaving many people without any source of income. And in both cases it means fewer people moving around in protected areas, making it less risky for poachers to be there. This crisis is highlighting the potential pitfall of so much conservation work is a) dependent on tourism for funding and b) limited in scope, meaning that we need numerous organizations and initiatives to survive and thrive in the same area, because they all work with different questions. Organizations like African Parks are in that sense better suited to difficult times such as these, because they a) don’t rely on tourism for funding and b) take a systems-based approach, covering everything from anti-poaching and security to education and health care. So yes, challenging times ahead - and this does raise interesting questions about the financing of conservation operations, and how we might have to rethink this approach.

How did you initially start out with funding for your travel? Did you apply for grants?

You know, I’ve never actually applied for any grants, which is a bit silly. But I confess I wouldn’t know where to start. I first started taking photography seriously while I was doing my thesis research, and that I did have some grants for, and I spent a long time organizing to conduct it in the Mara Triangle. But I used my own money to buy a Land Cruiser, and then to finance the following year’s travels around Africa. (I’d worked around 10-20 hours a week throughout my undergraduate degree in Australia.) Early on my focus was always to minimize costs rather than to make money, and that also allowed me to focus on what I wanted to photograph rather than what I thought would sell.

You have some wonderful photos of people that really capture their personalities and humanity. What is your process for taking these? Do you first spend time developing relationships with them?

Yes, absolutely. It might not be true for every single photograph - I have a few that were either taken at a distance or under circumstances where forming a relationship with the person I photographed simply wasn’t possible. For the most part, though, the connection is definitely important. But forming a relationship? I suppose that’s a fairly broad term, and it depends. What I’ve had to learn over the years is how to connect with someone - how to disarm them, as it were - very quickly, so that even a quick meeting can result in a meaningful interaction and, hopefully, photograph. This is one of the reasons I enjoy working in rural sub-Saharan Africa so much. Despite the many diverse cultures, there are also common traits that suit me quite well. Dignity and respect is important, but so is a sense of humor. As a visitor, you always receive respect, so it’s important to show it, too. But if it’s smiles you’re after, the first person to do something silly - to step away from the serious demeanor - needs to be you. Although, of course, you also need to read the situation - silliness is definitely not always called for.

NY Times, Seeing Zambia's Magnificent Wildlife & How to Help

April 18, 2020

Hi everyone - greetings from week 5 (or is it week 6?) of house quarantine in Portugal, where our two-week visit to my parents has been extended to at least three months. Still, despite inconveniences such as canceled trips and assignments and a largely uncertain future - compared to what many people are going through, Jess and I are totally fine. And although this was meant to happen this spring at some point anyway, so many people being confined to their homes meant that the New York Times rushed through one of my photo essays as the first part of their ‘the World Through the Lens’ series of virtual travel inspiration. You can find the full selection of images (and some lovely comments) here, and this is the print version:

I have to say, I loved all the interaction - hundreds of comments, dozens of emails - that was the result of the Zambia article, and I’ve been asked to join NYTimes Travel editor Amy Virshup for a 45-minute live video interview and audience Q&A. However, there are a few things I suspect we might not be able to discuss in any great detail during that session, but that I still want to be able to refer to, and that’s what this blogpost is for.

I’m glad people are discovering Zambia, albeit virtually for the moment. Like many other places, Zambia’s protected areas are going to be in for a rough time this year, as a lot of the conservation and community work being done is funded either directly or indirectly through tourism. It’s important to note that while many places might do well with a break from tourism, that primarily applies to areas that don’t rely on tourism.

Let’s start with Zambia as a travel destination though. I absolutely love Zambia - it (and specifically South Luangwa) was where I had my first African adventure as an adult, camping high up in a tree for three weeks, watching baboons and elephants walk below my tent on a daily basis. Since then I’ve stayed in so many great camps and lodges, so if you want to put together your own trip, the easiest thing for me to do is to point you toward my good friend Mario Voss at Hidden Gems of Zambia, a Zambia-based travel agent / ground handler. Mario grew up in Ghana and has spent his entire adult life living in the Zambian bush, and we’ve had quite a few adventures together over the years.

However, if you’re keen to travel with Jess and me then there is now an option for that, too. As a result of the Zambia article, we were contacted by Dazzle Africa, a non-profit travel outfit specializing on South Luangwa, and a few days ago they launched a 12-day Mindful Safari Adventure during which Jess and I will run regular photography, yoga and mindfulness sessions - in addition to co-guiding the trip. You can read more about this unique trip on our Mindful Adventures website.

Now let’s focus on how you can support the Luangwa from home. How can you do that? Well, actually, booking a safari DOES help, because even if you’re not traveling now, the money you pay can be used to cover salaries, which puts food on the table, which reduces the incentive for local families to resort to snaring wild animals. Both the Department of National Parks and Wildlife and many of the non-profits listed below are largely financed by tourism. But beyond that, you can, of course, support these fantastic conservation organizations directly, with donations. I will only link to ones I have worked with myself, whose reputation is impeccable, and/or for whom Mario, or someone else whose judgment I trust completely, has vouched. So, in alphabetical order, here are a few options:

1. African Parks - of the 17 protected areas African Parks manage, two are in Zambia: Liuwa Plains and Bangweulu Wetlands. African Parks use a systems-based approach, from park management and conservation research to anti-poaching, community engagement, education, and healthcare.

2. Chipembele Wildlife Education Trust - conservation education & scholarships for Zambian children and communities

3. COMACO - supporting wildlife conservation and small-scale farmers in eastern Zambia

4. Conservation South Luangwa - protecting the wildlife and habitats of the South Luangwa ecosystem

5. North Luangwa Conservation Programme - protecting Zambia’s only black rhinos and largest elephant population

6. Wildlife Crime Prevention - undercover work & intelligence to disrupt the illegal wildlife trade

7. Zambian Carnivore Programme - conserving Zambia’s carnivores and the habitats they live in

These are all incredible organizations with passionate, dedicated staff, and they could really use your support in what will be a very tough year for many of them. As always, if you have any questions, you’re more than welcome to send me an email.

Peace, Love & Understanding (kind of)

February 18, 2020

It’s been a busy but wonderful start to the year, with three weeks in Kenya followed by a two-week trip to Swedish Lapland – a region Jess and I have fallen head over heels for. It’s such a beautiful place, and it’s right up our alley (albeit an alley it takes 15 hours or so to reach by car): untouched, wide-open spaces, beautiful forests and mountains, very distinct seasons (snow!), and very few people.

Watching the sunset in Pajala, Swedish Lapland.

But some of the issues we’ve come across in my native Sweden have given me a lot to think about – mainly concerning what we’re willing to do ourselves versus what we expect others to do, and how quick we are to judge one another.

There are plenty of wild animals in Sweden; we have a few hundred wolves (mostly in central part of the country), and there are bears, wolverines, lynx and moose. But as someone used to working in Africa, it’s all pretty relaxing. If I go for a walk, I don’t need to constantly check the ground for tracks, or look over my shoulder for buffaloes, elephants or lions. The last time someone was killed by wild wolves in Sweden? More than 200 years ago!

Bears are actually more dangerous than wolves, although it’s usually easy enough to avoid contact.

Wolverines, like lions, hyenas and leopards in Africa, will often kill livestock (including reindeer) if given the opportunity.

Despite this, the predator debate in Sweden is massive – and massively heated – with lots of people arguing passionately against a growing wolf population. And even many of those who want wolves, don’t really want them where they live. We’ve become so used to a convenient, comfortable life, that we instinctively lash out at the thought of something that makes us feel afraid.

And yet, we fully expect other people to live in far more perilous situations. Many of the people who don’t want wolves in their own neighbourhoods would be incensed at the idea of a highway through the Serengeti, and certainly don’t want rhinos, leopards and giraffe to have to make way for farmland, livestock and villages. When news about retaliatory killings of wild animals in Kenya or a poaching incident in Zambia is posted on social media, the outrage knows no bounds. The animals were there first! Humans are awful!

Bushmeat for sale outside Odzala National Park in Congo-Brazzaville.

I think we really need to be more mindful of how we judge others. We can understand and empathize with someone’s position without approving of or agreeing with their views and actions. This goes for virtually every aspect of life, of course, but it certainly applies to questions like wildlife conservation, which tend to give rise to a lot of strong emotions. You can never fully know what someone has gone through, or is going through, and what led them to make certain choices, but it certainly helps to try to imagine yourself in their shoes. Can someone living in a city in western Europe or the US truly imagine not only what it’s like to have potentially deadly animals lurking in the dark just beyond your home, threatening both lives and livelihoods, but also to suspect that both your own government and people elsewhere in the world value the lives of those animals higher than they do yours?

Kamunu Saitoti was once a famed lion hunter but is today a proud member of Lion Guardians, a project designed to mitigate human-predator conflicts in Kenya and Tanzania. After half a lifetime of hatred of the big cats, followed by years of indiffere… — Kamunu Saitoti was once a famed lion hunter but is today a proud member of Lion Guardians, a project designed to mitigate human-predator conflicts in Kenya and Tanzania. After half a lifetime of hatred of the big cats, followed by years of indifference, he now says he feels about the lions where he lives the same way as he does about his livestock - high praise indeed from a Maasai.

This isn’t to say that we should condone the killing of wildlife, or the destruction of natural habitats. Not at all. My own position is clear: we absolutely have to find ways to coexist with wildlife. But as with so many other things, we can’t expect others to do what we’re not willing to do ourselves, and we shouldn’t be setting different standards for Sweden and Kenya (at least not in this respect). And we can certainly show one another more empathy, and greater understanding. The world is in a bit of a mess, if you hadn’t noticed, and becoming increasingly angry and upset probably won’t help setting it right again.

Co-existence is what we must aim for - but being judgemental about the mistakes we make along the way won’t help us get there any faster.

Best of 2019

December 28, 2019

Inspired by my friend and fellow photographer Max Waugh, whom I met in London at Wildlife Photographer of the Year (where he won the black and white category with a stunning photograph from Yellowstone), now that the year is coming to an end I thought I would share some of my favourite images - and moments - of 2019.

The year started, unusually, with an entire month spent in Sweden, which obliged us by providing plenty of snow and ice - during which I didn’t actually photograph much, often opting to leave the camera at home. But time spent in Sweden is never time wasted.

February and March took me on a 6-week African odyssey: to Ethiopia and Djibouti with brilliant writer Henry Wismayer on behalf of New York Times Travel, where we had the cover story in April (by which time the train we were writing about had stopped running), to Benin to document Penjari National Park for African Parks, which normally means a large focus on rangers and community projects, and finally to Rwanda to do spend time in their three national parks together with the Gorilla Highlands crew, in partnership with African Parks, and the Rwanda Development Board.

I spent most of April, as well as three weeks in July and August, in Malawi, guiding trips together with Jessica and photographing for a number of small, grass-roots projects (and an upcoming magazine feature). Malawi certainly deserves its tourism slogan “the warm heart of Africa”, and it remains one of my favourite places in Africa for this very reason, although it’s also vastly underestimated as a nature-and-wildlife destination. We plan to run more trips here from 2021 onwards - something we’re already looking forward to, because Malawi is also just a lot of FUN!

But between those Malawi trips I also managed to squeeze in a couple of weeks in central Kenya, in and around Laikipia, doing a feature story on human-elephant conflict mitigation and land degradation for bioGraphic together with the wonderful Susan Moran. This also provided a great opportunity to revisit Lewa Wildlife Conservancy for the first time since 2012!

Late in August I got to fulfil a longtime travel dream: Mongolia. Once again I joined forces with Henry, doing articles for Wall Street Journal and Wanderlust, as well as a travel article for my longtime Swedish magazine-client, Vagabond. I loved Mongolia - the vast spaces, the colours, the hospitality, and the - I don’t think there’s a better word to describe it - otherworldliness of it all.

Early September meant Botswana together with Jess, spending two weeks mainly at Natural Selection’s newest lodge in Khwai Private Reserve, Tuludi, as well as a few of their other properties: Hyena Pan and Sky Beds. We made some great friends, enjoyed lots of time with elephants, lions, and - most exciting for both of us, I think - wild dogs. We also launched a YouTube channel (subscribe! subscribe!), so much of our time was spent working out the finer details of videography (and, in Jessica’s case, video editing).

From Maun I headed across to Windhoek and Onguma Private Reserve, adjacent to Etosha National Park, for three weeks of wildlife photography. Selecting just a few photograph from this trip was a bit of a challenge, with the cheetah cubs in particular - but unsurprisingly - proving themselves to be excellent models. The giraffes gave them a pretty good run for their money though.

I left just as the heat was starting to become unbearable, popping over to London for Wildlife Photographer of the Year and the Remembering Lions book launch. I didn’t even bring a camera to London (!), but this photo, from China, is in the running for the Lumix People’s Choice Award: feel free to give it a vote (until February 4th)!

We’re almost there, I promise! After London I joined Jess in India, where she was just about finished with her second Yoga Teacher Training of the year. We started out in cyclone-hit Goa, and spent a hot and humid - but colourful! - month making our way south through Karnataka and Kerala.

A chat with fellow Remembering Lions contributor Sarah Skinner in London led to a somewhat spontaneous drive up to the far north of Sweden, some 15 hours from Stockholm. And Lapland, we fell in love with you! The weather was so-so, the Aurora only showed up once, but we were in our element nevertheless, and are planning to return just as soon as we get back from Kenya, where we’ll spend the first few weeks of 2020. It’s been a tumultuous year in many ways, but we’re as happy and in love as ever, and plan to make 2020 the best one yet - with considerably less time apart, and more time exploring Sweden. We’ll also lead a couple of yoga adventures to Kenya, so if immersing yourself in Maasai culture while reconnecting with yourself and nature sounds like something you’d enjoy, head on over to Mindful Adventures. See you next year!

Introductions

December 27, 2019

There is something unnerving about writing the first blog post on a new website. So I thought, why not use it to write all the things a proper biography does not or cannot contain, but which would no doubt help paint a more complete picture of who I am? While some of you have been following me for years, others are here for the first time, having just heard of me. Some of you know me well, others not at all. So, in no particular order, this is me.

I’m Swedish. I love picking flowers. I’ve always liked animals, sometimes a little too much; when I was a toddler I got stung by a wasp because I tried to pet it. I also nearly choked to death on a grape. I can never decide what my favorite color is. Also, I’m colorblind. I’m a somewhat accidental photographer - when I decided I wanted to become one I was actually pretty awful at it, but luckily I didn’t realize that until I’d improved significantly. Honestly, it’s pretty embarrassing to see what I based my self-assessment on ten years ago. I find foraging for mushrooms in Swedish forests very meditative. I’ve had malaria, but only once. My wife is just... wow. I’m very, very lucky. It’s pretty incredible to always go to bed knowing that if anything, you’ll be even more in love when you wake up. I have read the 7-book Masters of Rome series, some 5,000 pages, at least 5 or 6 times. And I think Harry Potter is pretty great, too. I have been to 70+ countries, and am always up for new adventures, but absolutely love being back in Sweden. I’ve run outside naked in the middle of the night to photograph lions, which wasn’t a terribly good idea. I enjoy cooking. Also saunas and skinny dipping. My parents are amazing, and it’s from them I’ve learned to value integrity so highly. Few things make me as angry as seeing them being treated unfairly. I find spiders fascinating, but also a little freaky, and can never quite get myself to be comfortable handling them.

I value critical, rational thinking. I sometimes wake up full of anxiety, worried that nothing I have planned will work out and that I don’t have much of a Plan B. But I’m generally a solution-based person, and something usually does work out. I love the sound of rain, and thunder. I prefer cliffs to beaches, lakes to oceans. I firmly believe that no dish is complete without mushrooms - except perhaps ice cream, and cinnamon buns. I don’t drink alcohol, but coffee is definitely growing on me. I have tiny ears, and they’re ridiculously sensitive to the cold. I like to think I’m wiser than I sometimes act. Cities and crowds make me tired. I have two very impressive sisters, who both found lovely partners, and I have one ridiculously adorable niece. I have a very strong sense of self-worth, and of right and wrong. Condescension and patronising attitudes make me furious, and I don’t tend to stick around if I don’t feel like I’m being valued as I should be. I am pretty sure a chimpanzee gave me parasites by kissing me. I scored top marks on my thesis, but I suspect that nobody other than the markers ever read it, and I never went back to my academic career after handing it in. I’m a flexitarian, and very okay with that. In fact, I’m pretty good at a lot of sustainability habits, but not great at any.

“I was once held up at gunpoint by an over-zealous goat herder in Ethiopia for three hours, but the only time that I have really feared for my life was during a storm in a tiny boat in the Solomon Islands.”

I love playing badminton, but have a habit of overdoing it and incapacitating myself for several days every time I do. I’m not sure if I’m either a morning or an evening person – how about a when-the-sun-is-up person? I’m truly awful at remembering people’s names. The only time since 2006 I’ve had any kind of normal employment was working in an outdoor gear store while studying in Tasmania, 2008-2010. I hate crumbs/sand/dirt in bed. I love dogs, but not dog hair. I would like to make mindfulness a bigger part of my everyday life. I’ve been peed on by wild gorillas. The fact that bananas are berries, and raspberries aren’t, is interesting, but probably not terribly important. As comfortable as I am in nature, I still feel uncomfortable being in the forest after dark – presumably because of childhood stories of trolls and witches rather than anything rational. For the same reason, I always feel slightly uneasy swimming across dark lakes, even when I know there’s nothing there to worry about. I like mountains, and I enjoy being atop them, but can’t say I tend to enjoy hiking up them, especially at altitude. I’m constantly annoyed about having to smuggle my (always too heavy) hand luggage onto airplanes when there are other passengers who clearly weigh much more than I do.

I’m not sure if I worry too much about the future, or not enough. I love hugs. Not a huge fan of heights though. Or pesky insects – flies, fleas, ticks and mosquitoes can perish for all I care, although I guess that would probably doom the planet somehow. I often feel like I’m trying to catch up, that my to-do list never gets any shorter. I’ve never tried any psychedelics but am very curious about their potential impacts on human wellbeing. I’m pretty sure a baboon stole my first iPhone. I find it very difficult to understand how anyone can take religion and religious texts seriously to the extent of questioning rationality, science and critical thought – I feel very strongly that nothing should be considered sacred in the sense of not being susceptible to revision based on new and better evidence. I like ABBA and the Mamma Mia movies, and not just because I’m Swedish. I wish money wasn’t necessary, but since it is, I wish I had more of it. No matter how fulfilling my life is or has been, I still won’t want to die. I’m a terrible musician, singer and actor, but a decent cook, driver, and putter-together of IKEA furniture.

I’m a very loyal friend. I once walked over 70km with an ankle the size of a tennis ball. I have zero tolerance for smoking, and while I have no issue with alcohol, I find drunkenness very tiresome. I’ve peed in a lot of wetsuits (but then, who hasn’t?). I like watching clouds – they make me feel appropriately small. I own seven DSLRs (four of which I actually use) and at least 12 lenses, the total cost of which I’d rather not think about. I find frogs, snakes and chameleons beautiful, while rhinos – majestic as they are – tend to be a bit… not so exciting to spend time with. There is definitely such a thing as bad pizza. Monty Python is very, very funny. There’s an awful lot of white in my beard these days. I sometimes wish I didn’t have to go out into the world at all, but the feeling normally doesn’t last. I can’t for the life of me understand how Instagram works. But I do love reading and responding to comments, messages and emails – they add a vital human element to this digital life – so, by all means, keep them coming.