Please explore the project galleries below depicting Afghanistan, War Gardens, The Not Dead, Gaza and Bangladesh. If you would like to use the images online or buy any limited edition signed prints please get in touch.
All images ©LalageSnow
A selection of images taken in Afghanistan during the 2001-2014 conflict.
All images ©LalageSnow
A female police officer poses in her checkpoint office in Kabul, 2014
Children from a family from Helmand in a refugee camp in Kabul 2014
Women outside the Blue Mosque in Mazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan 2012.
Prayer in Herat’s Friday Mosque, Afghanistan 2013
A woman waits for gynaecological treatment in a maternal health centre, Mazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan 2013
One of the first intakes of women into the Afghan National Army prepare for weapon’s training, Kabul 2011.
Quallamudein, the former Taliban head of vice and virtue in his home in Kabul 2010 who warned the government about admitting women into the Afghan Army.
A mother and child in a maternal health centre, Mazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan, 2012
A farmer during a drought in Jowzjhan, Afghanistan 2012
A mother and son await treatment in the Medecins Sans Frontieres hospital in Lashkar Gah, Helmand, Afghanistan 2010. An estimated 2,800 Afghan civilians were killed in the year.
A boy receives medical treatment in the Medecins Sans Frontieres after being caught in the crossfire between soldiers and Taliban fighters in Helmand, Afghanistan 2010. An estimated 2,800 Afghan civilians were killed in the year.
A suspected member of the Taliban receives treatment after an amputation in the MSF hospital, Helmand, Afghanistan 2010.
A soldier from 3/5 US Marine Corps on patrol in Sangin, Afghanistan 2011.
The sun sets after a church service in FOB Jackson, Sangin, Helmand, Afghanistan 2011 where the United States Marine Corps was then based.
A fire fight between 3/5 US Marines and the Taliban, Sangin, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, 2010
Soldiers from 3.5 US Marines share cigarettes after a fire fight in Sangin, Helmand Province, Afghanistan. 2010
Medics from 3/5 US Marine Corps try to save the life of a teenage boy who stepped on an Improvised Explosive Device in Sangin, Afghanistan, 2010. An estimated 2,800 Afghan civilians were killed in the year.
A US soldier is stretched in after being injured during a firefight in Sangin, Afghanistan 2010.
A British soldier phones home from the frontlines of Nad-e-Ali, Helmand, Afghanistan 2010
Afghan soldiers cool off after a patrol in the Sangin canal, Helmand, Afghanistan 2011.
Afghan police investigate the body of a man they suspected was killed by coalition forces in Helmand, Afghanistan, 2010. An estimated 2,800 Afghan civilians were killed in the year.
A woman reveals her suffering, Mazar-e-SHARIF, AFGHANISTAN 2013
Hamid Karzai, president of Afghanistan from 2002-2014 sips tea in a drawing room in the presidential palace in Kabul, Afghanistan, 2013.
Man on a bus, Herat, Afghanistan 2012
Two female US Marine soldiers prepare for a patrol through Sangin, Afghanistan, 2012.
View over Helmand, Afghanistan, 2010
Police and bystanders at a take shelter at a checkpoint in Kabul amidst a rainstorm, 2011.
A grandmother, mother and daughter in the burns unit of Herat hospital, Afghanistan 2012. The mother aged 14 (centre) had deliberately burned her child in an attempt to upset her mother-in-law (left) who had been physically and psychologically abusing her upon marriage to her son. Systemic abuse within complex familial frameworks is common in traditional families across the country and can last for generations.
Horsemen of a buskashi match on the outskirts of Kabul, 2011. Buskashi, the national sport of Afghanistan, involves horse mounted players score goals with a goat or sheep carcass.
War Gardens is a journey through the darkest places of the modern world, revealing the ways people make time and space for themselves and for nature even in the middle of destruction..
The images and subsequent book examine the oases of peace people create in the midst of war. From Afghanistan to Ukraine to Gaza and the West Bank, conflict is as contagious and poisonous as Japanese knotweed. Living through it are people just like us with ordinary jobs, ordinary pressures and ordinary lives. Against a new landscape of horror and violence it is up to them to maintain a modicum of normality and colour. For some, gardening is the way to achieve this.
Discovering these gardens was a testimony to the triumph of the human spirit in adversity, a celebration of hope and beauty.
If you would like to buy the book click here
Khalil watering his roses in the old quarter of Kabul, Afghanistan 2017. He has lived in his family home since he was born and seen governments come and go. But his garden remains steadfast.
Hamidullah, a student, in his family’s garden in Parwan, Afghanistan, 2017. ‘I had a friend who was killed by the Taliban,’ he says. He was like a brother to me but I tried to forget him. When I could not, I planted a flower to remember him.’
Zleikha, Hebron, West Bank, 2016: Thirty years ago this was a safe, open place. But things started to change when they built the first settlement. Then they shut the main road, al Shuhada street and locked our front doors effectively creating an apartheid. Occasionally we have permits to come and go but for the most part, we aren’t allowed to use the road. We have cages on our balconies now for protection against them; the settlers used to climb up our walls into our homes or throw rocks at us. With the cages they can’t hit us and it’s safe enough to grow my plants there. I couldn’t live in a place without plants.
Molly, Kiryat Arbaa Settlement, West Bank, 2016: I came from the US because it’s easier to be Jewish here. The only thing I miss is the warm rain and the size of the trees we have there.
My son and grand son were killed on the road a few years ago. They were driving and some Arabs were throwing stones from their cars. One of the stones went clean through the windshield and killed him. The car veered off the road and they found my grandson in the wreckage too. It’s hard, losing a son, a child. Gardening became really important to me then. I feel so sad but in the garden I’m filled with sunshine. It really helped with my grief.
Mohammad, Kalandia Refugee Camp, West Bank, 2016: The garden used to be my strength when I was under house arrest for fighting the occupation. What would you do if I tried to take your shoes or your blouse? You’d fight me off wouldn’t you? Now I live in this camp in the West Bank but my heart and soul still belong to my land on the other side of Jerusalem. Why should I be a refugee in my own country? Being outside gives you a sense of joy but since my son was killed I’ve let it go. He tried to stab an Israeli soldier in Jerusalem. The army came here, ransacked the house, put a demolition order on it and now we wait. He is dead, they will demolish my house and they have stolen my land.
Ezri, Yitzhar Settlement, West Bank, 2016: Every morning I come out onto the veranda with a cigarette and a coffee and I thank god that I’m here. A garden makes your heart grow, it gives you the feeling that you want to spread out. Each plant needs to be in the right place, if you put a plant where it’s not meant to be it wont grow as well. That’s how I look at the diaspora of Jews. We kept our roots here but its only now that we’re coming back that things able to grow.
We’re hated here as the world thinks of us as the main problem of the world. The struggle hasn’t finished, the fact that we are here makes it worth it. You have to have faith that it’s worth it.
Hani Amir, Mas’ha, West Bank 2016: My house and garden are surrounded on all sides by the security wall which they built in 2003. They uprooted my trees with bulldozers and honestly, it felt like they were uprooting me. They destroyed the nursery where I grew plants to sell and they try to make my life intolerable. Settlers and soldiers will often come in the dead of night and threaten us, throw stones and trample all over my land. I am angry that they have treated nature so badly.
Without this garden I feel I don’t exist. It represents me and my life. I don’t know if I’m living my life correctly, if I’m right in staying here, surrounded by settlements and that wall but I do know that this garden belongs to me.
Schloma, Shave Shomon Settlement in Nablus, West Bank 2016: My parents came here after the holocaust – his own family were killed at Auschwitz. When we first arrived here there was no infrastructure and we didn’t have a garden, just a house. We made it in stages; first the fence, then the trees, vines and then the flowers. I had greenhouses and was exporting birds of paradise flowers to a supermarket in the UK. But then there was a spike in anti-Semitism and people stopped buying Israeli products. I suffered a great deal. Land is my breath and my soul. I had to give it up and started to work with wood instead. So this garden is important to me. I grow roses, vegetables, flowers, and use the tools inherited from my parents and grandparents.
Mikhail, Sderot, Israel, 2013: Sderot absorbed about 10,000 rockets from 2006-2010 but this is where I wanted to live and Hamas was not going to stop me. My garden is a sort of resistance. Itʼs a therapy too. Garden therapy is something we should all be doing.
Mohammed, Wadi Fukin Farm below the settlement of Bettar Illit, West Bank 2016: They built on the hill and we’re surrounded. I don’t like it conceptually, visually and nor do I like the people up there. They do what they like but it’s our land. And we can’t do anything. Sometimes they come down to swim in the springs which are sacred to them. They just take their clothes off in front of my family and swim naked. It’s insulting.
But this is our land, it feeds us and is as important to me as life is.
Sylvia, Better Illit Settlement, West Bank, 2016: When I was young we lived in Romania and they were communists and then the Germans came and, well let’s just say we didn’t have a good time. We moved to Canada and then here. I used to walk in the valley below but tried to avoid the arabs. There’s a village of them down there and some of them work for us and are quite nice to us because they know if they misbehave, they’ll feel it. Some people are afraid of them but I respect them and they’re tame with me. But you never know with Arabs; they might stab you in the back. But if it wasn’t for us, they wouldn’t have such good lives now.
The pots on my balcony make me happy, it’s not a garden like I had in Canada but it will do for now. I’m just grateful we now have a land to walk in.
Este, Carmel Settlement, West Bank, 2016: Land? I can only talk about it in the context of gardening, you understand? Land is space, space energises. I need to feel space and energy around me. I can’t be in crowded places and I need to be surrounded by nature.
Fayez Taneeb, Tulkaram, West Bank, 2016: This is a self-sustained productive farm. They tried to take the land and stop us several times. I’ve been arrested, beaten, buried, had the farm deemed as a military zone you name it. After years of resistance they gave up and let us plant and farm. God created us from the soil and we bury our dead in the soil. You can’t get much more of a stronger link between man and land. We rise from it and sink back to it. It is the real part of your life.
Bracha, Ma’ale Efrayim Settlement, West Bank, 2016: There was nothing here when we arrived, just empty houses. No plants or anything so we started to plant roses and grass and for a while the garden looked nice but they both need water and the roses died so in the end, we decided to plant the succulents in pots – the soil in the ground is too poor.
Ayed Morrar, Boudros, West Bank 2016: Freedom is better than food and drink because here - there’s always someone who has the right to stop an search you and interrogate you and arrest you. That feeling that you can’t control your own live, it affects your mind. We are not masters of our land. We can’t build a life without freedom and after freedom comes peace.
Ofer, a bonsai specialist, Jerusalem Botanical Gardens, 2016: I work with ancient olive trees salvaged from the West Bank. The trees were in poor condition when I got them and it was a challenge to get them into a good shape and how to build composition into something that is essentially just a stick.
Each tree tells a story – The fact that trees swallow themselves whole once a year. There is something in that perpetuity, it’s like an echo. Looking at the rings of a tree is like going back in time; sometimes you might find a charred layer 300 years ago and you think why was the tree on fire? It is telling you a story about its past and makes you focus on the here and now but makes you feel mortal at the same time.
Jaqui, Zikim Kibbutz, Israel 2013: We had five or so Qassam (rockets) land recently, and they make good flowerpots, don’t you think? The hardliners, Hamas, they say “Go home, go back to where you came from.” What does that even mean? My grandfather was killed in Auschwitz, my mother was hidden away in a French convent as a little girl. We’ve always been a people who have had to move around. It doesn’t make any sense when they say, “Go home”. We are home’.
Isra in her father’s hydroponic rooftop garden, Gaza 2013: War for us is so normal now, we learn to accept it but living is hard. People all over the city with a high roof sometimes see this garden and try to copy it. We might not have land but at least we can farm like our ancestors. I love to come up here and study with my books; it is calm and peaceful. War destroys our dreams, more than anything else.
Shlomo Nir Am Kibbutz, Israel, 2016: We built a nation out of other bits of the world after the holocaust. I was sent to the Kibbutz from Argentina. I think they made a mistake but I have no reason to go back; this is my homeland now. This is the promised land of Abraham and we are the sinew.
I once dreamt that I met Arafat and his ministers in my garden. We ate potatoes and herbs together, and I said we can make peace but they just shook their heads. The situation will never change. The garden is cheaper than psychotherapy.
Naif Dubaidi, Jabalyia, Gaza 2013: My garden used to be a magical place. It was destroyed in the war in 2009. We heard the shells land. Thud, thud, thud. They had left deeps holes and sand and earth had piled up two metres high against the back wall.
I rebuilt immediately but what you see now is nothing to what was here before. When I see plants and flowers it feeds my soul. There is so much poverty, so little laughter and so much suffering here, but here’s no suffering in my garden.
Anonymous, NIr Am Kibbutz, Israel, 2013: My daughter was murdered a few years ago by her boyfriend. I think if you have tragedy in your life, other things don’t matter so much. Life is different when you lose a child. Maybe that’s why we’re not afraid.
I used to have a garden full of flowers and trees and greenery but it was too much hard work so I plant things in the rocket shells. I don’t know, it keeps you a little bit sane doesn’t it?
Hassan Abu Dagar, Khan Younis, Gaza: We are 500 metres from the border so sometimes they (the Israeli military) shoot rockets because they think weʼre tunnelling. I am afraid for my children - when they start crying I donʼt know what to do. We have an area outside with a kitchen and we grow a few things. Itʼs not safe, but itʼs out of sight of the snipers. Psychologically I suppose itʼs safe
Esti, Kfar Azar Kibbutz, Israel 2013: Gaza is just a few kilometers away and so we have bomb shelters but really, the garden is my safe place. I feel like nothing can hurt me there. Just look at the colours – how can that not make you happy and relaxed. I want peace and quiet and I think people in Gaza want that too. They are good people.
If women were the leaders, if we were in power. I donʼt think there wouldn't be this problem. Women don't fight, men fight.
A rose grows from the rubble of a house in Simonovka, Eastern Ukraine, 2014.
Igor, Simonovka, Eastern Ukraine 2014: I’m picking flowers for my mother. We lived like moles in the basement when the Russian rebels took over and the shelling started. Then we fled. They’ve gone but our house has been completely destroyed and she is tidying up what she can.
Alexi, Donetsk 2014: This was my grandmother’s house - I used to play here in the green buggy when I was three - but now am preparing the house for when I get married. I hear the shelling coming closer at night. Ukrainian fighting Ukrainian is madness. I don’t want to live in a country where we are killing each other but this is my home and these are my memories so where else am i expected to go?
Alexandra, Simonovka, Eastern Ukraine 2014: When the shelling started I mostly lived in the cellar or about a month and survived off eggs from my hens and strawberries from my garden. I thought I would die in there and used to speak to god all the time. There are mines and unexploded ordinance in my garden and I’m still frightened. But I have to rebuild my house and garden. It’s everything I worked for in my life.
Helena, Donetsk 2014: ‘There are hardly any people left in Donetsk right now. I’m scared, yes, I’m scared. Gardening doesn’t relax me but it makes me think of hope when I see something growing.’
Lupvov, Simonovka, a village used as a rebel checkpoint for six weeks. Ukraine 2014: These beans that I harvest, and the dill there is all I have left. I will sell at market – it’s not enough for my whole life but I sell it so I can buy things for my grand children and children like biscuits. What would you do?
All that remains of Victor and Lupvov’s small holding in Simonovka, Ukraine’s Donbass, 2014. ‘We used to live off everything we grew here and sell surplus produce to passers by. We have nothing now - just these peppers’
Alexandra, Donetsk, 2014: ‘I have worked in the city rose gardens for 13 years and even though the city is almost empty because of the war, the roses still need tending.’
Sayed Habibullah’s garden in FOB Lashkar Gah, 2013. ‘The foreign soldiers based here, when they want to relax or are tired or want to speak with their friends, they come here to relax after their work and it makes me happy to see them chatting. Everyone needs green space and flowers in their life. Don’t you?’
Entrance to the Italian Milirary’s living quarters at NATO Headquarters in Kabul 2014.
Mohammed Lashkar Gah, Afghanistan 2014: My family even has land outside the city where we grow poppy. Everyone does – it’s money after all. I built a private hospital a year ago with the profit but made this garden outside it at the same time. Patients sit in it and enjoy the flowers. Poppy seems to grow here on its own there is poppy everywhere in Helmand.
Mirwais, Nad-e-Ali, Helmand Province Afghanistan, 2014: They destroyed the land when they came with their tanks, the foreign soldiers. The soil became compressed and when it was dry, the farmers couldn’t farm. But they didn’t know who they were fighting, really. What would you do if foreigners dishonoured your land? This is my land. There are many things which happened in Helmand while they were here, but we never write things down, especially in war. It is better to forget.
Afghan soldiers hung their uniforms in the a garden belonging to the Governor’s Guesthouse in Lashkargah, Helmand, Afghanistan 2014.
Mohamed Kabir, Kabul. 105 in a garden he created for Afghan soldiers stationed in the ruined Darulaman Palace, Kabul. ‘Green is happiness, green is peace. Who doesn’t like that?’
A series of portraits of British soldiers taken in 2010 over a period of eight months, before, during and after their operational deployment in Afghanistan. The soldiers speak of fear, being injured, losing a brother soldier, missing home, excitement, coming home, and what life is like on the frontline.
All images ©Lalage Snow and may not be reproduced without written authorisation.
Private Jo Yavala
Before: I am going to miss my family. I have been to Iraq before but not Afghanistan. I don't know what to expect but am looking forward to getting out there now.
During: I had a funny feeling about this patrol. I heard the bang and heard on the radio 'man down' … It was the first casualty I have seen. It was pretty awful. I saw the medic treating him, He had no leg. I went back to where it had exploded and then saw his boot floating in the water. Just an empty boot.
After: In the morning when I wake up and in the evening before bed. But out there I was just praying all the time. I was scared. Especially when in contact, you don't know what will happen. I was expecting the worst. Right now I feel a little bit angry, sometimes my temperture rises very quickly especially if I stay too long inside. Sometimes I miss being with all they guys. For the first few days I had difficulty sleeping. I dreamt about different things that happened in Afghan. A few nights I woke up crying.
Private Chris MacGregor, 24
Before: I'll miss family but other than that I am going to miss my dogs more than anything. They are my de-stressers and keep me sane.
During: Most people get used to being away from home but I find it hard. It's your fear that keeps you alive here. But I believe if it's going to happen, it's going to happen and theres nothing you can do about it. If the big man upstairs could do anything, there'd be no dead soldiers. They'd all be alive. That Afghan soldier loosing his legs just now… I don't know…."
After: When squaddies come back they still have a lot of adrenaline and anger in them. If I get like that now, I just go for a walk with the dogs. It is the best way to deal with it, instead of being all tense and ready to snap at folk. The first thing I did when I came back, appart from kissing and cuddling the misses and my bairn, was go for a massive walk with the dogs. I walked for miles and miles not caring where I stepped."
Private Anderson.
Before: I think its going to be horrible to be honest. The work will be intense and there are going to be a lot of casualties. I am scared not of dying but of losing my legs - that would be the worst.
During: Its hard to explain the conditions, how dirty it is. Often when you phone your girlfriend or something and she asks why you aren't talking normally, it's… you’re drained, you're tired, you're dirty, you've not eaten properly for a few days. Lack of water. You're just drained.
After: We try and go there to win their hearts and change their minds… but there's so much poverty and not the medicines to treat them. And they put different value on life. A child got killed, it was nothing to do with the Army it was just ill. They brought the body of that child to an army camp having shot it saying that it got caught in a fire fight and demanding money. How can you change the mind of someone like that?
Private Sean Patterson
Before: I'm not scared though, I can't wait! I joined the army when I was 15 - it is all I wanted to do and I can't wait to get out there.
During: It was horrible. When we got back to safety I broke down crying. We all did. I couldn't sleep that night. I was thinking about home and staring at the stars. I had nightmares and flashbacks and woke up in pure cold sweat. Out on the ground again we were under fire and another two guys lost limbs. It was s**t seeing it happen all over again. I'm scared every time I leave for a patrol. I hate it. It is 84 days left until I go home.
After: I reckon we should leave them to do their own thing. We have lost too many. You see guys coming back missing 3 limbs. They're not going to be able to get a job on civvy street are they. So I don't really see the point. It's not as if we are going to gain anything in Afghanistan, are we? It's their own problem. Deal with it.
Lance Corporal Sean Tennant
Before: I am looking forward to getting back and for the war to be over.
During: IED's are the biggest scare here though. It takes a while to get used to that - and when you are on the ground you eventually realise that not every step you take is going to blow you up. So long as you don't get complacent."
After: Are we making a difference? One of my friends died and then there are all the boys who've been injured…It isn't worth that. I'd say I've got a shorter fuse now. There are small things that can get on your nerves. Supermarkets are bad because there are bright colours and everone walks about like lemmings. It seems like people don't have any purpose here.
Private Ben Frater
Before: I think I am going to miss my weekends and going out partying with friends the most.
During: It has been easier than I thought it was going to be and the area is pretty quiet so going on patrol feels like going for a walk but you never know. I miss home. And I miss showers and clean clothes.
After: The day my friend got shot, that’s the one thing I’ll never forget We were out on patrol but the insurgents followed us onto a track and ambushed us. We took cover in a ditch. My mate couldn’t find any cover and was shot in the leg. It was just a nightmare trying extract him and get the chopper in while we were in water. And now we are home? It’s strange. Quiet. I find that I feel anxious all the time that I should be doing something.
Second Lieutenant Adam Petzsch
Before: I suppose I am a bit apprehensive but I want to see what it is really like.
During: You don't think about it 'till afterwards though as your priority is getting the guy away and back into safety. Then you start thinking about what happened, if it was preventable, if it was your fault in anyway. Before we were on this op I was thinking about how quiet the tour had been and that we had to be careful and fight complacency.
After: At the start of the tour you could patrol kilometres away and no one would touch you. We took over a new compound in a different area and if we ventured any more than two or three hundred metres we were shot at. But I think yes, in parts we are making a difference. I have to think that otherwise.
Corporal Steven Gibson
Before: I have two children and a third on the way. I love them and my wife more than anything. Not coming back and seeing them again… that would be the worst."
During: I have never read the bible before but his place opens your eyes up. When you know that somewhere a soldier has been badly injured or worse you think about their famillies. So reading the bible, well it is like trying to make peace with the big man upstairs.
After: Without fail I always had my St Christopher on my dog tags. One day I couldn't find them anywhere and then three hours later, boom. I don't know how to describe it. It's like… you know when you are about to faint and you get that fuzzy feeling… I never heard the bang but I went up and over. I fell to the floor and was in agony… I didn't want to get sent home but had no choice. Without a shadow of doubt I am still finding it hard to adjust; I still look back. I'll go out for a cigarette and constatnly thinking about war.
Private Becky Hitchcock
Before "My civvie friends think I am brave but I don't see it like that at all. I haven't been scared here but I know there will be times when I will be."
During: The casualty I dealt with this morning was serious. His eyes were wide open but his face was just white and I thought he was dead. Me and him were exposed to the firing which was really scary but I managed to drag him on the other side of the ditch. He had lost his right leg above the knee - it had completely gone. I went to pick up the other one but every bone was shattered. The skin of it was under his back so I had to pull it down. It was thick like leather. It smelt…it's a hard smell to forget. I can't even describe it.
After: A day after that IED it came over the radio that the Afghan soldier was in intensive care but stable. That was the best feeling ever. A few months later I treated a little boy with burns to his whole body. He was dead tiny, a lovely looking lad. We made him stable - stable enough to get to Bastion. But two days later his body went into shock and he died. They had to return the body for us to hand back to the family. Carrying him dead having carried him alive two days previous… it was a weird feeling.
Operation Cast Lead was a three week armed conflict between Gaza and Israel which resulted in an estimated 1400 Palestinian deaths and 13 Israeli deaths. Over 46,000 homes were destroyed in the conflict. On 7th October 2023 Hamas gunmen attacked Israel killing over 1,100 and taking hundreds hostage. Over a year later, the conflict continues.
All images ©LalageSnow
Graffiti left by Israeli soldiers in a building they had stormed in Gaza city, 2009
The remains of a residential street in Gaza city 2009 after an Israeli incursion into the strip which killed more than 1400 people in 22 days.
A tent in the rubble of some homes in Jabaliya, northern Gaza, 2009
A woman grieves for her son and husband killed in an Israeli airstrike where white phosphorus was suspected of being used. The use of white phosphorus in densely populated neighbourhoods violated international humanitarian law which requires taking all feasible precautions to avoid civilian harm and prohibits indiscriminate attacks.
Dawn in a destroyed home in Gaza City after Operation Cast Lead, an Israeli incursion which killed more than 1400 in 22 days and which destroyed over 40,000 homes.
Graffiti left by departing Israeli soldiers after they had stormed a building during Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, 2009.
Isra, 9, showing the gunshot wound she survived but which she sustained during an attack on her neighbourhood in Gaza 2009. Isra lay for a few days beneath the rubble of her home having watched her father be shot upon surrendering to the IDF. The 22 day incursion into Gaza killed over 1400 Palestinians.
Devastation in Gaza, 2009 caused by the bombardments of Operation Cast Lead. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
‘Why?’ a woman asks holding her son’s ID papers in Gaza, 2009. He had been killed during the 22 day Israeli incursion which killed more than 1400 Palestinians.
A family in the rubble of their home which was destroyed during Operation Cast Lead, Gaza 2009.
A woman grieves her son and husband who were suspected of being killed by white phosphorus during Operation Cast Lead in Gaza 2009. The use of the chemical munition in densely populated neighbourhoods, including downtown Gaza City, violated international humanitarian law which requires taking all feasible precautions to avoid civilian harm and prohibits indiscriminate attacks.
A street demolished during the bombardments of Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
A war weary supporter of the Palestinian opposition, Fatah drives through Gaza city, 2009. ‘We didn’t vote for this,’ he says. The take over by Hamas (deemed internationally to be a terrorist organisation) lead to strict sanctions and restrictions on Gaza and huge tensions between them and Fatah.
Graffiti left in an evacuated building in Beit Lahiya, Gaza 2009.
A woman stands in the remains of her bedroom in Beit Lahiya, Gaza, 2009. Her home was demolished during the bombardments of Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
A man walks through the debris of his home demolished during the bombardments of Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
A child stands in the remains of his home in Khan Younis, Gaza 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
A boy rides a bicycle through a demolished street in Gaza 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
Contrails of rockets fired into Gaza during Operation Cast Lead in 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
A weary Gazan woman leans against a wall graffitied by IDF soldiers with ‘Make war not peace’. Over 1400 Palestinians were killed during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas.
The entrance to a tunnel leading to Egypt from Raffah, southern Gaza. With its official borders closed to the rest of the world and under strict sanctions, Gazans came to rely heavily on the smuggling tunnels beneath the Egyptian border. Through them came food, medical supplies, clothes, livestock and car parts…as well as, allegedly, weapons which made them a target for the Israeli army.
‘Gaza here we are’. Graffit left by Israeli Defence Force soldiers during Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, 2009. An estimated 40,000 buildings were demolished during the 22 day war between Israel and Hamas. Over 1400 Palestinians were killed and 13 Israelis.
In August 2007, students began protesting and rioting against the military interim government who they felt had overstepped in political meddling; notably, imprisoning the former prime minister Khaleda Zia. The country spiralled into a period of political crisis and today a constitutional crisis remains. It remains one of the poorest countries on the planet due to overpopulation and rising sea levels which are worsening the impact of the country’s annual cyclones and floods. Many families are forced to send their children out to work depriving them of education and childhood.
All images ©LalageSnow
A student participating in anti-government riots runs for cover in central Dhaka, 2007.
Police hit a bystander they believe to be taking part in anti-government riots runs for cover in central Dhaka, 2007.
Police shield themselves from rocks and bricks hurled at them during anti-government riots runs for cover in central Dhaka, 2007.
Police detain a student they believe to be taking part in anti-government riots demonstrations in central Dhaka, 2007.
Police prepare to intercept a group of students they believe to be participating in anti-government riots runs for cover in central Dhaka, 2007.
A student helps a friend wounded during the anti-government protests in Dhaka, 2007
A woman flees the chaos of anti-government riots in central Dhaka, 2007.
A vehicle set on fire during anti-government riots in central Dhaka, 2007.
A blind woman crosses the road during anti-government riots in central Dhaka, 2007.
A group of children shelter from the chaos of anti-government riots in central Dhaka, 2007.
The streets of central Dhaka shortly before a curfew was imposed to halt anti-government protests in Dhaka 2007
The police patrol the streets of Dhaka during a strict curfew after anti-government riots in central Dhaka, 2007.
Prisoners taken during anti-government riots in central Dhaka are taken away to be tried. Bangladesh, 2007.
A child peeps out from behind a flag during independence day celebrations in Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2007. The country, formerly known as East Bengal and East Pakistan gained its independence in 1971 after a bitter war with Pakistan. Democracy was finally granted in 1990 but the political situation remains volatile.
Islamic fundamentalists protesting against women’s rights in central Dhaka, 2008. Traditionally thought of as a tolerant country, Islamic extremism has slowly been on the rise in the wake of political instability.
A boy looks out of his home teetering on the edge of a flooded river. Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. The low lying country has always been prone to flooding owing to its river delta in the south and the numerous rivers in the north. It is also prone to cyclones and vulnerable to rising sea levels.
Two girls in their flooded farm outside Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. The low lying country has always been prone to flooding owing to its river delta in the south and the numerous rivers in the north. It is also prone to cyclones and vulnerable to rising sea levels.
A young boy picks through rubbish looking for scrap metal in a rubbish heap outside Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. One of the poorest countries on the planet, many families send their children out to work, a situation which deprives them of an education and childhood.
Two girls cover their noses when riding in a rickshaw passing a rubbish tip picked through by other children in Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. One of the poorest countries on the planet, many families send their children out to work, a situation which deprives them of an education and childhood.
A nurse treats a man suffering from cholera during the annual floods of Bangladesh, 2008. The low lying country is vulnerable to rising sea levels which could create domestic refugees putting further strain on an already fragile infrastructure.
A child rests between it’s mother’s legs, Dhaka Bangladesh, 2008. Both of them are being treated for dysentry and cholera during the yearly floods. The low lying country is prone to flooding and cyclones and vulnerable to rising sea levels.
Women queue for humanitarian aid food hand outs in Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. One of the poorest countries on the planet, Bangladesh is reliant on aid during its annual floods and cyclone season which can devastate communities.
Women queue for humanitarian aid food hand outs in Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. One of the poorest countries on the planet, Bangladesh is reliant on aid during its annual floods and cyclone season which can devastate communities.
A man looks out of his window in the Bihari refugee camp in Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. Hindu practicing Biharis found themselves stateless during the 1947 partition of India and split between East and West Pakistan. Those in Bangladesh live primarily in the Bihari refugee camp, a densely populated warren of single room houses. A stateless and forgotten people, they are the subjects of widespread discrimination. Forbidden to hold passports attend schools, the Biharis count themselves among the poorest and most marginalised in all of Bangladesh.
Two girls look into their home in the Bihari refugee camp, Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2008. The Hindu practicing Biharis found themselves stateless during the 1947 partition of India and split between East and West Pakistan. Those in Bangladesh live primarily in the Bihari refugee camp, a densely populated warren of single room houses. A stateless and forgotten people, they are the subjects of widespread discrimination. Forbidden to hold passports attend schools, the Biharis count themselves among the poorest and most marginalised in all of Bangladesh.
A Bihari boy embroiders a sari, Dhaka Bangladesh 2008. Hindu practicing Biharis found themselves stateless during the 1947 partition of India and split between East and West Pakistan. Those in Bangladesh live primarily in the Bihari refugee camp, a densely populated warren of single room houses. A stateless and forgotten people, they are the subjects of widespread discrimination. Forbidden to hold passports attend schools, the Biharis are among the poorest and most marginalised in all of Bangladesh and many children are employed in child labour.
A Bihari man embroiders a scarf, Dhaka Bangladesh 2008. Hindu practicing Biharis found themselves stateless during the 1947 partition of India and split between East and West Pakistan. Those in Bangladesh live primarily in the Bihari refugee camp, a densely populated warren of single room houses. A stateless and forgotten people, they are the subjects of widespread discrimination. Forbidden to hold passports attend schools, the Biharis are among the poorest and most marginalised in all of Bangladesh.
