Syria

Today, it's a brilliant, crisp sunny day, after a night of thunder and rain. I'm always coming and going from home. This constant state of flux creates the sense of being suspended between worlds and always feeling isolated on some level, since I can't ever get grounded or fully connected either at home or on the road. One of the issues at home is how distracted everyone is, whether from your work or the digital gadgets and friends of the kids. And, of course, you all must live your own lives, so you are not in sync with my rhythms and moods. (Pictured above, Damascus.)

Zululand, Africa

Taken 21.09.97

I am once again facing the demons of a tough fixer, the loneliness of the road and less than perfect conditions. But my problems pale when I think about our new baby on the way. It was a shock when I first got the news but now I'm jumping out of my skin with excitement. Who knows what we'll have? I know you want a girl this time. I just want a healthy baby.

Today we went out at dusk to photograph the cane fields being burned. It was exciting, and I had a near miss. Hot embers were flying everywhere and they had these Zulu workers armed with big sticks to bat the embers down as they tried to fly to an adjacent field not ready for burning. That would be devastating for the farmers. I was on the fire break road that separates the fields, trying to photograph the worker swinging at the embers, when a bunch of them fell on me. They burned holes in my clothes, caught my forearm and left a small mark.

Every night I go to sleep thinking of your swollen belly and all the magic that's inside. I can't wait to meet our new child. Only a few months left.

I love you so dearly and deeply.

Shuiluo river, China

Taken 21.10.95

Today was one of the most humbling days of my life, both physically and mentally. I fell out of the boat on a tough rapid through sheer-faced canyon walls. I lost one of the Nikon cameras and a roll of film almost at the end with possibly good images. I am OK. My right hand hurts to open and close it. Today was very scary, and not just for me. Two other boats flipped, people are sore and tired. The last two hours were through continuous rapids in tight canyons. Five miles back, a tributary merged with the main water, so now the river is twice as big. We are camped on the edge of rapids with very loud water 15ft away from the jagged and uneven river walls that I will be sleeping on.

We are 15 miles into a 65-mile stretch of river nobody has ever rafted down. Every bend is a surprise. A waterfall could end the trip and force us to hike out, leaving everything we can't carry. There are no towns nearby, only small clusters of Tibetan structures scattered on the cliffs and mountains. If anyone gets hurt, we are in big trouble. Help is days away. I'm fighting to keep my spirits up and fear down. I want to see you and Eli again. I've never experienced anything like this before. These people, for their own reasons, enjoy this or need to do something on the edge. I have nothing to prove. Maybe I'll get into it more as I get firmer river feet. Today freaked me out, and not knowing what's ahead is taking a mental toll. Also, I don't know what to say to the other folks. They're all very supportive, but I feel a hint of concern from them. It must be obvious how shaken I was by today. I hope tomorrow is smoother.

My body is aching, reminding me of the tough day just passed. I love you and want to see you again. This desire will help me overcome my fears and remind me of what I must survive this for. The rocks are swaying, like on the raft through the rapids. Never knowing when the slow-motion ride will abruptly end with a nightmarish, chaotic swim.

Aracaju, Brazil

Taken 05.06.02

Day 1 This story is questionable from the start, one of those that sounds great but… I wish the subject [legendary swimmer Zé Peixe] was more co-operative, but then that's the challenge. Maybe I am resenting his ways because it's not an important political or social story, so what's the problem with just making it easy?

Day 2 My comments from yesterday seem arrogant. Today was humbling and difficult. For a moment I was ready to pack it in. We have a final opportunity for tomorrow. This means the weather must co-operate, and Zé Peixe must co-operate, and all else must go smoothly and safely.

Day 3 Another humbling day. Trying again to take underwater pictures of Zé Peixe, I couldn't manage breathing comfortably enough to swim, to catch up to him, to take any pictures! I struggled just to get back to the boat. It was a relief to get that out of the way. I can now relax. I feel we have a good story. We'll see.

Gulmit, Pakistan

Taken 21.09.96

We had a great day. The afternoon was spent with a spunky group of Hunza women meeting in the village. They have their own community orchard, livestock and savings accounts, sponsored by the Aga Khan Rural Support Programme. Great idea and result. I am now stuffed in my room. We ate a filling, tasty dinner of apricot and macaroni soup, excellent french fries (it's potato harvest time) and a yak stew.

So now I think of you and Eli and our great home and how much of your and Eli's life I miss. I'm getting nervous already about how Eli will react to me. It's weird to know my time will be so short when I return. I'm preparing myself for a week of trying to do little work and spend as much time as possible with Eli and you. That is assuming he will want to spend much time with me! The mountains are big and breathtaking. I keep on thinking how much nicer it would be with both of you here.

I love you dearly.

Baghdad, Iraq

Taken 05.04.04

Day 1 Iraq is falling apart. This morning, I went with a group of journalists to Sadr City to see what happened last night. I walked through the blood of Shias killed by American fire. We were extremely careful and moved cautiously. In the end, we did some street shooting of American tanks on the main roads, then in the hospital we photographed 15 people dead and some of the wounded, children among them.

Day 2 Another weird Baghdad day. I had the Fortune Small Business shoot this morning, then went out to Sadr City to cover the demonstrations against the Americans and in support of Moqtada al-Sadr. I'm back and safe.

Day 3 You know, it's so weird hanging out around these guys [Moqtada al-Sadr supporters], because they are actually mostly very sweet. It's one of those strange moments where you're hanging with the bad guys, but you realise if the two sides could just talk, they could work it out… And then they parade around us with guns, and we obligingly take images that paint them as fanatics, then the American military wants to kill them… Granted, they are capable of bad stuff.

Day 4 Quite a day, but I'm thankfully home and safe. I went through two fierce firefights on highways. One in Abu Ghraib that necessitated us barrelling out of the car and jumping into ditches while gunfire and RPG rounds were exchanged between insurgents and an American convoy; then, a few hours later, driving back from Sadr City. Man… Not fun or pretty, but thankfully we were unscathed. My driver and fixer quit on me today. They'd had enough.

Simferopol, Crimea

Taken 01.06.93

We have just had an incredibly long, amazing, emotional, productive day. We started at 4.45am in a Tatar village a half hour outside of Simferopol. Today is Kurban Bayrami, a Muslim holiday of sacrifice. I photographed a bull being slaughtered, a feast, then a Muslim funeral, in detail, from the body lying in the house, to washing it, to taking it through the village to be buried. The death scene really hit me. Seeing the body up close (only my third), and the fact he was 61, reminded me of my dad. Watching the daughter wailing and yelling out his name made me think how I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Dad.

Once the body was buried, I sat with the men who accompanied it. I wanted to show them respect for having let me into such intimate situations, but also to sit in the grass, with the sounds of the Imam singing and the view, and relax, be present... It made me feel peaceful about life and death. I miss you and am excited about coming home. Much love.

Da Nang, Vietnam

Taken 10.07.10. All photographs: Ed Kashi/VII

Had a good morning of shooting with Ly [a girl disabled by Agent Orange sprayed by the US and remaining in Vietnam after the war]. She went to the hospital for a checkup. Her chest is concave. She'll need surgery, but she's too thin and weak. The doctors told her mum she needs to eat more. Easy for them to say. The spirit of Ly and the love and support of her family were quite lovely to witness. She is a special little girl and will hopefully pull through. Wish I had something more profound to say, but my reserves are empty.

These are edited extracts from Witness Number 8: Photojournalisms, by Ed Kashi, published by Nizraeli Press.