2001. I was in Hoima, Uganda.
The medical team had gone into the prison there to examine and treat the inmates. I was forbidden to enter. No photographers had ever been allowed inside.
Then just before dusk I got the message. They were going to allow me in for 15 minutes...did I want to go?
I flew over to the compound in the teams Landrover. The light was dying and I wasn't allowed to use a flash.

The compound itself was layed out in a square with the cells forming the perimeter around a dirt courtyard. There the prisoners shuffled like ghosts, not allowed to speak unless spoken to. The guards were very wary of me. Why they allowed me in, I to this day don't know.
I discovered that most inmates there were in for petty crimes, mostly for fighting with their neighbor. It wasn't until later that I realized that most serious crimes such as murder are dealt with immidiately in the street. They never live to see a prison. Thievery is dealt with in the very same way.

So, I took my shots. Then just as the light was almost gone. (I was down to 1/15 second at f: 1.9 pushing two stops) I saw this man in the far corner in his cell. I don't know why I went over. I was already being ushered out. I felt compelled to go. Just then he flashed me a peace sign with the most genuine and joyful smile. Perhaps it was a thank you for the work the team did, perhaps it was irony or perhaps it was something deeper. In my heart I feel it was indeed something deeper.

Peace in the midst of a situation that warrants none. That was a true peace.

So...peace to you, my brother. Whoever you are....

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Oilgraph on canvas with wax and powdered brass. 16x20
2003