In this edition of ‘Tales From the Road’, I am going to take you back to a time when I visited Kazakhstan for work and, rather unfortunately, killed a cow in the process. It was, as you’ll soon learn, exactly half the cow’s fault.
I never thought I’d go to Iraq; it just isn’t who I am. I guess I knew it was always a possibility, given the nature of my job: then – in 2007 – I was the China-based camera operator for Channel 4 News, UK, and that took me all over China and into neighbouring countries like Kazakhstan; even as far afield as South Africa. I was covering news stories, and Iraq was definitely news, so Iraq was always possible. So … one day you find yourself saying ‘Yes’ to your boss on the phone, agreeing to travel into a war zone, to be embedded with US troops. The next thing you know, you’re writing your will and working out your blood type so that it can be added to your ID. This blog is about one particular incident that happened in Mosul, Iraq, but first I’d like to take a moment to talk about arriving in that war-torn country.