Two Column's of Fame

Cinematographer Heading to Haiti
By Ted Shaw--The Windsor Star

February 26, 2010

Windsor's Sarorn (Ron) Sim is donating his talent with a camera to relief efforts in Haiti.

The 29-year-old filmmaker will volunteer his services to record the efforts of several Non-Government Organizations, or NGOs, in the earthquake-ravaged country.

The film will then be turned over free-of-charge to the NGOs for promotional and fundraising use.

Sim is employed by Dow Chemical of Midland, Mich., to shoot films around the world. When his travels take him to Third World countries or places reeling from disaster, he offers his services to local NGOs.

"I'm not a doctor or a medical worker," said Sim.

"But I have a talent and this is how I can make a difference."

A native of Cambodia, Sim was just five when he immigrated with his family to Windsor in 1985. He attended J.E. Benson elementary school and W.D. Lowe high school before studying cinematography at Oakville's Sheridan College.

Since graduating, Sim has worked for Discovery Channel and CTV in Canada, and currently freelances for BBC-TV. His film work has aired on documentary specials on the National Geographic channel and Discovery Canada, as well as news outlets around the world.

His film has also won awards, and recently footage he shot for an NGO in India was nominated for a prize from the Canadian Society for Cinematographers.

This weekend, Sim will travel to Honduras to document the work of the Central American Medical Outreach organization.

The day after arriving back home, on March 10, Sim will head to Haiti's tent cities in Port-au-Prince, where he'll record the efforts of Michigan-based Pure Water for the World, a group which donates water purification units.

"I want to use my camera to tell stories that affect people," Sim said.

© Copyright (c) The Windsor Star

Shadows of Fate

Photo by: D2 Photography

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm the person I was born to be, if the life I've lived really is the one I was meant to, or if it is some half life--a mutation engineered by fate, cobbled together by the will to live.

In my life, I've seen beauty. I've seen the sun paint the desert, the ocean ebb and flow to the sound of crashing waves in the distance, the rise and fall of water and rain. I've seen places I can't pronounce, people I'll never forget, horror I wish I hadn't. I've seen it all, yet never enough.

There are times in my life when it all happens too fast, when the winds of change casts doubts on the road ahead, when wrong becomes right and nothing is left. There are times when I look at myself and see not the man I am, but the boy I once was--and I smile. And there are times when I'd see nothing at all. Mere shadows of fate glistening off the contours of my soul.

Sometimes, I stand alone, lost, waiting for something I cannot define in words--but rather, in rays of light. Most times, it finds me before I find it--and within the blink of any eye, we dance to the tune of a camera's shutter, of strobing lights and sweaty palms--and for a fraction of a second, I'm able to see myself, yet again. When I am lost, only my pictures define my existence.

In reflection, maybe some questions aren't meant to be answered--but just accepted. Maybe the life I live is merely the life of someone else, but borrowed. Maybe...

To Touch an Angel

Photo: Along the Pakistan/Afghanistan border. 2008.

"Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work. " --Mother Teresa

Blogger note: I'm currently packing for an assignment in Haiti and Honduras. I hope this finds you well.

Winter Expedition

It's a blistering minus 20 degrees as we ventured onto the frozen tundra of Northern Ontario, Canada. I'm with two of my closest friends: College roommate Steve and childhood buddy Yean--and together, we've decided to test our man-hood...or in my case, luck.

We've talked about this trip for years, but due to a hectic work and travel schedule, this trip was postponed year after year--until now. Here's a few snapshots from our trip.

Yours truly trekking through the snow covered canopy of Algonquin Provincial Park.

College buddy Steve trekking through the woods.

Buddy Yean chopping up some fire wood.

Yours truly punching a hole through the ice to fetch water. (Sexy hat courtesy of my good friend Dan).

Humanity in Haiti

Photo: Cindy Terasme screams after seeing the feet of her dead 14-year-old brother Jean Gaelle Dersmorne in the rubble of the collapsed St. Gerard School in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Thursday.
Photo Credit: AP/Gerald Herbert

A very good friend of mine phoned me the other day after viewing some disturbing images from Haiti. Her voice trembled in horror--and after describing to me in detail the images of dead bodies and crying children, she asked me a question that reverberated deep in my mind: As a photographer, how would you have covered the Haiti disaster?

Below is a blog post that I hope will not just answer her question, but also give everyone a better understanding of what it's like to cover such events. The following are from my personal experiences covering Afghanistan, post-tsunami in South East Asia, and the recent earthquakes in Sichuan province, China.

***
Capturing All That Is True:

I close my eyes, pretend to sleep. Maybe I am sleeping. Truth is, when you're in a hostile zone, it's hard to tell. Coiled in a dirty sheet, sweat-soaked, my hair matted with the day's dust, and grains of sand in my mouth, I dream of work.

Sometimes, I'd see myself with the camera on my shoulder--hitting the ground running, locked and loaded. There's nothing like that feeling. As a photographer, you run towards what everyone else is running from--thinking some how that the camera on your shoulders will protect you, not really caring if it will or not. Scene after scene, the action moves through you like a funnel--and all you can do is capture as much as you can, as fast as you can. In my dreams, I just breathe, keep moving, breathe, keep my head low, breathe, keep moving, try to stay alive.

I wake gasping for breath, unsure where I am. Lately, that dream has been re-occurring--and after watching much of the media coverage from Haiti, I keep imagining myself there--alone and armed, capturing with my camera the chaos of looters and debris, dead bodies and orphaned children alike. It's a sick imagination, but when you view life through glass, the only thing that stands between you and your pride is the sheer fact that truth is in your eyes--and capturing it is the only salvation you have.

Images frame themselves, and after taking just a few, your soul is conditioned to accept all that is before you--no matter how it makes your heart wrench in horror. There are times when you'd question yourself, ask whether it's right or wrong, justice or injustice to capture the plight of human suffering--but there's no time to find answers--it's just you and your camera, the world around you, and sheer adrenaline pumping through your veins a thousand miles an hour.

But believe me, I'm not a war junkie. I don't seek adrenaline, nor do I find it rewarding to see pain thru my lens--and to be honest, for the photogs in Haiti right now, I doubt they do too. They're husbands and wives, fathers and mothers just like you--just like the many that are trapped and left to die in the rubbles of Port-au-Prince. They are there because they believe in truth-seeking, in the notion that the world needs to mourn with those who have lost lives and life themselves--which in the end, ultimately--they are there because the stories and images they send back causes us to react, to find that thread that links us all as humans, to find the humanity in all of us.

For those who work in my field, there are no right or wrong ways to cover such an ordeal. There are no text books that explain how and why. Censored or not, we capture what is true. Some photos will seem inhumane and cruel, while some will naturally inspire--but as all things are in life, there's always an injustice when finding balance with reality.

In the aftermath of disaster, we are reminded that life can be unimaginably cruel. That pain and loss is so often meted out without any justice or mercy. That "time and chance" happen to us all. But it is also in these moments, when we are brought face to face with our own fragility, that we rediscover our common humanity. Through our lens, we look into the eyes of another and see ourselves. And so as photographers, we lead the world in this humanitarian endeavor--simply by capturing all that is true.

Blogger Note: I'm currently working out logistics on when I will be dispatched to Haiti in the next few weeks. Please stay tuned.

From Refugee to Reverie

It’s cold. The air lingers silently around me, caressing me, permeating into every pore of my body. I awoke this morning to the darkness of night, stars glistened through my window as I laid there in reverie—in bed, wondering what today may bring.

Sometimes, while in the midst of waking, I’d get flashbacks of days gone by—moments that defined me, shaped and molded me to become the man I am today. In the dark, I’d see light. I’d see images of my history, my family, and the journey we’ve made together to escape war and slavery. I’d see it all unfolding again in my proverbial mind—merely making its way into reality. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe—just too hard to accept.

Through my work, I live in the sanctity of dreams come true, of luck and fate. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but through magic and miracles, I am able to view the world in ways few will ever imagine—let alone dare to dream—and because of that, there’s not a day that goes by that I am truly thankful.

I was born in a refugee camp straddling the border between two nations—devoid of citizenship, defected by war—yet, I’m proud to say that my life defies all that of tears and sorrow. I’ve come a long way from being that little boy in a refugee camp, but no matter how long or fast or narrow that road may lead, I’ll never forget who I used to be.

Twenty five years ago, I awoke every morning to the sounds of a bustling refugee camp. Today, I awake to a world where dreams do come true, where lives are cherished and people are loved--but today, for some reason I can’t help but to be lost in reverie of years long past.

***
Never before shown to an online audience, I AM KHMER is the story of my family reuniting after twenty five years of separation. Released in 2001, this feature documentary film is told through my words—yet, the story mirrors that of millions of refugees around the world who seek a better understanding of who they are. Produced and written by Sarorn Ron Sim and Steven Bray. Edited by Richie Mehta. Copyright 4Di Communications 2010. (Streaming through YOUTUBE in a five part series).

Capturing The Olympic Flame

It's 8am, and as the frigid-arctic air permeates through my layers of clothing, I'm being ushered into the media zone to go over the "do's and dont's" of covering the 2010 Olympic Torch Relay.

Security is tight around the flame. Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) officers dressed in running outfits guard the flame at all times as it travels from street to street, community to community--ultimately making its way to the 2010 winter games in Vancouver. The Olympic flame travels in a bubble of security, closely watched by armed officers disguised as runners, ordinary citizens cheering on the sidelines, and even riding alongside it on bicycles. In major cities, helicopters hover closely above it, scanning every perimeter and keeping a close eye on crowd control. Photographers and bystanders alike push their way as close to the flame as possible, but as the RCMP officers near them, they quickly get pushed back--some by using brute force. One photog told me that a Toronto Star shooter tried getting too close and was forced to the ground by an array of RCMP guards. The photog lost his two front teeth in the ordeal.

Fortunately, I've been able to keep my shinny whites and avoid this hassle by being granted a seat on Media One--the vehicle used to transport photographers. Inside Media One, we're given the best seats in the house to capture each runner with the flame. Positioned directly in front of the runner, we come face to face with them as each torch bearer run 300 meters down ice and snow covered streets--holding the flame above their head.

I'll be covering the Olympic Flame for a few more days before making my way south of the border to Salt Lake City, Utah to meet with the USA Speed Skating team. Below are just a few snapshots. Hope all is well. Please take care.

The view from Media One at night--following an Olympic Torch Bearer.

The view from Media One during the day time following an Olympic Torch Bearer. Crowds line the streets.

The view from inside Media One as we follow an Olympic Torch Bearer running with the flame. Photo: Chris Bolin/Canadian Press

Media One from the outside. Photo: Chris Bolin/CP

Posing with Olympic Torch Bearer Marie-Josee Raincourt and producer extraordinaire Jonathan Moser. Photo: Chris Bolin/CP

A mad-man with the torch.

Interviewing Olympic Torch Bearer George Pietersma.

I'm Relaxed and ALIVE!

Photo: "Photog on road"

You know, relaxing is weird. It's like being on this never-ending high of nothing-ness--just random thoughts going through your head--in one ear out the other type stuff. Man, I've been on vacation since getting back from my assignment in South East Asia, and ever since then I've been doing absolutely NOTHING!

I've been waking up every morning with this eery feeling--hard to explain--but it's like that feeling you get when you arrive late for work and you just know someone's watching. Or you know--that feeling you get when you order three pieces of chicken but when you get home and open your box you see not three but FOUR? Yeah, that feeling exactly! Guilt! It's scary because I feel this way even though I'm on vacation and I'm not even supposed to be at work! Lately, it feels like I have NO life. I'd wake up, have breakfasat, do my daily excercises, take my vitamins and all of a sudden I'd be lost--dazed and confused like I'm some sort of hobo looking for a train to catch.

I dunno, having just returned from a big assignment and being constantly on the move--and then all of a sudden be on lock-down is mind boggling to me! I feel like I should be at some insanity hospital--or whatever they call it. Or maybe I should just find some petty crime to commit just to get some excitement in my life. I dunno man...but all I know is that I'm pumped for my next assignment. I can't wait to get out there and start shooting again! Grrrrr!!!

Damn, I sound like some psycho maniac that hasn't seen daylight since Al Gore invented global warming! Speaking of global warming--I dont know about you, but it's freakin' cold in Michigan! Global warming my **s.

Blogger note: Currently packing gear for next assignment. Next post will be from the road again.

That's What Friends Are For

Photo: Two boys double-riding to school. Lahore, Pakistan 2009.

"Lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on, for it won't be long, 'til I'm going to need somebody to lean on."

- "Lean On Me" By Bill Withers

Foam Sword Fights

Photo: Yes, that there is me going for the kill as I fight my way through Camp Rondo with producer extraordinaire and college roommate Steven Bray.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I've been enjoying my time with family and friends--and as I'm going through all the photo's from my personal point and shoot camera, this one stood out most.

You see, Steve and I were college roommates--so when we get together during our annual camping trips, we go all out! And yes, that means having foam sword fights like three year olds. It's a good way to attract the "ladies." Gotta love foam.

To see more of my behind the scenes photo's and candid snapshots, feel free to add me to your facebook.

Hope all is well. I just wanted to put up a brief post to see how everyone is doing. Cheers to you and your family.
Love,
Ron

Nine days to next departure.

And So This Is Christmas

Photo: A night time salesman selling what he tells me are "Christmas Balloons" in Ho-Chi-Minh City, Vietnam.

It's 3AM, and on the eve of Christmas, I'm awake--twisting and turning, slowly adjusting to time zones of days past. Arriving home a mere 72 hours earlier, my mind slowly grinds to a halt--no longer fueled by fear, aided by adrenaline. I'm at ease today. For the first time in almost six weeks, I'm not under pressure to perform, I can be myself, find an equilibrium, breathe, and for some reason, the world just seems perfect right now.

I've yet to start Christmas shopping--nor have I thought of what to get for whom or where to go to get exactly what. And that's just fine by me. I feel great. I'm happy to be home--to sleep on my bed again, to feel winter's breeze against my face.

I stopped to get fuel earlier today at a nearby station--and as I stood there admiring a set of ornamental lights glistening before me, a realization came to mind. A smile whisked across my face.

And so this is Christmas--I thought to myself. Audible sounds of bells danced in the distance.

Driving off, I continued to ponder the realities of my world--where I'd been and who I've become. An entire year had come and gone, and like a soldier marching to the beat of a wooden drum, I've returned home. Simple and surreal, after traveling, home is where I'd longed to be--which at this very moment, nothing else really matters.

So today I'll start my Christmas shopping, weave my way through chaotic crowds, park afar and dodge some traffic. I might even stop for a treat...or two. Life is good...

...and so this is Christmas--and I'm home.

Blogger Note:
Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope the festive season brings joy and happiness to you and your family--and remember: Faith is what makes all things possible, Hope makes all things work, and Love is what makes all things beautiful. Cheers to you and yours!

Monkhood

Photo: A Buddhist monk takes in the sights and sounds of the annual Kings Birthday celebrations in Bangkok, Thailand.

I always love taking pictures of monks--and I don't know why. The way they look with their bald heads make them mysterious yet intriguing. Their wardrobe is simple yet intricate in its own way. Here's a shot of a monk enjoying the festivities in Thailand last week.

I'm currently running around between Vietnam and Thailand trying to film the final story of my six week assignment in South East Asia. Will write in detail soon. Hope all is well. Sorry for the lack of writing as of late.

Peace

Photo: A little girl proudly waves her Thai flags at the King's birthday celebration, December 10, 2009.

I had a very long day today filming in rural villages along the Mekong Delta region of Vietnam. Will write more about my journey in Vietnam in a later post. I'll leave you with a snapshot of a little girl in Thailand trying to give me the peace sign. This was taken last week at the annual Father's Day Celebration in Thailand to commemorate the King's birthday--recognized by many Thai's as the father of the land. Have a nice day, everyone! Peace!

Tears Thru A Lens

Photo: Flowers mark the site of a school demolished by the earthquake in Sichuan Province, China.

It was just after 7am when I awoke in our vehicle. Looking out the window, it was as if I had died and gone to hell. Buildings were torn, ripped apart, left to slowly crumble in the aftermath of natures fury. It's truly surreal to see such destruction with your very own eyes--naked to the truth, privy to nothing.

Acknowledging my arrival at the epicenter of the quake, my heart began to pound, my palms sweaty, my camera turned on--finger ready at the trigger. I was excited,anxious,proud to be one of the few foreign photogs allowed access to this area. My translator and I had worked effortlessly through the night--weaving our way through back channels of communication,trying desperately to convince our Chinese officials to let us into the restricted zone. After a few rounds of rice wine, phone calls and hand shakes, we finally received the go-ahead.

Stepping out of the vehicle, I ran for my tripod, quickly dropped its legs to the ground and mounted my camera. It didn't matter to me where I was, what I was doing or who was looking. All I wanted was to capture the destruction, the turmoil, the loss and devastation of a country that neither clung to my heart nor mattered much to my psyche. This is China--and for all I cared, what I was filming was epic news, heart wrenching, television at its best. Journalists from all over the world yearn for this moment, they dream of this chance--and here I am, deep in the midst of tragedy, soaking in the rays of light that entered my lens. I'm lucky, I know.

I zoomed in and out, close ups and wides. No matter where I pointed my camera, a kaleidoscope of shapes and patterns formed images of loss--of pain and displeasure--ultimately feeding my appetite with what I had longed to taste.

Broken chairs littered the ground. A single shoe, a child's hat. Calendars hung from wall to wall, slanted--stopped in time, motionless in space. A cloud of white dust glistened my shoes as I walked about--scanning my surrounding like a vulture waiting for the dead. Looking up, I noticed a chalk-board stood half broken. Zooming into it, I pulled-focused on a line of scribbles that resembled a child's hand writing. Small finger prints littered an empty black surface.

Putting my camera down, I viewed the room for the first time with my own bare eyes. A haze of white smoke danced in the light as I stood still. And within a synapse of a moment, my world had stopped spinning. Motionless. Barely able to breathe. Barely able to come to terms with myself as I realized where I was standing. Putting my head down, a teddy bear on a child's lunch box stared back at me. My stomach churned. My throat caught in rapture. I walked out of that school room with out taking another shot.

I've been in this type of situation before--when I use my camera a shield of honor, of valor and faith, courage and distinction--only to find myself caught in my own array of guilt and shame. Sometimes, when caught in the moment, I lose sight of who I am, the morals instilled within me and the respect for human life I've learned to value. I guess, after working so hard to gain access to this area, I had forgotten the true purpose for why I perform the task that I'm given.

By the time I had made it back to the meeting point, my translator was already waiting for me in the car. Her eyes were stained in tears. Running her hands across her face, she tells me that over 200 school children were buried at this site. Alive.

Looking around, I noticed I had drawn a crowd. Local elders, parents and children were there to greet me. Some shook my hand, not knowing exactly why. But as I locked eyes with them, I saw their pain. It's an image I can never forgive myself to capture, nor will I ever try to. I spent the rest of my time shooting from afar, creatively finding other angles to tell this story. I didn't want it to look like a piece you'd watch on CNN or some low budget TV station glamorizing the loss of human life. It's the least I could do.

I didn't sleep that night. I tried to keep myself busy by spending hours returning emails back to HQ, writing scripts or Christmas shopping online. Some how, I felt the need to humanize myself again, replenish my soul, apologize for what I'd done. I didn't want to close my eyes--for I feared what dreams may come.

Blogger Note: I apologize for my lack of posts lately. Frankly, I didn't know how I was going to write this story. As always, I'd love to hear from you. Currently safe in Bangkok, Thailand.

Chinese Interogation

I'm currently 2 hours outside of Chengdu City, about a 3 hour flight east of Shanghai. I'm on my way to the area in Sichuan province where the earthquake last year had hit hardest. But as I'm finding out this morning, my translator and I are running into one political roadblock after another. Every district we enter, we are asked to step into a government office to be questioned, meet the local officials and basically, be interogated. I'm asked the same questions over and over again: where are you from? Who do you work for? Why are you here? What kind of camera? Would you like some tea?

At first, it was kind of scary. The government buildings look like old-runned down schools or hospitals, the doors are stained with dirt--as if it hadn't been washed in years. And upon entering each room, I'm greeted by a uniformed officer dressed from head to toe in official military garmet--some sporting a rainbow of medals on his chest. But, as the conversations went on, they seem to open up, and as human as they are too, they laugh, smile, and even offer me tea. Hmmm, maybe communism is letting up a bit.

I'm trying to gain access to film in a town called Betrund (excuse my spelling). It is currently blocked off to all foreign media, but I'm going to try my luck today. I have a good fixer working with me, and she seems to be good at mingling with local officials. If we gain access, I will spend the night in the village and try to capture as much as possible.

Its freezing here, colder than Shanghai. Luckly I was able to find a jacket when I was in Shanghai a few days ago (previous post below). It says Columbia Sportswear on it, but I doubt it really is--as everything sold here seems to be a knock off.

Lately, I've been in and out of China going back and fourth to Taiwan to work on multiple stories. But today, I'm focused solely on earthquake story.

I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I haven't slept much the last two nights, and the realities of being on foreign assignment are starting to kick in. Its week #3 for me, with three more weeks to go. Its cold, I'm shivering as I'm typing this post on my Blackberry. Need to buy gloves.

We currently have two government guids assigned to follow my every move. One guy is a tall skinny soldier, maybe the star basketball player on his platoons b-ball team. The other guy is short and chubby, maybe just along for the ride. I know the tall one can beat me to the ground if he wanted to. As for the short one, I can probably out run him.

I will update again soon when I return to the city. Wish me luck. Hope this finds you well.

Ron




Sarorn Ron Sim, csc
Cinematographer

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