A Photographer’s Beginning

By the beginning of October that same year, I had managed to accumulate a decent amount of money. It came at the cost of many sacrifices and hardships; I weathered financial storms just to save enough for a camera. At the time, there were many cameras on the market, but my dream was the Canon EOS 250D, the successor to the EOS 200D. It was priced at 55,000 Ksh, and I was certain that was the camera I was going to buy. But unfortunately, my savings weren’t nearly enough.

The pressure was building, getting worse and out of control. On October 5th, I called Mike to remind him about the camera. To my surprise, he said, ‘Sawa, we’ll buy it this weekend. I was over the moon when my brother told me he’d buy me a camera! I could already picture myself snapping away, capturing the world through my lens. It felt like the best gift ever was just within reach. Remember this is the Covid year, curfews and everything. But the next two days, everything came crashing down. As I sat watching the Cabinet Secretary’s address, to my shock, the late Prof. George Magoha announced that schools would reopen on Monday, and only the candidates would return. In that moment, I knew the camera wouldn’t be bought, and my excitement quickly turned to disbelief. That Friday, I called my brother to remind him of his promise that we would buy the camera that weekend. His phone was busy, but a few minutes later, he called back. I cleared my throat and answered. Just as I was about to finish my sentence, he interrupted me. ‘Aren’t schools reopening on Monday?’ he asked. ‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘So what do you need the camera for? Why don’t you focus on school first, then buy the camera later? Even if we get it now, you’ll be back in school by Monday. Who will use it? Don’t you see that would be wasting money?’ he said. I didn’t know how to respond. I simply accepted my fate and ended the conversation with, ‘Okay, sawa sawa.’ The call ended.

When school finally opened, I felt a wave of disappointment settle over me. It wasn’t just the return to classes, it was the realization that my dream of getting the camera had been postponed indefinitely. I couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration and sadness. However, seeing my friends after such a long time brought some joy. I couldn’t stop talking about cameras it was all I could think about. Every conversation somehow turned into me sharing details about the latest models and how much I wanted to get one.

I came across an article in a gazette featuring a Kenyan female photographer sharing her journey and insights into the photography industry. Shortly after, I stumbled upon a magazine featuring one of Kenya’s most experienced photographers, Emmanuel Jambo. He was the personal photographer of former President Uhuru Kenyatta, and his story deeply inspired me. It made me reflect on my own path, and I promised myself that one day, I would write a book about my journey in photography. Emmanuel Jambo’s story motivated me to write this very blog the one you’re reading right now! I even shared this dream with my friend, Samuel Mwicigi, affirming that one day, I would tell my story.

The school was closed in December for holidays, with plans to reopen in January 2021. The entire year passed without me buying a camera, though it never left my thoughts. I didn’t bring it up with my brother again. In January, when schools reopened, Cabinet Secretary George Magoha announced that all students, not just candidates, would return to school. Soon after, our school’s administration decided to create a school magazine, with Mr. Murang’a, our History teacher, serving as the editor.

Our school held games twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 4:00 pm to 5:30 pm. One Tuesday, while we were playing, I noticed Mr. Murang’a taking photos of us running. My attention was glued to him the entire time. I couldn’t help but think about how much I wanted to borrow that camera and assist him with taking photos. As the hour passed and the games came to an end, we waited for the dormitories to be opened, and Mr. Murang’a stood near me, still holding the camera. I hesitated, unsure if I should ask him to let me take a few shots. After all, what if the camera broke? But I decided to take the chance. ‘Mwalimu, nisaidie nipige picha,’ I asked, my voice laced with hesitation. To my surprise, he handed it over with a smile, ‘Unataka kupiga picha? Okay, shika.’

I eagerly took the camera and began snapping shots of my classmates on the basketball court. As soon as the students saw me taking photos, they rushed over, eager to be in the frame. The excitement grew quickly, but when the teacher noticed the crowd forming, he promptly took the camera back, probably to prevent any mishaps. Although it wasn’t my first time holding a camera, this moment felt different more special. After watching so many YouTube tutorials, it felt incredible to finally put those skills into practice. The thrill of capturing those moments had both my friends and me buzzing with excitement.

The next day, Wednesday, there was a special prayer session for the Form Fours, who were about to complete high school. As the Mass began, I couldn’t stop imagining myself taking photos again, and even my friends urged me to ask for the camera. But I said no. Then, suddenly, a friend tapped my shoulder, ‘Edu! Unaitwa na Mr. Murang’a.’ My heart started racing—I knew what was coming. When I approached him, he handed me the camera and said, ‘Shika upige picha, bora usiangushe.’ With the strap securely around my hand, I felt like a professional. I captured as many moments as I could during the Mass, and my friends kept whispering my name, asking for photos. After the Father finished praying for the candidates, the ceremony ended, and I could hear my name being called from every corner of the hall. Everyone wanted their photo taken, and as the crowd rushed toward me, Mr. Murang’a intervened and took the camera back, telling me he’d call me again.

Later that day, just before classes started, Mr. Murang’a called me again. ‘Wewe ndio unapiga staff picha,’ he told me. I was both shocked and excited. The teachers were waiting for their group photo, and since Mr. Murang’a was usually the one behind the camera, he asked me to take the shots. ‘Make sure everyone fits in the frame,’ he instructed. I took the first photo, then repositioned those who were out of the frame or too short to be seen clearly. After a few adjustments, I asked everyone to smile and took several more shots. Mr. Murang’a was impressed with my work, and his praise made my day.

A few weeks later, the school magazine was published. I was thrilled to see the photos I had taken featured in it, even though I wasn’t credited as the photographer. That didn’t matter to me. Seeing my work in print was enough to make me proud.”

On Sundays, we often had visitors who came to preach at our school. One particular Sunday, a group of gospel artists visited us, accompanied by two alumni. Samson, one of the alumni, had a camera. At the time, I was the computer lab prefect, and since Samson knew me, I thought he might let me use the camera to take some photos. I was at the DJ booth with the DJ and the entertainment prefect, where the camera had been placed. As some students began fiddling with it, I decided to check which model it was, it was a Canon EOS 800D.

When Samson noticed the students handling the camera, he quickly came over and took it back, explaining that it belonged to a television company. Hearing this, I thought to myself, ‘This must be a high-end camera if it’s used for TV.’ After he took it, I asked if I could take a few photos, but sadly, he said no.

Later that day, I went to the computer lab to do some research on the camera. I found out that it was pricier than the Canon EOS 250D, the camera I had been dreaming of. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a newer model, like the EOS 850D. After a quick search, I discovered that the Canon EOS 850D had been launched in the late 2020s. Though I didn’t have time to check the price, I knew it must be even more expensive.

One evening during prep, I told my friend Samuel that I wanted to ask Mr. Murang’a how much the Canon EOS 850D cost. Samuel, always strategic, suggested we couldn’t just go and ask about cameras directly. ‘Let’s think of a challenging history question to ask him first,’ he said, ‘and then we can slide in the camera question after.’ I agreed, and after Mr. Murang’a answered our history question, I casually asked, ‘By the way, how much does the Canon 850D cost?’ Mr. Murang’a pulled out his phone, googled it, and told us it was priced at 115,000 Ksh. It was shockingly expensive. He laughed and said, ‘Hii utauza ng’ombe na kichwa ndio ununue’. We walked back to class, discussing how unrealistically high the price was.

The final exams soon arrived. We spent a whole month doing them, saying goodbye to classmates who finished before us. The computer studies students, only eleven of us, were the last to finish. After our final exam, we all said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

During the months I waited for my results, I did everything I could to make ends meet, still holding on to my dream of buying a camera. As I continued learning about cameras on YouTube, I realized that the Canon EOS 850D was superior to the EOS 250D, and I made up my mind that this was the camera I was going to buy even though it was much more expensive.

When the Form Four results were finally released, I began searching for an institution of higher learning to further my studies. I applied to a college in Meru County. At the time, I stopped mentioning the camera to my mother and brother, knowing that our focus had shifted to my college preparations and school fees.

The day finally came for me to leave Juja and relocate to Meru. The journey was long, but we arrived safely. That same day, we bought the essentials I needed to settle in my bedsitter had already been paid for, and it was a Sunday. Once everything was in place, it was time for my mother and brother to head back to Juja. It was around 6:12 PM, and the country was still under curfew, which began at 10:00 PM, but they assured me they’d make it back in time. I was left with my cousin, Kim.

The next morning, we woke up early to go for my admission at The Meru National Polytechnic. It was a cold, foggy morning. I suggested we leave around 8:00 AM, but Kim insisted we go earlier to avoid the long queues since many people would be joining the school that day. I agreed, and we walked to the institution. When we arrived at the gate, there was already a massive line, even though it was only 4:20 AM.

I found myself standing next to a tall guy with a big afro, holding a blue file. I assumed he might be there to pursue a degree, but I focused on my own business. After a brief orientation about COVID-19, the guy with the afro tapped me and asked if I could check his documents because he had forgotten something. He left them on his seat and rushed off. When the briefing ended, we were instructed to join the queue with our documents. Since he hadn’t returned, I debated whether I should carry his documents with me in case he looked for me in the line. Ultimately, I decided to leave them, figuring he’d find them when he came back.

As I waited in the slow-moving queue, I saw him approaching, clearly searching for me. I waved, and he joined me. Luckily, he had his documents with him. I had been hesitant to take them because I didn’t know him, and there was a chance he wouldn’t have found me. We introduced ourselves, his name was Shem, and I told him mine.

Shem and I continued queuing together, and he mentioned he was there to pursue ICT. Initially, I assumed he was going for a higher level, so I figured we wouldn’t be in the same class since I was pursuing a Certificate in the same course. A few days later, we had our orientation, and the ICT students were grouped together. To my surprise, when they asked who were pursuing the Certificate level, Shem raised his hand as well. I was amazed and excited to realize we’d be in the same class. After the orientation, I approached him, and we chatted for a few minutes, exchanging contacts.

A week later, classes began, and Shem was the only friend I had made so far. We spent a lot of time together during breaks and when there were no classes. As we got to know each other better, we started sharing our future plans and goals. That’s when I told him about my dream of buying a camera and starting a photography business. He was really supportive and encouraged me to take steps toward making it a reality, starting with registering a name for my business.

At that point, I had no idea what I would call my business, he also introduced me to some graphic design software and helped me create my first logo. The first attempt wasn’t great, but after two days of playing around with the software, I managed to create a logo that I still use today. When I showed it to Shem, he was impressed and suggested I create an official email for the business, which I did.

Even though I didn’t have a camera yet, Shem’s encouragement pushed me to take more steps. He even suggested I make business cards and start distributing them around campus. That felt like too much pressure, though I didn’t even have a camera! What would I do if someone actually called me for a shoot? Still, I went ahead and made a few business cards, handing them out to a few classmates.

Check out the business card i had created.