Inside Africa with CNN

One of my many small niche interests, perhaps strange to some but deeply meaningful to me, is as described to visit landfills around the world and talk to the people who live their lives on and with the waste. Especially the large open landfills in South Africa have provided me with countless images, stories, and insights to bring home.

By some circuitous route, CNN got wind of my endeavor and contacted me with a request: could I stop by Turner Studios in London for an interview for the program Inside Africa? Coincidentally, I had a layover in London on my way home from South Africa, so the timing was perfect.

I landed early one morning at Heathrow and took the train directly to Turner Studios. I was a bit early but was kindly invited inside by a lovely young woman with a professional smile and eyes that said “come right in.” I was tired after the journey, and worse still: I stank of the sweat of anxiety. Politely, I asked if they perhaps had a shower, and they actually did. I had a refreshing shower and could thus meet CNN with some degree of freshness and dignity.

It was a new and exciting world to step into, right in the middle of the media gladiators’ lair, where famous faces dashed past at breakneck speed. I was placed in a vacant office where I could send the last pictures to Atlanta and gather my thoughts while trying not to look like someone about to fall asleep.

Opposite me sat a well known news anchor staring at me with a mixture of skepticism and British arrogance, as if I were some slightly smelly climate refugee. I smiled politely back and said not a word, but thought my own thoughts. I wondered how such a bubble head had managed to get ahead in the world with that attitude.

The beautiful girl from before came and collected me and led me into a pitch black room, lit by three objects: a large camera, a high Dave Allan chair, and, strangely enough, a ladder. I understood the purpose of the camera, and the chair was easy to figure out. But the ladder? It just stood there, silent and significant. Perhaps a form of media totem? I never found out what it was for, but I have since wondered if all studios have their own ladder.

Another pretty woman asked me to sit down. She rigged me up with a wireless microphone and ensured I sat correctly. So there I sat, ready to talk about stinking waste mountains with the whole world.

After a short wait, the system came to life. A friendly lady appeared on the screen, and began to speak to me in perfect Danish! It turned out the interview was being directed from Atlanta, and that she was not only Danish but also extremely professional. She calmly explained what would happen and how I should behave, which was not entirely easy, as I had to remember the images I had just sent and speak to her as if we were in the same room.

She asked, and I answered as best I could. About the people of the landfills, their freedom, the stench, the dignity, and the hidden society that is all too often misunderstood, and then, suddenly, it was all over. I was unhooked, smiled my thanks, and was escorted to the exit.

A little later, I stood somewhat confused in the streets of London, my ears ringing in the same way they did when, as a child, I came out of the cinema. Bag over my shoulder, thinking about how to find my way back to the airport. It had all been a bit dreamlike. As if I had stepped into a foreign stage set and was now quietly being led out again.