By Janet Jarman

It felt like a movie scene. I wish it had been. Two men began to follow our car late one night in São Paulo. Suddenly Marie, my colleague, slammed her foot on the gas, forcing us through a red light and spiraling through her neighborhood in an effort to lose them. My instinct was right - we had been approached at gunpoint from behind. Already, I had read numerous studies¹ on violence in São Paulo and had heard several personal testimonies. Each person, it seemed, had a similar story. I remained quiet, my adrenaline rushing, until Marie's garage door closed down behind us.

Such a day would be hard to forget, especially given the contrast with an earlier incident. Down to my last bit of cash, I had walked 10 blocks to pick up developed film at a professional laboratory, only to discover they would not accept credit cards. Furious, and one hour shy of my deadline to get film off to Chicago, I ran six blocks to the nearest Banco do Brasil, only to find the bank had closed. The only cash machine outside spit my A.T.M. card back at me.

Panicking, I began pleading with the guards to let me speak to the last remaining teller inside. They shook their heads "no" behind the glass. At this moment a stranger in a business suit emerged. After learning of my dilemma he asked how much money I needed. I watched in disbelief as he inserted his bank card into the machine and loaned me the $40 I needed.

Brazil is a country of extremes, and not just of climate and geography. One day, you can be assaulted at gunpoint. The same day, a total stranger might give you money! This act of kindness defined my next four weeks in Brazil, quickly overshadowing my one unfortunate brush with violence.

The next day I flew three hours northeast to Fortaleza for the first of two Changemakers assignments, my goal being to explore social problems using a journalistic approach which illustrates not just a social problem, but also its potential solutions.

Such an assignment is rare today as competition drives mainstream media to rely on negative and sensational stories. By nature, these stories emphasize problems rather than solutions. As a result, the public has been inundated by photos of war, disease, environmental destruction and poverty. Although such photos are imperative tools for building civil society and encouraging democracy, their overexposure can cancel out their effectiveness by making people feel helpless, overwhelmed or apathetic, a situation that paralyzes society over time.

When journalists and editors explore solutions as well as setting out the problems - what some call "solution journalism" - it can help reverse this apathy. So far, few mainstream editors have the resources or the will to support this approach, as it takes time and is not without obstacles.

A Chronicle of Answers

Choosing my next story proved difficult. Due to time constraints, I decided to abandon my initial plan of doing an Amazon environmental story, since covering such a large territory requires months, not days. Instead I flew back to Rio de Janeiro to work with Vera Cordeiro who started Saúde Criança Renascer, a public health NGO which provides emergency assistance to sick children from low-income families during and after hospitalization.

Developing Trust, Overcoming Logistics

Despite my concern that it might seem unprofessional, I accepted an invitation to stay with Cordeiro. I soon realized it was a blessing that could enhance the story as it gave us time to get to know and trust one another, a necessary element for successful photojournalism.

Another important element involves logistics. While Vera understood the process, people are often surprised by what photojournalism entails. They want to set up a situation for you, and this presents an ethical problem. At this point, you must firmly explain how you work: that you must spend time with people, and that often you have to wait for moments to happen. In rare cases it is helpful to actually live with subjects. Some of the most beautiful moments I have photographed have come in this way while living with a Mexican migrant family in the United States. I eventually became like a fly on the wall, which allowed me to capture real moments and emotions in their lives.

While photographing people in their homes is one form of access, working in potentially dangerous neighborhoods is slightly more complicated. This was certainly the case in Rio, where many favelas are ruled by drug dealers, making it unwise to enter alone with cameras. In most cases, being accompanied by residents or people who work in a certain favela grants a type of informal protection, but no guarantees. In order to best portray Vera's story, I decided to spend as much time as possible inside favelas with people helped by Renascer. Finding willing participants was not a problem, since many felt the story might help Renascer to help others.

Capturing Strength and Determination on Film

I usually find people are grateful to have their photos taken, to know that somebody is interested in them and that their point of view and experiences matter. In Brazil, especially, I noticed that people felt proud to be photographed, much like Rosangela Carvalho, who agreed to share a day with me, and Maria Alice Pereira the group's primary social worker.

Rosangela has AIDS, and transmitted H.I.V. to her two youngest children through birth. Her oldest son suffers from kidney disease. Three years ago a flood destroyed everything she owned. Despite these challenges, Rosangela carries on - a woman of great strength and determination.

Unfortunately, I could not spend the entire day with Rosangela due to a strange interruption. During an important interview with a school principal, our driver entered the room in a panic, convinced that someone had stolen his van.

Rosangela immediately collected her children and began to march home. She seemed to know much more than we did. Maria Alice and I followed behind, debating whether there was any real danger. At last we rounded the corner to Rosangela's house and found the van untouched. Seeming angry over the driver's accusation, Rosangela explained how vehicles are never stolen in her neighborhood, since it is ruled by the Red Command, an organized crime group. In Rio, when the Red Command infiltrates a neighborhood, they make the rules, she said, and those who break the rules are soon killed.

The following day Maria Alice and I worked throughout Rochino, Rio's largest and most developed favela. This time, we decided to drive ourselves. Our main challenge, again, involved logistics, as I became obsessed with getting an overall shot of the favela. This type of photo sounds simpler than it is, and we spent most of our morning searching for an unobstructed vantage point. We eventually found a school roof and decided to return later, when I knew the late afternoon sun would provide a warmer light with greater contrast.

At this point it was near 4 o'clock, so we rushed off to the school. Eager to see the grand view I imagined, I quickly scaled our ladder and climbed to the edge of the school roof. Oddly, Maria Alice stayed back, appearing frightened. I wondered what could have upset her. Finally, she revealed her extreme fear of heights and thanked me for helping her overcome it. Slowly, she inched closer to me, until we shared the same view of Rochino.

Finding Hope in the Midst of Despair

We sat in awe, observing the beautiful and frightening scene. For thirty minutes, I quietly viewed Rochino from a distance, knowing that in this place where I spent one day, Maria Alice spends most days, listening to residents' stories of despair and horror, hope and strength. Later, the sun would dip behind the mountain, and glittering lights from over 200,000 shelters would transform Rochino into a magical scene, giving visual respite to those who would rather ignore its existence.

These are the people I have always sought to affect with my photographs. Perhaps solution journalism is one way to draw them into contemplating social problems and how they can be solved, or at least softened.

Although there is some evidence that the mainstream media care about these stories, there is still little commitment to publishing them. There are boundless examples of innovative solutions to draw from; all deserve coverage. Yet, so far, their explanations remain tucked away inside low-circulation academic journals.

It is difficult to discern whether this reality is changing. Each time I return to my photo cooperative in London, I find that I am the only one printing stories focusing on people like Vera and Dora. Others around me are printing fashion, music, commercial products and photo-art. I wonder if this is a sign of where we are moving as a society, towards an even greater material focus. As technology advances, will we lose sight of what it means to be human? In order for civilization to survive, the technology pendulum will have to swing back or maintain equilibrium. Our future will still depend on humans - those with the strength and determination exhibited by Dora, Vera, Maria Alice and Rosangela.