Issue link: http://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25036
ARE YOU A CHRISTIAN ALBANIA, JULY, 1998 TEXT: GARY FABIANO It's mid-afternoon, the sun is beating down and the temperature is in the upper 90s. I have spent most of the day wandering the streets of Tirana looking for pieces of life that can explain the complexity of a place that exists in a state of anarchy. Webster's dictionary defines anarchy as a social structure without government or law and order and a place of utter confusion. In Albania, violence and death are as common as cooking breakfast, so I learn to be alert everyday- even when I am sleeping. The heat and the sun are starting to take their toll ; my pace becomes slower. I spend a few minutes watching a bunch of locals looking through an open set of street level windows enjoying the party scenes of a young couple's marriage. Venturing down a side street I notice, out of the right side of my eyes, a couple of soldiers carrying AK-47 assault rifles. These are the guns of choice throughout most of the world and, after hearing one being fired, you learn to respect them. They have two settings: single shot and assault. Assault mode can disperse more than 600 bullets a minute. Remaining alert, I walk out of the alley and am almost out of view when I notice that one of the soldiers is trying to wave me over. I understand that he wants me to stop but I attempt to translate his actions as him being f riendly. I smile and wave and keep walking. He then begins to walk at an angle in my direction. I stop. He asks me questions I can't answer because we don't speak the same language. I finally understand that he wants to know where I am from. "America, " I answer, but he doesn't seem to understand. So I say "New York City. " Now he understands. After a few minutes of semi-communicable small talk, smiling and shaking hands, I attempt to walk away. But he isn't letting go of my hand. His body language suggests I stay. He continues to try and communicate. Finally, out of frustration, he places his weapon on the ground and takes out a pen and begins to write on his hand. My f irst reaction is to try and figu re out what he is writing so I can quickly respond. Then he turns his hand so it looms into my face. My second reaction is to take a picture. Peering through my viewfinder, the symbols become concentrated (so do the metal flecks shining off the tips of his fingers from his AK-47) and I understand clearly what he is trying to ask me. The question is whether I am a Christian or a Muslim. Some may think this is an innocent question, but I have learned two questions photojournalists should avoid by all means. The first is about politics and the second is about religion. Most of the time you have about a 50/50 chance of answering right. These are not good odds in a place where second chances may be few. Not speaking the language has its advantages. I play ignorant. The soldier stops a few locals to see if they speak English. No one speaks English and out of frustration, he keeps stopping people. Eventually a group of people gather and his attention switches from me to the group. This is my calling to leave. I walk away slowly. He knows I'm leaving but he is occupied by the people around him. I am about 20 feet away when I turn and look back at him. He looks at me and his eyes tell me that I never answered his question.