Remembering Felix Ordonez
By Paul Hanna
I looked at the clock, it was 4:47am, the ringing phone that had woken me was flashing the photographer’s name, Felix Ordoñez. I thought, “What the hell?” as I struggled to achieve some form of consciousness before answering. By the serious tone of Felix’s voice on the other end of the phone, I became immediately aware that something terrible had happened. “Buenos dias Paul, un coche bomba enorme acaba de estallar en Burgos,” (Paul, good morning, a huge car bomb just exploded in Burgos) were his first words. It was July 29, 2009, and ETA, the basque separatist rebels, had just blown up an enormous civil guards barracks in his home town of Burgos, only fifteen minutes earlier. Felix was already there, shooting pictures, describing the scene to me, and telling me that he would be transmitting pictures very soon.
I thought this anecdote was appropriate as a tribute to Felix’s professionalism and dedication. The scene sprang to mind vividly this morning when I received a call with news of his tragic and untimely death. Last night, after covering a Champions League soccer match in Madrid, Felix died after suffering a devastating heart attack as he drove back to his home town of Burgos.
Felix started working for Reuters in the 1990’s, mainly covering soccer in the beginning. Soon afterwards, his talent led to many assignments of all varieties in Spain and abroad for Reuters, including the 2004, 2008 and 2012 Euro soccer championships in Portugal, Austria and Ukraine, as well as the 2006 World Cup in Germany.
When the floods come to your hometown
Hoboken, New Jersey
By Gary Hershorn
For thirty-four years I have been a photojournalist covering events the world over, but never have I had to live within a news event in my hometown. Too many times to count in my 28 years with Reuters, I have packed my bags and flown off to cover the news but never have I looked out my window and seen a story unfold before me. It is an indescribable feeling watching waters rage and rise in the street below, feeling as helpless as one can be.
Demolition of a gypsy community
Madrid, Spain
By Susana Vera
I remember the first time I saw Milagros Echevarria. She was in her house slippers, battling with the rubble piled up outside her home, with only a simple broom as a weapon. It was like watching David face Goliath.
The fisherman at Lake Koenigssee
Smoking like 400 years ago…
By Michael Dalder After eighty-four successive days without catching a fish, the old man Santiago tells his young friend Manolin that he will go “far out” into the ocean. And there, a huge marlin takes his bait but Santiago is physically unable to reel him in. Nevertheless, Santiago refuses to let him go, so this leads to a three-day struggle between the fisherman and the fish.
This famous scene of Ernest Hemingway’s novella “The Old Man and the Sea” was in my mind when I first contacted the Bavarian fisherman Thomas Amort from Lake Koenigssee.
The pier of my memory
By Jose Miguel Gomez
The old and decayed pier in Puerto Colombia was a place that I first visited with my father when I was just six. We walked the whole of its nearly two kilometers into the Caribbean Sea, feeling the wonderful sea breeze and a bit of fear as the waves rolled under us at the end. The strong waves vibrated the foundations of this pier that in its heyday, at the turn of the 20th Century, attracted tourists in boats which docked alongside cargo ships. It was a colonial experience when there were still street lamps casting a romantic light on the dock frequented by lovers strolling under a full moon.
The qualifying matches for the World Cup Brazil 2014 recently brought me to Barranquilla, just east of Puerto Colombia. Today, Barranquilla has its own great port for modern ships that has made the world all but forget about the monumental pier just 16 kms away. On a day when neither Colombia nor Paraguay allowed photographers into their soccer training sessions, I decided to return to Puerto Colombia to visit my childhood pier.
A different political film
By Jim Young
The political game always seems the same to me, only the players change.
Brazil’s Highway of Death
By Nacho Doce
As Marcondes walked to his truck, his wife and mother said goodbye with the words, “Be careful and may God be with you.” I knew why they talked that way; the highway that he was going to take from Rondonopolis to Sorriso in the fertile state of Mato Grosso is nicknamed the “Highway of Death.”
Chasing Obama
By Jason Reed
What a difference four years makes for someone running again for President of the United States.
-
Resident Photographers Blog Expert
-
The Wall
