Welcome to Jerusalem where my journey together with Carl and Epiphany from 365docobites starts. This means that for the next two weeks portraits from our journey will be up on Humans of Amsterdam combined with docobites (2-4 minute film portraits.) Combining photography and film is something I always have been very interested in so this was a wonderful opportunity to do so. Feel free to share your feedback. Please remember that the idea of this project is not to make a political statement of any kind or to represent a people or a nation. Our true intention is to simply share the human stories from the people in these areas that we met along the way.

*Also I would like to give out a special shout out to those who got involved by voting or contributing financially to this project.

“As a teenager it wasn’t always easy to combine school and soccer. I was lucky to have Mister Langendijk, my high school mentor who believed I could finish my diploma.”
“What’s the most important lesson Mister Langendijk has taught you?”
“That even though you might be a good player it’s still important to get good grades. He always said: ‘There needs to be a balance. Once you will manage to succeed in school, you’ll succeed on the soccer field’.”

“With all the violence going on in this world, I’m starting to believe democracy is a myth..”

“During soccer matches in Cape town my teammates had their families and friends cheering at the sidelines for them. Because my mum was back in Johannesburg taking care of my sisters there was no one to watch me play. I had to grow up really fast.”
“What was the happiest moment of your life?”
“It was last year, when I was able to buy my mum a car. Now she calls me every day with a story about places she visited with her new car.”

“I was seven years old when my dad died. When I turned thirteen I left my township in Johannesburg to play soccer in Capetown. The day I left my mum handed me a phone. I remember very well because it was the first time I saw a mobile phone. There was only one number in it, which was hers. The first months were terrible. I used to call her every night crying, asking if I should come back home. She never told me rather that would be a wise decision or not. She would just say: ‘You could come back home but don’t forget, one day in the ghetto is not much different from the next.’ ”

“Sometimes my sister is sweet but sometimes she can be really mean.”
“What does she do when she is mean?”
“She ruins my puzzles..”
‘When is she sweet to you?“
’’Mostly on Tuesdays she is nice.”