I shot this in Yaba market in Lagos. I went to the market with my camera for once and decided to capture things and people I found interesting on the way, and these boys and I had a brief conversation and I ended up getting that shot at the end of it.

By documenting how people express their faith in clothing and carry their faith through everyday life, these photographs sheds light on how community is built not only through presence, but through shared purpose, reverence, and identity.

This photograph was taken at River Niger, Lokoja, Kogi State, Nigeria. I took the photograph during one of my trips in the other side of the Niger, while also inside another ferry.

This photograph was taken at Piassa, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I saw the man enjoying the sun and went on to capture it.

This photograph was taken at the tabernacle of a small Rastafarian family living in the mountainous area of Wellington, at the extreme top of the hill in Freetown. It is a place most people in the city have never seen. I was there on a Saturday morning, documenting the family as part of ‘The Keepers’, an ongoing documentary photography project that follows their life across seasons.

This is one of those photos that has many layers to it. It is saying and expressing a lot. From the unknown, faceless man and his body language to where he is pictured. And I loved that partially pictured white car with a touch of pink rims.

This photograph was taken in the Draa Valley near Assa town southern Morocco during the February of 2025. Assa is a city in the southeastern Sahara near the Algerian border.

I chose this photograph because it was a quiet moment when Auntie Ntombekhaya was tucked away from the main path of the tour. It portrays care and attention through the activity being engaged in, grace in her posture, seated position and how the needle is held, while also giving context to the community within which this is unfolding.

This image was my favorite from the day’s photographs. It draws you into a private moment. A tension between three people you’re not fully let into. You don’t get the full story. You’re left with what you can gather.

This photograph was taken in the homestead of my Xhosa family in Eastern Cape. We were all celebrating the end of a ceremony, and I was sitting in the corner with another Makhoti, a new family member, brought into the husband’s family through marriage (I am one of the two in the home).

Taken in 2018, this photograph is part of a documentary project, Au Quartier, which explores life in Rwandan neighborhoods. The project began in 2012 as a street photography project, capturing candid moments. It has since evolved to include interviews and personal stories, allowing me to engage directly with my subjects.

I took the photo in a rural area in southern Madagascar. I was talking with another young mother when I saw her. There was something striking about the way she stood, looking out toward the horizon. It felt like a moment I couldn’t miss. I raised my camera and captured it instinctively—no setup, no pose. Just a raw, honest moment that said everything without words.

The photographs were taken in Ibadan, Oyo state, Nigeria during an art residency program where I revisited the concept of Rust and Gold in Ibadan from an agricultural perspective. My project highlights the decline of agriculture in Oyo state, with a major challenge being the lack of youth interest. Many young people are shifting away from farming in favour of white-collar jobs, contributing to the sector’s gradual decline.

Many African photographers have sought to indicate an ‘everyday’ element in their work. They aim to show nothing of the sensational, especially if the photographs are of places or people historically pictured in a stereotypical manner. Their everyday scenes focus on the usual rhythms of life, what might even be

Along with many talented photographers, I was asked to take part in a trip to document the traditional/religious Epiphany ceremony at Lake Ziway. We were all on a boat facing the priests carrying the ark of the covenant. This is a ceremony where the priest carries the ark from one island to the next. It is a very peaceful and colourful sight.

In my approach to photography, I don't think I have developed a single style. I'm always interested or distracted by different kinds of knowledge I come across and that affects my approach. I like documentary photography but not in the very traditional form. 

Walking through this room, as through all the other rooms in that admin block, I felt the presence of the people who had used it just before the silence took over. A lot was still in motion: test tubes and beakers in the sink, plugs just removed from their sockets, equipment on the table positioned at angles as though they were facing someone.

The more I took photographs and heard people’s stories, the same recurrent themes kept coming up: Lack of immediate aid during the flooding, the resilience of the people of Grand-Bassam and how they struggled to get back on their feet, and currently still try to build preventative methods in anticipation of another devastating flooding. Lastly, the pain they still carry in regards to their precious damaged property, loss of income, and the way they were left to fend for their own.

Photography’s days of machinic and visual innocence were over long ago. Once one makes peace with the terrible history of the camera and image making in Africa, and understand the camera and the photographic act as not a neutral process, then as photographers we can dwell on the many opportunities the medium gives us to deepen, become more critical and go inwards. Through the photographic process we also have an opportunity to resist the (re)production of flat and violent images that remain on the surface of things.