This photo was taken in Abidjan, two days before the end of a skate tour organized by SurfGhana in October 2022. The goal of the tour, lasting a little over a week, was to bring together Ghanaian and Ivorian skate communities. I was tasked with documenting the journey. Initially, I was just going to take a group photo with all the skaters, but I am fascinated by movements. By instinct, I started moving my camera, getting closer to try to capture less frozen, less sought-after moments.

The image is instantly recognizable to anyone who has done any roadside shopping in the CBD, where vendors and the city inspectorate are regularly engaged in a battle for control of sidewalks and paved pathways.

This photograph was taken in the village of Ozaga, Ait Heddou Youssef in the heart of the Atlas Mountains. It is a part of my first series, «A journey into nature where time stops to play», a project that reflects my inner child by documenting the daily lives of Amazigh children.

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.

The photograph shows a person sitting on the stairway in front of a faded yellow building, wearing a mask with an elongated oval shape, adorned with what appears to be cowrie shells and raffia materials at the top. With hands clasped together between their lap, they are dressed in a layer of colourful clothes—a jacket with a vibrant checkered design, a black shirt with white details underneath, and a bright blue trouser with circular patterns and white sneakers.

This photograph was taken in Garowe in April 2023. It was a spur of the moment shot – I had been driving around with my cousin on one of the roads in Garowe where this market is located. This scene came upon us; these people standing near this market that’s closed, illuminated by its light and the streetlight, the dead tree. There’s a man I didn’t see at first sitting on the ground on the phone, oblivious to the road and its happenings.

These two men, appearing to take a break from the busy market section of the festival, sat across one another with a box of goods between them. They looked as though suspended in their own world, the warm light of the afternoon sun setting shadows that provided them with brief respite from the chaos around us. You can see in the background a motorbike; many travel from nearby towns on motorbikes to attend the festival and the roads are filled with the sound of their engines and the smoke. This image stood out to me in the symbols it contains …

The photo was taken at Entebbe-Lake Victoria. I was having lunch with friends, enjoying some of the best potatoes I've ever had. The beach had this uniquely beautiful vibe—Marabou storks by the shore were scaring some people while others remained in awe. I grew up by the Indian Ocean, and the birdlife there hardly compares in size. I thought the mix of everything going on was beautiful, and I see my photos as a dialogue with my future self. I didn't have time to compose a shot with my DSLR, so I just used my phone. It's a lovely surprise …

As I look back and attempt to measure my impulse, I might say I was compelled by the relative ease of turning my lens towards that view. It seemed unlikely anyone could see me or hear the click of the shutter, and I liked the monologue. Since I rarely pictured people I felt no guilt. The painted wall on the right suggests this as the backyard of a nursery or primary school, and on a number of occasions there was a mass assembling of cars, perhaps for a parents and teachers meeting.

The photograph was taken at Ajah Bus Stop, under the bridge, during an operation by the Lagos Taskforce, who were chasing people trading in what they deemed illegal spots. On that particular day, I was documenting the interaction between the government and its citizens. My role was to observe without picking sides or expressing emotions—I was meant to be an impartial observer.

This photograph was made in my coastal hometown of Kilifi on a hot Sunday afternoon. The moment unfolded quite naturally. I had been wandering along the creek, camera in hand when I saw them – four boys, lost in their own world of play and laughter. As I got closer, one moved from inside the water and lay on the wet sand just a couple of feet away from me like he was surrendering to the tide.

This photograph was taken at a festival in Badagry, Lagos. I had been shooting since morning with my friend, Adetona Omokanye, who is also a photographer, and this is one of the last few images I captured that day (mid-afternoon). It’s a flamboyant yet simple picture in terms of technicality, and, to me, it reaffirms the idea that, “if you want interesting pictures, you put yourself in front of interesting things.”

The image is instantly recognizable to anyone who has done any roadside shopping in the CBD, where vendors and the city inspectorate are regularly engaged in a battle for control of sidewalks and paved pathways.

The photo was taken at the Giza Pyramids complex in Egypt where tourists take selfies with the great pyramids in the background. When I noticed all the people consumed by their phones trying to take a photo of themselves, I tried to fill all the spaces in the frame so I can portray what it feels like in that moment. 

In Dakar I walk around the city and watch. The photographs I take are results of a long-standing observation of urban life and its continuous changes. For a long time I have been attracted to some situations or urban installations and finally I managed to find words to describe what I was looking at and what I was searching for in this city.

This image is one of the very first ones I took when I decided I wanted to invest in photography as an artistic practice. For someone who was slowly daring to call herself a photographer and an artist I was pleased by how it turned and relieved to see that I could trust my instincts.

In the moment while creating this photograph, I found myself wondering why this young man showed up to a masquerade performance in a mask. Was he merely trying to mimick the situation? Was it a way for him to feel more like a part of the festival? To embody the tradition of masquerades and masked dances? Or perhaps he just thought it cool? Whichever way, I couldn’t escape the thoughts and ideas that this sight conjured up in my mind. 

During the protest in Alausa, the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway was routinely barricaded from 12pm till 6pm daily. On this day, the vehicle of the Nigerian Army drove on the wrong side of the road in order to by-pass the barricade and protesters on the other side of the road. I thought there was going to be a clash when I saw protesters running towards the vehicle, so I instantly focused my lens on the man who laid on the road daring the Nigerian army to come run over him. Instinctively, the soldiers drove away.