Today, I was playing ball with the big kids. I managed to get a last minute media pass for the state funeral of John Atta Mills, the former president of Ghana who passed way on July 24, 2012. Wire staff from around the world was present, including a handful of seasoned professional photogs. It was intimidating to say the least. Independence square is enormous and the sea of red and black (traditional Ghanian mourning colors) stretched around the square and out into the streets of Accra as far as I could see. But as the motor escort for the dignitaries flew into the plaza I had to push everything I felt out and focus on the work at hand.

The somewhat poorly planned media stands were too far from the speakers to really get any photos of the heads of state on the VIP platform. Even a few of the heavy hitters with their massive 500mm lenses complained they would have to really crop the images to get a tight shot.

Then came the casket. For 20 minutes, as the procession slowly made its way to the platform Mills’ body would rest on, the media stand turned into a feeding frenzy of sharks. Luckily, I had some experience in smaller scrums (slang derived from rugby) and had heard enough stories to have an idea of what to do. It paid off, being able to navigate the mess and having to exchange some less-then-kosher words with only one other photographer meant that I could capture what I needed for my paper without getting trampled.

As we all realized that nobody would be able to get any decent images, all the photographers suddenly became friends again and we stood in a circle passing around whatever snacks we had all brought. the police had the stand closed off so we had to stay in the area for the whole event. For the photographers of the Daily Guide and I, that meant 8 hours with whatever snacks and water we had, no protection from the sun and no restrooms.

Yet, nobody cared. As hungry, tired, and sunburnt as I was after, I felt nothing but the adrenaline of making photographs. As the ceremony wrapped up and the casket was being moved out to its resting place, another surge hit me. Back to work again. These last 20 minutes were the most productive and the most conflicting.

While I had seen very little crying before, as Mill’s body was being moved away I saw quite a few tears. The event took on an extra sobering flavor as I realized that my job included taking pictures of people in grief. I felt, for a just moment, that I was exploiting their sorrow for the sake of a good photograph. Then I remembered as a journalist this is what people need to see. It is my duty to bring images both beautiful and ugly, charming and sad, mundane and explosive, to the people. Unpleasant stuff happens in this world and a photograph can bring the gravity of those things to you in a way other mediums can not. It is why I became a journalist and today solidified that sentiment.

**Images will be posted when I go back to work on Tuesday. The group will be in Kumasi this weekend and our mobile broadband modems are not quick enough to post photos before the end of this century**