Armed with little more than a camera, a mobile phone and minimal change of clothes, Kiran Kreer travels to disaster areas and places of abject poverty. There, he spends weeks getting to know the locals, capturing their reality and raising funds to provide them with much-needed aid.
PETRINA FERNANDEZ speaks to the documentary photographer on trading a cushy corporate job for a nomadic life, his photojournalistic activism and living on his own terms.
The swanky apartment, a nice car, the business cards that boasted his managerial title — Kiran Kreer had it all. It was pretty good going for a man who in his teenage years and early twenties had little direction in life.
Born in Ipoh, Perak, he left home at 16 to work in Kuala Lumpur, doing various odd jobs before eventually returning to consider his tertiary education. His vision of a creative future differed greatly from his parents’ more sensible dreams, and after dabbling in several courses, he eventually settled on pursuing multimedia and design.
This was in the 1990s and a lack of creative opportunities that paid decently propelled him to interview for a clerical position at a bank — Southern Bank, to be precise, with a pay cheque to the tune of RM738.oo (US$156.00). The exact figure, after the necessary deductions, is still clear in his mind. Over the next 12 years, he worked his way up to senior sales manager at Citibank. “I enjoyed what I was doing — I made a lot of money”.
I was into the whole game — working hard, living fast,” he says. “I eventually left and started my own company with my then partner, running the fulfillment on credit card reward redemptions. We were doing quite well and having fun.”
One day, it stopped being fun. Or rather, the descent to that point had been a steady spiral down, but Kreer had brushed off the signs until he could no longer do so. Torn between who he was becoming and who he wanted to be, the internal struggle manifested into a quiet depression. Five years after founding his successful business, he wanted out. “The company wasn’t going where I wanted it to. I wanted to do something else entirely. I wasn’t happy so I decided to stop, just stop making money for people,” he says.
It was not a very well-thought-out affair by any account. The only thing he knew for certain was that work no longer fulfilled him. He parted company with his long-time partner too, citing irreconcilable differences. Newly single, unemployed and at odds with himself, Kreer took some time off to just think. It is said that life hands you something when you least expect it — love, opportunity, whatever it is that eluded your search can one day fall into your lap most unexpectedly.
For Kreer, it happened when he was tagging along with friends to the Penang Bridge Marathon in November 2012. With a camera in hand — “I’d had one since I was 17; my first was a little second-hand Yashica I bought for RM500 from my roommate” — he participated the only way he knew how. The photographs were uploaded on his Facebook page and surprisingly shared widely.
In the midst of photographing the marathon, something clicked in Kreer. He began turning up at events and festivals with his camera. Soon, non-governmental organisations that had come across his work online began to invite him to take pictures. The colours of a Holi celebration, the significance of a Relay for Life run in honor of cancer survivors — he captured a spectrum of emotions, perfectly portraying determination, joy and triumph in his photos. Paid work began pouring in and Kreer had discovered a new purpose in life.
As his work progressed, he realised he wanted to consciously raise awareness on various causes. He tweaked his photography to tell the stories of people he met, sharing personal tales of struggle, joy and regret. While his new take on work was going well, being in KL was hard for Kreer — there were too many memories of a past he had yet to reconcile with. Leaving appeared to be the best option at hand, so he decided to take off on a backpacking trip around India. “To me, India sounded like the hardest place to be,” he muses. “Everywhere I looked here, there were memories.
I wasn’t comfortable with being confronted with who I used to be, so I decided to go somewhere where life was harder, where I would see worse things, so I wouldn’t dwell on my own problems. It turned out to be a cool trip. There was a lot of deep-rooted poverty but also so much culture and many incredible people. It has both bad and good — it’s working chaos. I quickly realised that this was what I wanted to do, photographing the hard topics.”
After two months in India, home felt like a foreign place. Kreer returned to his apartment with a great sense of unease — the bed was too soft, the rooms were filled with too many things. He was so uncomfortable, in fact, that he quickly sold his apartment — fully furnished, right down to the cutlery — for a handsome profit. He paid off his debts and loans — “My credit card bills were full of ridiculous purchases,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief — and decided to live off the remainder sum while pursuing a new path. “India made me realise that I now had a diferent idea of what felt good,” says the 40-year-old. “I didn’t want to depend on things for happiness — I wasn’t that guy any longer. Today, my life is nomadic, so home is in my mind.
It’s wherever I am. I had to get rid of the idea that a sense of belonging meant being attached to a place or person. Once I accepted that, I found it easy to be free. I do care about relationships but material goods now are just tools. I am not dependent on them for fulfilment. We’re all addicted to things — favourite foods, hot showers. I like these, sure. I want my mobile phone and my camera, but at the same time, I only own four T-shirts. You choose how much you need.”
In fact, upon arrival at our first brief meeting at Le Meridien KL, Kreer is flabbergasted at the price of a cup of coffee, which ran into the twenties. “People pay how much for this?” he laughs. We arrange for a second meet at the guesthouse he is staying at while in town, a modest set-up at Pasar Seni. Here, he is far more at ease, making pointed observations over cold water on a humid day.
“You know, I think that’s how I ended up in so many disaster zones,” he says. “People are reduced to living with so little but their spirit doesn’t waver. When a typhoon hit the Philippines, entire houses were destroyed. Their owners were upset but they were far from beaten. They knew a house could be rebuilt. They were glad to be alive. Our conversations were meaningful, about survival and gratitude and everyday pleasures. There were no petty complaints over who said what at the office.”
The 300kph super typhoon, known internationally as Typhoon Haiyan, devastated the Philippines on Nov 8, 2013, leaving 7,500 people dead or missing and hundreds of thousands more homeless. Upon hearing of the storm, Kreer requested for information on his Facebook page and was connected to United Sikhs, an NGO from the UK that was travelling to the site to provide disaster relief.
He immediately signed up as a photographer and volunteer and a week later, was in Manila with four volunteers to do an initial assessment while aid was on its way. Placed in charge of logistics, Kreer went on Google to look through photos of the devastation and discovered Panay, one of the islands hit by the typhoon.
Aid was at the time concentrated in Tacloban, so Kreer decided to take the first flight out to Panay, where he would receive an introduction to emergency disaster relief.
“We found five or six villages we could help and went to work packing food, getting local NGOs involved in distributing emergency aid and renting Jeeps to travel non-stop the distance between Penang and KL delivering food,” he says. “We rented a half-destroyed house and slept on sofas, but we were running on adrenaline and didn’t need much rest.” Three months after the initial impact, efforts were focused on rebuilding houses in a village they had adopted and rationing food for over 1,000 people. Electricity was still limited or unavailable in certain areas.
Kreer discovered a company in the US called Nokero, which produced simple, portable solar-powered light bulbs. The name — a portmanteau of no kerosene — required six hours of solar charging for six hours of light. Founder and CEO Steve Katsaros had invented the bulb in 2010 and patented the idea for the 1.3 billion people in the world who have little or no access to electricity.
Kreer emailed Katsaros about the bulbs and the two came to an agreement — Kreer would receive the lights at a 50% discount in return for being a brand ambassador and providing photographs of their use. The photojournalist agreed and started a simple campaign on his Facebook page and website requesting funds for 100 lights. At US$14 per light — Kreer’s purchase price was US$7 with the remainder going towards shipping, custom and travel costs — funds began pouring in from around the world. He aptly named the project Give Them Light.
“It made a world of difference to the families, some of whom had been without electricity from the start and were reliant on candles and kerosene lamps,” he says. “The bulbs have a lifespan of three to five years and were built for use in rough living conditions. They turn on automatically at nightfall and are bright enough to illuminate a small house.
My photographs were now making sense. Instead of just taking pictures and getting a story, I could give something back.” Give Them Light would travel beyond the Philippines, bringing light to stricken communities in Malaysia after the horrific East Coast floods late 2014 and Nepal following a devastating earthquake. Kreer went to Kuala Krai, Kelantan, in the wake of the floods that affected almost 200,000 Malaysians and encountered among his biggest challenges yet — attempting to coordinate effective relief aid in the country of his birth.
“People were donating, yes, but a lot of the items were really impractical, like worn-out clothes,” he says. “To really get things done, we need money — the first stage of relief aid is medical aid.
Tinned food and bags of rice were coming in by the truckloads, but how do we distribute these to victims with no rice cookers or can openers? Instead of sending 12 bags of rice, donate the money so we can buy food they can eat immediately.” Another problem was the sustainability of efforts locally. Upon the first impact of a natural disaster, donations come flooding in but rebuilding is a protracted effort that requires continuous aid. “How many people are still donating to the East Coast flood victims?” he asks. “There are still thousands of displaced victims — who remembers them?”
Malaysians, says Kreer with a mix of self-deprecating humour and frustration, are not the most generous folks around. “We are a rather materialistic bunch,” he shrugs. “Let’s admit it. A Nokero light costs RM60 but it has been so hard raising funds for Give Them Light locally. I launched a project to raise enough for 1,000 lights to be distributed around the country, including 600 households in Borneo, but we haven’t even raised enough for 400 bulbs. People are reluctant to part with their money, though they won’t think twice about spending that same amount on a lunch. They’re great keyboard warriors but rarely translate talk into action.”
He cites the example of an article on the project that was shared over 10,000 times to little effect. “I have 30,000 followers on my Facebook fan page and some 20,000 unique visits to my website with 70% of my following comprising Malaysians,” he says. “Yet, most donations come from the remaining 30%.” NGOs and corporations do come in but Kreer is very particular about partnerships. Corporate sponsors that attach conditions to their donations — insisting upon branding and publicity — will find him unimpressed and uncooperative.
“I’m not taking photos of official ceremonies and handshakes,” he says flatly. “My photos capture the reality of a situation, they’re honest. Some corporate donors also insist on meetings upon meetings before agreeing to donate — I don’t have time for that. Lufthansa airline donated €3,000 and it did it without even meeting me. I acknowledged its generosity on some of the materials and that was it.”
Upon travelling to a community, Kreer does a thorough assessment of its needs and crowdfunds accordingly, also taking up ad hoc causes such as housing, clean water, education and aid for single mothers. He speaks to the village chief, inspects houses to determine availability of electricity and then sets a target for Give Them Light.
While waiting for donations to accumulate, he travels to the next destination, staying in close proximity so he can return easily when the bulbs arrive from Nokero’s Hong Kong branch, a process that takes a week from the date of order. Bulbs are ordered in batches of 100 for ease of mobility and to ensure the most urgent cases are quickly attended to. Priority is given to single mothers, the elderly and, where necessary, single women who are at risk of sexual assault.
“People ask why I don’t appoint someone to receive the shipment from Nokero to save me the return trip but I like handing over the lights,” he says. “Many people donate because of my credibility and I hold myself accountable to personally ensuring the bulbs go to the people who need them most.” Though he runs Give Them Light single-handedly, there are always volunteers eager to assist, be they locals or like-minded travellers. And while action is a big part of what he does, raising awareness on these causes remains his primary purpose.
He still tells stories of people and issues pertaining to poverty, human rights and disaster relief. “My camera is always with me but I am careful to never be intrusive,” he says. “I will take a few photos of the scene and then put it away. I always spend time talking to people first. I don’t connect with them through my camera, I first connect as a person. Once they’re comfortable with me, they start opening up. Most of the time, they ask to have their photo taken and for their story to be shared. It took time and practice to learn to build that kind of relationship.” Some stories are harder to swallow than others — of drug or sexual abuse, poverty or personal grief.
Listening is hard work and Kreer often finds he has to escape to recuperate for a few days before returning to the community. “It’s hard to see a grown man cry and sometimes, you see it every day,” he says. “But they’re not all sad stories — some are happy, funny or downright bizarre. And there are many great moments. In Nepal, after two weeks of subsisting on rice and dhal while building bamboo houses, a lady invited us to rest at her house. Right in front of us, she milked her cow and boiled the milk for us to drink it fresh. It was the best glass of milk I ever had — one volunteer cried while drinking it. Sometimes the villagers bring us fresh fruit or hot tea. They have limited ways to show their gratitude but they do it wholeheartedly.”
Children and the elderly are his favourite subjects as he finds their faces tell the most articulate stories. “In the Philippines, the children were really excited when they saw my camera,” he laughs. “They ran towards me shouting, ‘Kuya Kiran, Kuya Kiran’ (kuya means older brother). And sometimes you see a really striking face that tells a whole story in itself — a smile, or a raw childlike expression. I met an elderly lady from the Jakun tribe there who was losing her ears and fi ngers to leprosy. She was tiny, half my size, but had the biggest smile. I love finding those faces.”
Struck by his clear passion and selfless activism, AXN recently approached Kreer to be part of AXN Attitude, a short form series that celebrates those who embrace life in unexpected, extraordinary ways. Featured alongside the photojournalist are Jeremy Tong, a 26-year-old Singaporean mountaineer who is determined to be the youngest Southeast Asian climber to summit Mount Everest, and Yukojati Anabela, a 17-year-old Indonesian competitive surfer.
“I usually decline these kind of offers but I loved that AXN let me be me — it had no ulterior motives. It simply wanted to showcase what I do exactly as I do it,” he says. Filming started upon his return from Chennai, where he assisted in relief aid after the floods, and featured Kiran Kreer at his most candid. “I was thrilled to do it, actually — here is a channel that uses its platform wisely, showcasing real people and stories. It creates a lot of awareness, enhances my credibility and profile. It gives me a bigger voice. This doesn’t necessarily translate into more funds but it is a tool to get more projects happening or sparking similar pursuits of ambition in others.”
Next on his itinerary is a visit to South America where several local NGOs are eager to partner him on Give Them Light. Kreer is looking forward to the trip, commenting that there is a significant number of disadvantaged communities there he is keen to assist. “The thing is, this is how the majority of the world lives,” he says. “The segment of society that lives affluently is the minority. I often get asked how I earn money — I don’t, really. But I don’t need much either. I have no house or car to pay off . Travel is my only real cost and I use my savings and minimal personal donations to fund this. When I first started, I thought, ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ If it fails, I’ll just come home and look for another job. If you’re smart and savvy, there’s always a way. My biggest takeaway from all this is that money is not the only worthwhile goal.”
On his private Facebook profile page, Kiran Kreer recently wrote a farewell tribute to a companion that had remained steadfastly by his side these last few years — an old pair of Converse sneakers that had seen better days. That simply worded thank you and accompanying photo are particularly poignant, exuding gratitude for small luxuries in a paradoxical world of excess and dearth.
By PETRINA FERNANDEZ
THIS ARTICLE APPEARED IN THE MARCH 21, 2016 ISSUE OF OPTIONS, THE LIFESTYLE PULLOUT OF THE EDGE MALAYSIA.
Official Publication Cover Story – Options, The Edge
