©Nichole Sobecki / VII
A Marine wounded by an improvised explosive device is cared for in a medevac helicopter in southern Helmand Province, Afghanistan, November 30, 2010.
A man in a government building on the outskirts of Benghazi that had been burned by the opposition.
This tree in the Luki Biosphere Reserve, Democratic Republic of Congo, is over 800 years old, seen here on July 8, 2021. As its seed first took root Genghis Khan was invading China, King John was signing the Magna Carta, and the Kingdom of Zimbabwe was established. The future of the Congo Basin, the second-largest rainforest in the world, is at a crossroads. More resilient to climate change than the Amazon, this ecosystem plays a vital role in the ecological balance of our planet, regulating moisture transport and rainfall patterns across the African continent. But for decades the Congo Basin has remained largely understudied and overlooked. Until we understand this rainforest as one of the most important wilderness areas left on Earth, we’ll always fall short of what is needed to protect it. The Congo Basin could unlock vital solutions for climate adaptation — or become a ticking carbon time-bomb if its resources are mismanaged.
Somalia’s arid landscape as seen from inside a decaying colonial building in the Somaliland town of Sheikh on April 12, 2016. Somalia has never been a forgiving place. A land of extreme temperatures and little rain, the country has faced cyclical droughts and periodic famines throughout the past century. But decades of civil war, coupled with the effects of climate change, have set the country on a path to environmental disaster. Home to a bloody Islamist insurgency that is arguably the world’s first climate war, Somalia is grappling with rapid desertification, increasingly erratic rainfall, and the destruction of coastal waters by foreign fishing fleets. “With this weather pattern, Somalia or Somalis will not survive,” says Fatima Jibrell, a Somali-American environmental activist. “Maybe the land, a piece of desert called Somalia, will exist on the map of the world, but Somalis cannot survive.”
©Nichole Sobecki / VII
©Nichole Sobecki / VII
Bishop Manyange Chenjerai (40) sings his prayers to the Domboshawa mountains outside Harare, Zimbabwe, which are said to be sacred and have long been the site of pilgrimage for followers of varied religions, on March 13, 2018. Bishop Chenjerai has been coming to the mountain daily since 2008, when the country was thrown a downward spiral of rampant inflation and violent attacks following a contested election. Much has been said about the poignant moment when Robert Mugabe, one of the world’s longest-serving heads of state, was finally forced from office. But missing from that narrative is a deeper exploration of what this new era means for the often divergent identities of Zimbabwe’s people.
Children play and swim along the shore of Lake Turkana, Kenya.
AGADEZ, Niger - Adji, driver. Adji has a wife a two children, and also cares for his deceased brother's eight children. He says the EU policy has made it too risky for him to continue driving as his family cannot survive if he were to be arrested. He has not found other work though, and his family is struggling to buy their daily rice. A historical smuggling hub through which as many as 13,000 migrants passed each month in 2016, Agadez has been the site of a recent crackdown on human smugglers after the EU struck a $635 million deal with Nigerian authorities to keep a lid on migration. (Photo by Nichole Sobecki)
Children play around trees downed by Cyclone Idai in Guara Guara resettlement site, Mozambique, where thousands displaced by the storm are currently living, on November 14, 2019. In March 2019, Cyclone Idai ravaged southeastern Africa, pummeling Beira and other parts of central Mozambique, as well as neighboring Malawi and Zimbabwe -- and leaving more than 750 people dead. At least 2.8 million people in the three countries were affected. About six weeks later, Cyclone Kenneth hit northern Mozambique, killing at least five people and destroying nearly 30,000 homes. It was the first time that two cyclones have struck Mozambique in the same season. Mozambique ranks third in Africa for vulnerability to climate change. It has about 2,300 kilometers (more than 1,400 miles) of coastline along the Indian Ocean as well as nine river basins prone to flooding.
Omma Kulsum (30) in Thaingkhali refugee camp, Bangladesh, on December 5, 2018. Her two oldest children, a girl and a boy, were killed by armed men who attacked their village in Myanmar. She was taken from her family and raped by a group of men who she believes were members of the Burmese military. Although Kulsum was four months pregnant during the rape, some members of the community believe her baby, now almost a year old, was conceived by rape – something that is heavily stigmatizing. Her husband has also rejected her, sometimes mocking her for being raped in front of their children. Systematic rape was one component of a campaign of ethnic cleansing against Myanmar’s Rohingya minority, more than a million of whom fled to neighboring Bangladesh. In what is now the largest refugee camp in the world, health providers here are making surprising inroads into providing safe abortions for Rohingya women who request them. Globally, millions of women who have fled their homes because of conflict or crisis also face systemic rape and the resulting pregnancies. Despite the clear need -- refugee women face among the highest levels of sexual violence in the world -- abortion services are almost nonexistent in refugee camps. "Why don't women raped in conflict have a right to abortion?" is a question that indicts some of the most powerful individuals and institutions, while zeroing in on the experiences and stories of some of the most marginalized people.
Dusk settles in across Kutupalong refugee camp, Bangladesh, on December 3, 2018. Systematic rape was one component of a campaign of ethnic cleansing against Myanmar’s Rohingya minority, more than a million of whom fled to neighboring Bangladesh. In what is now the largest refugee camp in the world, health providers here are making surprising inroads into providing safe abortions for Rohingya women who request them. Globally, millions of women who have fled their homes because of conflict or crisis also face systemic rape and the resulting pregnancies. Despite the clear need -- refugee women face among the highest levels of sexual violence in the world -- abortion services are almost nonexistent in refugee camps. "Why don't women raped in conflict have a right to abortion?" is a question that indicts some of the most powerful individuals and institutions, while zeroing in on the experiences and stories of some of the most marginalized people.
Portrait of Grace, 17, [not her real name], her three-year-old daughter, and her 14-year-old sister, in the church she sings at in Kyangwali refugee settlement, Uganda, on June 5, 2019. She fled to Uganda from Ituri province in the Democratic Republic of Congo and has been living in Kyangwali for the last three months. A group of armed men killed her parents and raped her outside her home in the DRC in an attack on their village. She eventually escaped and made her way to her uncle's home, and later discovered she was pregnant with her daughter. She was scared to seek out an abortion because she thought she would die. South Sudan and the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo likely top the list of the world’s most dangerous countries for women, as militant groups have used extreme sexual violence as a weapon of war in both troubled nations. Uganda has become a temporary home for women fleeing both crises, and currently hosts more than 1.25 million refugees. But abortion in Uganda is almost entirely illegal, leaving women who find themselves pregnant from rape with few safe options. Globally, millions of women who have fled their homes because of conflict or crisis also face systemic rape and the resulting pregnancies. Despite the clear need -- refugee women face among the highest levels of sexual violence in the world -- abortion services are almost nonexistent in refugee camps. "Why don't women raped in conflict have a right to abortion?" is a question that indicts some of the most powerful individuals and institutions, while zeroing in on the experiences and stories of some of the most marginalized people.
Five-month-old camel Baarud playfully pulls at Aadar Mohamed's (44) hijab in Hiijinle village outside Lughaya in north-western Somaliland, on December 10, 2019. Baarud, which means tough in Somali, was given this name because when his mother was pregnant with him she nearly died in the drought. Seeing how close to death she was Aadar managed to secure some porridge to nurse her back to life. With the IOM predicting 200 million environmentally displaced people by 2050, countless Somalis will be pushed from their homes, with women and girls bearing the weight of displacement. Exacerbated by other factors, such as increased poverty, overcrowded and unsafe living conditions in temporary housing, loss of community, and increased power imbalances, Nichole documents how climate change has contributed to the increase of violence against women and girls.
A swarm of locusts fly across Burao Airport IDP Camp outside Burao, Somaliland, on December 15, 2019. The country is experiencing its worst outbreak of desert locusts in 25 years. With the IOM predicting 200 million environmentally displaced people by 2050, countless Somalis will be pushed from their homes, with women and girls bearing the weight of displacement. Exacerbated by other factors, such as increased poverty, overcrowded and unsafe living conditions in temporary housing, loss of community, and increased power imbalances, Nichole documents how climate change has contributed to the increase of violence against women and girls.
Portrait of Rahma Hassan Mahmoud (36) in Burao Airport IDP Camp outside Burao, Somaliland, on December 14, 2019. Rahma was a pastoralist in the village of Hayae in eastern Somaliland. Her family raised a herd of 300 goats and sheep and 20 camels. Then drought hit and within four weeks her entire herd was dead. “We were like a soul living on top of another soul,” Rahma said. When the goats died, the life she knew died with them. She and her family were forced to move to this IDP camp, and join what would become hundreds of thousands of people driven from their land.   With the IOM predicting 200 million environmentally displaced people by 2050, countless Somalis will be pushed from their homes, with women and girls bearing the weight of displacement. Exacerbated by other factors, such as increased poverty, overcrowded and unsafe living conditions in temporary housing, loss of community, and increased power imbalances, Nichole documents how climate change has contributed to the increase of violence against women and girls.
Musician Daniel Owino, who goes by the name Futwax, performs his latest song "Have you sanitized?" -- written and recorded in response to the ongoing coronavirus pandemic -- with his four-year-old son Julian Austin in their home in Nairobi's informal Kibera community, on April 1, 2020. "I'm a community leader and icon here, and people listen to my music across Kenya," said Futwax, also the former Mr. Kibera. "So it's my duty to make sure that everyone knows what's happening, and are doing what they can to try and stay safe. We have to be our own solution." Futwax also said: "Many people are still taking this too lightly. But if you've followed the situation in Italy, or Spain, we can assume that it's going to get much, much worse here. So I'm asking people, before they greet me, or say hello to my son, 'Have you sanitized?'
A team of archeologists and workers, led by the University of Michigan's Geoff Emberling, excavate a Meroitic palace and royal factory to grow our understanding of how people lived in the Kingdom of Kush, just beside Jebel Barkal, Sudan, on January 28, 2020. The legendary Kingdom of Kush, with its capitals in what is now northern Sudan, helped define the political and cultural landscape of northeastern Africa for more than a thousand years. At their height, from about 760 B.C. to 650 B.C., five Kushite kings ruled all of Egypt from Nubia to the Mediterranean Sea, embarking on ambitious building programs up and down the Nile. Yet past archaeologists have offhandedly—and inaccurately—dismissed the Kushite kings as racially inferior and their accomplishments as an inheritance of older Egyptian traditions. The story of these pyramid builders was recently evoked by the protesters in Sudan’s popular revolution that overthrew President Omar al-Bashir and ended his almost three decades in power. Protestors gathered in the thousands chanting “my grandfather was Taharqa, my grandmother was kandaka,” referencing the powerful King of Kush and an ancient term used for a queen. The queens of the Meroitic kingdoms conjure a prestigious past, against the current economic difficulties that have plagued Sudan. In a land often divided, this mythified, seemingly apolitical ancient history has also been seen as a way of building a more unified future. Sudan has more - though smaller - pyramids than Egypt, but attracted only about 700,000 tourists in 2018 compared to some 10 million in its northern neighbor. Conflicts and crises under Omar al-Bashir, a tough visa regime and a lack of roads and decent hotels outside Khartoum have made Sudan an unlikely tourist destination. But Bashir lost power in April 2019, and the new civilian transition government is easing visa rules to attract more visitors, including dropping a permit required for travel outside Khartoum. Sudan needs
An Islamic cemetery spans the base of one side of Jebel Barkal, Sudan, a small butte that was considered sacred thousands of years ago, on February 4, 2020. Roughly a dozen pyramids are also scattered around the base of the mountain, as are the ruins of temples, statues, and hieroglyphics. One of the temples was dedicated to the god Amun, who was believed to live atop the butte. The legendary Kingdom of Kush, with its capitals in what is now northern Sudan, helped define the political and cultural landscape of northeastern Africa for more than a thousand years. At their height, from about 760 B.C. to 650 B.C., five Kushite kings ruled all of Egypt from Nubia to the Mediterranean Sea, embarking on ambitious building programs up and down the Nile. Yet past archaeologists have offhandedly—and inaccurately—dismissed the Kushite kings as racially inferior and their accomplishments as an inheritance of older Egyptian traditions. The story of these pyramid builders was recently evoked by the protesters in Sudan’s popular revolution that overthrew President Omar al-Bashir and ended his almost three decades in power. Protestors gathered in the thousands chanting “my grandfather was Taharqa, my grandmother was kandaka,” referencing the powerful King of Kush and an ancient term used for a queen. The queens of the Meroitic kingdoms conjure a prestigious past, against the current economic difficulties that have plagued Sudan. In a land often divided, this mythified, seemingly apolitical ancient history has also been seen as a way of building a more unified future. Sudan has more - though smaller - pyramids than Egypt, but attracted only about 700,000 tourists in 2018 compared to some 10 million in its northern neighbor. Conflicts and crises under Omar al-Bashir, a tough visa regime and a lack of roads and decent hotels outside Khartoum have made Sudan an unlikely tourist destination. But Bashir lost power in April 2019, and the new civilian transition government i
Deka Ali Ahmed (45) prays in her family's compound in Burao Airport IDP Camp outside Burao, Somaliland, on December 13, 2019. She came here during the 2016 drought after losing 300 sheep and goats and 25 camels. Now, the government has told them they must move again to a different IDP camp further outside Burao. With the IOM predicting 200 million environmentally displaced people by 2050, countless Somalis will be pushed from their homes, with women and girls bearing the weight of displacement. Exacerbated by other factors, such as increased poverty, overcrowded and unsafe living conditions in temporary housing, loss of community, and increased power imbalances, Nichole documents how climate change has contributed to the increase of violence against women and girls.
A five-month-old cheetah seated in the back of a Land Cruiser growls at an outstretched hand after being intercepted just across the border in Ethiopia and driven to Harirad, Somaliland, on August 15, 2020. The cheetah had been intercepted by a joint team from the Somaliland Ministry of Environment and Rural Development (MoERD), supported by CCF and Torrid Analytics, after a tipoff from an anti-trafficking source and lengthy negotiations. The mother of this cheetah cub had taken three goats from a pastoral community nearby, who followed her into the bush, scared her away by throwing stones, and took her cub in an effort to reduce the cheetah population and gain some compensation for their goats that were killed. While he was holding onto the cheetah cub he was approached by three smugglers who offered him between $100-350 for the cub, but after learning that wildlife trafficking was illegal he agreed to release the cub to the joint team. Attitudes towards wildlife trafficking are slowly changing in this region through a subtle mix of education about the wildlife laws, community sensitization, clan relations, and fear of arrest if one chooses to engage with
Portrait of rescued cheetah “San” at the Cheetah Conservation Fund (CCF) Safehouse in Hargeisa, Somaliland, on November 19, 2020. In Somali “San” means nose, which was badly injured at the time she was rescued but has since been healing well. Her brother died soon after arriving at CCF. 1At this time CCF was at their highest capacity ever, caring for 60 rescued cheetah and one rescued leopard cub. Resource-poor Somaliland is a hub for the cheetah trade, and experts estimate that hundreds of cubs are shipped by boat across the Gulf of Aden to Yemen, then driven overland to Gulf states, each year. But as awareness of this secretive trade grows, Somaliland is making efforts to end cheetah trafficking, handing down stiff jail sentences to traffickers, trying to grow awareness of the value of wildlife, and ramping up confiscations—not just of cheetahs but also of animals such as dik-diks and leopards. With just 7,100 cheetahs left in the wild, the world’s fastest land mammal is racing toward extinction, with the latest cheetah census suggesting that the big cats may decline by an additional 53 percent over the next 15 years.
Pastoralist Lobikito Leparselu milks his family’s lactating goats at dawn in their manyatta before they’re let out to graze in Meibae Community Wildlife Conservancy in Samburu County, Kenya, on March 26, 2021. His father, Leparselu Lemongu, described growing up with cheetah, losing valuable goats to the big cats, and his internal struggle between the immediacy of these losses and a growing awareness of the longterm value of conservation. Leparselu Lemongu: “We’ve all lost some of our animals to the cheetah. They’ll take some of mine one day, then my neighbors the next. Three days ago they attacked but didn’t kill my goats. In the past six weeks I lost two goats. It’s uncountable how many goats I’ve lost in my lifetime… I probably lose more than 20 a year, out of my 100. It feels very bad. That’s my wealth and I see it slipping away. The cheetahs kill the lactating mothers and they leave small kids with no food, they just cry at home. They tell us we need to leave them for the tourists. But what do I do now?” Across Samburu, Laikipia and Isiolo Action for Cheetah in Kenya estimate that there are about 250 cheetah, or around a quarter of Kenya’s population of between 1,000-1,400 cats (National Survey 2004-2007). The population is increasing fragmented as their natural habitats collide with expanding human communities, growing development and infrastructure, a decline in their prey base, and exacerbated by prolonged droughts. The human population of Kenya has tripled over the last 45 years to over 42 million, leading to more frequent conflict between communities and wildlife. With just 7,100 cheetahs left in the wild, the world’s fastest land mammal is racing toward extinction, with the latest cheetah census suggesting that the big cats may decline by an additional 53 percent over the next 15 years.
Location
Nairobi, Kenya

Nichole Sobecki

Member

Nichole Sobecki is an American photographer and filmmaker based in Nairobi, Kenya.

After graduating from Tufts University, Nichole spent the early years of her career in Turkey, Lebanon, and Syria, focusing on regional issues related to identity, conflict, and human rights. From 2012-2015, she led Agence France-Presse’s East Africa video bureau and was a 2014 Rory Peck Awards News Finalist for her coverage of the Westgate mall attacks in Kenya. Nichole’s work has been recognized by Pictures of the Year, the One World Media Awards, the Alexandra Boulat Award for Photojournalism, The Magenta Foundation, and The Jacob Burns Film Center, among others, and her work has been exhibited internationally.

She is a contributor to Everyday Africa, a collection of images shot on mobile phones across the continent, and an attempt to showcase the moments missing from dramatic news images — everyday life that is neither idealized nor debased.

Nichole aims to create photographs and films that demand consideration for the lives of those represented – their joys, challenges, and ultimately their humanity.

Latest updates

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A Climate for Conflict

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