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PAULA SLIER

PAULA SLIER

meet paula

when the world called

Some invitations don’t just change your plans. They change your life. 

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" modern conflict is fought
not only with weapons, but with narratives, images + information "

- paula slier

But within twenty minutes I had permission from the newsroom, had rolled up my sleeve for the required vaccinations, and was racing home to pack. I had no idea what journalists took to disaster zones. I bought packets of Super C sweets from a garage shop because, in my mind, extra energy sweets seemed like an essential survival kit. 

At four o'clock the next morning, I phoned my mother. "I'm going to India!" I shouted!

Bhuj wasn't a battlefield. It was an earthquake. But it was the first time I witnessed human suffering on that scale, and the first time I understood that I wanted to tell stories far beyond the borders of home.

That unexpected invitation changed everything. It opened a door that would lead me far beyond South Africa - and into the stories that would shape the rest of my life. 

On another deployment with Rescue South Africa, this time to Algeria after a devastating earthquake in 2003, I met a family who I still think about today.

At exactly 19:44, when they were seated for dinner, their apartment block began to shake. Everyone rushed for the door, but 17-year-old twin, Yasmin, turned back to fetch a scarf to cover her hair. The building collapsed around her. 
 
When we arrived, her family was sitting on a blanket across the road. Seeing an international rescue team gave them hope. Her father, Krimo, in broken English, begged the team to find something – a strand of her hair, a piece of clothing, even a fingernail – so they would have something to bury. 
 
But there was no miracle. Yasmin was gone. 
returned to visit them twice over the following years. The only English Yasmin’s mother knew was “Eat,” and she would ask me, “Why aren’t you married?” The last time I saw her she gave me a wedding gown as a gift. They had lost a daughter, they told me, but had found another one in me.
 
The stories that matter most are rarely about disasters themselves. They are about the humanity we share in our darkest moments.

May 2003 Me with Krimo and his family

In the miracle of unbearable grief, the family shared their food with us. Although we were complete strangers from South Africa, they welcomed us like family. I spent time with them and