You may be wondering why paparazzi is in quotes, well this is because my story is not about the paparazzi in the strictest sense of the term.
Paparazzi in this case refers to those photographers who show up at a wedding or funeral to take photos and sell them on the spot to potential buyers. Their target mainly being the family hosting the event and the attendees who look like they can afford the photos.
The trade is often looked upon with disdain because the photographers usually show up without the invitation of the hosts and in most cases take photos without the express consent of their subjects. Nonetheless, there are those who don’t mind them and actually look forward to their services because it gives them an opportunity to go home with a photo or two, oft taken with friends and relatives they haven’t seen for ages.
I took on this job when my contract as a casual labourer in a Coca Cola bottler expired.
Well, it didn’t actually expire, we downed our tools and walked away because a different company bought the plant and introduced new terms we considered exploitative and punitive.
So this is how the job goes, or went during my time; you start with looking for events that look promising. For weddings, you’d usually get this info via word of mouth (from friends or relatives of the involved families) or through church announcements. For funerals, you get the info via word of mouth or by poring over the obituary pages in dailies.
I’ll concentrate on funerals because that’s where I plied my trade most of the time. To choose a funeral to attend, we’d mostly consider the social status of the late. We’d filter information such as occupation of the late and that of close family members (most of the time it’s provided in brackets next to the name).
Other factors we considered included, age of the deceased and the location where the funeral and burial ceremony would be conducted.
Once we settled on the funeral to attend, we’d now go to Google maps and try to find out the exact location and directions to get there.
Now once that was done, we would then shop for necessary supplies. This would include things like photo papers, inks, envelopes, albums among others. We’d also make sure the printing machine, cameras and batteries are in working order. Some owned their equipment while others had to hire at a fee.
On the material day, we would pack our gear in backpacks and set off in the wee hours of the morning, mapema ndio best. We mostly worked in a team of two or three. Most of the time we used public transport. Time of setting off would depend on how far the place is. Sometimes we had to connect two to three Matatus and use a Boda boda for the last leg of the journey.
On arrival at the homestead of the deceased, we would set our gear down near the entrance and survey the compound, looking for a strategic location to set our ‘base.’
In some places we would be welcomed and someone from the family would assist us in setting up our equipment, even going to the extent of getting us chairs and tables. In others, we were unwelcome and the hosts would make it very clear. In fact, there are other places where we would be chased away.
I loved working in Western Counties and some in the Rift Valley because of how receptive they were of the trade and there was a high likelihood of making some good cash. In Nyanza the industry was already saturated so returns were low.
While Rift Valley counties were good to us, we had to be very careful because that’s where the issue of being chased mostly occurred. Kalenjin events are very well organized, from parking to refreshments. So it was a cardinal rule to observe the order and adhere to it if you didn’t want to anger the hosts.
I love order so this was not a problem for me. I can’t say the same for some of my colleagues who would want to arrive and immediately want to run all over the place, taking photos of everyone even when it was obviously not appropriate.
So once settled, we would now go to the tents and take photos of anyone who would look into the camera and not shy away or dismiss with a wave or wag a warning finger. I preferred taking photos of speakers as they were delivering their speeches or of groups like the family or colleagues. With those, you were assured of some good sales. In some cases, clients would beckon you and request a photo.
Once done with photographing, we would then print the photos and get ready to start selling. The mode of selling would depend on the place. For instance, in Nyanza and Western, you could walk with your photos, dishing them out to potential clients. This needed good memory lest you’d easily bypass people you had already photographed. In Rift Valley, you had to be patient and wait until the event is winding up, then you’d target your clients as they left.
Other paparazzi preferred to hang their photos on a makeshift stand, oft erected near the main entrance/exit, and wait for clients to come and pick their photos as they left.
Sometimes we would be lucky and sell almost everything we printed. Heck, we’d even run out of paper. Sometimes things would be so thick and the day’s sales would barely cover our expenses for that particular event.
The best clients were politicians and other senior public figures because they’d often pay way above the normal rates and most wouldn’t leave without buying because they had to ‘promote’ us hustlers.
The most generous ones were William Ruto (he was the DP then), Raila Odinga, Hassan Joho, Francis Atwoli, Chris Obure, Sossion, to name but a few. The President and Governors were really had to get to because their security wouldn’t let you get close. In some rare cases, you’d be manhandled and chased like a dog if you got too close for comfort.
At the end of the ceremony, we would then approach the family and let them choose photos they wanted from our collection. In some cases we’d organize the photos elaborately in an album and sell it to them at a discounted rate. This was a new tactic we came up with to beat the competition. Erstwhile, we’d just chuck the photos clients had chosen into an envelope.
This would mark the end of business. We’d pack up our equipment, call for Boda bodas or walk to the stage if it was nearby and head back to base. In some cases we’d finish the job so late into the evening that getting means of transport back home would be impossible. In such cases, we booked rooms in the nearest towns and slept there.
It was interesting to note receptiveness of the trade among different social classes.
The lower class embraced it and loved to see us in their homesteads. These are the folks who would go an extra mile to get us tables, chairs and anything else we needed to be comfortable. The only problem was sales in such places were quite low because not many could spare cash for unplanned for photos.
The middle class, specifically the lower middle class, were very hostile. These are the folks who were more likely to chase you. They would also inquire on who gave you consent to photograph them and would threaten legal action.
The upper middle class as well as the elites were nonchalant. You could do good business if you were lucky to get past their heavily guarded gates or secured spaces. You also needed to be good at making yourself inconspicuous. This would be through sharp dressing and moving about in a manner not likely to disrupt proceedings. If you were good enough at this, folks would even mistake you for the official photographers.
After a while, guys discovered that the trade was lucrative and suddenly everyone wanted in. Printing machines and cameras also became more affordable and accessible, making it easy for more to acquire them. The little prestige the trade had was gone and it wasn’t uncommon for drunk and unkempt paparazzis to show up and make a mess of whatever little tolerance we had managed to earn from the hosts.
While initially paparazzi was a respectable hustle, conducted by folks who could carry themselves with dignity and orderliness, it got so saturated that we started becoming a nuisance in events. You can imagine how chaotic it would be when 10 to 15 paparazzi would show up at an event. One person would practically have the same photo from 10 or more different photographers, each compelling them to buy. We seemed like a hungry pack of wolves, ready to tear customers apart in a bid to get that coin.
It wasn’t uncommon to hear MCs tell the paparazzi to make room so that the audience would be able so see the speakers or let guests through.
The consequence of this saturation was that competition made the prices to plummet to an extent that you’d barely make a living. It became a means not to make a proper living from but to just survive.
I had to hang my boots and try make a living from a different trade.
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