Pohl had a mosquito story. I knew of the story, but I did not know the details.
We were waiting for a meeting of Ukrainian farmers to end. They were trying to figure out how to sell their wheat amid the ongoing Russian naval blockade. We had been waiting a couple of hours. We wanted to get pictures of farmers bringing in the wheat harvest. I was having doubts the farmers would do any work after the meeting, and a whole day would be wasted. I stood apart from the crowd under a tree, trying not to get sunburned. Security came over to chat.
"Pohl doesn't like mosquitoes," I said.
I added, "He was in prison somewhere, and a mosquito kept biting him all night. Now, if there is a mosquito around, he goes crazy."
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Security nodded. That was all I knew. I wasn't going to ask Pohl about the mosquito. It was hard to imagine him going crazy. I had worked with him a long time ago but did not remember the country or the war. He did. The Iraqis were putting prisoners in small metal cages.
"We did the standup inside a cage," he said.
Like our late cameraman Pierre Zakrzewski, Pohl did not tell war stories. For 30 years, he had been to some places. But, at a long, slow Soviet hotel dinner with me and security, the mosquito story started to come out. I was at my own little table on Pohl's right. I looked straight ahead at the empty chair and the wall across from me, not saying a word, hoping the mosquito story would come.
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Kinshasa. Been there but forgot the country. Looked it up on my phone as the story continued.
Democratic Republic of the Congo. Fixer spoke Portuguese.
"Ah," I said.
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Pohl looked over and smiled, his eyes bright. Portuguese meant Angola meant rebels meant prison.
It wasn't one mosquito; it was thousands. It was a cloud you could not see through for meters. Four nights in a Kinshasa cell with a lightbulb on overhead and an open window. Outside the window, a pile of 20 or 25 bodies shot to death, rotting in the sun. During the day, the mosquitoes weren't bad, but at night, they came in around the light.
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"You tried to put your arms in your sleeves but it didn't matter," Pohl said.