In March this year, Pierre Zakrzewski was killed while reporting on the war in Ukraine. His niece, Lola, pays tribute to a remarkable uncle and journalist.
Some weeks ago, I asked one of our 3rd year students, Lola, if she would like to do a piece on her uncle, Pierre Zakrzewski, who was killed in Ukraine in March. I knew that it might be a hard thing to write about, as the loss for her and her family was still very fresh. However, she said she would love to, but that she would prefer if we worked on the story together and I wrote it. We met over several lunchtimes, and I had the privilege of listening to her pay tribute to a very special uncle and journalist. This is their story.
As soon as Lola begins to talk about her uncle Pierre, her face lights up. I ask her to tell me about him, and she says that it’s hard to know where to begin. There are so many stories of his adventures as a photo journalist, but to Lola and her siblings and cousins, he was their uncle: funny, playful, energetic and larger than life. Physically, he was instantly recognisable for his big hair and moustache, features which, along with his exuberance, often meant he was mistaken for Sacha Baron Cohen’s alter ego, Borat. Lola remembers how, despite having a bad back, he would let the children climb all over him, tying his hair into tiny ponytails, happy to play along with their silly games. He was unashamedly childlike and they loved him for it.
Since his death, the family have learned that this joyful energy for which they knew him was something that so many others experienced too. Fittingly, he was born two months premature, a sign perhaps of the way he would live his life, packing in as much as he could, always on his way somewhere. The family was on holidays in France when he decided to make his early and unexpected arrival. His mother, Marie-Ange, was French and his father, Andrzej, a Polish refugee who had made the arduous journey during WW2 as a child with his family through Europe, settling eventually in Scotland. When he was awarded a scholarship to study Architecture in UCD, Andrzej moved to Dublin and it was here that he met Marie Ange who was working in the city and learning English. Pierre was the second eldest of six siblings, Zosia, Stas, Greg, Nick and Karola, all of whom were to develop a love of travel.
Pierre was heavily influenced from a young age by his uncle Jean-Pierre, his mother’s brother, a globetrotter who regaled his young nephew with tales of his adventures. It was inevitable in many ways that Pierre would follow in his footsteps. In his late teens, he began travelling, visiting places like India, Afghanistan and Iran, and embracing the people and culture wherever he went. It was in Iran that he met Stefan, who was to become a lifelong friend. They shared many adventures together and Stefan introduced Pierre to his wife, Michelle, an English film maker who shared Pierre’s love of travel, and Pierre, in turn, introduced Stefan to his wife, Sandrine.
He had a unique ability to charm his way into and out of the stickiest of situations
Lola points out that Pierre stumbled into journalism. It was the perfect combination, she says, of his skills and passions: photography, travel and meeting people. More specifically, the kinds of places he was visiting meant he was well placed to report on situations of conflict and suffering, and this became a hallmark of his work. He had a unique ability to charm his way into and out of the stickiest of situations. His friend, Stefan, recounts the occasion he met Pierre. He was in a police station in Iran as his visa had expired. Pierre, whose visa had also expired, appeared beside him, slapped his Irish passport on the table beside Stefan’s and announced to the revolutionary officer, ‘We are Irish! We are brothers in the fight against imperialism!’ The cheeky ploy worked, and instead of being deported, the two men were treated to cakes, tea and a visa extension. It was after this incident that the two new friends began to plan their journey into journalism.
For a long time, Pierre worked freelance, taking photographs and videos in war zones and selling them to various news outlets. Over time, he established himself, and eventually decided to join Fox News as a foreign affairs photo journalist. As well as reporting on general events such as the G7 Summit and the British royal weddings (which, says Lola, he found boring), he regularly found himself in the midst of some of the most dangerous and fraught settings in the world; in Iraq (where he was embedded with the marines in 2004), in Syria, Afghanistan, and Ukraine. He continued to find ways of breaking down barriers and connecting with those at the heart of the conflicts, sometimes with surprising results.
Pierre managed to diffuse tension and connect with even the most powerful and dangerous people on a simple human level.
Lola recounts one situation which particularly struck her. It was in Afghanistan, and Pierre and other members of the media were waiting to interview a high ranking member of the Taliban. The mood was tense as they waited, sitting in a room surrounded by members of the Taliban armed with AK-47s. Suddenly, an Afghan news anchor came on the TV. This particular man had a moustache similar to Pierre’s, so Pierre jumped up and, with his usual comedic aplomb, pointed out the similarity, causing the members of the Taliban, in unison, to burst out laughing. There are so many stories like this, Lola says, where Pierre managed to diffuse tension and connect with even the most powerful and dangerous people on a simple human level.
At the end of January of this year, when the threat of a Russian invasion of Ukraine looked imminent, Pierre was sent to Chernobyl, where it was believed the Russians would strike first. The day before he left, he visited his beloved uncle, Jean Pierre, who was terminally ill. It would be the last time he would see him, as Jean Pierre died the following day. As it turned out, Pierre was also on his last journey. The family was aware that Ukraine posed a different kind of risk to some of the other situations Pierre had been in, and colleagues recall that he was nervous himself. On this occasion, his luck would run out and his methodical planning and affable nature were to prove useless in the face of the indifferent might of the Russian forces.
Lola’s family initially received the news, on 14th March, that he had not been in contact for over 12 hours. They got the word on the 15th that he had been found dead in Horenka, a town just outside of Kyiv. The vehicle in which he’d been travelling had been hit. A local producer (fixer), Oleksandra ‘Sasha’ Kuvshynova, was killed alongside him, and his longtime colleague, Benjamin Hall, was severely injured.
Each story told of a man who was remarkable in so many ways, who made friends wherever he went, and who brought focus to the people at the centre of the crises on which he was reporting.
The outpouring of grief and love from those who knew Pierre, and from those who had worked with him or who had met him only briefly, was incredible, Lola tells me. The many messages of condolence, often recounting stories that the family had never heard, were a source of great comfort as they mourned the loss of their dear Pierre. Each story told of a man who was remarkable in so many ways, who made friends wherever he went, and who brought focus to the people at the centre of the crises on which he was reporting. Lola mentions one message in particular which seems to capture the essence of the man and the legacy he left behind. It was from a fellow reporter, Marcia Biggs, who said of Pierre that ‘he’d have adopted the world if he could.’ Never having had any children of his own, his legacy was to have traveled the world gathering not only images and stories, but a global family of all those he encountered and connected with.
I ask Lola if she has any final reflections. She addresses her uncle directly. “Pierre, I’m lucky to have had you in my life. Now whenever anyone asks who my heroes are, I will immediately answer you. We will make sure that your memory is kept alive through your work, your stories and your legacy.”
I’d like to thank Lola for sharing Pierre’s story and her family photographs with me and for working with me to write this piece. Whether she realises it or not, she is already honouring her promise to keep his memory alive, by sharing his story with such care and passion, and by embodying so many of the same qualities he had: curiosity, warmth and empathy. I think Pierre would be very proud.
