Boy roaming the basketball court in the Colombian cocaine corridor: Best photo by Mads Nissen | Photography

I I fell in love with photography when I was 19, while studying Spanish and doing volunteer work in Venezuela. Having grown up in the boring countryside of Denmark, I became curious about the rest of the world and became socially and politically involved. As I walked down the street in Mérida with an old camera in my hand, I realized that this was the perfect way to push for the values ​​I believe in and try to make a difference in the world.

That’s when I also became fascinated by the neighboring country of Colombia, where the civil war was causing a great deal of instability. I later traveled there for a project on the Amazon rainforest, and in 2016 I was assigned by the Nobel Peace Center to cover the final stages of the peace process. I also focused on the millions of people displaced within the country by conflict, but I felt I couldn’t talk about Colombia’s unrest and inequality without considering how its problems were affected by cocaine production in the country.

I didn’t want to produce more work that blamed or stigmatized the country, which I think was the narrative of the past—and still is today. Ask any Colombian about the jokes they hear at airport security when they travel abroad. I wanted to look at the entire cocaine trade chain, which meant speaking to and photographing the farmers who grow the coca, the workers who harvest it, those who run the laboratories that process the leaves – and the police, soldiers, gangsters and cartel members involved in the ongoing hostilities.

The area where this photo was taken is Potrero Grande, one of the most sophisticated neighborhoods in Colombia. It is a suburb of the southern city of Cali, and a very important corridor for the movement of cocaine, as some main roads and the Cauca River meet. I was hanging out in a plaza talking to a young woman who was selling small amounts of cocaine when I saw this boy, Didler Angulo, playing near me on the basketball court. You see, it was late in the evening, and I couldn’t help but think that he should be home getting ready for school the next day.

In such areas there are many families without fathers or healthy male figures. For role models, young boys and teenagers often turn to gang leaders who control the streets. When I talk to these kids, their only plan to create a way out of poverty for themselves is to become a professional soccer player, which worries me. What are the chances of someone like Didler achieving this? If not, what will he do? Obviously, gangs offer a different dream – enough money to give to your family and live the life you see on your phone.

I took this in 2017, when Didler was nine years old. A few years ago I went back to Potrero Grande and asked about it, but I couldn’t find it. Someone told me he was killed, although I can’t confirm that. However, I hoped to find that despite how dangerous the neighborhood was – and it even included houses where gangs would torture and kill their victims – there was also a lot that I liked about it. Daily life still goes on. This is the meaning I wanted to give here.

For many of the people I meet, their role in this work is simply a way to survive. Some talked to me at some risk to themselves. Meanwhile, in Europe, which is the main consumer of cocaine at the moment, it is very difficult to find people willing to show the same courage as the farmers and gang members I photographed. People will happily talk about how common cocaine use is, not just at parties but in everyday life. Then, when it comes to taking a photo, the conversation is completely over.

Sangre Blanca: The Lost War on Cocaine by Mads Nissen is published by Joost

Biography of Mads Nissen

child: Denmark, 1979
High point: Winning the main prize at World Press Photo three times, as well as the Photographer of the Year award from POY International. But on a personal level, the most important and memorable moments happened away from the spotlight — on the ground, with people who chose to confide in me because of their grief, fear, love, or vulnerability. Those are the moments that remind me why I became a photographer

Top tip: Empathy, closeness, intimacy. This is what really matters. This is the power of photography. The best photography isn’t just about seeing. It’s about feeling – feeling the place, the people, and the story beneath the surface. We use ourselves and our cameras to convey this experience to the viewer. It may seem like a paradox, but I believe that the deeper our understanding becomes, the more honesty and transparency we can bring viewers to it. So, if our photos aren’t good enough, it’s probably because we’re not emotionally close enough