As the flip chart filled with an ever-increasing list of dangers, threats and resource issues, we began to realise just how tough is to be a journalist in the Niger Delta.

Martin Huckerby and I were running a five-day course for journalists in Lagos. And although we were in the comfort of a hotel, there was no escaping the challenges faced by our group. How do you report safely from an area that’s home to gun-toting militants?

As one reporter told us: “I’m not insured to go to the scene when a pipeline is sabotaged. I have to do it on the phone.” Others turned out regardless, but put flak jackets on their wish list.

The course, sponsored by Nigeria LNG, a gas company, had opened with a glittering array of the country’s senior media stars in attendance. The morning of speeches brought many comments about the vibrancy of the Nigerian media, but also self-criticism about media standards.

Our challenge was to offer advanced skills training, but also to open the door to a more attractive way of selling stories to readers, viewers and listeners. Many stories here begin with the words:  “The FG (Federal Government) said …” Our aim was to inspire journalists to produce more people-centred stories.

So, with the help of UNICEF and without an FG spokesperson in sight, we designed a field trip to see street kids rescued through a football project. Real stories, real pictures, real actuality.

A group of boys with amazing life stories were on offer at the training ground. The director was a media gift – articulate, passionate and helpful.

 But what amazed our group most was the lack of restrictions. Yes, they could talk to anyone, yes, everyone was happy to be filmed or recorded, yes they had time, yes they could choose the approach they took.

But the freedom took some of the group out of their comfort zone, and – with so many choices – they fell back on choosing the official line.

Twenty four hours on, the group had the opportunity to review all the reports. Here was the opportunity to judge for themselves which approach would most appeal to their readers, viewers and listeners.

Although only a handful of the print reports majored on the boys’ personal stories, the group preferred those which did.  And they  unanimously decided they preferred the people-led approach adopted in second of the two TV reports that follow …

Spot the difference: In the video above, the TV journalists used their usual techniques. Helen Scott then worked with the group to take a more people-centred approach.

In the video below, the same story is told through one young man’s experience, using more of his interview, letting the pictures breath and making the commentary less intrusive for the viewer.

• The course’s sponsor was Ifeanye Mbanefo, the corporate communications manager, for Nigeria LNG, an ex-reporter on one of the country’s most respected papers, and a passionate believer in continuing training for journalists.

He had no editorial agenda, he told us, he just wanted to inspire journalists to believe they can do it better. And if just one of the group went on to practice what had been taught, and cascade it down, he’d be happy.

Our inboxes show that a number already are. And we do know how grateful most of them were to have the opportunity of training, some for the first time.

David Seymour

It was November, 2000, in Belgrade, shortly after the fall of the Serbian President,

Slobodan Milosevic; a country wrecked by civil wars; a broadcasting centre bombed by Nato; thousands of broadcasting staff displaced and confused.

It was my first experience as a Thomson Foundation trainer. I was with two colleagues, commissioned to help the state broadcaster, RTS, cover Serbia’s first democratic elections.

On our first morning, we were ushered into a huge hall, seated behind microphones on a Soviet-style rostrum, facing around 300 journalists and broadcasters. “Let the training commence,” we were told.

Since 1992, the news journalism of Radio Television Serbia had been used as a propaganda tool by the Milosevic regime and hundreds of journalists had been fired for failing to fall into line.

Now we told them: you decide what to broadcast.

There was no government in place, no director general, or any senior editors – they’d all been swept away with Milosevic.

We conducted some formal training, but then worked with individual programme teams, advising and reviewing.

I think it helped.

But perhaps the person who it changed the most was me. I became a Thomson trainer – because I loved that first taste of helping broadcasters in a damaged land.

Mai Davies

On my third assignment for the Thomson Foundation, I was teaching the TV Talk Show Course to a group of seven men and one woman.   When I put them through their paces on their first ‘on camera’ exercise she was last to take her place.   The following day, and for every day after that, she always took her turn last.

On the second week I took her aside as she was becoming more withdrawn with every day that passed.   She burst into tears. “The men keep pushing in front of me, they think I shouldn’t be here” she sobbed.   “You wouldn’t understand, you don’t come from a culture like mine, you aren’t treated differently because you are a woman”.

I smiled and said “This happens everywhere, it’s just more obvious here”.

I told her she had two options.  I could speak to the other students, or she could pull herself up to her full height, march into the studio, and be better than everyone else.  I told her that she was the best natural presenter I had ever seen, that she had responded so well in all the practical exercises that she had nothing to fear.      “What would you do?”  she asked me.  I just smiled.

That afternoon she marched into the studio ahead of everyone.    Before the other students had gathered their thoughts she was sitting on the set, earpiece in her ear, microphone on, and ready to go.   She was brilliant.  She lit up the screen.

At the end of the course, she came up to me and threw her arms around me.   “Thankyou” she said. “You have taught me more than you will ever know.”

But she also taught me.   She taught me that passing on skills and experience is important, but training is about so much more.  It’s about instilling the  confidence in your students to be the best they can be.

Michael Delahaye

One of the exercises for the television courses I run is the ‘One Minute Movie’.  The object is to tell a story in a dozen shots, sixty seconds when edited, but without any voice-over commentary.  The participants are split into teams and I give them a choice of themes which can be interpreted in any creative way they choose.

When conducting a course in Armenia, I included ‘Creation’ as one of the themes, along with the usual ‘Late’, ‘Lucky’, ‘Jealousy’, etc…  The teams duly deliberated and then left to shoot their movies – with strict instructions to be back for editing within two hours.

All the teams returned – except one.  By nightfall I was getting anxious, the more so as there was no response from their mobiles.

Finally they straggled in and the truth emerged.  They’d gone to the maternity unit of the local hospital and somehow persuaded the staff – and a patient – to let them film a birth.  Camera, Lights, Push!

But of course they’d had to wait and, while waiting, turn off their mobiles.  Not quite what I had in mind for an exercise but a fine example of initiative and ambition.  Not a bad movie either, if somewhat ‘visceral’.

Tira Shubart

Qatar in August is a challenge if you care about your carbon footprint: with temperatures in the 40s, air conditioning is turned up and everyone retreats inside until the sun does down.

However I was working at the Al Jazeera Training Centre with a dedicated group of young journalists from across the Arab world—and filming outside in the Doha Souk would improve their craft skills.

So off we went shooting sequences, interviews and pieces to camera. As the group—who had bonded instantly—sang traditional songs as the bus hurtled through traffic, I seemed to be the only one bothered that sitting in a sauna would be much cooler.

The workshop consisted of ten students, half women and half men from across the Arab world; Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Sudan, Lebanon, Jordan and Tunisia. Highly motivated , they were intently focused to further their skills. Their different national and cultural experiences informed discussions on political and social issues in the Arab world. And these continued after hours over the special sweet coffee brewed by the Saudi students.

On the weekend the students chartered a wooden dhow and set a course to an offshore island. As the sun set, we continued discussing journalism sailing back to the bright lights of Doha skyscrapers.

The veteran Al Jazeera cameramen, Laith Mushtaq, impressed with the groups’ dedication filming in the heat of the high summer, offered his expertise in an impromptu session; tips on working with camera crews and in conflict zones.

To round off the fortnight, we visited the Al Jazeera Documentary Channel and the Al Jazeera Arabic news channel. The students never wanted to stop.  I left believing that among this dedicated group would be some of the future senior journalists and news editors of the Arab world.