Mario Kibet

04/09/2026

I lost my camera last year, and honestly, this year has been one of the hardest seasons for me creatively. I’ve been shooting with borrowed cameras, constantly carrying the fear of something happening to equipment that isn’t mine. That fear slowly started making me afraid to create.

I started questioning myself.
Should I quit filmmaking?
Should I stop going out to shoot?

But then I remembered everything I’ve started building — M18 Sports, Portraits by Mario Kibet, the grassroots football stories, and the documentaries I’ve been working on.

Last month, during my trip to Lake Chala, I met two fishermen. We talked, laughed and vibed. I asked if I could spend some time documenting how their day begins, and they welcomed me.

They paddled into the lake, happy and free, and I watched them disappear into the distance.

One of them told me something that stayed with me:

“Everything in life happens for a reason.”

Maybe this film is my way of letting go of some of that fear.

I don’t have everything figured out. I’m still rebuilding. But I’m going to keep telling stories — with whatever camera I have.

This is me choosing to create again. 🎥🌊

21/08/2026

took this photograph from a moving car, through a Canon 5D Mark IV paired with a 70–200mm lens.
For a moment, everything outside the window seemed to slow down.

As we approached Lake Chala, I began noticing these small homes—built from soil, timber, old mabati and whatever could be found. They stood quietly in the dry landscape, close to the Kenya–Tanzania border.

I kept wondering: What does it mean to call a place like this home?

Behind these walls are people, memories, struggles, hopes and stories I may never know. And perhaps that’s what moved me most—not the condition of the house, but the life that exists within and around it.

As photographers, sometimes we don’t get to stop. Sometimes we only have a few seconds, a moving vehicle and a long lens. But even from a distance, a frame can make us pause and ask questions.

Who lives here? What have these walls seen? And how many stories remain untold?

I don’t have the answers. I only have the photograph—and the feeling it left me with.

Shot on Canon 5D Mark IV + 70–200mm
Canon Central & North Africa

10/08/2026

Which side 📸💨💨

09/08/2026

07/08/2026

Windows 🥲🤦‍♂️

06/08/2026

Five months ago, I lost my Canon R6 Mark II. For a while, it felt like I had lost a part of myself. But instead of waiting for the perfect moment or the perfect camera, I chose to keep going.

This documentary is for me. A reminder that dreams don’t stop because equipment is gone.

Right now, I’m locked in at Kasarani, documenting young footballers training on dusty fields with nothing but passion, discipline, and hope for a brighter future. Their hunger inspires me every single day, and I want the world to see it through my lens.

I’m filming this entire project with a borrowed Canon 90D from a friend. Even the photos are being shot on a borrowed Canon 5D Mark IV. None of this gear is mine, but the vision is.

This could become the biggest documentary of my life, InshaAllah. While I keep creating, I’m saving every coin for the day I can own another camera. Until then, I refuse to let my circumstances silence my passion.

Maybe losing my camera wasn’t the end of my story. Maybe it was the beginning of the one I was meant to tell.

For every creative who’s waiting for “better gear”—don’t stop. Start with what you have, borrow if you must, and let your work speak louder than your limitations.

Bismillah. The journey continues.

03/08/2026

Low budget setup music video

03/08/2026

Shot on canon 5D mark iv with 70-200 f2.8 lens