Have camera, will travel

'I still remember the wailing sounds of the women in the Kararchi Civil Hospital's burns unit. And the smell of their breath. They smelt like death.'

'Kokan...... Jane,' yelled the duty nurse at London's Hospital of Tropical Diseases. 'Yeah, that's me,' I said timidly. 'The doctor wants to see you,' said the nurse. I stumbled into the sterile examination room and awaited the verdict. 'You have amoebic dysentery and hepatitis A... you're lucky you haven't any malaria cysts in your blood, considering you've just come back from an area where vivex [cerebral] malaria is in season.'

Since my return from Afghanistan, the amoebic dysentery had already zapped all my energy, but all I needed was hepatitis A, a disease which attacks the liver. Which means NO BOOZE and lots and lots of rest. And after returning from what is considered to be the world's most fundamentalist Islamic state - a country where alcohol, TV, music, cards (basically any semblance of fun) are outlawed - you betcha, I was absolutely dying for what the Taliban referred to as the 'decadent West's poison' - a few nice cold ones and a couple of nights out on the town.

It started to go wrong when my colleague Carlos Mavroleon and I arrived in Kandahar. We dutifully visited the governor of Kandahar and two dozen other cronies with the 'Orwellian' Ministry of Religious Guidance. After countless cups of green tea and hours of 'Islamic indoctrination', all we left with was footage of a 'talking sofa' (the Taliban have banned all filming) and a letter of introduction which stated: 'This is to introduce Jane Kokan and Carlos Mavroleon. They are foreign journalists working on a story in Afghanistan. Be kind and gracious to them. Offer them tea. But under the watchful eyes of Allah Akbar (God the Great) do not let them film anything.' When I asked why the Taliban leadership was 'anti-TV' I was told it was 'too complicated an issue for a woman to understand'.

I found Afghanistan to be full of contradictions. It wasn't long before I discovered that even donkey hire men overcharge in the world's only 'model' Islamic state (there are no car hire agencies in Afghanistan). And the ultra-religious Taliban militia make good money out of the country's booming opium trade - although they fiercely deny it. A bottle of Canadian Club whisky on the Afghan black market will set you back about $200 (roughly the same price as a Russian rocket launcher).

I've learned a lot about the human condition this year and have become puzzled by what makes people commit vicious attacks on others. Why do men in Pakistan set fire to their wives and then claim it was a gas stove accident? What compels parents to deliberately burn their daughters because they can't secure a dowry - and then visit their dying children in the hospital feigning remorse? I still remember the wailing sounds of the women in the Karachi Civil Hospital's burns unit. And the smell of their breath. They smelt like death.

Every day, two to three women are admitted, covered from head to toe in third degree burns. Over 90 per cent of these cases are written off as accidents (and most of these women end up dying). Police investigators and international human rights lawyers say the majority of these cases are in fact attempted murders and do result in death. Yet these 'gas stove deaths' continue each and every day. Women are afraid to press charges. In Pakistan, a divorced or single woman on her own is viewed as a second class citizen.

When I recently returned to my home-town in Vancouver, Canada, I thought I had got off at the wrong destination. The airport was completely different: new age architecture, huge billboards in Cantonese, Mandarin, Urdu, French. The city offered more skyscrapers and new super-malls built by big name Asian investors. The first headline I read grabbed my attention: 'Vancouver - credit-card fraud capital of the world ... Asian gangs become the dominant organisers of crime in Canada.'

I did some asking around and found out many of the big Asian gangs such as the Red Eagles, Viet Ching and the Big Circle Boys, had recently set up shop in Vancouver. In a bid to attract Asian investment, the Canadian government opened the floodgates to Asian immigration. The problems began when Canadian immigration officials didn't screen any would-be immigrants - no finger-print or background checks. So I picked up my camera and asked if I could follow around the Vancouver police's Asian gang squad. They said yes, so I took part in a 48 hour patrol. I got more than I bargained for and filmed drug dealers caught red-handed, illegal immigrants being deported, robberies in progress.....

Speaking of crime. I went to Sicily this year - and no it wasn't for a holiday. I went to Palermo to make a film about Mafia women. These women may wear sensible shoes and cook up a great plate of pasta, but they are capable of organising a hit on a prominent state official or organising an arms shipment to Saddam Hussein. The Italian Mafia used to be a boy's only club. After the massive anti-Mafia trials of the 1980s, hundreds of top ranking Mafia bosses were arrested. In order for Cosa Nostra to survive, women had to become involved in the daily business affairs of the Mafia. It's these ladies, smelling of French perfume, who represent the new face of the modern Mafia. More and more Mafia women are starting to get caught - arrested for crimes ranging from murder to money laundering. I'm trying to remember which ones I gave my home telephone number to!

I was disappointed when I returned to Bosnia this year. The war is over - even though guns and soldiers are still the norm. But now the bars and clubs are full of drunken ex-soldiers. I went to one club in Sarajevo where within a half hour I was offered heroin, ecstasy and hash. Pre-war Sarajevo was never like that. Unemployment is widespread and people are looking at new ways of making money on the black market. In Mostar - the divided city - with the Bosnian Croats controlling one side and the Bosnian Muslims the other, you'll find a new breed of post-war entrepreneur. They make money dealing drugs, fake passports, stolen cars - anything goes. They'll trade with anyone, even former adversaries. Despite the presence of 35,000 NATO troops, Bosnia's borders are completely open to drug traffickers, because there are no border checks.

It's been two years since I've been to Algeria and I'm tempted to go back to do a story on how people are coping with the tense and bloody situation. I'd like to do an update on the Saharawis living in refugee camps in south-east Algeria, which the world has forgotten. The Saharawis still haven't had their much promised referendum on integration with Morocco or an independent state of Western Sahara. Nobody seems to care about their plight anymore.

David Frank - my good friend and confidante who lets me keep a desk at RDF Television - continues to encourage me to go after the stories that I care about. However, last week he did say to me that maybe it's time I started making films about big furry animals. Maybe he's right.

Jane Kokan, last year's Rory Peck Award winner