Ok, I'm not going to be a film star in Africa. It's not as if I was hoping that this week would be my breakthrough moment, but it appears that my too white skin doesn't bode well for a Tanzanian casting call.
The class Barry is leading involves making two short films a day. After creating a storyboard (as well as a title, tagline, and poster) everyone takes off to shoot. Today I was invited to join one of the groups. Each team member will either act or film. My team looked at me (being the wrong color) and said I could be the director. At last, I'm in charge of something! I was really good at saying 4-3-2-1-action. Nothing makes you bond with people more than having a deadline and a common project. Our movie, Beautiful Liar, involved a lady with multiple boyfriends who each found out about the other in the closing scene of our 60-second academy contender. In fact, the class chose it as is the basis for the final feature our class will show at the closing night festivities at ZIFF (Zanzibar International Film Festival). Now I'll be able to say I am a filmmaker who has a film that was played at a film festival....just don't ask me for too much detail or you'll know I'm a fraud :)
There are many immigrant stories in the films at ZIFF. Another touching film called Boi (It means fight) involved two young boys who collect scrap metal to help their family survive in Belgium. At the end of the film, the older brother asked his young sibling to punch him. He wanted to tell their dad they were robbed of their daily earnings. Now his younger brother could attend the little summer camp he so wanted to attend. I'm keeping up with my daily dose of a tear.
I have a terrible sense of direction. If you've ever traveled with me, you know to turn left whenever I say we need to go right. The tiny alleyways of Zanzibar twist and turn every which way....I know because I've walked them all trying to get a very short distance from my hotel to the movie houses. Many of the items for sale in the stales are familiar from my ten years of travel to Kenya. But I was quite surprised when I spotted a bright yellow bikini standing out in a land of head scarves
Each morning begins with an exotic plate of fruit. I've never eaten zaituni or custard fruit. Barry (the boyfriend) was biting into a thick layer of white and said, "you can't eat this.. I can't get my teeth through it." The jet lag had set in. He forgot he had eaten the grapefruit and was trying to eat the rind.
Actually, the rind was a step up from the food we experienced during our 48 hour journey here. Unbeknownst to us, the stop in Addis Ababa included a sleep over in a hotel in the slums of the city. It is all an adventure. But scrambled eggs tough enough to cut with a knife and French toast that can be bounced off the floor do leave you a little hungry upon arrival.
My hotel is a refurbished mansion of the sultan's finance minister from a hundred years ago. Our room has a rooftop patio (with a swing) that overlooks Stone Town, evening sunsets and morning sunrises. The roosters begin at 4:45am just before the loudspeakers sound their morning calls to prayer. I'm swimming in a sea of senses.
One of today's films broke my heart. Under the Tide showcased the women of Zanzibar who farm seaweed to make an exotic brand of soap. Things changed for this cooperative of women when an investment banker from Denmark arrived to stream line the business. She cut the workforce from thirty-five to seven to increase the bottom line, gave them each one share of stock and told them they were still owners of the company. I imagine that as the company succeeds on the world market their one share may double in value. Seven total shares of stock for seven women. Twenty-eight women out of work. You gotta love western influence.
A beautiful film from Kenya, Ugali, had a universal message. A loving Mom cooked her teenage son's car key into the family meal. It was a loving way to forestall his rushed journey to his next drug fix. The silence during the scene when he understood her motive spoke volumes. Another tear down my cheek
A Different Side of Africa
Sophisticated, warm, exotic. After ten years of being ensconced in the poverty of Kenya I am seeing another side to this wonderful continent. I arrived at the Zanzibar International Film Festival (ziff.or.tz) to gentle breezes, gorgeous sand and an exotic location. The film festival is the largest in East Africa. After a day of films in multiple locations we journeyed to an ancient amphitheater with stars screaming down upon us. The stage morphed into a catwalk of a couture line from a local fashionista before the commencement of Kalusha, a South African film premiering in Zanzibar.
The energy is electric. The films come from all over the world with a running theme on social justice....something near and dear to my heart.
So what am I doing here? I have a (*flash*) boyfriend of nine months (more on that later) who is a cinematographer and is giving a five day workshop for twelve aspiring filmmakers. I get to be the assistant. This is a new role for me and I'm trying my hardest not to step in and run the workshop myself :)
Yesterday I attended six films. There was a gem of a film called My Bicycle from Bangladesh. I am cycling four to five days a week in Portland and I was anxious to see a new perspective of my beloved sport. The bicycle in this film was an entrepreneurial tool that allowed a desperately poor migrant to eek out a living for his family. Of course, there was a twist with the arrival of the town bullies. It was one of those films that, oh so subtlety, brings a tear to your eye.
Film has a wonderful way of allowing you to step into the shoes of others. It is a dreamy world I'm experiencing right now. And there are ten days ahead of learning and absorbing everything possible in this wonderfully rich culture.
