Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Out of Africa
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
How Much Can Fit Into Two Weeks?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Arriving in the Dark
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Kenya and the Shelter of Hope
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Walking Through The Slums
Now, the equivalent to the taxi is the bodaboda: a scooter or motorcycle. Tell them where you want to go, barter a price, jump on the back, and hold on for dear life. They pride themselves on being quick. Which they are, and are much more time efficient than the "taxis" since they can weave in and out of the other stopped cars and use the sidewalks if they so desire... in fact, they can use anything if they want to. Just make sure to keep your knees plastered to the bike or you may lose them as you pass oncoming traffic. Anyhow, public transport is an experience in itself.
So, I met William at the "old taxi park" and we took off to the west side of the city. As we arrived at the destination, I took a glance around and didn't notice anything unusual about the surroundings. It looked just like the rest of the outskirts of the city did. However, we began walking and took a turn down a hill into a valley... and it was then that I saw what looked like a sea of rusted tin and debris. The slum. It hides in the shadows of the new building projects and businesses on the hills that surround the bleak looking valley. As we walked into the midst of the huts and shacks that make up this area, I noticed each of them was not much bigger than a standard bathroom. Some with straw roofs, others with rusted-through tin. Some with mud walls, others with poorly laid brick. The alleys were dominated by the presence of the deep gutters that ran along them. These fill with water during the rains and the people use them for washing or bathing... a filthy composition of mud and garbage. However, these were only meant to withstand a certain amount of precipitation. During the wet season, the entire valley floods and people live in a tepid pool that invades their "houses."
However, the people don't seem glum or dispirited. They work. They continue to push on and make do with what they have. Persistence when most would concede defeat. And it spreads for nearly a mile... much further than it should.
The worst part about this, was that by this point, I was not in a state of shock at what I was seeing. I had accepted it. I had seen living conditions like this in so many other places all throughout the city. The only difference here is the amount of them packed together so tightly in such a grim space. I knew in my head that I should be affected by this, but I was neither in awe or disbelief. That may be the saddest part. The steady diet of being surrounded by this each day and then reading in the papers each morning about the corruption in the political system and not seeing any changes in the national budget to help eventually settles in, and the undeniable fact that there is no aid coming in the near future for these families is unwillingly digested. It's like when you start drinking and hate the taste, but you do it because everyone else does and eventually it feels good. Yeah, everyone else does it, but this won't ever feel good. At least I hope not.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Editing and Planning
Friday, June 19, 2009
An Afterthought
A Few Stills
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Another Day, Another Project
Arriving at St. John's was a journey in itself. It is located far off of the main roads and requires some off road "hold onto anything you can, so you don't fly out the window" type driving. Immediately, it becomes apparent that just getting children to school is a difficult endeavor. This seems to be true in many of the rural schools, as well as the rural clinics. Many of the children walk quite a distance on their own, along streets that most parents in the U.S. would not dream of allowing their children on. These are the kids with homes and families (or at least partial ones). The rest of the children at the school are orphans. Some orphaned as a result of AIDS, others poverty, still others for any number of reasons. The school is home to some 350 orphans (ranging from infants to teenagers), all needing shelter, food, clothing, education and health care (not to mention love and affection). The school does not have the adequate funds to provide proper facilities or care, and therefore is struggling to stay afloat. Yet, the children persist, as do the teachers and the others attempting to help in any way they can. They sleep on triple bunk beds (many of which are falling apart) crammed next to each other in rooms without windows. They use the bathroom in latrines with no roof. Even the floors (a fairly basic thing, yes?) have holes large enough for the children to fall through.
I suppose you'd become numb to it after some time. Or perhaps not. Either way, it is unacceptable. And yet, there is hope. Not from without, but from within. It is the children that smile and laugh, that run and chase, that hold your hand or clutch your leg, that become fascinated with sunglasses, or sit in the dirt and ask you to sit with them: these are the things that move me to believe that change has to come at some point. Because when people see this, they are moved to make a difference. Aren't they? Or does it not matter? As long as we can switch off the film at the end of the program and change the channel to something better, the help won't come. And sure, the children smile and laugh because they're children. That's what children do. But, as they grow up, without help, their futures become dimmer and dimmer. The school cannot support these children for long, and many of them may not make it through... or make it at all. BUT, I leave here in a month and a half and then I get to come back to the U.S. where I don't have to see it every day. So what do I care?
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Evening Thoughts
And yet, it is not so different from home.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Back "Home"
I have spent the majority of my time here between two sites - in Kibiito with Fr. Silvino at the parish and school there, and at the AIDS clinic in Virika with Sr. Kyegote. I have had the opportunity to get a lot of great footage here, as well as some beautiful interviews that I think will serve beautifully as insight into the lives of these projects.
The consistent thing that I feel compelled to speak about here is something a little different than just the focus of the film. Since my arrival, and especially during my time in Fort Portal, I have been consistently moved by the nature of the people I have come into contact with. Needless to say I have met many inspirational and loving people at home in the U.S., however, this is different. The people I am encountering are dealing with immense poverty or illnesses in some of the most difficult to reach and rural areas of the country. Yet, despite the trials they face each day, they perpetually emit an overwhelmingly powerful attitude that quickly becomes infectious. I don't entirely understand how they manage to do this, yet it continues to be true each moment. I enter their village or home and they are constantly thanking me, though I have done nothing and it should be me doing the thanking (which, I am and do my best to thank each of them, though there are many). It is incredibly moving to experience this over and over again, and I don't think I can properly do it justice with written word, spoken word or even film. It has to be experienced... Anyway, my minutes are running out and I must go. More on this soon.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Worlds Apart
I depart for Fort Portal today with Peter. I am very excited about this leg of the journey (as this is where I lived previously), but also, the projects underway there have wonderful intentions and I cannot wait to meet with the people involved with them. Of course, the Ruwenzori Mountains lie there as well, and perhaps I can get some footage at Kibali Forest of some chimps (though, they are elusive). The beauty here is so incredible I could very easily make a travel promotional commercial for Uganda, and to be honest, I would whole-heartedly recommend it to everyone.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Onward To Fort Portal
On Monday, Peter and I will travel to Fort Portal to meet with an old friend, Fr. Silvino, at a school outside of the town to look into the education side of Uganda. We will also travel to the AIDS clinic at Virika, where we will meet Sr. Fredriana Kyegote to film there to gain some insight into the AIDS epidemic and be able to speak with those living with HIV. I feel that this will be a very productive week. However, at the same time I know that this can be very emotional for those involved, so I will have to be very cautious and respectful of the stories being shared. Let's hope for the best.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The UG Experience
The streets are jammed with taxis, cars and boraboras (motorcycles that serve as taxis: just jump on, hold on and hope for the best). Kampala has grown over the years and is a large, bustling city, and proves to be very confusing due to the absence of street signs. Luckily, Peter has the week off to show me around until I get my bearings. I did my best to take note of the route into the city, however, on our first trip in, Peter tested me by asking how I would get home from where we were standing. My honest answer was, "I wouldn't." However, it is only my second day in the city, so I am sure my familiarity with my surroundings will come with time.
Time is an entirely different idea here. We are ruled by the clock in the US, and here, it is anything but that. Here, time is more of a suggestion or a possibility. When someone says, "I will meet you at 1pm, it may end up being 3pm before you meet. Yet, it is not rude. It just happens, and one must be patient. Part of this is obviously due to transportation difficulties with traffic and roads. But, it seems as though people are not stressed by the rigidity of time here. Patience is the key. This alone, would be a wonderful change for the US: not to neglect time, but to accept the value of patience... in all things.
I am excited to begin filming tomorrow, and hope that the beginnings of this project will begin to take their course. I do not want to force too much of a label on the direction of the film too early, as much of what I have already seen here has been very different than my previous assumptions. So, my strategy for now is to listen. To hear the stories that people are telling, and from that, begin to search for the thread that binds us together. I know that I have much to learn here, and I am sure that others do as well.