curtain call
Perhaps it’s our genetic makeup, or the side of Mozambique that feels like watered-down communism, but we’re still asking for permission rather than forgiveness when it comes to filming in public.
From declaring our equipment in Pemba, fighting to get it back in Nampula and applying to use it in Lichinga, these government offices all resemble sets from Lawrence of Arabia and reek of bribes—until you’re the one with coins in your pocket.
Paranoia about photographing officials keeps you nodding when you’re told by the cultural department to get a document from police, who tell you to talk with the press secretary, which in turn leads you back to the department of culture.
This is a western dance without a partner in Africa.
No matter how many times we’re told “it’s all about who you know,” it still feels like the logical solution is just behind the locked door with the director… who may or may not be back from lunch.
At 1:00 today we gave cameras to the Yao film crew. Hold the camera this way; press the red button. Tomorrow they go into their community, publicly, to document the largest festival their village has ever hosted. And for the first time, they’re the director behind their own door. The wizard behind their own curtain.
Four cameras looking for rights, not forgiveness.
