During a recent visit to Estamos, a Lichinga non-profit working in community health, I was offered a box of mints which, flavored or not, turned out to be condoms. The laugh needed no translation. Knowing they were from the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), I took one as a gift from my parents’ tax dollars.
You get your Alabama pride where you can. And today, it was in exported condoms. Alatech Healthcare has been the country’s exclusive condom supplier for USAID and operates a state-of-the-art facility in Eufaula with the capacity to produce one billion a year.
Recently, however, it’s been Alatech’s own employees who have needed protection.
Senators Shelby and Sessions are fighting to keep “buy American” language in spending bills, but now 300 workers are facing layoffs as the factory’s future is in jeopardy.
Last March, The Kansas City Star broke news of overseas competition threatening Alatech.
“At a time when the federal government is spending billions of stimulus dollars to stem the tide of U.S. layoffs,” said columnist Mike McGraw, “should that same government put even more Americans out of work by buying cheaper foreign products?”
USAID will begin purchasing condoms from China and South Korea, costing 3 cents less than those made in Alabama. Those pennies mean lower overseas standards and a time where the U.S. outsources its own aid.
For USAID, the road to development forks again over “saving jobs at home or lives abroad” (Dugger, New York Times).
For Alabama, it may mean the rubbers are finally hitting the road.
On Friday we were contracted by the Minister of Education to film the opening ceremonies of the high school sporting championships… we think.
Negotiations began the day before in the Holton’s backyard, sitting on the ground where, Feliciano Dos Santos informed us, all deals are made in Mozambique. Laid out on the grass was the chance to document history—Niassa’s first hosting of the national games. President Guebuza was headlining along with Feliciano’s Massukos, who conveniently needed a new music video. We jumped in the truck to check out the venue and found it undergoing some 11th hour construction. Apparently we weren’t the only crew playing catch-up.
We met the day with our translator Lucky and twice as much tape as battery life. On-field access is no problem when having white skin automatically makes you an insider. Maybe some day we’ll know what the Governor and President said in their speeches, but until then, our memory comes through the viewfinder: sun reflecting off open hands, dust beneath an athlete’s march, and fireworks.
A week late, but lots of fireworks.
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.
Tonight, perhaps for the first time, I saw the project outside of myself. I saw it as someone who might be passing by and see the images and, as I did, stop and want to invest. Seeing the next-to-final brochure and the first streaming edits of the trailer (thanks to Zac) made me want to listen. Made me want to go.
