For My Best Friend's Film

Above, you see a beautiful short preview of a documentary my best film school friend, Kimberley Rose Williams, created.  She is currently raising finishing funds to be able to finalize the last edit and then submit the film to festivals all over the world.  I use this platform to promote her amazing work and ask that you consider helping to fund the movie (you can give whatever you want--from $.01 to infinity).  You may contribute on kickstarter.com, an incredibly innovative site that helps artists realize their dreams.  Here is the link:  Broken Hearts & Butterflies.  If you do decide to help fund the project, please leave her a comment letting her know where you learned about it!  Thanks, everyone, for allowing me to use this platform for my dearest friend.

What's Old is New is Old

The unfamiliar and the familiar

Emerging from the plane in Kigali, Rwanda, on that dark, warm, Friday evening in late November, I breathed in deeply, struck by the earthy, musty aromas; I felt like I was back home again. Having lived for a few months in Kampala, Uganda in 2008 and worked one month in Ethiopia the year before that, I fancied myself an expert on the scent of Africa. I exclaimed to my husband, “It smells like Africa! Ahh, how I've missed that smell.” I'd never been to Rwanda before, but the sensation somehow comforted me. Mixed in the all-encompassing odor of earth, flaura, and fauna was, most jarringly, the spices of a thousand undeodorized bodies; I was suddenly reminded of my inherent foreignness. This adventure in Rwanda, after a whirlwind engagement and marriage, had begun.

Making the unfamiliar familiar

Last July, Mark's soon-to-be-boss, Ginger, sent him a link to an LA Times article about Rwanda's burgeoning film community. Ginger had sent it to Mark in an effort to entice yours truly.  The article talked about how the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS or "The Oscars" to you lay folk) had sent a troupe of creative people to Kigali to partner with Rwandan filmmakers and with a newly formed film program called The Kwetu Film Institute.  Alfre Woodard, Jon Turtletaub and Phil Alden Robinson descended on this hilly hub--Rwandans have coined it "Hillywood" for its thousands of hills, or "mille collines"--and taught eager young filmmakers the finer points of production, from soup to nuts.  

Ginger was smart; it was this article that sold me on moving to Rwanda with Mark (though, truth be told, I was already sold since he was going to be there).  I immediately contacted the head of the Kwetu Film Institute, Eric Kabera, and offered my services to his school.  He and his staff wrote back and asked me to join them as a mentor when I arrived in Rwanda.

That's pretty cool in and of itself.  And there's more.

Networking

Upon our arrival,  I wrote to Eric and we made a date to meet and discuss what we could do for one another.  After our meeting and seeing his brand new film school/bed and breakfast (a fail-safe that will house visiting filmmakers throughout the year and others when times are tough), I offered to teach courses on script and cinematography.  

Simultaneously, Mark and I were both networking like fiends--he with his new colleagues and me with, well, anyone--as we had left all of our friends and family (e.g. YOU) thousands of miles away. We joined a highly-recommended Yahoo Group called "Kigalilife," wherein we got daily emails with various postings for jobs, houses, cars, events, pets, club activities and assorted other sundries of life. 

I took the initiative to write a mass email to the group, introducing myself as a filmmaker and storyteller  and seeking any and all advice-givers. The response was instant and overwhelming.  Dozens of folks, from Rwandans to expats, offered to meet up with me throughout my first week in Kigali.  Among many others who shall receive full mention in future blogs, a kind, energetic, American journalist from the Agence France Presse (AFP) immediately offered to meet me at the see-and-be-seen watering hole, The Bourbon Cafe.  I met Steve there and we immediately hit it off.  A shared passion for Apple, Nikon and storytelling propelled us through our first meeting.  As we sat and chatted, a steady stream of locals and expats greeted my new friend as their old friend.  I instantly acquired even more phone numbers and connections; this man was a networking genius.  

File this Under "Disney, It's a..." 

We agreed to have dinner later in the week so Steve could meet Mark and I could meet more of his friends.  We had a grand time at a local Indian restaurant and promised to meet up again, soon.  The following Monday, VISA had a press conference to announce its new partnership with the Rwandan government.  My new friend attended the conference in his capacity as a journalist and to support Mark's new venture.  He hunted my husband down and offered to save two seats, that evening, at the local Quiz Night at Sole Luna (arguably the best Italian restaurant in town).  Mark was unable to attend, but asked Steve to promise to save me a seat.

That night, I sat with Steve and some new friends from Kampala, in town to visit family.  As we prepared for the night's questions--all hoping like mad that we would emerge triumphant--yet another friend of Steve's strolled by.  "Heyyyy," crooned Steve.  His friend paused to say, "I'll join you in a moment, I'm just going to say hi to some people."  At this point, Steve let me know that this man, Daniel, was a german filmmaker.  (Actually, he told me he was Werner Herzog.  But, I've met Werner Herzog.  So, I knew he was lyi--er, kidding.)  

When Daniel returned, we got right down to brass tacks and started answering the quiz night questions in earnest.  Only during a break did I mention that I, too, am a filmmaker and had just met with the head of the Kwetu Film Institute.  It was at this stage that Daniel casually told me he had actually started the Kwetu Film Institute with Eric and was just about to leave Rwanda for some work in Palestine.  He told me he'd known Eric for years and that I should, absolutely, teach some classes there.  He then gestured toward Steve and said, "Oh, I even had Steve do some teaching at the school."  Steve grinned and said, "Oh, I loved it.  Lots of fun.  Maybe you even saw my write up about the whole thing in the LA Times."

Wait, what?

"Seriously, Steve?  You're the reason I came to this country?!" (Clearly, I didn't pay attention to who wrote the article.)  Steve was delighted.  "If I had a journal," he said, "I'd totally write in it, 'Tonight, a girl told me that she read my article in the LA Times about the Rwandan film community, and that's what made her decide to move to Rwanda. Now she's here, having quiz night with me in Kigali.'"  

We were all glowing when we found out that we had tied for first in quiz night.  

The familiar and the unfamiliar

Now, it is December 10th, 2011 and we've been here for exactly 2 weeks. Mark and I are just really hitting our groove.  We're close to securing a new home to move into in January.  We've made lots of new beginnings with some amazing people.  We've grown closer together due to the stress of ALL OF THIS NEW STUFF!  And, now that we're comfortable, we're headed back to the states for Christmas.  What was once familiar will be unfamiliar, again.  I am bright pink from the equatorial fireball that is the sun, I am just finally adjusting to seeing Christmas Trees next to palm trees and I have become accustomed to all scents, sweet and, um, savory.  

Once we're back in the warm arms of our families, though, I'm sure the scent of pine, Christmas raisin bread and Mexican food (lo', how we miss it) will easily trump my new acceptance of the scent of Africa, but the familiarity dance shall continue....

Post Script--I am aware that there is a jarring lack of photography here.  It is, in part, due to the fact that Rwandans are very averse to having "Muzungu" (foreigners) take their pictures, randomly.  I'm aware that I could have taken more pictures of the landscape and had planned to, but time has been full and busy and got away from me.  Trust me, though, when I tell you the next blog will be all about photography.