The OF Chronicles

The Show

Sun, 6 Sep 2009 21:51:31 +0200

Click the flower above the video below or the link here to see the video we showed the ladies of Kagando.

5 Seconds of Fame to Explosive Joy

Sun, 6 Sep 2009 21:51:10 +0200

Andy Warhol coined the expression “15 Minutes of Fame” to describe the momentary celebrity that everyone experiences at some point in their lives. Sitting in the fistula ward of Kagando Hospital, I experienced a phenomenon that I describe as “5 Seconds of Fame.”

As my slideshow flashed pictures of each woman up for around 5 seconds each, I could feel different sections of the ward erupt with wails of laughter and clapping. I sat next to the projector and every time I looked back into the crowd, someone shot me a thumbs up or a big smile-and-clap.

From hiking to the top of Africa to running the streets of Pamplona, I have had some magnificent experiences in my life, but nothing compares to movie night at Kagando. The joy pulsating through the long, thin fistula ward had a tangible intensity that wrapped itself around you like a big, happy blanket.

After the show, the women made a human tunnel clapping and singing as we packed up the gear. Frank and I ran through this electric cave carrying all our AV equipment and when we finished loading the truck, we returned for more singing. The level of excitement and emotion was unlike anything I have ever seen in my life and I count this movie night as one of my most treasured experiences.

Epilogue: Most of these woman have never seen television and certainly have never seen themselves on television. Most of us in the US or Europe are so condition to TV that we forget the massive sensory overload that coordinated flashing lights and music first created in us. Furthermore, being the subject of that sensory rich construct adds another dimension to the experience. Of course I didn’t think of any of this until well after the end of our movie night. I was far too busy taking it all in.

Its Not Quite IMAX, but It Does the Trick

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 19:48:54 +0200

I am hardly a director worthy of angst, but I definitely felt nervous as my 11 minute short began rolling. My first thoughts listed as follows occurred in about 5 seconds:

“Wow, the music sounds surprisingly good”

“It looks pretty good, especially for being on a green wall”

“Ouch, the projector gets really hot really fast”

“How can the projector make an even image when its at a 20 degree angle on the soft bed?”

“They are really cheering.”

“Oh my, they love it!”

Setting up the Show

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 19:45:59 +0200

As discussed earlier in the week, Frank organized a projector and stereo for the movie night we planned for the women of the Kagando fistula ward. He told me to meet him at his place after dinner and we would head down to the ward to setup. We hadn’t told anyone else about the show, not even the nurses, mostly because we had no idea how things would turn out.

Frank seemed pretty confident on the equipment front and my responsibility was content. Earlier in the day, I spent about 45 minutes slapping together a slide show of pictures I had taken of the women around the ward. To give this Ken Burns slide show a little pop, I added an African reggae favorite to the mix. Besides being fantastic music in its own right, I figured the ladies would know Lucky Dube and probably like him too. I don’t know anyone who doesn't like Lucky Dube.

With slideshow in hand, and a belly full of dinner, I marched up to Frank’s house to see a loading his RAV4 in the dark. After a slight pang of envy for not having an equally flamboyant hat, I grabbed a couple speakers and piled into the vehicle for our trip down the hill.

We entered the ward in the dark, but the buzz of excitement almost lit the room. This electricity sparked across the room as the chatter clearly had all the women asking each other, “what is happening here with the mazungu and why is our doctor wearing that crazy hat?”

We stacked the equipment, piece by piece on a bed that we slid into place. We moved a few other beds around and everyone soon got the idea we would be doing something on the wall. Ladies grabbed seats on the floor and the anticipation dripping in the air could not have been thicker. I pushed play and away we went.

The Tiny Giant

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 11:53:40 +0200

I mentioned in an earlier post that every woman at Kagando consented to our picture taking except one. The one woman who didn’t want anything to do with me was a tiny older woman we will call Rita.

The logistics officer at Kagando saw Rita and mentioned to Frank that he remembered her from when he was a child. This man, in his mid 40’s, grew up in Rita’s village and had always known her as the woman who smelled bad. Now in her 60’s, Rita has spent her entire life as an outcast, scorned by society. Imagine the pain that such circumstance would engender.

When I first approached Rita to ask to photograph her, she shooed me away with a scowl and the wave of a hand. For such small physical stature, she had an incredible fierceness to her. As she witnessed all the fun that we were having with the video, Rita began to change her mind about the pictures. In one instance she beckoned me over, presumable to take her photo, but given our initial exchange, I would need a little more than the wave of a hand.

Rita later caught me at the hospital store, which is a small shed that sells essentials and cold soda. As I stood there drinking a Krest, Rita leaned up against the counter and stared at me. I smiled at her and she pointed at the shelf of goods saying something I didn't understand. I looked inquisitively at the woman working the store and she picked up a small bag of sugar.

“Oh, you want some sugar?” I asked Rita. She nodded in a quick and economic but almost curt fashion. I paid the lady, who handed me the bag of sugar which I then handed to Rita. She snatched it out of my hands and ran down the hill. A bit confused, I looked at the lady working the store who shrugged at me.

When I went down the hill later that afternoon, Rita came flying up to me and grabbed my arm. She started motioning for me to take a picture of her, but then made it clear she wanted a picture with me.

Only looking at the pictures after the fact did I realize just how small Rita stood. Her ferocity and the way she carried herself kept me from ever noticing that she was so tiny. Just goes to show that stature is not just physical.