Slum-A-holics

I have filmed in Kibera on and off in the past couple of years, but always managed to separate myself from the people I met and keep it 'strictly business'. That was my defense mechanism, such that I did not feel guilty for having what I had, what I took for granted that I deserved. Try as I may, I could not run away from it. The reality of how the people lived in Kibera was with me, in my mind, everyday. I did not want to get involved, because I knew once I got in, there was no turning back.

So to make sure that I was as far away from the reality as possible, I agreed to produce the film, Togetherness Supreme, set and filmed entirely in...Kibera! I had been not so secretly following up on the progress of the script development, again, all in effort to runaway from reality. I am beginning to think that I'm (not) very good in this 'running away' business.

For 4 months, everyday, I went to work in Kibera on the film. The first 2 months were preproduction. I had thrown myself in the front-line, with no exit strategy. I was forced to deal with the people, look at them, live in their reality everyday. I did not like it. I liked the part where it was fun to watch dramas unfold, playing with the kids, exercising my famous passenger-side road rage fighting with Matatus, eating the best fries I have ever had...for some reason Kibera fries are heavenly! Forget Java and Savanna, they got nothin' on Mama Akinyi's Delicious Cafe!

Then I got to talking with some residents of Africa's largest slum. (Dont even argue that Soweto is!). My spoilt mind thought that all the people would want to talk about is leaving the slum for greener pastures. Uh-uh. They liked it! They liked the simplicity of life in the slums, the liked the fact that there was something or the other that kept them entertained. Like the neighbour's wife who has been sleeping with the blacksmith next door who sneaks in to her house when her husband leaves, only that on this particular day, the husband forgot his wallet...or the woman who has buried 4 husbands and no one will buy roast beef from her...or the guy who is always so drunk, thugs don't mug him anymore...

They even made me tell them how much I pay in rent for my 'suburbia' apartment. They calculated, and told me proudly...

'What you pay in a month is enough to pay rent my rent for 58 months.'

If you like, 4.8 years. They figured that they had the best sense when it comes to investment and saving money, and I was just one lost soul. Of course they do not like it that they have to jump over sewers to get to their houses, or the fact that you are bound to step on a 'flying toilet' that will 'explode' on you...or the fact that when it rains, you are more likely to be electrocuted by the illegal wiring done underground by so called Kibera Electricity Suppliers. A story was told to me about a man who went to pee by the roadside, only to have his treasures explode in his face. Apparently he was peeing on a live wire, thus ending up functioning as the electricity conductor...

Nothing much goes on in my neighbourhood. Just lots of bi-racial kids playing and acting snotty when you need to drive into the compound as you are interrupting their rollerblading. The only is when one of our cats run away and the neighbourlady offers (read insists) that i give him to her. I did however see enough to make a couple of feature films during my short stint in Kibera. The people are happy. They are content to pull a chair and sit by the roadside and just watch. Which is what explains why when something (un) interesting happens, a crowd forms in seconds, most of whom are willing to help out, whether be in stoning a thief, chasing the Kenya Power and Lighting Co. workers who come to charge them for using the electricity, uproot the railway when Museveni decides to claim Migingo Island, the piece of rocky island in the middle of L.Victoria...and they love it!


Which makes me wonder, would they ever be happy if there were moved to a blocks of flats, where you can hardly sit in your bedroom and chat with your neighbour who is in her/her own bedroom too...where nothing happens??

The simplicity of life is defined by the fact that whatever commodity you can think of, it can be broken down to the tiniest amount so that people can afford it. You will find 1/4 litre of kerosene, 1/2 of 1/4 of beef, imagine it, it is there! If you moved to a more established neighbourhood, it would be hard to get these things.

So is there such a thing as slum-a-holics? I now do believe there is. And I know that it sounds condescending, but slumaholicism is too ideticall to laziness...

Read More

Sex Kills!

Did David Carradine pull a Michael Hutchence?

Like the INXS singer, whose mysterious 1997 death in a Sydney hotel was believed to have been related to a sex act gone wrong, police in Thailand are focusing on the possibility that the star of Kung Fu and Kill Bill may have accidentally killed himself while engaging in autoerotic asphyxiation.

Autoerotic asphyxiation is a practice whereby a person intentionally cuts off oxygen to the brain for the purpose of sexual arousal.

A representative for the Bangkok Swissotel's Nai Lert Park hotel told E! News that a maid found the 72-year-old actor's naked body hanging in a closet in his luxury suite. Now, investigators quoted in the Thai news site the Nation are revealing that there was also a rope tied around his genitals.

"The two ropes were tied together," Police Lt. Gen. Worapong Chewprecha told reporters. "It is unclear whether he committed suicide or not, or he died of suffocation or heart failure."

A coroner completed an autopsy earlier today, but authorities say the results will not be released for at least three weeks, per standard procedure given the "unusual circumstances" surrounding Carradine's death and pending toxicology results.

Thai officials initially announced the erstwhile Grasshopper apparently committed suicide, but that theory was categorically shot down by Carradine's reps and shocked members of his family yesterday.

"I know for a fact that he did not commit suicide," comanager Tiffany Smith told E! News.

Her partner, Chuck Binder, wondered whether foul play may have played a part.

"I heard from a producer in Bangkok that his hands were tied behind his back and that it's being covered up," Binder said. "How do you get a rope around your neck and around your genitals and do all this by yourself?"

He continued: "The more I talk to people the more I think there's no way he killed himself. My take is there was definitely foul-play. There’s a lot of weird stuff that happens in Bangkok. This isn't L.A. or New York."

Smith said that Carradine was "full of life" when he arrived in Thailand May 29 to shoot a movie called Stretch.

That description fit with statements from eyewitnesses who saw him the night he died. One of those was a hotel employee who said the martial-arts enthusiast seemed to be in a "good mood," often smiling while drinking at the lobby bar Wednesday night and chatting up various staff members before retiring to his room sometime around 9 p.m.

Carradine was a no-show at a crew dinner later that night and detectives say his room key card record shows he never left his suite. While there's also no indication anyone else entered the thespian's room, police have yet to officially rule out murder.

The U.S. Embassy in Bangkok is expected to repatriate Carradine's body on Saturday. No word yet on funeral arrangements.

Meanwhile, perhaps lending credence to the new theory of his death, The Smoking Gun has unearthed a circa 2003 affidavit filed in court by Carradine's ex-wife Marina Anderson claiming the actor engaged in unspecified "deviant sexual behavior."

Fans of the prolific character actor should take comfort in knowing that Carradine had at least a half-dozen projects in the can at the time of his death. First up is a guest shot on Tuesday's episode of Mental.

From Eonline.

(Originally published June 5, 2009, at 6:45 a.m. PT)

Read More

HTML angels

A couple of years ago, I was blogging on Myspace and not thinking much about my blog being indexed on the www or any of that SEO mumble-jumble. Now that I moved to Blogger, its has become second to nature to want to increase the number of readers and visitors, in hope that one day, I shall rule the world. Ok, maybe not...

I got tired of my blog's old look and decided to change it. This is not easy to do especially if you have maintained the same look for years. And being the stubborn one that i am, instead of changing the look bit by bit, i simply Ctrl A > Delete, and paste the new HTML Code. As most of you know (don't worry if you don't, I'll tell anyway), this completely erases any modifications you had done on your site and you literally have to start afresh. This pisses the hell out of me, but then again, I wanted a new site, right?

I believe in giving credit where its due. And this time my blogger angles have been Garry Conn (you might not know him, but he is the nemesis of John Cow. Now that one you DO know) and Bloggertricks. And trick does he /she do! I call myself an expert on Blogger but this blogger still manages to make me shake my head and get that admiration little smile...

Garry is the kind of tech-whiz that makes you think you are a total genius. I dont think it is possible for anyonme to simply things he way he does. I swear, if i my 6 month old spitz understood the English Alphabet, he would be maitaining my blog using Garry's guidance.

Guys, you might never read this blog, but your free consultation has not gone unappreciated. And I hope the many hours I spent on your website, and the many 'trips' i made to your sites did contribute to your traffic and earned you some adsense money :-)

Thank you!

Read More

Paris Hilton in Rwanda

Socialite Paris Hilton arrived at the Hôtel des Milles Collines late Tuesday night after an 18 hour flight from JFK to Kigali’s International Airport. She arrived without the speculated loads of luggage; all ten pieces had been mistakenly sent to the Seychelles. The heiress found replacement clothing in the hotel’s souvenir shop; she wore Rwandan beer Mutzig and Primus t-shirts for the remainder of her week.

Though not well known in Rwanda for whatever it is that she does, Hilton’s name caused some apprehension in the small country. Rwandans still hold France responsible for its troubles and are not fond of French expatriates. Many learned with some relief that Hilton is American, and with some surprise that she does not actually speak French.

First on her itinerary was to visit an orphanage where she and the ministers of education and health took pictures with selected orphans. She spent around 15 minutes passing out tootsie pops, Bratz® dolls and lip-gloss to eager young girls. But when the orphans began to eat the strawberry flavored lip-gloss and play football with the Bratz® heads, it was time to go. She moved on to an AIDS clinic in downtown Kigali where her experience as a medical assistant on The Simple Life came to no use. The socialite looked uncomfortable and pensive as she spoke with dying patients about how her difficult time in a California prison had inspired her to help Rwandans by having their picture taken with her.
The wives of many ministers told Hilton that she looked fat and happy. Her eyes brimmed with tears through many interviews with local journalists who also exclaimed how très grosse she was. She was overheard whispering to her entourage that Rwandans were the rudest people she had ever met.

An interpreter explained to her that fat was actually a compliment and that it was a good thing because it meant she didn’t have AIDS. The interpreter did not explain the truth, which was that many Rwandans strongly believed that she in fact had AIDS both because of her thin frame and her reoccurring film roles.

Before leaving for Africa, Ms. Hilton was quoted as saying she would help Rwandan children by “bringing attention” with her. She would bring the attention; others would do the philanthropy. But for once the paparazzi did not want to follow her. Her own camera crew was left with very little footage of the heiress doing anything but looking pretty. In order to get the attention such a journey deserves, Hilton has bought airtime on E! to turn her “safari” into another reality show. Rwandan orphans replace simple Arkansas country folk as extras on another season of The Simple Life.

Hilton wanted to go on safari before leaving Africa but was told that most of the big game in Rwanda had been eaten during the civil war. She concluded her trip to the motherland by making a stop in South Africa to shop for diamonds and go on a wine-tasting tour. There she experienced a terrible reaction with her mefloquine and alcohol and promtly fell over and died.

Read More

The cat that won't stay

A lost mother cat found its way to my boyfriend's old apartment and decided that it looked good enough to function as a maternity. So few days later, the Collett family name had been passed on to Biggie and Blackie. He then took the mother to Kibera to live with in the office with the caretaker, an action that Lucy( aka mother cat) did not take kindly to. He basically took her from suburbia and moved her to the Ghetto. Lucy, albeit a stray cat, was used to posh dustbins to scrounge in, not the 'flying toilets' of Kibera. To top it, as if he had not done enough damage, he took her to be neutered. We all looked at it as a honorable deed, Lucy did not. Everyday, she made it a point to show Nathan just how much she loathed him. She would pretend to walk past him, and somehow, her claws would graze Nathan's feet. The seconds it took him to look down, Lucy would saunter off, tail raised high.

I still think that the kittens know what he did to the mother and Biggie, being the older one and the boy of the family, has decided to make us pay. Every day we open the door, he is there waiting to rush out. at first it was alright. They both would play by the stairs, then scratch the door five minutes later begging to be let in. Now, Biggie waits for the door to open so that he can ran off. Thing is he always runs off the the same house, which i find rather stupid! I swear you can see the smug grin on his face every time we go over to the next apartment block to pick him up. It's like he is saying ' You so wanna kill me right now, dont you?'

As if that is not stressful enough, the two have devised a game called 'Jump Off' As the name suggests, they jump off the the balcony of our 3rd floor apartment when the mood strikes. Now we've pretty much gotten used to it, but the first time they did that, they nearly gave Nate and I a join heart attack. We stopped letting them on the balcony and would close off all the windows. Somehow a window was left open and they jumped again. When we found no broken bones, nor blood....we opened the fort. Now they dont jump anymore.

Go figure!

Read More

The Update

For 6 weeks, I was on Pre-prod, producing a feature film set in Kibera, the biggest slum in Africa. The cast is drawn from the slum, most with no prior filmin experience.

The crew, with the exception of the Heads of Dept, are also form Kibera. The film, Togetherness Supreme seeks to draw out and cultivate the talent of the people of Kibera in a manner that has never before been tried, double the challenge!

The feature was born out of a short film called Kibera Kid. Kibera Kid is a 2006 award winning fictional short film set in the Kibera slums in Nairobi, Kenya, one of the largest slums in Africa. It was written, directed and co-produced by Nathan Collett in collaboration with the youth of Kibera. This twelve minute film features Kibera actors in all the principle roles. It has played at film festivals worldwide including the Berlin Film Festival and it won a Student EMMY from Hollywood. It has been profiled by BBC, Reuters, Al Jazeera English and many others.(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kibera_Kid)

After the success of Kibera Kid, the Kibera Youth wanted more, and the Kibera Kid Feature Film was born. The cast is from Kibera, with with little or no screen exprience. Apart from the Heads of Departments, the rest of the crew are youth from Kibera. Most of them have never worked in production before, triple the challenge!


We went on location on 23rd March and has been rolling since. Today, is supposed to be the final shoot day... We are shooting on the RED camera, another first.

It is the first time a RED camera has been used in a slum, on a such a project and the first to be owned in Kenya. Despite the challenges of doing a project of such magnitude, the crew and cast are all in high spirits and everyday, I realise how deep an impact this project has on the people of Kibera.

To learn more, support us, you can ask me questions here, or email me- kookync@gmail.com. You can also visit http://kiberakid.blogspot.com to see more of what is going on on location....and to donate.

We also have a film maker making a documentary about the film, and you get her version of our film here - http://worthydocs.blogspot.com/

Onwards!

Read More

Flying Without Wings

On my way to Jamaica - (sorry, you did not know that!) anyway, while there, I did this and this. Back to my story. Where I was in the land of Patois (Patwa), I kept thinking how far I have come from the 12 year old who dreamt of marrying Nick Carter and touring the world with him, and living in Florida. If you don't know Nick Carter, you are way too old to reading my blog. (sic) This is he


He once ruled my world with his little army called the Backstreet Boys. By now you know that I did not marry him, mainly because he dated Paris Hilton. As much as it hurt, I had to call it off on my 16th birthday. This thoughts started when i was in Ft. Lauderdale waiting to connect to Montego Bay. Here i was, 13 years later ( you can stop doing the math as to how old i am) in Florida, the only place i ever wanted to be. I started to think of what had changed about me. I guess we never think about the boyband crushes girls go through as teenagers, and how we believe anything is possible. I mean, there I was, another 12 year old, deep in the heart of Kenya, dreaming of marrying a boy in one of the biggest boybands of our time. Where was that little girl? I don't dream that big anymore. I dare call it to 'dream big' because given background, I needed a probability hyper drive to come close to realizing that dream. I hardly think Boy Carter had dreams of marrying a little African girl from Kenya....

So why don't I dream like that anymore? Not of boybands and blond-blue-eyed teenage heartthrobs, but of greatness and accomplishments beyond the wildest dreams? You might retort and say it is because i grew up and became realistic. I don't think so. It would have been equally unrealistic for me to dream that i would be sitting in Florida on my way to a holiday in the Caribbean . When I went to Disney World a few months ago, these thoughts did not go through my head. I never grew up wanting to be a princess or a fairy, or even wanting to meeting one. It was never 'real' enough to me. Disney never held that 'magic' for me. It could be the environment i grew up in. Play was not filled with barbie dolls and make-up, it was polyethene paper balls, mud and clay dolls and used cooking fat tins cooked food. No, my mother did not feed me that. In those days (damn, i can finally use those words), cooking fat / oil was packaged in cans, more like canned beans. We would get the empty tins, steal a little bit of cooking fat from the house, two or so leaves of vegetables, charcoal and matchboxes. We would light a makeshift burner and play 'house pretend', where we actually cooked the food. Every child had to bring an item from home and i did most of that. My parents were always away on business and the nanny / housegirl cared less what i did.

My parents never knew that i did this. Both my parents were very protective and my father would rather get me anything i wanted rather than let me out to play. I never got what his reasoning was since he could only do this in the short periods he was home , but i was rarely allowed out of the house when he was around. I took full advantage when we he was away. I also watched too much TV. My TV supervision came later in my teenage, when I had lost interest in it and loved Mills and Boon far much more. In the occasion that my dad was home, i would lock myself in my room and fantasize for hours about Nick. The things we would do, the names we would give our kids, the places we would visit....My mind was uninhibited in its wandering. As i left Ft. Lauderdale, i longed for that feeling. Not that I have stopped dreaming, but i have limited myself as to what i can dream about. I want to make life changing films, but i dream of making them up to a certain budgets. I daren't (it's a word) dream of the endless possibilities that could be, that are actually available. Making films is just an example, there are so many other things...

I replaced Nick Carter with Mark Feehily. Once again, let me be the fist to show you he

Mark is the one with the angelic ( i still think so) voice in the Irish boy band called Westlife. Hiw blue eyes drove me wild. Yes, my affair with blue eyes dates that far back. I happened to see a song i used to love (secretly still do) in a Karaoke book in Montego Bay, and I got up and sang it. I was transported back to me as a 15 year old, wanting everything Irish. I now wanted to move Ireland, I knew everything there was to know about Eire, you'd have thought i grew up in Sligo. Again, I never held back my dreams of Ireland and Mark. I swore to myself that my son was going to be called Shane, after the lead singer of the band. I have not been to Ireland yet, but I'm not closing my mind to that. In my head, I'm going to roam in the lush green of the hills, smell the rain....because i have learnt that only I can limit what I achieve my limiting my dreams. I have learnt that there is not dream to big, and the is no fantazy too wild and if i never get to have it in reality, at least i can explore its full beauty in my mind, which is more vivid than anything that Technicolor will ever come up with.

Because dreaming is flying without wings. Nothing to control you, letting wind that is your imagination fuel the images that fill your mind. It is the free-falling of thought, with arms wide open and outstretched.

And right now, sitting here at JFK waiting for my flight, ( airports seem to make me think), I'm playing Westlife over and over again. It feels stupid, very juvenile in fact... but there is also this feeling of release in my heart and mind, the feeling that I have opened myself to more things than i will ever appreciate, more love, health, wealth, happiness and fullness of life.

And to quote the song:

....And when you know how much it means
You've found that special thing
You're flying without wings

So, impossible as it may seem
You've got to fight for every dream
Cos who's to know which one you let go
Would have made you complete
....And it's like flying without wings....


----------------
Now playing: Westlife - Flying without wings

Read More