2024!
And we're back // Rwanda Part Trois.
Prologue
Well, that was fun. But talk about being tardy - I apologize for the lateness in keeping this going. It’s been both busy and not busy, and everything else 2024. Whoo Hoo!
So, first a quick recap on the news, and then we will continue our sound recording saga.
Despite Variety’s prediction, and what with last night’s awards, “American Santa” did not make it to the Oscars but we ARE going to PBS in the fall. We are lining up underwriters for that broadcast, so if you or someone you know at a corporation, brand, foundation or non-profit might be interested, please let me know. The film is also now available for educational and non-theatrical sales as well as streaming on Kanopy through New Day Films (are you a university professor? Do you know any?). Check it out!
In other news, I’ve spent the last couple of weeks in Nashville (Country Music!) rolling sound on a new project. Plenty to report on that flavor palette. Just prior to this series, I was on a few post sound projects, including a feature premiering at SXSW.
Anyhooooooo… Spring is in the air, the clocks are an ahead an hour, so let’s pick up where we left off, somewhere near the volcanic forests of Rwanda…
Project: Saving the Gorillas: Ellen’s Next Adventure
Cast of Characters:
Abbie - Director
Billie - Producer
Mike - DP
Ted - Cam Op/AC
Ani - AC
Craig - EP
June 02, 2022
Into The Breach
I'm completely beat, so this will be a bit more concise than yesterday's double-stuffed report. Once again I did not get a full night's sleep, even though I took all the necessary precautions including unplugging my heating pad upon laying down. Apparently, neither did Ted (up at 1:30 AM) nor Billie (up all night) despite her reunion with her suitcase, clothing, and toiletries. Joe Woods, our walk-on hero was somehow completely charged up as was Mike. Just how does he do that?
Anyhoo, the morning was wet and gray and as we made our way to the park to hook up with our tracker, guide, and researcher, Abbie said she was feeling nauseous. Joe confessed to being the rat at a Chuck E. Cheese's as well as a clam digger at some point on his career path. Kids waved to us as we bumped along, passing terraces of crops rolling like waves on a placid beach, Andrew's steady hand guiding us to safety.
The rain had beat us to the park and was coming down steadily by the time we pulled in. Tourists on bucket-list vacations thronged the meeting points, many in matching hats, like a large, lusty herd of bright beige camels robed in a collective fortune of technical fabrics making a sharp contrast with the camouflage BDU fatigues and rubber boots donned by the park and fund staff. There were briefings and a feeling of anticipation hung low in the local atmosphere. Joe was not allowed to trek due to his lack of a PCR test.
A heavy mist settled around the terrain as again we rode for more than another hour on completely unpaved and rocky roads to our entrance point. The air had a forced, compressed quality, dense and hard with tall tumbling fractal tendrils of grey and white, like a breath of leaves on a wood lathe. Along the way, we learned that Nadia's mother was a "badass" and had eleven kids. Out the window, I saw an open-air pottery studio with a makeshift kiln, a man repairing a bike surrounded by parts and onlookers, many of the ubiquitous yellow containers, shepherds moving their flocks along, a coffin maker, a tea plantation, and endless acres of rich volcanic soil planted with beans, potatoes, cabbage, corn, and pyrethrum flowers.
Then, after paring down to the necessities, we hit the trail. The approach began through a series of terraced fields like a huge green carpet that rolled away into varied, dark tangles of forest, making our way to the actual edge of the park, at the base of the volcano. And then we began to ascend. It was difficult, with shoe-devouring mud, sweat-inducing climbs, dark tunnels of bamboo and hanging vegetation, and straight out glute-busting bushwhacking. One wrong slip and impalement on sharply angled sticks seemed likely, especially after grabbing a handful of stinging nettles on the way down. Mike, Ted and I were all carrying gear as well, so balance and flexibility were ongoing issues. And, of course, it kept raining on and off the whole way. But it was gorgeous. Some likened it to the landscapes in "The Lord Of The Rings" what with the thick vegetation, the adventuring party making its way on foot through dark wooded areas and opening up into Rivendell-like clearings in majestic vistas. And then I received a text welcoming me to the Democratic Republic of Congo. We had crossed another invisible boundary known only to the satellites, electrons and photons.
At some point, we connected with the trackers who had been guiding us all along via said technologies with our guides Prosper and Augustin. It was then that we donned our masks, dropped any extra bags, and headed further towards the areas where a family of gorillas were last spotted. It's hard to describe, but after a bit more climbing and crawling, there they were - just walking in front of us. One was eating bamboo, another rolling around, and soon a silverback was claiming his rights, pounding his chest and it was if we were mere ghosts within their world. We were rich with cameras, recorders, phones, machetes, water bottles, boots, and everything from our modern world and yet they walked around us, saw through us, and kept moving. We were nothing. They were everything.
And so we followed further upwards. And there were even more. Bille and Ted got up close and within inches of a few. We all considered the gorilla body odor - musky, earthy, and metallic. It was like the smell of a moist jungle, moldy bread, and sweetened black tea; it was fecund and feculent as a mound of decaying peach and melon left out for summer; it was ripe and rancid as an overripe guava your grandfather forgot to pick off his tree months ago. In short, being that close was astonishing. When they moved toward you, you felt their presence and made sure to carefully step aside.
Although I was hyper-vigilant and recording non-stop, I periodically tried to pierce the event and take in the wider experience. We're on a mountain in Africa. The sky is either raining or sunny. The sounds of gorillas eating plants is in the air as are their huffing and grunting. I gazed at them and took a moment to consider that, despite our physical and physiological differences, these creatures and I have a common ancestry. What if I could live on their mountain? What if they could press the record button and point the boom? Where would our narrative go from here?
After a generous amount of time in their world, Prosper gently led us back down the mountain. Back at the rally point where we left our bags, Mike was first to rip into the snack packs prepared for us and, like a barbarian, roughly shelled a hard-boiled egg. I followed suit and after Ani told me I had done it all wrong, he shared a technique that involved cracking both ends and blowing into the egg but really, in my opinion, all you have to do is cook them correctly (steamed, 13 minutes) and the shell comes off like nothing at all. Ted ate a passionfruit with the skin on. Gotta start somewhere.
Ted redeemed himself at the vehicles and wowed the locals with his aviation skills while Ayubu looked on with great interest. Next year, he will be a drone pilot. Nadia claimed we did a "beginner" hike. That is until Mike handed her his camera wherein she regraded it to "advanced."
Because we were trekking all day, we ate our lunch for dinner. Soup, croquettes and stir-fried beef and noodles. The Stoics were right when they claimed that hunger is the best condiment. Amen.
Oblique Strategy Of The Day
“Disconnect from desire.”
All good thoughts,
Avi