Rwanda - Part One
The Road to Kigali
Prologue
As you’ve probably all heard from me, my short documentary “American Santa” screened at the Woodstock Film Festival, is playing this week at the Montclair Film Festival, and was selected for the Short List for DocNYC. If you haven’t heard any of this, that’s fine too, just head on over to the website or our Seed & Spark crowdfunding spot to help us get the film out as widely as possible come the holidays, which are right around the corner.
I won’t go on too much about this, but I made this film to try to change minds. So while it’s a holiday movie with a message, it’s also a very unapologetic statement about bigotry and the power of ideas. Simply put, racist ideas make racists. “American Santa” aims to reverse that flow by peeling back the reality of these superhero-like Santas.
If you haven’t seen the trailer, it’s just 90 seconds of your life and it’s right here:
If you can help with a donation, click HERE. If you can help us host a screening in December, or have any other ideas, please get in touch directly.
Okay, sermon over; onward back into sound:
Yes, it’s true, I went to Rwanda with Ellen DeGeneres to go gorilla trekking. Does that sound funny already? But this is serious! The show, “Saving the Gorillas: Ellen’s Next Adventure,” is on Discovery, and here is the start of a great adventure.
So, buckle up, the road is bumpy and long, but I promise you will enjoy the ride.
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
May 29 - May 30, 2022
Inter-Continental Balastic Malaise
The plan was to meet at JFK in the afternoon. There was much discussion about going to departures versus arrivals. There were good arguments on both sides, but we went with the former and more logical choice. I wrangled some skycaps and waited. Once loaded onto two large carts we did the import/export dance downstairs and then overwhelmed the desk agent at Sky Priority.
After a delightful sojourn in the Centurion Club, replete with chicken, salad, little delicious tarts that Ted could eat until eternity, and many trips to the bar, we boarded our flight to Amsterdam. Ted, our mixology ambassador, only drinks cocktails that either involve aviation themes or require raw ingredients found on a farm. Anyway, we got on board and settled in for the first leg of our commute to Kigali. That sounds like the title of an old Bing Crosby and Bob Hope movie
Once onboard, Ted was super excited that we were on the new Airbus Neo Whatever Ship but I was less excited because apparently it was so new they forgot to hook up the wifi router. Really? Then he suggested we watch season 4 of "Stranger Things" and I relented, despite knowing I'd partially regret the experience. Well, it was what I expected, lots of closeups of shocked yet heroic teenagers, a paint-by-numbers plot of jocks-versus-nerds and oh here comes the monsters again, 1980s signifiers detached from what is signified, Hopper is alive, and Wynona Ryder emitting the same harried feeling we got in season one. Don't get me wrong, I loved season one, and thought it was great. Should've ended there, move along, nothing to see here folks. Okay, I like the last scene that got kinda horror-filmy. Then, after eating the blandest chicken in the friendly skies, I tried to sleep but barely succeeded.
In Amsterdam, we snacked on pastries, yogurts, and hot beverages. Billie could get no oat milk, nor almond milk, nor macadamia milk, for in this land of great dairy pleasures, that is grounds for ex-communication. Alas.
And then we boarded our second double-stuffed flight to Kigali on a comprehensively less new airbus, where the wifi worked but the seats were beaten out more than your average school bus. This was the flight I was supposed to be awake for, but of course, I couldn't keep my eyes open and woke up midair. Something also happened with luggage and passengers that did not show up. This time I got the pasta meal which was grade-school delicious.
May 31, 2022
Kigali to Kinigi, Of lambs and fishes
After breakfast at the Marriott which included options ranging from East African Chicken Stew to croissants to omelets to eggs any style, we loaded into the Land Cruisers and headed towards our basecamp. I love African Tea.
Here are some moments I observed along the way:
- Lush, terraced hills thick with crops.
- Glinting white and silver roofs on the far side if steep ravines.
- Packs of motorbikes, all awaiting taxi fares
- A man prying a giant truck tire off a rim with a five-foot iron bar.
- Road repair work being done by hand.
- Baskets balanced atop women's heads.
- Impossible cargo loads being pedaled and pushed up hellish ascents on the backs of bicycles.
- A many-tiered hillside cemetery punctuated by hundreds of gleaming white crosses.
- People working potato fields
- A burnt-orange roadside brickyard being picked over by stooped-over women
- My ears popping ears as we climbed higher and higher towards the volcanic mountains.
Meanwhile, Billie suffered a traumatic shopping experience while trying to temporarily salve the loss of her delayed suitcase. Everything she saw was "massive and not cool." Craig and I bonded over the greatness of lamb meat. In fact, we both confessed to ordering it for lunch, which was our next stop of the day. Too bad for us, it was to be the beginning of what can only be described as a slow tour of culinary mediocrity. What can I say? The lamb curry was a bowl of tough, hardened lamb kibble in a somewhat tangy sauce that smelled like something between a hoof and a cup of prize-winning chili. A hint of cinnamon… But was it, in fact, reconstituted lamb jerky? It was tough and flavorless, like beef hard-packed with gristle and sawdust. Craig said it was like eating "little morsels of bricks." He was also confused as to why I got pita with my meal while he, inexplicably, got a piece of chicken. Is that trading up, or merely a lateral move?
The rest of the day was spent scouting and then setting up camera and sound equipment. But then, we heard drums coming from outside our gear room and then we were summoned to come to see the "Welcome Dancers." A troupe of drummers and dancers were getting real for Bille and Abbie outside the main house, so by the time Mike and I arrived, it was enough to kick the whole thing up a notch. Soon Mike was holding a spear and little shield, while I was being wrapped in a cloth and shown how to move this way and that, clapping, pounding feet, feeling the spirit.
Dinner continued down the highway of hmmm. My fried fish was Gorton's-equivalent but I ate the whole thing, so shame on me. For dessert, I ordered the banana fritter which at that point seemed like they just replaced the fish with a banana just to make it easier. I ended up splitting it with Ted, who swapped some of his bread pudding my way. I wasn't thrilled by the mouthfeel.
Finally, I made it to bed and was pleasantly surprised by the hot water bottle warming up the sheet and comforter. I fell right asleep but then awoke at 2:30 to what seemed like devil magic - the bed was still warm. Now, I knew that there was a heating pad on the bed, but I also knew that I turned it off in the afternoon. So how could this water bottle still be killing it? After a bit of thinking, a trip to the bathroom, and some water, I figured it out - when the staff put the water bottle in the bed, they also turned the pad back on. Shame. I turned it off but the damage was done, only a smattering more of sleep would come to me tonight.
Oblique Strategy Of The Day
“Discover the recipes you are using and abandon them.”
All good thoughts,
Avi