18 1 / 2014
Watch Yellow Fever: Award-winning documentary-animation on the effect of Eurocentric media on African women’s self-image
Yellow Fever is available to watch online for free!
In my film I focus on African Women’s self-image, through memories and interviews, using mixed media to describe our almost schizophrenic pursuit of Eurocentric ideals of beauty. It discusses the use of hair extensions and skin bleaching (brightening, toning, lightening) products. Hence the title, Yellow Fever, as an ode to Fela Kuti’s song.
It is taking part in the Afrinolly Short Film Competition
To watch Yellow Fever and support it:
Please click here http://afrinollyshortfilmcompetition.com/vote.php
-Log in using your Google+ or Facebook ID
-Yellow Fever is in the DOCUMENTARY category
-Please vote for Yellow Fever!
Let me know what you think about it!
18 1 / 2014
GODS WEEDS AND REVOLUTIONS is a beautifully crafted, sensitive film, treading documentary, inner reflections and memories. The sound and picture are well edited together, with one sometimes underscoring almost opposite meanings in the other. The opening shots of the film push slowly through empty streets, while the sounds of crowds protesting and violence underline the emptiness of this scene, and make you question how these streets may have once been occupied, how they came to be so still, and how these spaces might fill once more as the day unfolds.
The relationships in the film are intimate and delicately handled. The introduction of the grandfather starts with a silhouette, details of his shaking foot and his folded hands. We get the sense that there is a reason beyond the film, for which the director is making her own personal documentation of her grandfather. He is mostly helpless, physically and mentally. “Everything was erased from his mind” and we see him being assisted to walk and often in repose. His physical state and mental confusion is echoed in the slow motion photography of the octopus, its limbs entangled and body slowly rolling over itself, without strength.
There is a strong sense of loss of innocence, and an emptiness where something has been taken from the Tunisians; on a personal level, on a politico-socio level. The constant fear that control gained shall be lost, acts as destructive machine, claiming and destroying over and over again until “the whole country was in the hands of other men.” Men who torture and kill to maintain this hold, before losing grip and fleeing from the entanglement of their own creation.
This sense of cyclic inevitability plays out in the eerie plucking and drawn notes of the closing montage. We move in reverse, back across scapes, thoughts, and time explored before, back towards her grandfather and the reason she returned.
I highly recommend watching it.
23 8 / 2013
A couple mornings ago, the following dream woke me up:
In my dream this morning, Robert Mugabe was giving me a ride to the CBD from Westlands in his black Range SD V8. I kept questioning myself as to why I’d be in a car with this man (plus he was the one driving) but everything seemed peachy and he kept trying pleasant conversation while I wondered how much hair dye he used.
As we neared parliament, the elevation of the car and the newly built highway we were traveling, allowed me to realise for the first time, that there was a small five-person balcony restaurant in the clock tower. Here sat Mwai Kibaki having a meal with Mobutu Sese Seko, and some taxidermy leopard skins languishing on their chairs just to add to the atmosphere. I was so upset to see these two men together, and felt so betrayed by Kibaki that I started weeping dramatically and saying
"How can he be eating with that b@$!ard!?? I hate that b@$!ard!! Kibaki lied to us!!”
Mugabe seemed really concerned about me weeping and started trying to comfort me saying “You know he wasn’t that bad, and just because they’re together doesn’t mean anything. Kibaki’s retired now, and he’s going senile, he’s allowed to have lunch with anyone he wants. Come on now, cheer up. Don’t be so down….”
Then he started looking for a box of tissues.
Oddly enough his voice was very soothing, and I tried to weep less. My weeping reduced to whimpering as the man I now saw as ‘Uncle Robert’ continued to look for tissues while driving.
My conclusion about the dream: One day we will realise what Kibaki’s legacy really is, at which point he’ll already be hanging out with Sese Seko in the afterlife. I don’t want to imagine how messed up we might be if Uncle Robert can offer us comfort. I also don’t think that we as Kenyans need to use KSH 700 Million to build Mwai Kibaki’s retirement office when Uncle Robert said he’s going senile and apparently he can hold meetings in the clock tower anyway.I would like to thank Uncle Robert for his sensitivity to my emotions, otherwise I am quite sure, I would have woken up weeping.
As a last note, men in their 80s should not dye their hair.