kagablog

Akin was in Ouagadougou, the Capital of Burkina Faso, for the 2005 Fespaco. South Africa was not only well represented, but one the Golden Stallion award.

Akin travelled to Ouaga via Paris (as is so often the case, you have to fly via Europe to get to another African country).

Part I
Around the time I was sprawled out in a toilet cubicle at Charles de Gaulle airport, having just thrown up, I swore I wouldn’t die in Paris. I staggered out of the toilet and barely made it to the restaurant. The minute I got on a chair I collapsed. My eyes fading on me, providing me with images similar to viewing a child’s kaleidoscope toy. My heart beating faster as if racing to its finish. I order from the waiter. I am barely audible. The people around me are taking notice, almost afraid to look at this shivering African. My head is pounding. I start seeing black. No, I won’t die in Paris. The theme revisits itself later when I black out for an hour in one of the toilet cubicles between terminal 2C and 2F. No one knocked on the door, and then I realized something. No one knows the lifespan of an individual in a toilet at an airport. The comings and goings are fleeting. No one is ever too long in an airport toilet or too short not like a toilet at a club or at the office. It’s all about which cubicle is open and how quickly can it be used before the passenger misses his boarding. At one point I overhear a woman and a man talking in Pidgin English. I try to reach out from the toilet bowl I just threw up in and say to them I also speak the language. Friends of the same language separated by the concrete division of a toilet in an airport in a foreign land. I am however to weak to rise.

The waiter brings the water and orange juice and it doesn’t help. I order hot water. This takes longer. He serves others. I begin to feel I am a burden to him. Some immigrant that has wandered in looking for pity. When he eventually brings the hot water he asks in a quiet voice “Are you okay?” and I reply, thankful for his acknowledgement of my situation, that I am going to be all right. It’s the cold. For it is indeed the cold that is killing me. I underestimated the weather and temperature in Paris. When we arrived it was minus 3. I had on a t-shirt, jeans, socks and sandals and a flimsy jersey. My thinking was that the airport wouldn’t be cold. How wrong I was. By the time I left the plane I was shaking, by Passport Control I was shivering and by baggage check I was dying. I think the chicken on the plane the night before also had something to do with it. I spent nine hours with a high fever, shivering and throwing up in the five toilets that are between terminals 2C and 2F. Didn’t have time to change money, didn’t have time to do nothing. I just had time to survive.

When the plane touched down in Burkina Faso it was thirty degrees in the shade. I felt like I had been to hell and back. I spent the next three days recovering. Luckily I had arrived three days before the actual festival started so by the opening ceremony I was ready.

P.S. On the way back to South Africa I walked those corridors again and went into each of those toilets. This time warmly dressed and in control. I just wanted them to know. I had survived.

Part II
Twenty four hours before the Academy Of Motion Pictures and Sciences announced the winner of the Best Oscar in the Foreign Film category and less than a week after U-Carmen e-Khayelitsha won the Golden Bear, the 19th edition of FESPACO opened in Burkina Faso. Burkina Faso means ‘Land of the Incorruptible’ and on that afternoon, the incorruptible land welcomed all its visitors from the rest of the world with open arms at the Opening ceremony at the National Stadium. Filmmakers, film lovers, critics and journalists stood in awe as Salif Keita performed, casting a spell over the 30,000 plus crowd and preparing the way for the festival ahead. FESPACO is the bi annual Pan African Film Festival and its legendary status is renowned the world over. Words fail to describe the place and many travellers that have gone can only say to the less fortunate at home “You have to go”. Whether it’s the thousands of motorcycles on the road driven predominately by Burkinabe women or the nuns singing Ave Maria before you have dinner at the restaurant Eau Vive, the home of film couldn’t be in a better place.

Like all festivals there is a common meeting spot. In the case of FESPACO it’s the Hotel Independence. That hotel is the pulse of the festival. It is like the baobab tree in traditional African folklore. The baobab is where the elders gathered to discuss issues affecting the community. Around the great hotel swimming pool great directors and up and coming ones sit and discuss. In different parts of the courtyard the various radio stations are set up and this year notably the BBC which broadcast a daily report from FESPACO. Sometimes during discussions a woman walks past to the beat of a drum and you realise you are in the middle of a fashion show FESPACO style. No ramp, no camera nothing-just the models, the costumes from the particular film walking around the pool.

The themes of the films in competition this year varied in subject matter. From Zola Maseko’s DRUM which looks at the life of Drum journalist Henry Nxumalo to Dani Kouyate’s OUAGA SAGA which tells the story of 11 characters fighting poverty to realise their dreams to Zeze Gamboa O HEROI fresh off its win at the Sundance Film fest which deals with the story of a rehabilitating soldier from Angola this year was exciting. If there was a new kid on the block it was South Africa. Apart from a record four films in competition there were fourteen other films at the festival as part of screenings and out of competition events. Each played to packed houses. One woman remarked after seeing U-CARMEN E-KHAYELITSHA that she had goose bumps. The buzz was good and South Africa was on a high. As part of its contribution and continuing contribution to the growth not only of the South African industry but also partnering with other African festivals, The National Film and Video Foundation showed its true worth by introducing the Lionel Ngakane prize. Uncle Lionel as he was fondly called was a known patron of FESPACO. He was one of the godfathers of African Cinema and having an award named after him was a fitting tribute. It echoed one of the ceremonies of the festival. A Libation ceremony was held for the fathers of African film that had passed. People like Djibril Diop Mambety and Aboulaye Sow. As the week grows, films are watched, the talk starts. Who will win the Stallion? The word on the street was either a South African film would win or a woman filmmaker would win. Filmmakers in competition behave a little differently as the big day draws near. They hold their drinks a little closer, they are distracted in conversation, they often prefer to sit in silence, they rather talk about sport while others at the bar would want to discuss the films, the world press interviews them and the tension in their voices is heard.

The closing ceremony in the stadium was a little subdued this year, speculation was because of the two deaths at the opening ceremony. Nevertheless the stage is set and there is a red carpet and as each announcement came, hearts beat faster and as each award section is broken up with a performance the tension hangs in the air. And one by one South Africa’s finest walked that red carpet. Teddy Mattera and Ramadan Suleman. The Lionel Ngakane prize goes to TASSUMA by Daniel Kollo Sanou a native of Burkina and then the moment. Everyone strains forward, the film is announced, the clapping starts. Zola Maseko stands up, Abderrahman Sissako(last festival’s winner) hugs him, Zola makes his way down to the stage, behind him the South African flag is waving, on his way he hugs his friend and fellow filmmaker Farai Sevenzo. In the stands people start whispering ‘this is the first Anglo phone film since Kwaw Amsah’s Heritage Africa in 1989 to win’ ‘this is the first South African film ever to win’ ‘I told my friends Drum is the best film I have seen’. Zola delivers a beautiful speech honouring his partner and fellow producer the late Dumisani Dhlamini as he is handed the Etalon d’Or de Yennenga(Golden Stallion of Yennenga). A week after the Academy Of Motion Pictures and Sciences gave the Best Foreign Film to Spain; Africa gave South Africa its greatest prize.