The Passion of Saint Talatu

cherish the day

Sade makes me lonely. I sit on a hard wooden chair in front of a blinking computer screen. I have been putting off this grant application all weekend. I have gone through half of the anthology of Hausa film essays. I have reread my own past grant applications and those my friends have sent me. I have brainstormed on paper. I have rethought my entire project 10 times. This morning, I went to a one hour mass at the Catholic Church down the street and then came back to lay in my bed, warm under a down comforter. The rain fell outside and the air from the open window was sharp on my face. The radiators clanked and creaked. I lay in bed making myself write the proposal in my head, dream the proposal. I wake to the phone ringing. It is my mother together with my brother, who is back in Nigeria on a preliminary documentary project. We chat until they are interrupted by a Skype from my Dad calling from Khartoum. I eat a quarter bag of chips and salsa at the kitchen table, trying to write down in a notebook the proposal I had dreamed. When I finally go to the other room and lift the screen and try to write, it is dark outside. I watch 20 minutes of the screensaver, my life in photos: weddings, other people’s children, my pregnant cousin, stills from Hausa films and an old black and white German vampire film, graduations, parties, conferences, famous African writers, unflattering close-ups of people I don’t know, and my own solitary self portraits in teapots and distant mirrors. Sade sings a mournful Hallelujah. I tap on the keyboard to face the march of words again.

Wedding number 3 this summer (at which I was the [drumroll]...photographer)

(And it rivalled number 1 for sheer FUNness. Groom at this wedding, if you still read this blog..., I'm planning to upload the rest of the photos to Flickr this wkd. Tried tonight and the programme kept freezing... probably because I STILL don't have my own internet... DAMNED AT&T....)

This is Kannywood

In light of the recent brouhaha, this series of photos is in honour of Kannywood and the many hardworking and talented actors, directors, script writers, cameramen, makeup artists, costumiers, welfare folks, producers, editors, songwriters, singers, dancers, etc. who have, with very little high tech equipment or funding aside from the mostly Kano market to which they sell, created a thriving film industry.

It was July 2006. We were on the set of Abbas Sadiq's film Albashi 3 in a garden/park in Kano commonly used as a film set. There were three other movies being shot there that day. At one point there was a loud uproar and every one left their scenes and rushed over to a corner of the garden where there was much shouting and trading of insults. What had happened, I was told later, was that some "politicians" had come into the garden trying to "pick up" some of the actresses, who would have nothing to do with them. The "politicians" then started shouting at the male actors and saying that they were all homosexuals--look at how they were shaped like women. One of the older actors, who had been praying in a small mosque in the garden, came out and gave the men a piece of his mind, and then the rest of the actors came rushing over in a mass of solidarity--insulting the "politicians" with great zest. Everyone came back to do the next scene gleefully laughing at particularly sweet insults that had been traded and ranting about hypocrisy and sleazy big men.

Wedding

At the wedding of a dear old high school friend this weekend. Off to California tomorrow...

Texture

Preparing to Pray

Outside, a blizzard is beginning. It is the fourth night of Lent. I listen with half an ear to Prairie Home Companion on NPR. Garrison Keiller is gently mocking poets. While procrastinating finalizing my thesis, I go through old photos, scanned in last year. I find this one that I took in a town an hour from Sokoto, an old woman, relative of my professor, preparing for prayer.