(no subject)
Well yesterday I finally got some interviews in the can, although it didn't all go exactly as I had planned. I had tried to talk to Kamal on camera the day before, but he was nervous and asked for some time to gather himself and look a couple of words up. Well that sounded reasonable so we had rescheduled for yesterday.
I stood outside Bank al-Maghrib in the square with my kit, wondering how late he would be. Waiting for people is annoying, because passers-by just keep coming up to you to ask about what you're filming and who for and so on, so for most of the time I pretended to be on the phone. I was scanning the crowd for signs of Kamal; he always wears this faded baseball cap so it's quite easy to spot him. Then, far off on the other side of the Djema'a al-Fna, I suddenly saw this strange figure making its way through the crowd. It seemed to be dressed in some kind of clown costume. And whoever it was was coming straight towards me. I peered closer. I couldn't be...could it..? Kamal?!
Reader, it was Kamal. There's me planning to use him as my "voice of modern Morocco", and he turns up wearing the most extravagant set of Moroccan national dress that I have ever seen. Babouches? Check. Green waistcoat? Check. A fez? YES. CHECK. HE WAS WEARING A FEZ. It was the kind of outfit that made you wonder if he was supposed to be guarding the Pope. He could have taken his hat off as he crossed the square and he would have probably made a hundred dirhams in tips by the time he reached me.
‘Kamal,’ I said, ‘what...what on earth are you wearing, man?’
‘Well, you know.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘I thought I would wear something Moroccan.’
‘Right. Well, you're a bit late so I suppose we'd better get started.’ I began assembling the tripod. Kamal made a kind of squeaky noise.
‘I think, here is not good,’ he said. ‘It will be nice for you to see good scenery.’
‘Scenery? No, I want to be here, I want to see the crowds, that's the whole point.’
He fiddled with his fez (which was white). ‘But...I don't like to speak in front of all the people. So, if you prefer, we go first to Ménara.’
‘Ménara? The gardens? But they're miles away!’
‘No problem, I have brought a friend, he is over there with a car.’
I could feel everything collapsing around me, again. So in the end we agreed we would begin the interview at Ménara gardens and come back to the square to finish it when he was more comfortable. The interview went reasonably, he was pretty nervous, as was I by this stage. Unfortunately he had come prepared with a list of key phrases he wanted to work in, so that every time I asked him what it was like growing up here he would say something like, ‘The city of Marrakech was founded by the Almoravids in 1062...’
Anyway, in the end we went back to the Djema'a al-Fna to speak to Mohammed, the friendly seller of khunja, or spiced tea. It is delicious, I have one most nights, tastes mainly of cinnamon but also has ginseng and ginger and other weird ingredients in it. He was very happy to be filmed and I got some shots of him pouring the tea, serving customers etc. Probably just about enough to have put together a 2-minute piece for the news, which makes me realise again how little I know about filming for a half-hour programme. The interview was OK, Kamal translated which sort of worked and there were a couple of answers which I can probably use.
After that we went to sit on the balcony of Café Glacier which overlooks the square. Here at last K seemed to relax a bit, and after a coffee or two I set the camera up again and had another chat with him. This time we got somewhere, with K talking about the tolerance in Morocco between Jews and Muslims, his dreams of finishing his studies in the UK, the importance of travelling and the things tourists could learn from a visit to Marrakech. I started to get a feel for how I might pull things together...very faint, but there is a little potential there. Afterwards I filmed some beautiful shots of the sun going down behind the Koutoubia and the lights coming on in all the food stalls.
I got through 2 full tapes today - the most by miles that I have filmed since I arrived. If I can get another maybe 3 good interviews from him plus 1 or 2 other minor characters I will be happy. In the meantime I probably have a day off today as we won't be filming in the souks until tomorrow at the earliest.
I drifted off to sleep last night with Tom Waits on the i-pod, singing as a soldier in Iraq:
You can't deny
the other side
don't want to die any more than we do
What I'm trying to say,
is don't they pray
to the same god that we do?
Tell me, how does God choose?
Whose prayers does he refuse?
Who turns the wheel,
who rolls the dice
on the day after tomorrow...
I stood outside Bank al-Maghrib in the square with my kit, wondering how late he would be. Waiting for people is annoying, because passers-by just keep coming up to you to ask about what you're filming and who for and so on, so for most of the time I pretended to be on the phone. I was scanning the crowd for signs of Kamal; he always wears this faded baseball cap so it's quite easy to spot him. Then, far off on the other side of the Djema'a al-Fna, I suddenly saw this strange figure making its way through the crowd. It seemed to be dressed in some kind of clown costume. And whoever it was was coming straight towards me. I peered closer. I couldn't be...could it..? Kamal?!
Reader, it was Kamal. There's me planning to use him as my "voice of modern Morocco", and he turns up wearing the most extravagant set of Moroccan national dress that I have ever seen. Babouches? Check. Green waistcoat? Check. A fez? YES. CHECK. HE WAS WEARING A FEZ. It was the kind of outfit that made you wonder if he was supposed to be guarding the Pope. He could have taken his hat off as he crossed the square and he would have probably made a hundred dirhams in tips by the time he reached me.
‘Kamal,’ I said, ‘what...what on earth are you wearing, man?’
‘Well, you know.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘I thought I would wear something Moroccan.’
‘Right. Well, you're a bit late so I suppose we'd better get started.’ I began assembling the tripod. Kamal made a kind of squeaky noise.
‘I think, here is not good,’ he said. ‘It will be nice for you to see good scenery.’
‘Scenery? No, I want to be here, I want to see the crowds, that's the whole point.’
He fiddled with his fez (which was white). ‘But...I don't like to speak in front of all the people. So, if you prefer, we go first to Ménara.’
‘Ménara? The gardens? But they're miles away!’
‘No problem, I have brought a friend, he is over there with a car.’
I could feel everything collapsing around me, again. So in the end we agreed we would begin the interview at Ménara gardens and come back to the square to finish it when he was more comfortable. The interview went reasonably, he was pretty nervous, as was I by this stage. Unfortunately he had come prepared with a list of key phrases he wanted to work in, so that every time I asked him what it was like growing up here he would say something like, ‘The city of Marrakech was founded by the Almoravids in 1062...’
Anyway, in the end we went back to the Djema'a al-Fna to speak to Mohammed, the friendly seller of khunja, or spiced tea. It is delicious, I have one most nights, tastes mainly of cinnamon but also has ginseng and ginger and other weird ingredients in it. He was very happy to be filmed and I got some shots of him pouring the tea, serving customers etc. Probably just about enough to have put together a 2-minute piece for the news, which makes me realise again how little I know about filming for a half-hour programme. The interview was OK, Kamal translated which sort of worked and there were a couple of answers which I can probably use.
After that we went to sit on the balcony of Café Glacier which overlooks the square. Here at last K seemed to relax a bit, and after a coffee or two I set the camera up again and had another chat with him. This time we got somewhere, with K talking about the tolerance in Morocco between Jews and Muslims, his dreams of finishing his studies in the UK, the importance of travelling and the things tourists could learn from a visit to Marrakech. I started to get a feel for how I might pull things together...very faint, but there is a little potential there. Afterwards I filmed some beautiful shots of the sun going down behind the Koutoubia and the lights coming on in all the food stalls.
I got through 2 full tapes today - the most by miles that I have filmed since I arrived. If I can get another maybe 3 good interviews from him plus 1 or 2 other minor characters I will be happy. In the meantime I probably have a day off today as we won't be filming in the souks until tomorrow at the earliest.
I drifted off to sleep last night with Tom Waits on the i-pod, singing as a soldier in Iraq:
You can't deny
the other side
don't want to die any more than we do
What I'm trying to say,
is don't they pray
to the same god that we do?
Tell me, how does God choose?
Whose prayers does he refuse?
Who turns the wheel,
who rolls the dice
on the day after tomorrow...