#mlali

Time passes over Mlali mlima.

Mlali’s curtain, the mlima. From the village below, it looks soft and slow, with its rolling green folds. No hint of the people gathering firewood, cows and goats weaving new trails, quenching waterfalls, or the valleys and encampments beyond the sill… I'll never be able to donate blood again. After gestation, the effects of malaria come on swiftly; from the time it took me to walk from the neighboring church to my host family’s home I was already cold and dizzy. I remember beautiful colors, strange dreams, and then depression. But I was lucky, I had anti-malarials on hand and an incredible, caring host-family at home. A few days after it was all over, I relapsed. The second time it hit me in the cassava fields, where many from the village grow both their income and sustenance. I laid in the burning sun, under Hannah’s blanket, freezing cold.

Malaria once blighted most of the world. It took centuries to develop what are now the simple and relatively affordable pill-form cures. Suffering from Mal Aria, bad air, was a long and frightening process, but with pills and a minor infection, I had it relatively easy. Even now, it kills 1-2 million people a year; mostly children under the age of five. The most affected areas are all in the continent of Africa: Nigeria, Democratic Republic of Congo, and Mozambique.

A pause in sermon at Kanisa la St. Stefano.

As generally positive as my writing has been so far, my trip hasn’t been without its tragedies. The problem with telling you this story (or others) is that I’m worried it will begin to define the people I’ve visited. At this point, I haven’t revealed much. A lot of what people outside of the continent of Africa hear about Africa are generalizations. Of course, how could any one statement apply to so many diverse nations? This lens radically simplifies issues (and peoples) and removes context (including our own). Rampant statistics become more recognizable than languages, foods, or customs. Frankly, life is more fragile in the three countries I have visited. However, that story isn’t relevant or even be possible to encompass in this project. Under the Tree is meant to be a portrait. An invitation into the lives of the people I’ve met. A project about whom. Things like malaria, instead concern where and why.

While economies in the West recovered after WWII, malaria dwindled in places like my home country. The disease was able to be effectively rounded up at the cost of draining wetlands and spreading poisons like DDT. Do we, as a culture, even remember this? Malaria lingers elsewhere for many reasons, but partially because approaches by western nations have now made it harder to replicate its eradication e.g. pesticide resistance.

Isaya and Selemani gaze over Mlali.

Mlali, is gorgeous. Even without the influence of my heavy head, the perfect split of the green-blue horizon envelops the gaze. Kilines Elizabeth Sekwiha, with the profound support of her parents, continued her education through to a doctorate at Edinburgh University in Scotland. During her studies, she decided to begin to use her hard work and good fortune to manifest similar opportunities for children not so different than she was. Started seven years ago, the Queen Elizabeth Academy now has 100 students. With the help of Annie and previous advocates it’s now building a boarding house to support even more. The time I spent at the school was mirrored by time in and around Mlali. With views so inviting and possible to explore, it felt like entering a landscape painting. We hiked over the mountain with two shepherds. Watched the father of two QEA students paint bullock carts. Spent a (shortened) day in the infinite green and gold of cassava fields, sunflowers, and maize. As much of a hit as malaria was, the loss of days, optimism, and weight certainly won’t define my trip. Let this be a reminder to myself.

Curtains and smoke in the breeze in Mlali, Tanzania.

“I will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering, which is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather its lining. We do not remember. We rewrite memory much as history is rewritten. How can one remember thirst?” —Sandor Krasna, Sans Soleil

There’s a story that I want to tell you. I know how it starts, but it can be told in an infinite number of ways. It’s path will depend on the next two months. Only you will know how it ends.

Hannah and I are approaching the last few days of our introductory journey. After that, she will stay in Moshi and I will retrace our steps, only with my camera on this time. Mlali has been the perfect last stop; both relaxing and challenging. Between the local language Kikaguru and the national one, Swahili, English is rare. My limited phrases paired with ample facial expressions seem to have won me a few friends (mostly children). Days begin with hot chapati and kahawa, maybe a hike up the cow paths of Mlali Mountain, and a cold bucket bath. Afternoons are spent between shade trees at Queen Elizabeth Academy where Annie helps plan the boarding house and garden. By the evening, the sky is big and the moon is full and we are sweating, dancing with the kids to drain them of energy for bed. Afterwards is when I have time to think about the project…

What’s more real, I wonder, describing an event to you or attempting to recreate the impression it made? “Remembering thirst” or instilling something like it? In Under the Tree, I’d like to break events into their essential quality… Quality meaning the “direct experience independent of and prior to intellectual abstractions”. Abstract, yeah. And given the medium—documentary—difficult to boot. Despite the unbiased nature of the term, a lens is a lens, physically and editorially. I should explain. I don’t mean that film can possibly replicate direct experience, but I do think that it can induce feelings and invite audience abstraction and therefore a less prescribed experience.

Admittedly, this whole line of thought is heavily influenced by a book that was given to me by an important person days before I departed the USA: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Sure, I’m nodding toward Pirsig’s Metaphysics of Quality, but I’m even more interested in his ideas for relating them—the Chautauqua. “…that’s the only name I can think of for it—like the traveling tent-show Chautauquas that used to move across America… an old-time series of popular talks intended to edify and entertain, improve the mind and bring culture and enlightenment to ears and thoughts of the hearer.”

Mlali at sunrise, from the top of Mlali Mountain.

To attempt to provide a ‘safari of quality’ for you, before I begin filming, I have been working on a set of principles to guide my approach to filming and editing Under the Tree. Though one can never anticipate real life and the narrative it will provide, these rules will influence the quality of the building blocks available for me to construct the final experience:

1.  Sanctioned, recording must always be approved by those portrayed 2.  Impressionistic, provide the essence of reality, not the word of it 3.  Limbic, appealing to our basic instincts, not our intellectual bias 4.  Folkloric Feel, this is a tale, not a documentary 5.  Ghost written, a present, but hidden author

Folkloric is my favorite, and the most apt. To me, proverbs and tales ride an important line between fact and fiction. They suspend reality—inviting personal abstraction–to get to a more essential truth or moral. I want to educate you, the audience, but I want to do so in a way that feels as magical as my first-hand experience did…

The Why:

Community has been the thing that has  powered me through the toughest times in my life. I believe that each of us has had the moment where the world feels desolate and broken, where everything seems to be shrouded by darkness and despair, and in these times of darkness, an outstretched hand can break through like a single beam of light. The hope and trust of a helping hand can change a person's world, and, more importantly, often changes a child's future. That's why I'm thrilled to be involved in creating a place and a home where the children can live as a community during the school year.

The What: 

Mlali is a small rural town in Tanzania. In this town, a highly successful free school was founded by a former resident, Killines. In the nearest town, three hours away, families are excited to send their children to the school, but are concerned, as any family would be, about a three hour busride for their children. The Queen Elizabeth Academy boarding house is an idea conceptualized by QEA as an opportunity to bring more students into their community. The sustainable garden and fishpond, which I am shamelessly excited for, will contribute to the nutrition and education of the 162 children that will be living within the boarding house. It will be within walking distance of the school with a closer nursery for the younger children.

The When:

Fundraising has already started, but I will be leaving for Tanzania on January 10 and putting our ideas into motion with updates.

The Who:

Me and you! We will be working alongside a lovely community dedicated to improvement. The designs and plans will be created by local experts. I can guarantee you that no one would want to live in a house built by my own two hands (or be very safe in it). 

The How:

To complete this endeavor, I am calling upon the intuitive creativity and skillset of the members of my community to unite with me in helping another community grow and thrive. We will be fundraising $20000, with at least $10000 by January 10. Send me your ideas! Your plans! Your contributions! Your thoughts!