Minnesota! Minnesota! MINNESOTA OOOO! How many times have I shouted your name?!!! Minnesota will not kill me. Sorry folks, a good week to everyone. I was just lamen- sorry haling the weather here, after it just hailed me. Yes hailed; I thought I had seen every kind of weather until I came here. Would you believe that in just a space of the two hours I went out jogging in the park near my hotel this morning it snowed, then rained before falling as sleet? Yes my friends, I watched incredulously as first the snowflakes fluttered down from the sky, the delicate icy lattice settling onto my jacket with the uncertainty of a newborn kitten, and then fall into heavier drops of water, melting through the fabric in ghostly shapes, before bouncing angrily off it in little icy pellets! What was a sweltering 72F/22C – yes, it is for Minnesota, go suck a lemon! – the day before, plummeted to 34F/1C the very next day at 8am in spring! My total respect in all these goes to the original owners of the land, the natives that lived the land for hundreds of years. Those guys must have been extremely resourceful to have raised families in conditions where boiling water thrown into the air instantly freezes, or where a banana could be used to hammer nails into wood. I hail you guys.
Just got back from Atlanta, the city of woods as far as I’m concerned, for the premiere of my lovely sis Blessing Egbe’s movie Two Brides and a Baby and it was glorious! There are trees everywhere! Tall green majestic friendly looking trees, a world apart from the wintry serial killer looking tree havens you find up here in Minnesota. Yes, you guessed it, I do love trees; they give us fresh air, absorb unnecessary noise, absorb air pollutants and maintain our earth’s surface integrity. Mmm, trees… Atlanta has become one of my best cities in the world; it’s very accommodating, is vibrant; one has the feeling that everyone there is young and moving in the right direction. Even the not so young still have a strong zest for life. As a young African man, I felt quite at home there; I noticed there was in the city a strong black and vibrant community, where people did not seem to be apologetic for their aspirations to being successful in whatever ambitions they had, and for having a zest for life. In the short time I was there I felt the vibe of many cultures interspersed with one another, each with a willingness to learn from the others; Nigerian, Jamaican, Ghanaian, African American, White to mention but a few. It was nice.
Drat! I was supposed to talk about the premiere I came to the city for and got carried away. Everything carried me away, even the premiere and the wonderful people who made it happen. Even though we were two, Blessing Effiom Egbe and I – Stella Damasus and O C Ukeje, the other stars in the movie couldn’t make it – we more than made up for the absence of the others. We were like a bag of lit firecrackers, so full of energy and feeding off one another at press conferences, radio and television interviews and photo shoots. Our hosts, Deji and Jide, owners of Snapflix and their crew were phenomenal. Even though we were caught up in a whirlwind of activities and business meetings the minute we hit the ground, that team never for a moment failed to cater to our every need, however ‘whimsical’ –“y’all know I ain’t no diva”.
What I really want to say is I see a new lease of life being breathed into our entertainment industry, not from governments or from large corporations who want to dole out huge sums of money to make great big movies, but from a crop of young Africans, at home and abroad, who genuinely want to affect our world and the rest of the world around us. Africans who want to tell our own stories genuinely, what makes us laugh, what makes us cry. Why we love our pounded yam and egusi soup, fufu and palm butter soup, dodo and agoyin beans. Why a friendly banter between us might prompt a white lady to call 911 or why we fear our parents more than the child services agency and the police combined. I see a departure from the visionless insipid mush to which our movies have degenerated, to a budding industry that takes itself seriously as both a business and a drive to stamp our own Africaness, rich and vibrant, spicy and exotic, proud and irresistibly different, on the global cultural map. I want to be a part of that industry, even if my only contribution to it is by scribbling these measly lines as an ode to it, I want to be part of it if it is clean and genuine. Have a great week everyone!
Showing posts with label ghana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ghana. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Production pt. 2
.......The new hotel we moved into was large and spacious and I was checked into it at about eleven pm by the production manager and the producer who did not speak to me throughout the journey and remained in the vehicle while I was being checked in. I supposed she was busied by her thoughts. I was to find out later that she had had a disagreement with the director’s wife over his wife’s rejection of some dingy rooms she tried to lodge us in.
A good week to everyone and many many thanks for the wonderful support you’ve shown me in my good, bad and funny times. You are truly a remarkable bunch! I liked the room; it was spacious and had enough room to practice my new found love; martial taekwondo kicks. I had a good night’s rest and the next morning after my stretches, I sauntered outside to see what the neighbourhood was like and to my pleasant surprise I met one of my colleagues I’d worked with before in Nigeria and another man I did not know on their way back to the hotel I was lodged. After exchanging pleasantries I asked them what they were doing in Ghana and they told me they were in the middle of a movie production (the other man was the producer of the project) and were just coming back form the police station. Curious, I asked them what had happened and Victor, the producer said, they had gone to report an armed robbery incident in his hotel room the night before – the very hotel I was checked into the night before! Shocked, I asked him what had happened. He narrated the story of how the night before at about 2am, he woke suddenly to see two armed men in his room bending over him. They were armed with a machete and an axe and in hushed tones ordered him to bring his suitcase which he did. They rifled through it and took all the tapes he had with him, his passport and little else, then ordered him to get into the bathroom, locked him in and made off into the darkness. Fortunately for him, he said, he had kept the tapes of the scenes he had shot on the production in a different place and only had the master tapes of old projects on him at the time of the robbery. I didn’t know what to think. What I did know was that I did not feel safe in that hotel and I told my producer as such. We, the director and I, were soon moved to another hotel in the Dzorwulu district of Accra which was much nearer the locations that had been earmarked for shooting in.
We still did not start production until Sunday the 10th of July and when we did, the pace was slow. We did not begin recording until about 11am daily even though some of us were ready for work by 8am. Most of the challenges were due to poor logistics and costuming problems. The director was very particular about his shots – he was very meticulous about his work - and went to great lengths to rehearse and put the actors through their blockings. We managed a range of two to seven scenes a day. I had told the director I would be starting another job on Monday the 19th of July and would be leaving for Nigeria on Friday the 16th. If I couldn’t finish my scenes before I left, I could still come back to finish them when I was done with Nigeria. He said no problem and we worked on. On Monday I called the
producer and told her I would be leaving on Friday and would appreciate it if the scenes I had to do were given priority so I’d have less time to spend on set were I to have to come back to complete and she told me she’d see to it.
Wednesday came and at the end of production for the day I was called to a meeting with the producer, the production manager and my friend the director. They told me that after checking the schedule and the amount of work I had left, it was clear that my leaving on Friday would be detrimental to their production. You know that agape feeling you get when you are being blamed for your mother’s (don’t mean to be crude but I’m trying to look for the most monstrous illogic) loss of her virginity? They honestly had to be absolutely mad to brazenly make that request! After two weeks of indolence, and giving them an additional three days? Abeg abeg! Make I no jus vex for here as I just de think am! I politely told them where to jump into; my set date was fixed and there was no turning back. My friend the director told me he would see to it that I did not leave till I finished his shoot and that I would do well to comply because I would have my good image tarnished in Ghana and he would bring in the bigwigs from either of the two countries to compel me to do my duty. I told him his threats would fall flat in his face and left before I said or did anything I would regret. The producer and the production ran to my room begging me to give them a few more days and I told them I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to give them an answer but that we could talk at the end of production the next day.
The next day being Thursday, at the end of production at about 1am, the producer came to my room again with her production manager to implore me to give them an extra four days on set. She asked me to think of her situation and think of my own mother and take pity on her. I told her I had obligations as well and would have to pay the other production I was scheduled to work with their money if I didn’t turn up for theirs. She said she didn’t have any money left and it was back to square one. After prevailing on me for quite a while I agreed to give them three extra days from Friday where I would return Monday’s first flight to Nigeria on the condition that they would buy me a ticket for the first flight to Nigeria on Monday the 19th of July, and that I would have the ticket in my possession by 10am that Friday. They readily agreed thanked me and we called it a night.
In the morning on Friday I went on set with the director and other members of the crew and waited for the other actors to turn up. We waited till about 11am and still they hadn’t showed up – and neither had my ticket. I called the producer and asked her what was going on. She told me she had purchased the ticket and invited the lady at the travel agency she had booked to confirm it to me. She did and I relaxed. 2pm came and still none of the other actors I was to work with had turned up. With quite some irritation and some unease, I called the airline my flight was supposed to be on and asked to confirm my flight. I was told that my flight had indeed been booked but had not been paid for. I saw red. Here I was on set with a view to finish as many scenes as I could as agreed and the production manager had not even ensured his production was running smoothly by getting all his actors to work on time and worse still, the production did not seem interested in fulfilling its own end of the bargain. I picked my bag and headed for the road and hailed a passing taxi. I got in, told the driver to take me to my hotel but before he could move the production manager and some of the crew members prevented the driver from moving off. Not many pretty words escaped my mouth that afternoon and I did utter some expletives my mother would be shocked at hearing from me. It seemed someone had alerted the producer on what was going on because a short while later someone came to me and told me the ticket had been paid for. I called the airline again and this they did confirm that the ticket for the flight had been paid. I went back to work but it was not until 5.30pm that the other actors showed up. We could only do two scenes that day.
I got back to the hotel at 12.30am and immediately went to bed, only to be woken up from my sleep a while later by a knock on my door. I checked the time on my watch; it was 1.30am. I went to the door and asked who it was and heard the voice of the producer saying it was she. I opened the door to see the producer and three fierce looking men I had not seen before. I asked her what she wanted and she told me she wanted to give me my ticket. When I asked her who the men with her where and why they were with her, she told me they were her brothers and they were there to have a talk with me. I was compelled to go downstairs with them to the poolside.
As soon as we got there they brandished a document they called a contract and told me I was going to sign the contract and state that I was going to stay on the producer’s set until I finished the job. I told them I would not sign the contract at that time of the night with people I did not know. They told me if I did not sign it, they (two of them were soldiers) would drag me to their barracks and deal with me mercilessly there. I explained to them that it would be foolish of me to sign something I didn’t know about without any witness on my side. The younger of the two soldiers( they were in plain clothes) lost his patience. He pushed his chair back, stood up and barked out to his colleagues to allow him bundle me into a waiting SUV that was parked nearby. I kept my cool, appearing unruffled but inside I was quaking in my sweaty boots. Here I was in the middle of the night, no one to see what was going on, nobody to call, in a country I knew nobody. I could be taken to anywhere and anything could be done to me. My family didn’t even know where I was! I remembered I had God who was everywhere with me and the fear melted away. I sat resolute. Exasperated they called my director friend to come downstairs and talk some sense into his stupid Nigerian brother.
When he came down, they told me I now had a friend I could rely on my side and so I had just found a reliable witness; I should sign. I refused and my friend the director asked for their permission to speak with me in private. We went to a corner and he told me I could be taken anywhere and whatever happened to me, it would be their word against mine – and I would lose because I wasn’t an indigene. Furthermore, they could tarnish my hard earned name I had worked so hard for in a beat. I was to reconsider my position, sign the contract and let everyone go in peace. It kind of smacked of a ‘good cop’, ‘bad cop’ game to me – my very own director friend who was purported to be on the lookout for me selling me down the river to my face! I chose not to do so and was forced to get into the backseat of the waiting car, a man seated on either side of me. I asked them where they were taking me but they refused to answer me, telling me I would find out soon enough. We drove for what seemed like ten minutes before we parked in front of a police station. We went in and the producer began to narrate her version of the story to two desk officers in charge. She told them of how I was trying to abandon her job after only six days of work when I was contracted to stay on for sixteen days. My friend the director came to the same station moments later and corroborated her story. I told the police it was not true, that I had given twenty one days of my time, and was still in the middle of production when I was abducted from my hotel in the middle of the night and forced to sign a document I did not know about.
The police told them that according to the Ghanaian law, I could not be compelled to sign a document against my will and the fact that I had begun working with them and had not refused to work with them, I could not be held. They did insist though, that the time I had spent prior to the commencement of shoot was of no significance and I was to complete the ten remaining days. I objected to this and we were told we’d have to wait at the station until the senior officer in charge of the station arrived at 9am. We waited. As we waited I noticed the producer having some surreptitious conversation in the darkness behind some trees with a uniformed man whose rank I would later recognise to be that of an inspector. In self preservation I called the director and told him I was willing to sign the documents on the condition that the producer would let me board my flight for Monday to do my one shoot with Tinsel after which I would come back on Thursday for a four day shoot with them. He told them and they readily agreed. We sat down and I signed the papers; it was 6am. I went to bed at 7am and got up at 11am and went to work. We did quite some work that Saturday but had to strike set early on Sunday – 6pm- because some locations had not been confirmed.
Monday morning came without a hitch. I got to the airport, boarded my plane and got home without any ado. This post wasn’t created to exacerbate the silly (as far as I'm concerned) feud between Nollywood vs Gollywood, Most of my therapy has come from writing about my experience. There’s something very exorcising about writing about trauma. Everything good or bad is forced to be put in perspective. My relationship with Frieda was sorely tested through this incident, and I have resolved to review the way I do business in future, to be watchful in my dealings with people to weigh their words with their actions. I must at this point iterate that this was a unique incident borne out of lack of communication, lack of planning and rash decision making on the part of the producer instigated by my friend, the director (who happens to be Nigerian). I say unique because this in no way affects the goodwill I bear towards my beloved Ghanaians with whom I have had benevolent dealings for the past fifteen years and have proved to be exceptional hosts to me in my time in Ghana. I still haven’t abandoned the project but have prudently stayed my hand until we (the production company and my management team) both conclude on the legal matters that will ensure we both work in harmony. I want to especially thank those of you who have made it this far. I promise you that missives like this will not come often. Let’s pray my next post will be on a much lighter note than this hairy, dreary drudgery. Have a great week everyone!
A good week to everyone and many many thanks for the wonderful support you’ve shown me in my good, bad and funny times. You are truly a remarkable bunch! I liked the room; it was spacious and had enough room to practice my new found love; martial taekwondo kicks. I had a good night’s rest and the next morning after my stretches, I sauntered outside to see what the neighbourhood was like and to my pleasant surprise I met one of my colleagues I’d worked with before in Nigeria and another man I did not know on their way back to the hotel I was lodged. After exchanging pleasantries I asked them what they were doing in Ghana and they told me they were in the middle of a movie production (the other man was the producer of the project) and were just coming back form the police station. Curious, I asked them what had happened and Victor, the producer said, they had gone to report an armed robbery incident in his hotel room the night before – the very hotel I was checked into the night before! Shocked, I asked him what had happened. He narrated the story of how the night before at about 2am, he woke suddenly to see two armed men in his room bending over him. They were armed with a machete and an axe and in hushed tones ordered him to bring his suitcase which he did. They rifled through it and took all the tapes he had with him, his passport and little else, then ordered him to get into the bathroom, locked him in and made off into the darkness. Fortunately for him, he said, he had kept the tapes of the scenes he had shot on the production in a different place and only had the master tapes of old projects on him at the time of the robbery. I didn’t know what to think. What I did know was that I did not feel safe in that hotel and I told my producer as such. We, the director and I, were soon moved to another hotel in the Dzorwulu district of Accra which was much nearer the locations that had been earmarked for shooting in.
We still did not start production until Sunday the 10th of July and when we did, the pace was slow. We did not begin recording until about 11am daily even though some of us were ready for work by 8am. Most of the challenges were due to poor logistics and costuming problems. The director was very particular about his shots – he was very meticulous about his work - and went to great lengths to rehearse and put the actors through their blockings. We managed a range of two to seven scenes a day. I had told the director I would be starting another job on Monday the 19th of July and would be leaving for Nigeria on Friday the 16th. If I couldn’t finish my scenes before I left, I could still come back to finish them when I was done with Nigeria. He said no problem and we worked on. On Monday I called the
producer and told her I would be leaving on Friday and would appreciate it if the scenes I had to do were given priority so I’d have less time to spend on set were I to have to come back to complete and she told me she’d see to it.
Wednesday came and at the end of production for the day I was called to a meeting with the producer, the production manager and my friend the director. They told me that after checking the schedule and the amount of work I had left, it was clear that my leaving on Friday would be detrimental to their production. You know that agape feeling you get when you are being blamed for your mother’s (don’t mean to be crude but I’m trying to look for the most monstrous illogic) loss of her virginity? They honestly had to be absolutely mad to brazenly make that request! After two weeks of indolence, and giving them an additional three days? Abeg abeg! Make I no jus vex for here as I just de think am! I politely told them where to jump into; my set date was fixed and there was no turning back. My friend the director told me he would see to it that I did not leave till I finished his shoot and that I would do well to comply because I would have my good image tarnished in Ghana and he would bring in the bigwigs from either of the two countries to compel me to do my duty. I told him his threats would fall flat in his face and left before I said or did anything I would regret. The producer and the production ran to my room begging me to give them a few more days and I told them I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to give them an answer but that we could talk at the end of production the next day.
The next day being Thursday, at the end of production at about 1am, the producer came to my room again with her production manager to implore me to give them an extra four days on set. She asked me to think of her situation and think of my own mother and take pity on her. I told her I had obligations as well and would have to pay the other production I was scheduled to work with their money if I didn’t turn up for theirs. She said she didn’t have any money left and it was back to square one. After prevailing on me for quite a while I agreed to give them three extra days from Friday where I would return Monday’s first flight to Nigeria on the condition that they would buy me a ticket for the first flight to Nigeria on Monday the 19th of July, and that I would have the ticket in my possession by 10am that Friday. They readily agreed thanked me and we called it a night.
In the morning on Friday I went on set with the director and other members of the crew and waited for the other actors to turn up. We waited till about 11am and still they hadn’t showed up – and neither had my ticket. I called the producer and asked her what was going on. She told me she had purchased the ticket and invited the lady at the travel agency she had booked to confirm it to me. She did and I relaxed. 2pm came and still none of the other actors I was to work with had turned up. With quite some irritation and some unease, I called the airline my flight was supposed to be on and asked to confirm my flight. I was told that my flight had indeed been booked but had not been paid for. I saw red. Here I was on set with a view to finish as many scenes as I could as agreed and the production manager had not even ensured his production was running smoothly by getting all his actors to work on time and worse still, the production did not seem interested in fulfilling its own end of the bargain. I picked my bag and headed for the road and hailed a passing taxi. I got in, told the driver to take me to my hotel but before he could move the production manager and some of the crew members prevented the driver from moving off. Not many pretty words escaped my mouth that afternoon and I did utter some expletives my mother would be shocked at hearing from me. It seemed someone had alerted the producer on what was going on because a short while later someone came to me and told me the ticket had been paid for. I called the airline again and this they did confirm that the ticket for the flight had been paid. I went back to work but it was not until 5.30pm that the other actors showed up. We could only do two scenes that day.
I got back to the hotel at 12.30am and immediately went to bed, only to be woken up from my sleep a while later by a knock on my door. I checked the time on my watch; it was 1.30am. I went to the door and asked who it was and heard the voice of the producer saying it was she. I opened the door to see the producer and three fierce looking men I had not seen before. I asked her what she wanted and she told me she wanted to give me my ticket. When I asked her who the men with her where and why they were with her, she told me they were her brothers and they were there to have a talk with me. I was compelled to go downstairs with them to the poolside.
As soon as we got there they brandished a document they called a contract and told me I was going to sign the contract and state that I was going to stay on the producer’s set until I finished the job. I told them I would not sign the contract at that time of the night with people I did not know. They told me if I did not sign it, they (two of them were soldiers) would drag me to their barracks and deal with me mercilessly there. I explained to them that it would be foolish of me to sign something I didn’t know about without any witness on my side. The younger of the two soldiers( they were in plain clothes) lost his patience. He pushed his chair back, stood up and barked out to his colleagues to allow him bundle me into a waiting SUV that was parked nearby. I kept my cool, appearing unruffled but inside I was quaking in my sweaty boots. Here I was in the middle of the night, no one to see what was going on, nobody to call, in a country I knew nobody. I could be taken to anywhere and anything could be done to me. My family didn’t even know where I was! I remembered I had God who was everywhere with me and the fear melted away. I sat resolute. Exasperated they called my director friend to come downstairs and talk some sense into his stupid Nigerian brother.
When he came down, they told me I now had a friend I could rely on my side and so I had just found a reliable witness; I should sign. I refused and my friend the director asked for their permission to speak with me in private. We went to a corner and he told me I could be taken anywhere and whatever happened to me, it would be their word against mine – and I would lose because I wasn’t an indigene. Furthermore, they could tarnish my hard earned name I had worked so hard for in a beat. I was to reconsider my position, sign the contract and let everyone go in peace. It kind of smacked of a ‘good cop’, ‘bad cop’ game to me – my very own director friend who was purported to be on the lookout for me selling me down the river to my face! I chose not to do so and was forced to get into the backseat of the waiting car, a man seated on either side of me. I asked them where they were taking me but they refused to answer me, telling me I would find out soon enough. We drove for what seemed like ten minutes before we parked in front of a police station. We went in and the producer began to narrate her version of the story to two desk officers in charge. She told them of how I was trying to abandon her job after only six days of work when I was contracted to stay on for sixteen days. My friend the director came to the same station moments later and corroborated her story. I told the police it was not true, that I had given twenty one days of my time, and was still in the middle of production when I was abducted from my hotel in the middle of the night and forced to sign a document I did not know about.
The police told them that according to the Ghanaian law, I could not be compelled to sign a document against my will and the fact that I had begun working with them and had not refused to work with them, I could not be held. They did insist though, that the time I had spent prior to the commencement of shoot was of no significance and I was to complete the ten remaining days. I objected to this and we were told we’d have to wait at the station until the senior officer in charge of the station arrived at 9am. We waited. As we waited I noticed the producer having some surreptitious conversation in the darkness behind some trees with a uniformed man whose rank I would later recognise to be that of an inspector. In self preservation I called the director and told him I was willing to sign the documents on the condition that the producer would let me board my flight for Monday to do my one shoot with Tinsel after which I would come back on Thursday for a four day shoot with them. He told them and they readily agreed. We sat down and I signed the papers; it was 6am. I went to bed at 7am and got up at 11am and went to work. We did quite some work that Saturday but had to strike set early on Sunday – 6pm- because some locations had not been confirmed.
Monday morning came without a hitch. I got to the airport, boarded my plane and got home without any ado. This post wasn’t created to exacerbate the silly (as far as I'm concerned) feud between Nollywood vs Gollywood, Most of my therapy has come from writing about my experience. There’s something very exorcising about writing about trauma. Everything good or bad is forced to be put in perspective. My relationship with Frieda was sorely tested through this incident, and I have resolved to review the way I do business in future, to be watchful in my dealings with people to weigh their words with their actions. I must at this point iterate that this was a unique incident borne out of lack of communication, lack of planning and rash decision making on the part of the producer instigated by my friend, the director (who happens to be Nigerian). I say unique because this in no way affects the goodwill I bear towards my beloved Ghanaians with whom I have had benevolent dealings for the past fifteen years and have proved to be exceptional hosts to me in my time in Ghana. I still haven’t abandoned the project but have prudently stayed my hand until we (the production company and my management team) both conclude on the legal matters that will ensure we both work in harmony. I want to especially thank those of you who have made it this far. I promise you that missives like this will not come often. Let’s pray my next post will be on a much lighter note than this hairy, dreary drudgery. Have a great week everyone!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Production
A good week to everyone out there. Not so good week or should I say it has not been a very good month for me. It has in fact been a very harrowing experience to be honest; one I would do well to learn from.
It all began when I was called by a producer through a director friend of mine to do a sixteen day movie production in Ghana. The production was slated to begin on the 28th of June and end on or before the 13th of July. I spoke with the producer, a lady, and on the strength of my relationship with my director friend, agreed to collect my fee when I got to the set. I didn’t think much of this, being excited at the prospect of working with him again and also the thought of working in Ghana again with its friendly people. I told them I had to come in the following day, Tuesday, as I had some work to complete and they agreed. On the Tuesday, I boarded the plane and called the director to let him know I was on my way only for him to tell me he had been trying to reach me the day before to postpone my flight till Friday as they still had some location problems. I was numb. I felt like my stomach had dropped from beneath me. I hadn’t even taken off and now this?! I told him I’d already boarded the plane and couldn’t turn back. And he said to come anyway as there was still choreography rehearsals to do.
I got to the hotel at about eight thirty and was met by the director, my friend, who told me there was no problem since I still had four days to choreograph my movement and learn some basic martial arts moves – it was a martial arts movie – before shoot began on Saturday. The producer came later on that morning and we were introduced to one another and she told me she would come to see me in my room later when she finished talking with the director. I did not see her again that day or the next. I had fun rehearsing though, learning moves that seemed so magical to me before and they were exhilaratingly exhausting. Days passed on to the sixth and then seventh day and still no shoot and were peppered with all sorts of reasons why we hadn’t commenced shoot. With some trouble I managed to get my money and began to wonder why the producer seemed to have no problem burning money on hotel bills and keeping us there doing nothing even after I had told her my days were going by. I had scheduled my projects with other producers for later in the month and the next so I wasn’t particularly bothered. I just knew when my time was up I would have to leave. The hotel where we were was on the outskirts of the city of Accra and to get into town was to grapple with horrendous traffic lasting up to five hours so I busied myself with rehearsing to perfect my character’s moves, studying my scripts for the next projects and browsing at the local internet cafes.
On Wednesday the 7th of July the director and I were moved to another hotel to gain better accessibility to town. We still hadn’t begun shoot. This was a first for me. I had never seen anything like it. The producer never came around and still did not communicate with me. I had asked her once before whether she was comfortable burning her money like that and she said she had everything under control. I thought then afterwards to keep my thoughts to myself. Oh I forgot another kicker! I was told that the Ghanaian minister for arts and culture had announced that every Nigerian artist or crew member would be charged three hundred US dollars for every project he or she worked on in Ghana and so the said amount would be deducted from my fees. I was astonished that such an edict would take effect immediately without me being forewarned about this. In the spirit of goodwill, bemused as I was, I acquiesced. Little was I to know that this was just the tip of the iceberg of things to come in the following days I was to spend there. There were many; armed robbery in my hotel, non payment of hotel bills, my abduction from my hotel in the middle of the night by soldiers among others.
I laugh mirthlessly as I write this because I am still traumatized over my experience in that production in that wonderful country called Ghana. I beg to be let off for now to continue the rest of the story in another post which will be coming up very soon. Have a great week everyone and God bless.
It all began when I was called by a producer through a director friend of mine to do a sixteen day movie production in Ghana. The production was slated to begin on the 28th of June and end on or before the 13th of July. I spoke with the producer, a lady, and on the strength of my relationship with my director friend, agreed to collect my fee when I got to the set. I didn’t think much of this, being excited at the prospect of working with him again and also the thought of working in Ghana again with its friendly people. I told them I had to come in the following day, Tuesday, as I had some work to complete and they agreed. On the Tuesday, I boarded the plane and called the director to let him know I was on my way only for him to tell me he had been trying to reach me the day before to postpone my flight till Friday as they still had some location problems. I was numb. I felt like my stomach had dropped from beneath me. I hadn’t even taken off and now this?! I told him I’d already boarded the plane and couldn’t turn back. And he said to come anyway as there was still choreography rehearsals to do.
I got to the hotel at about eight thirty and was met by the director, my friend, who told me there was no problem since I still had four days to choreograph my movement and learn some basic martial arts moves – it was a martial arts movie – before shoot began on Saturday. The producer came later on that morning and we were introduced to one another and she told me she would come to see me in my room later when she finished talking with the director. I did not see her again that day or the next. I had fun rehearsing though, learning moves that seemed so magical to me before and they were exhilaratingly exhausting. Days passed on to the sixth and then seventh day and still no shoot and were peppered with all sorts of reasons why we hadn’t commenced shoot. With some trouble I managed to get my money and began to wonder why the producer seemed to have no problem burning money on hotel bills and keeping us there doing nothing even after I had told her my days were going by. I had scheduled my projects with other producers for later in the month and the next so I wasn’t particularly bothered. I just knew when my time was up I would have to leave. The hotel where we were was on the outskirts of the city of Accra and to get into town was to grapple with horrendous traffic lasting up to five hours so I busied myself with rehearsing to perfect my character’s moves, studying my scripts for the next projects and browsing at the local internet cafes.
On Wednesday the 7th of July the director and I were moved to another hotel to gain better accessibility to town. We still hadn’t begun shoot. This was a first for me. I had never seen anything like it. The producer never came around and still did not communicate with me. I had asked her once before whether she was comfortable burning her money like that and she said she had everything under control. I thought then afterwards to keep my thoughts to myself. Oh I forgot another kicker! I was told that the Ghanaian minister for arts and culture had announced that every Nigerian artist or crew member would be charged three hundred US dollars for every project he or she worked on in Ghana and so the said amount would be deducted from my fees. I was astonished that such an edict would take effect immediately without me being forewarned about this. In the spirit of goodwill, bemused as I was, I acquiesced. Little was I to know that this was just the tip of the iceberg of things to come in the following days I was to spend there. There were many; armed robbery in my hotel, non payment of hotel bills, my abduction from my hotel in the middle of the night by soldiers among others.
I laugh mirthlessly as I write this because I am still traumatized over my experience in that production in that wonderful country called Ghana. I beg to be let off for now to continue the rest of the story in another post which will be coming up very soon. Have a great week everyone and God bless.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Breaking Rocks In a Hard Place.
A good week to all and sundry. I am still the good old country called Ghana. I get to sleep with the beautiful roar of the sea by night and bask in the peaceful calmness of Accra by day even while I’m hard at work. I can finally touch my toes without bending my knees after a week of rigorous martial arts training. I get delirious when I raise my arms and feel that searing pain shooting through my muscles and tendons mostly because pain equals result. In no time soon I’ll be ready for those area boys when they crawl out of their holes to accost me when I’m stuck on the third mainland bridge or those rogue LASTMA traffic officials who always lie in wait for any erring road user. Yeah, I know, new found power always has a way of getting into its owner’s head but that’s the adage’s business; it’s my prerogative; I can what I wanna do – thanks Bobby!
On a more serious note, I am on a strong learning curve here. I am learning a lot about patience and endurance which are largely fueled by focus and drive towards where I want to be in this volatile entertainment industry. It is especially hard to humble myself to learn the vital instruments I need to take me the level I want to get to – to still be relevant as a versatile actor for the next forty years. It’s so easy to let the adulation and accolades one gets from the general public, the media and professional bodies get to ones head – and they do seep in no matter how hard you try to keep them out I find that they leave one in a false world where one sees little need to improve on ones self especially when it requires that one to lower himself or herself to the ‘lower’ status he or she just struggled to rise from - a place he or she would rather go to considerable lengths to forget; make everyone else forget. What makes it swallowable is focusing on the goal (hopefully worthwhile) one wants to achieve. The biblical adage; in order to live, one must first die, comes true here. It has been even harder to find people with whom to share the same vision – not those who just talk (and they are cheaply available) but those who actually work towards perfection. So far I have managed to find just two diamonds in the deep recesses of the quality mine. I apologise for not elaborating more on this but you will understand that there is a time for everything and at the right time, my basket mouth – as you my dear readers can attest to – will surely leak. I am not in a pretty place right now but I am convinced that the culmination of all these travails will bring a lasting smile in my body, soul and spirit.
Today is my off day – thank God – I’m going to take my aching limbs to the bed, snooze for about twenty minutes and amble off to the cyber café and deliver your goods. So I’ll see you guys next week yes? Have a great week everybody! Groan...
On a more serious note, I am on a strong learning curve here. I am learning a lot about patience and endurance which are largely fueled by focus and drive towards where I want to be in this volatile entertainment industry. It is especially hard to humble myself to learn the vital instruments I need to take me the level I want to get to – to still be relevant as a versatile actor for the next forty years. It’s so easy to let the adulation and accolades one gets from the general public, the media and professional bodies get to ones head – and they do seep in no matter how hard you try to keep them out I find that they leave one in a false world where one sees little need to improve on ones self especially when it requires that one to lower himself or herself to the ‘lower’ status he or she just struggled to rise from - a place he or she would rather go to considerable lengths to forget; make everyone else forget. What makes it swallowable is focusing on the goal (hopefully worthwhile) one wants to achieve. The biblical adage; in order to live, one must first die, comes true here. It has been even harder to find people with whom to share the same vision – not those who just talk (and they are cheaply available) but those who actually work towards perfection. So far I have managed to find just two diamonds in the deep recesses of the quality mine. I apologise for not elaborating more on this but you will understand that there is a time for everything and at the right time, my basket mouth – as you my dear readers can attest to – will surely leak. I am not in a pretty place right now but I am convinced that the culmination of all these travails will bring a lasting smile in my body, soul and spirit.
Today is my off day – thank God – I’m going to take my aching limbs to the bed, snooze for about twenty minutes and amble off to the cyber café and deliver your goods. So I’ll see you guys next week yes? Have a great week everybody! Groan...
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The Beach
Hello and a very very good week to everyone out there! Anyone feeling as good as I feel today? Why am I sounding so upbeat? Well maybe because I just got back from a very hearty walk along the Koko beach in Accra, Ghana. Even more interestingly, I walked up to the end of the beach where lots of fishermen and their boats were berthed. It wasn’t that it was the end of the beach but that there was a pool separating a part of the beach from the other. Within that cove was a mass of very colourful boats bearing an array of insignia extolling God’s or Allah’s merciful ways, probably in supplication to avert any impending disaster while fishing out there in the sea. The other side of the cove was bustling with a mob of excited women haggling over the prices and perhaps the availability of fish. The fishermen poured out the slippery silvery fish from baskets into the waiting basins and buckets the eager women were carrying. It’s hard to imagine that I actually came here to work. The part I am not exactly looking forward to is the part where I have to go for training to be a martial arts expert. I’m supposed to be a round house kicking villain who is almost psychopathic in his mercilessness.
It is half past two in the afternoon, about three hours since I began this piece; quite a lot of things have happened. Almost lost my temper with someone on set but I managed to calm myself down and talk civilly to her; just like I promised Frieda I would. When the director called me a few minutes afterwards, saying the lady in question had called him in tears, I told him I felt no remorse for what I said. I have little patience with people who like to take others for fools just because they are pleasant and accommodating. Now it’s afternoon and I’m getting drowsy and lethargic. My problem right now is how I am going to send this post out as there is no internet in the hotel. I did hear there’s a café up the road so I’m going to trudge there along the beach hoping to pass by bikini clad ladies in the scorching sun, ask them for directions, fall into chat mode with them, ask them if they know any hot local night spots and if they’ll graciously guide a helpless stranger so he doesn’t get lost and then forget to send this post. The point I’m trying to make is for you guys to pray I don’t meet anyone at all. Have a great week everyone!
It is half past two in the afternoon, about three hours since I began this piece; quite a lot of things have happened. Almost lost my temper with someone on set but I managed to calm myself down and talk civilly to her; just like I promised Frieda I would. When the director called me a few minutes afterwards, saying the lady in question had called him in tears, I told him I felt no remorse for what I said. I have little patience with people who like to take others for fools just because they are pleasant and accommodating. Now it’s afternoon and I’m getting drowsy and lethargic. My problem right now is how I am going to send this post out as there is no internet in the hotel. I did hear there’s a café up the road so I’m going to trudge there along the beach hoping to pass by bikini clad ladies in the scorching sun, ask them for directions, fall into chat mode with them, ask them if they know any hot local night spots and if they’ll graciously guide a helpless stranger so he doesn’t get lost and then forget to send this post. The point I’m trying to make is for you guys to pray I don’t meet anyone at all. Have a great week everyone!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Swimming
Good week everyone and tons of apologies for not making the post for the last two weeks. I was in Ghana for a shoot and believe it or not I had no access to the internet. If only I knew what I know now about the blackberry. I’m beginning to see the use of that little gadget more and more everyday that passes by. I don’t know why I’m always the last to embrace new technologies. The problem, I think, is that I do not see the point of buying something just because everyone else is buying it, at least until I begin to see the need for the something in my life. So with hulking grudging reluctance, I humbly submit that I do have need for the blackberry to keep in contact with you my dear readers.
I know you’re expecting news from my first time in Accra, Ghana But sadly there is very little to talk about because I was on set for most of the time. What I can say though is that Ghana is one hot country. It was so hot I had to plan and rehearse what I wanted to do for the day and dash out with the ferocity of a mother hen taking a break from trying to hatch her eggs to forage for food. Oh, just as an aside, did I tell you it was my birthday yesterday? I know, Frieda says it all the time; I love attention so I thank you to keep the belated wishes coming!
The project I worked on was a sort of romantic comedy where I played an egotistical presenter of a popular reality show who was at loggerheads with a female co presenter with an equally inflated ego in the person of Uche Jombo. It was good fun bickering and finding all sorts of subtle insulting words to hurl at each other. The crunch came as the scene where I had to save her from drowning fast approached. You see, I had just given up a vice that I have long struggled with (and no, I am not telling you what vice it was/is? – Mama might read this someday) and as a result began to gain weight at an astronomical rate. It didn’t help that the lady who took care of our welfare was especially fond of me in a mother and son sort of way. She was one of those wonderful women for whom cooking is an expression of love and have a firm idea of how that love should be reciprocated. It was a daily battle to keep my rations as low as possible instead of the terrifying platters that were placed before me at every given opportunity. All my morning rope jumping didn’t seem to have much of an effect in my battle of the bulge.
The day finally came and I put on my shorts but kept my T-shirt on till the very last moment, sucked my tummy in, jumped into the pool and stayed in there until it became absolutely necessary that I came out. My efforts at acting – for which I was paid – took second place to trying to suck my tummy in all through the scene, pretty much like those 40’s to 60’s movies where octogenarian star actors try to be heroes saving damsels in distress. I was supposed to, on leaving the pool, brush aside a cantankerous ‘Uche’, accidentally shove her into the pool, realise that she is drowning, dive in to save her and drag her out of the pool. Now imagine me doing all this while trying to hang on to my dignity. I kept my verbal responses to her tirades at the barest minimum – my lungs had more important interests to protect. I went through all that pain only to realise later that Uche in her BB mania had tweeted a very nice snapshot of our shenanigans which was surreptitiously snapped up by one of the dreaded gossip columnist’s blogsites. I am in trouble! Those spare rolls revealed. The titters! I’m dumping you Frieda; my new girlfriend’s the gym. Until my affair with her is over, you are taking second place! It’s for your benefit anyway considering how much you love ‘it’! Hehehe!
Well you heard it from me first so don’t pay any mind to any stale second hand tales that will be coming your way. Once again, many apologies for the lengthy hiatus. Do have a great week everyone!
I know you’re expecting news from my first time in Accra, Ghana But sadly there is very little to talk about because I was on set for most of the time. What I can say though is that Ghana is one hot country. It was so hot I had to plan and rehearse what I wanted to do for the day and dash out with the ferocity of a mother hen taking a break from trying to hatch her eggs to forage for food. Oh, just as an aside, did I tell you it was my birthday yesterday? I know, Frieda says it all the time; I love attention so I thank you to keep the belated wishes coming!
The project I worked on was a sort of romantic comedy where I played an egotistical presenter of a popular reality show who was at loggerheads with a female co presenter with an equally inflated ego in the person of Uche Jombo. It was good fun bickering and finding all sorts of subtle insulting words to hurl at each other. The crunch came as the scene where I had to save her from drowning fast approached. You see, I had just given up a vice that I have long struggled with (and no, I am not telling you what vice it was/is? – Mama might read this someday) and as a result began to gain weight at an astronomical rate. It didn’t help that the lady who took care of our welfare was especially fond of me in a mother and son sort of way. She was one of those wonderful women for whom cooking is an expression of love and have a firm idea of how that love should be reciprocated. It was a daily battle to keep my rations as low as possible instead of the terrifying platters that were placed before me at every given opportunity. All my morning rope jumping didn’t seem to have much of an effect in my battle of the bulge.
The day finally came and I put on my shorts but kept my T-shirt on till the very last moment, sucked my tummy in, jumped into the pool and stayed in there until it became absolutely necessary that I came out. My efforts at acting – for which I was paid – took second place to trying to suck my tummy in all through the scene, pretty much like those 40’s to 60’s movies where octogenarian star actors try to be heroes saving damsels in distress. I was supposed to, on leaving the pool, brush aside a cantankerous ‘Uche’, accidentally shove her into the pool, realise that she is drowning, dive in to save her and drag her out of the pool. Now imagine me doing all this while trying to hang on to my dignity. I kept my verbal responses to her tirades at the barest minimum – my lungs had more important interests to protect. I went through all that pain only to realise later that Uche in her BB mania had tweeted a very nice snapshot of our shenanigans which was surreptitiously snapped up by one of the dreaded gossip columnist’s blogsites. I am in trouble! Those spare rolls revealed. The titters! I’m dumping you Frieda; my new girlfriend’s the gym. Until my affair with her is over, you are taking second place! It’s for your benefit anyway considering how much you love ‘it’! Hehehe!
Well you heard it from me first so don’t pay any mind to any stale second hand tales that will be coming your way. Once again, many apologies for the lengthy hiatus. Do have a great week everyone!
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