Croc Eats Camera
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Kachikally Pool 6:50 am, 11/23
Large antediluvian reptiles in cotillion
Crawl down rock bed into soft green vitreous liquid meld
And you are pregnant
Birds caroom music trill sheen
You are – the only one
Fecundity ripens and spits goo
The air is oily with hints of morning rubber tires
Crocodilian noses arouse the millefoil
Bamboo towers float far over pool edge
Pearly bead motion tops the dark water
You are – the only one
My only one
…that’s where I was when the camera broke so I guess that’s the end. At least I had thoughts of the end – I mean, if the camera. Just. Quits. Then what are you to do? It’s not like the epitome of lo-budge indie pop films is walking around with a spare camera. Oh no. We’re just a walking disaster zone, spell it Dumb Ass-ter.
Is this the end of the Griot Trail?
Well, of course not. Bea gets Ram on the phone (4am in New York). No, no liquids. No, no falls. Yes, one minute we’re looking for the White Crocodile of Kachikally (guaranteed to win you a seat in Parliament!), the next, nothing works.
By the end of the day we’ve discerned: there’s an email trail of a certain rare but fatal flaw in the Canon XL2 which held Bea in good stead while in India the last ten months. Something inside goes on occasion, you send it in to Canon, it’s covered by warranty, no problem. Unless you happen to be in West Africa. In which case, well – good luck!
Change the little lithium battery. Nope. Leave both batteries off and let the camera rest overnight. Pray. Do the Fonz Maneuver (appropriate shaking, rattling, and a good swift kick). Nada.
Meanwhile on the Find a New Camera Front (thanks to Banning Eyre and Janet Goldner who responded with alacrity and rich info) it turns out that the camera Karamo has been using to shoot music videos for his job at the Banjul YMCA is available and, while 30p rather than 60i, is still broadcast quality. Problem is the price to rent for the remainder of the trip is the same as a new camera. Which turns out to be the same cost as SENDING a camera via DHL. Which turns out to be the same as FLYING SOMEONE to Bamako with camera(s) in tow. Which brings up the name of the poet Lamont Steptoe, old friend and coworker with Ram and Rattapallax Films, and who just happens to be a great shooter with a great camera and deep roots in Africa….
We decide to stay another day in Old Jeshwang to regroup. We learn that instead of taking the 50 Dalasi taxi to Wesfield, we can do a share for 6 apiece. That’s where a faster internet is (I still prefer Yacouba’s cozy place, right off the main highway in Jeshwang, but his server’s down) – but even here at QNet we can’t upload photos. All this would be different (?) if we were staying at the Hilton, which is (Spelunker Advisory) located near the ocean and is completely underground. Literally. All you see are these bunkers, rolling towards the sea.
This is the seventh day from the tandem deaths of Binta, Papa’s 20 year old daughter, and her grandmother, Aja, who raised her. It is a day of the extended family dropping by, and Bea and I decide that this is a time not to intrude, not to be the tubobs (white people) who need to be introduced. Take a day off and search for a camera. Go to the Canon store in downtown Banjul. When we ask for a digital camera, the manager unlocks a safe in his office and pulls out a low end still camera and, for some reason, a wireless printer. Oh, it works with the still camera.
A day of waiting, pondering, Ram checking in with web updates and ideas as we think our way through the crisis. The result is some mighty changes. Staying an extra day in the Gambia is just the beginning.
Papa’s grief has started coming out when he gets tired, like when we spent all day finagling an appearance on national TV, which led right into the shoot – how much Papa has given to this project! After Bamako, where we’ll be staying with Papa’s cousin, the world-renowned kora player Ballike Sissoko, we’ll be moving out of jeliya territory, and away from Islam, just as we approach Tobaski, the Muslim Christmas. Is this the time to acknowledge our situation thus far, two weeks into our six week trip, give Papa some much needed rest and downtime with his big family (Hassan and Sunkung have flown in from New York)? Long talk, the four of us, five including Ram’s input. Papa will do what I want, we have worked three years on this project, no turning back now. But things have changed. After Bamako, Papa will come back to Banjul, see to his house getting painted, celebrate Tobaski with his family, jeli style.
On Words!
Bob Holman is the host of a new travel series focused on endangered languages called ON THE ROAD WITH BOB HOLMAN on LINK TV. He traveled to West Africa, Middle East and Asia and these are his blog stories from his travels. More information at http://www.rattapallax.com/blog/on_the_road/
Large antediluvian reptiles in cotillion
Crawl down rock bed into soft green vitreous liquid meld
And you are pregnant
Birds caroom music trill sheen
You are – the only one
Fecundity ripens and spits goo
The air is oily with hints of morning rubber tires
Crocodilian noses arouse the millefoil
Bamboo towers float far over pool edge
Pearly bead motion tops the dark water
You are – the only one
My only one
…that’s where I was when the camera broke so I guess that’s the end. At least I had thoughts of the end – I mean, if the camera. Just. Quits. Then what are you to do? It’s not like the epitome of lo-budge indie pop films is walking around with a spare camera. Oh no. We’re just a walking disaster zone, spell it Dumb Ass-ter.
Is this the end of the Griot Trail?
Well, of course not. Bea gets Ram on the phone (4am in New York). No, no liquids. No, no falls. Yes, one minute we’re looking for the White Crocodile of Kachikally (guaranteed to win you a seat in Parliament!), the next, nothing works.
By the end of the day we’ve discerned: there’s an email trail of a certain rare but fatal flaw in the Canon XL2 which held Bea in good stead while in India the last ten months. Something inside goes on occasion, you send it in to Canon, it’s covered by warranty, no problem. Unless you happen to be in West Africa. In which case, well – good luck!
Change the little lithium battery. Nope. Leave both batteries off and let the camera rest overnight. Pray. Do the Fonz Maneuver (appropriate shaking, rattling, and a good swift kick). Nada.
Meanwhile on the Find a New Camera Front (thanks to Banning Eyre and Janet Goldner who responded with alacrity and rich info) it turns out that the camera Karamo has been using to shoot music videos for his job at the Banjul YMCA is available and, while 30p rather than 60i, is still broadcast quality. Problem is the price to rent for the remainder of the trip is the same as a new camera. Which turns out to be the same cost as SENDING a camera via DHL. Which turns out to be the same as FLYING SOMEONE to Bamako with camera(s) in tow. Which brings up the name of the poet Lamont Steptoe, old friend and coworker with Ram and Rattapallax Films, and who just happens to be a great shooter with a great camera and deep roots in Africa….
We decide to stay another day in Old Jeshwang to regroup. We learn that instead of taking the 50 Dalasi taxi to Wesfield, we can do a share for 6 apiece. That’s where a faster internet is (I still prefer Yacouba’s cozy place, right off the main highway in Jeshwang, but his server’s down) – but even here at QNet we can’t upload photos. All this would be different (?) if we were staying at the Hilton, which is (Spelunker Advisory) located near the ocean and is completely underground. Literally. All you see are these bunkers, rolling towards the sea.
This is the seventh day from the tandem deaths of Binta, Papa’s 20 year old daughter, and her grandmother, Aja, who raised her. It is a day of the extended family dropping by, and Bea and I decide that this is a time not to intrude, not to be the tubobs (white people) who need to be introduced. Take a day off and search for a camera. Go to the Canon store in downtown Banjul. When we ask for a digital camera, the manager unlocks a safe in his office and pulls out a low end still camera and, for some reason, a wireless printer. Oh, it works with the still camera.
A day of waiting, pondering, Ram checking in with web updates and ideas as we think our way through the crisis. The result is some mighty changes. Staying an extra day in the Gambia is just the beginning.
Papa’s grief has started coming out when he gets tired, like when we spent all day finagling an appearance on national TV, which led right into the shoot – how much Papa has given to this project! After Bamako, where we’ll be staying with Papa’s cousin, the world-renowned kora player Ballike Sissoko, we’ll be moving out of jeliya territory, and away from Islam, just as we approach Tobaski, the Muslim Christmas. Is this the time to acknowledge our situation thus far, two weeks into our six week trip, give Papa some much needed rest and downtime with his big family (Hassan and Sunkung have flown in from New York)? Long talk, the four of us, five including Ram’s input. Papa will do what I want, we have worked three years on this project, no turning back now. But things have changed. After Bamako, Papa will come back to Banjul, see to his house getting painted, celebrate Tobaski with his family, jeli style.
On Words!
Bob Holman is the host of a new travel series focused on endangered languages called ON THE ROAD WITH BOB HOLMAN on LINK TV. He traveled to West Africa, Middle East and Asia and these are his blog stories from his travels. More information at http://www.rattapallax.com/blog/on_the_road/
