Film Aid Festival Closes as Kenyans Urged to Push their Agenda to Tell stories

The Seventh edition of Film Aid film festival came to a close on Friday August 23, 2013 at the Alliance Francaise in Kenya’s Capital Nairobi. As the curtains drew a close to the three day film galore, film enthusiasts, Human Rights advocates and even artists left the venue with a new challenge.

Image courtesy of filmaid.org

While I cannot comprehensively talk about the screenings –I watched only two of the short films– the panel discussions, though sometimes appeared to be out of focus on the issues at hand, they gave audiences something worthy to think about.

On August 22, with the focus being Media, rights and displaced persons the panelists spearheaded by Charles Kotieno, tackled less about these issues. Instead representatives from the Refugee Consortium of Kenya and Amnesty International tackled various issues about repatriation and assistance offered to the refugees. Repatriation seemed to be an apt theme as Kenya has recently announced the repatriation of Somali refugees.

Image courtesy of filmaid.org

But it was on August 23 that seemed to lean greatly towards the issue of media and refugees. With the topic at hand being Xenophobia, Racism and Tribalism the panelists that included Judy Kibinge (film director& producer), Octopizzo (musician) Mburuku Gikunda (Media Focus) and Duc Mallard (Refugee From  Kakuma) they seemed to address what they through their organizations or as artists how they are addressing the issues.

On her part Judy kibinge said it was so sad that Kenyan media/ practitioners have not embraced the opportunities to tackle issues that have since independence held back the society.  “Kenya is such a vibrant place to be an artist, but it is a pity that those who are in this sector are lazy to do something meaningful,” she quipped when asked when artists will start tackling issues that affect the Kenyan society.

On the other hand Mburuku a former producer at KTN said it was up to each one of us to participate in telling the stories that we all want to hear. Who is the media? He quipped.  We will not get the story that we want told by waiting on the media to tell it. It is up to us to push the agenda.

Besides the panel discussions, the great steps that Film Aid has achieved in the art of filmmaking were greatly noticeably. From times when the productions were poorly directed, and some did not have a story per se. This year’s production though not the best had remarkable improvement in areas of camera work, sound and even scripting. It is hoped that this annual festival should be the direction that Mburuku Gikunda alluded to; the public needs to push the agenda before pointing fingers at the media.

Why does the world stare?

I am distressed,

At the cold stares the world is sending my way,

Why does the world revel so much in taking unnecessary looks at me?

I want to hide myself from the world

Please tell me how to hide

A hello from him,

A Hi whisper from her,

A tap from it,

I caught her off guard,

Her eyes trained on me,

I would have looked otherwise,

But she was by the window of her car

It’s insane how these eyes are all trained on me,

 Is it something I did?

I dab at my face,

Perhaps I went overboard with make-up this morning,

No!

The hanky confirms otherwise,

No make-up at all,

So why dear world,

Am I receiving this cold stares?

I might be familiar from the past,

But no,

I have never caught attention of the TV cameras,

The last journalist in my circle of friends,

Turned out to be all titles but no action,

I dread each morning as I take the leisurely walk through the park,

Someone might be looking

Eyes that eat us up are no good,

They make us nervous,

Not that we have secrets that anyone would die for,

An innocent soul,

Living each day in a stride,

Wishing no fame upon this fragile soul that is mine,

Just when will the cold stares,

Turn into a warm reception,

This is why I ask again,

How do I hide from the world? 

Illusion Delusion; Reality Fantasy

Even in my dreams you remain an illusion

In reality, a delusion

 I see you from a distance

Constantly snooping at every instance

Just maybe we were not meant to be,

This pain I have known to bear

Time again and again

Where in the world

Am I to look?

Not that I have been the best,

But I know,

I ought to be among the many constants

That ought to swing the pendulum

Though I seek,

You are a mirage that will never turn a reality,

A fantasy that has stolen a heart from a far,

I knew that December when we met,

That you were not any good to my fragile soul,

Yet an innocent soul out for a thrill I was,

Encompassing all that you were!

It is yet another December,

Like a bad dream,

I hope I will wake to streaks of life,

Breathe a new life,

Into the past,

See a newer you,

Touch that shiny face once again

 As I held out my hand,

You wrapped me in your arms,

With a promise of us

Then I let you slip into the world unknown,

Trusting in every word that you said

Today as tears stream,

I reckon that you might be a happy soul after all,

For yours is to turn dreams into obscurity

Just what went wrong?

Outsiders Looking in!

So what are we? I am not sure why I ask. The turn of events just leave you asking questions; some rhetoric, others genuinely deserving answers.

I am in a conundrum. Seeking some sort of assurance, whether it’s about the future or the present I am yet to establish. Fear as we all know holds us back from being the best we could ever be. As I rushed through the streets this morning, a knot of uneasiness tucked in my stomach. I am not sure whether the rumbling noise was from my stomach. I have been queasy uneasy since last weekend.  The circumstances leading to these moments remain a mystery.

With a hood over my head I convinced myself that I was out of sight to the curious eyes of the thousands of outsiders who shamelessly tend to look in. Now I stand at the door ready to knock. I hear a voice over my shoulder and wonder just who it might be.

I have missed my targets over the last one month. Maybe this is the reason why I am hiding away from the real world. I just can’t accept the fact that I failed on this one. But I did try. I keep convincing myself. I want to break away, yet the next step is not known. I walk each moment my held bowed low in shame.

Sometimes it is all about luck. I know lady luck has kept a distance from me. I want her to come back. Even if not in a great way; just in a small sneaky way that says I am around not this time but some other day I will look your way.

The boss has been on my case for far too long. I want to burst into tears. I want to talk back but then this thing called fear holds me back. So when will the sun shine?

I Weep!

He keeps on staring,

But I know what we had is over,

All because it was built on deceit,

We never want to hold grudges,

But of what use is it,

When we reconcile,

Yet deep down,

Our souls are full of vengeance,

Perhaps we should look as if we do not see,

Walk as if aimless,

Talk as if we are afraid,

But hold true to what is ours

An astounding betrayal it was,

The little lies we told,

Someone elsewhere used them,

To crucify us

It was a crucifixion of sorts,

He killed the one thing that was so dear to the soul?

It wasn’t physical destruction,

Yet the repercussions are too visible to ignore,

The blabbering soul,

Caused a permanent damage to my frail soul

And here I weep

How a man with his dignity,

Would succumb to this mind-games,

Was unforgivable,

He would have lied to one,

But not two,

Promised one a better future,

But not all the two,

This is why vengeance,

Is deep-rooted,

Always seeking that one thing,

 That will cause him everlasting pain

It appears he is on my back,

Everywhere I turn,

I see his intimidating soul materialise,

I fear,

But then am in safe hands,

Hoping that he gets the hint,

Yet now I see him,

Not from the back,

Nor in dreams,

He is intently staring,

This time,

From afar

I hate to reminisce,

Of the earlier days,

When all we saw was love,

Nothing mattered then,

Yet we turn away,

With tearful eyes,

Love has lost meaning,

And we are afraid,

Lest we find ourselves,

Subjects of this thing called love

It’s Her I Want!

Nothing compares to her immense beauty,

I am dumbfounded by her beauty,

I pinch myself to make sure it’s real,

How sad it is,

She just zoomed past me,

Her sleek body leaves me dazed,

Her glowing lights promise me such better times,

It’s the grey colour that crowns it all,

My mind is set,

SHE IS ALL I WANT

I am held up in this stinky, emotionless and unsteady relationship,

With this rickety, old and squeaky beast,

It worries me every now and then

I look around and catch a glimpse of her rear shape,

It says S280,

Does it mean she realizes how sleek and beautiful she is?

It is a dream,

But then am done dreaming,

She has been making a disappearing act the whole day,

I hate myself for not making the effort to own her,

Yet I know I will see her tomorrow,

I am fed up of dreaming

All I want is her!