Brownstones Blog: August 2011

Welcome back to the BROWNSTONES TO RED DIRT blog! If you’ve kept up with us on Twitter, you know that sometime earlier this summer, we heard that the school that we built with Schools for Salone (SFS) would open officially on Monday, September 5th. We had to be there for that. When we began booking our trip, it turned out that friend of SFS, Kei Kamara, a Major League Soccer star and Sierra Leone international player, would be in Freetown playing in an African Cup of Nations qualifier against Egypt on September 3rd. The rest just fell into place: from September 1st-4th, we’d film a profile with Kei, on September 5th, we’d open the school, and on Tuesday, September 6th, we’d host the African premiere of BROWNSTONES TO RED DIRT, with the kids from Salone in attendance as guests of honor.

We’ve had a lot of time to think about our return to Sierra Leone—not just the three years since we last visited, but the last 20-some hours (and counting) of our journey. We’ve spent a lot of those minutes in planes and airport bars talking about what it was like last time and what we can expect when we land in just under three hours.

As we regaled our composer (and Salone first-timer) Josh Johnson with tales of beach-side bars and pickup football matches with the kids, Chad wondered aloud if our three year absence has made us romanticize the experience of our last trip. The question hung in the air briefly, but our introspection was punctured when our waitress offered us beers to go with our breakfast (we politely declined, however, there are several complimentary—and empty—cans of Stella currently residing on our seatback trays).

Chad’s question remained unanswered until we boarded the plane and strains of Krio echoed through the cabin. I don’t know that any of us understand the complex mix of tribal language and English any more today than we did three years ago, but unlike last time, when it felt foreign and intimidating, today, it was a gentle welcome back to the embrace of a place to which we have longed to return. A place where harsh challenges like stifling heat and gridlock traffic we may have romanticized, but whose relationships we certainly have not.

We’re not so bold to expect that we’re returning as anything more than visitors, observers to a culture wildly different than our own, but there is a major difference this time: we’re returning to see friends, not documentary subjects.

Speaking candidly (and at the risk of sounding like completely obnoxious film school d-bags), we have found the relationship between us as filmmakers and the subjects we profile to be extremely complex. It runs the risk of being exploitative and beneficial to the filmmaker while leaving the subject exposed and vulnerable. We had only three weeks to work with the kids in Salone and managed to build enough of friendship and trust for them to tell us their stories. But still, when you have a camera stuck in someone’s face, especially a kid whose language you don’t speak, there’s a barrier.

But over these last three years, that barrier has come down. Sure, thanks to a subpar infrastructure, the letters we exchange are few and far between, and when we do get them, they’re written with an air of formality surely coached by their teachers and guardians. But our relationships continued to grow.

Among the remarkable moments this trip promises—attending the school opening, hosting the premiere of and working with Kei but a few among them—the moment I think we’re all the most excited for is seeing the kids again. Not with the cameras rolling, mind you, but hanging out with them around the old mango tree near the orphanage—hearing their stories, telling our own, reminiscing over our shared memories from three years ago—catching up, just like friends do.

We hope you’ll enjoy the journey and know that you all helped make it possible.

Much love,

-The Brownstones Crew