My Scholarship entry - My Kind of Adventure

henkrigter — Wed, 3 Oct 2012 21:44:23 GMT

At one point in Malawi, I needed some garments, as my trousers and shirts were starting to fall apart. A local told me I should visit the market for that and so I walked in to this huge amount of clothes. I asked around and pretty quick got the gist. Thought it was a cool subject and filmed it. In this clip, I'm the presenter.

This clip is a part of a series that was made during three years of Africa, where we did a lot of volunteering and traveling. When we started, filming was a fun gimmick, but after a while, it began to evolve in a serious way to communicate.

You should search youtube for threelefthands and that should keep you occupied for a bit. I've done most, if not all of the filming myself. An independent producer from The Netherlands advised me on how to use a camera, positioning, audio levels, what makes a good shot, etcetera.

I notice that filming makes me more daring, more willing to take chances and more excited to grab every opportunity, when I think it can be a great shot. In videos, I want to show how funny and great this world can be, whether it's a grand event or a small detail in a culture. The world rocks, and I want to experience and share that!

My Scholarship entry - A local encounter that changed my life

henkrigter — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 21:00:00 GMT

The white van that belongs to the middle-of-nowhere mission post in Eastern Tanzania stops just long enough for me to jump in. Eggs are running low and so I join the drive to the nearest town, just like other villagers do. The car is stuffed and on the half seat next to me a man gets in, holding a colorfully wrapped lump the size of a huge pumpkin in his arms. The man looks a bit sad, so I restrain my curiosity, and we finally take of on the trip.

Long ago, the road was tarmacked, but now erosion rendered it a collection of potholes divided by a continuing washboard, and so we rumble through the ocher landscape that defines the last weeks of the dry season. Baobab trees stand bare and scattered in the arid scenery, a still from a bizarre play. The merciless sun beats her rays on sweating plate roofs that dot the surface of the country and daydreams take the better of me, when in the corner of my eye, I see that a gush of wind blows a piece of cloth from the bundle in the mans arms.

It unveils a little boy. Under his black skin, which resembles a damaged fake leather jacket, pinkish flesh covers his almost lifeless body and head. Somewhere, the driver tells me, in a village so remote it has no name, the boy fell in a pot of boiling water at a local brewery and is now in a car, gazing at me without notion. There is nothing in his eyes, only an endless nothing, a deep, deep blackness. The father, who walked a day to get to this car, catches me staring but also his eyes don't speak, don't accuse and don't ask.

We leave him at the hospital, run our errands and return. Softly weeping women get in, follwed by the man who's still holding his boy wrapped in the joyful patterned cloth. A hundrerd kilometers of dust and humps. On my lap a tray full of eggs. A woman speaks, the driver laughs and replies which makes the other passengers laugh. A mother cries, a man eats his chips and behind me, a father holds his dead child. I don't understand, so softly, I laugh too.

This too, is Africa...

My Scholarship entry - My Kind of Adventure

My Scholarship entry - A local encounter that changed my life