Sean McAllister » Page 12

Author: Sean McAllister

Documentary Filmmaker from Hull, England, specialises in giving the voiceless a voice

A better life

I met a British guy at the bar in Gatwick banging back a few cheap beers before heading ‘home’ to Norway. Dave was big in IT in the UK but can’t do it in Norway without speaking the language so now he works as a chef in Oslo. In his early 30s, and planning to have kids, Norway seems the dream place, the place to be, he said “Norway charts highest in the world as one of the best places to live”.

He left for Oslo and the noisy kitchens and I left for Bergen to meet Nizam on his well deserved vacation following a mad 2 months of solid work. In my mind Bergen is far more beautiful than Oslo and thankfully nowhere near as cold. Nizam is staying with an Iranian friend who studies architecture here.

She shares the same dilemmas as Nizam about where her ‘home’ is today. She wants to go back to Iran but must stay another couple of years in Norway before her passport is approved. Waiting is hard she tells me, before adding, “Sometimes I wonder what it is I’m waiting for”. Nizam looks subdued, tired after 6 hours on the train from Oslo.

They both struggle with the pressure of maintaining the good life. They seem as lonely as I feel when I’m here. A sense of not really belonging but of merely surviving.

I think back to Dave banging down his beer in Gatwick airport, I gave him my number to have a pint in Oslo sometime. He was excited, “You know it can get lonely out there, I really miss having someone to drink with” then he necked a double vodka and raced to catch his plane.

-18 in Oslo

The misery around me is snow and ice. I slip with my heavy bag, why is no one else slipping? I’m clearly the newcomer here, my first time in temperatures of -18. “Welcome to Norway, Sean my dear” – It’s great to hear Nizam’s voice again even if it is only on my answerphone – but it is impossible to comprehend how he can tolerate this cold. How did the ‘Road to Damascus’ lead us here?

I’m freezing. My ears worst, then my nose. My nose runs a little bit, and then it freezes on some nose hair. A brave painful tug removes the tiny snot ridden icicle. A homeless guy sits staring at me. How can he sit there in this weather?

I continue delicately making my way down a dirty public staircase. Is this the clean Norway life Nizam told me about? I spot a film of oil that makes beautiful colours down the dirty stairs, oil can’t freeze I tell myself, then it dawns on me that this is another oil rich nation I have found myself in, just like Iraq, Iraqi’s always blame the oil for the war – ‘We had to share it with the American’s’ – but here in Norway it’s peaceful. Why don’t they have to share their oil with the Americans? Maybe Norway will be invaded next? I doubt it; Norway is far too cold for American GI’s.

With a tiny population of only 5 million Norway is one of richest countries in the world. I am always fascinated where the oil money goes and how it reaches the people. The oil money goes to provide better social services I am told, that is why immigrants want to come here they say. People will always follow the money I reply, it is the natural way of things.

I pass some prostitutes standing in the freezing cold outside of my hostel, I refuse to imagine how can they have sex in this weather, as I climb the stairs again and disappear into my room to wait for Nizam.

Leaving Yamagata

16th October 2009

I am now leaving Yamagata with 2 awards; the Special Jury Prize for ‘amazing access in an entertaining way’, and the Citizens’ Award, the latter being a gift from the people of Yamagata who voted our film to be their favourite of the festival. Very touching.

The whole experience has been nerve-racking, I never knew how the Japanese would see the film but they laughed and were moved at all right points, some felt I made some sweeping generalisations in my commentary which I guess was true.

But I leave Naoki and Yoshie as local heroes, or is it anti-heroes? Naoki went to see his doctor today who congratulated him on the film, and added that he never knew he was living with Yoshie who also happens to be a patient of his. People stopping and staring shaking Naoki’s hand is a far cry from the man I found hiding from the world 4 years ago, Yoshie worries a little for the future and doesn’t want me to disappear and forget them, but tonight at work she expects to find more new customers coming to meet the local woman from the film.

I feel sad to leave Yamagata as this chapter in my life closes and a new one awaits me in the Middle East, but I don’t feel like I’m leaving Naoki and Yoshie behind, they are coming with me, an inspiration for making more films and many more friends in the future.

17th october 2009

It was great to hang-out once again in Yamagata with Naoki and Yoshie, to cook veggie food round at their place, each day I indulged in my favourite tofu dressed in a gorgeous sesame sauce. It is the one Japanese dish I will always miss.

And now I am cooking a tofu omelette breakfast for Atsushi and Mako in Tokyo on my way home, they both helped me through this bumpy sometimes very difficult 4 year project. And before I fly back to England I will give a talk at the University where my good friend Toshiko works, Toshiko has been a strong supporter of me also… Oh dear there are so many people I have troubled whilst making this film, so many people who have tried keep my spirits high when I faced some of the darkest loneliest moments of my life lost in Japan. To be with them all again, celebrating the awards for a successful film is truly wonderful and almost worth the pain. As I ‘joked’ when I picked up the first award ‘It makes me almost love Japan… But not quite’.

It is funny to be sat with Atsushi, my Japanese ‘film-school’ friend who has helped me immensely since I started my difficult journey here in Tokyo all those years ago. At times he could see no point and would tell me to give up and go home, “You will never find what you are looking for here Sean, go home”, he would say, “Stop killing yourself”. So it is such a pleasure to be sat with him 4 years on sitting next to my two trophies, having a quiet drink. I remember being here in the very same seat many many times whilst I was lost dazed and confused.

And finally, I am so happy we had a post-screening party for Naoki and his co-workers from the post-office in Yamagata. They never understood my filming at the time but at the party they were full of praise, and I’m pleased we also bumped into mushroom man, he pulled-up on his post-office bike whilst on his delivery route, I love his smile, it reminds me so much of Naoki.

Return to Yamagata

My return to Japan is an anxious semi-excited occasion since I heard I was in competition at the Yamagata Documentary Festival. It was great to arrive here in luxury; I think the only way to do Japan is to make sure someone else is paying. I slipped through the curtain from my premium economy seat to the cocktail bar in upper class, the Japanese girl serving said “I recognise you”. “You made that film about Naoki! It was great but very negative on Japan.”

I wondered if this was how Naoki’s home-town was going to receive the film at the weekend, we have 2 big screenings – a 650 seater and a 1200 one. The only Japanese film in the competition (and filmed entirely in Yamagata), ‘Japan: A Story of Love and Hate’ is getting massive media attention, my friend Mr Matsui gave me last night’s local paper featuring an article on my film, and yesterday I was interview on NHK World TV about my time in Japan and the film.

It’s all a long way from the struggle of making it and my own love hate relationship with this distant difficult island. ‘No matter how long you look into the eyes of the Japanese you will never know what they are thinking’, a great quote that stays with me as I stare hard into the eyes of a nation I thought I’d come to really understand whilst making my film here. But the truth is that I don’t feel I really know this place at all, after a couple of days here again I’m thinking I only scratched surface.

I can’t wait to look into the eyes of 1200 Japanese as they watch my film in Yamagata. Shock outrage or calm considered thought. I wonder, will I know what the Japanese are really thinking?

…

We played to 600 people yesterday which was nerve racking for me and for Naoki. Yamagata is Naoki’s home-town, they asked how he felt having exposed himself so naked in the film he said ‘relieved’, I suggested more people do it in Japan as a joke but they didn’t get it, though I was surprised that they enjoyed the humour in the film especially the Viagra section. I am almost enjoying being back in Japan… Has my hate turned to love? Not quite. Today is the big screening in the 1200 seat cinema. It’s so great to see Yoshie enjoying the limelight almost more then Naoki.

Yamagata International Documentary Film Festival 2009
October 8 – 15

My final night

A cousin enters into the ‘goodbye’ party laid on for Nizam. “Hey gran” he says in Arabic, “Why you wearing your veil, Sean is part of our family now? You don’t need to wear the veil for him”. “I do I do…” his gran insists, “Since visiting Mecca I feel I must follow a strict religious code”.

Another aunt had turned-up at the party without a veil, Nizam was shocked. “Whenever my family meets strangers they always wear the veil, my aunt must feel very easy with you Sean”.

This family gathering begins around 1am and will go on till 5 or 6am, I’ve got used to the nocturnal existence here. We sit and talk and play with the kids whilst eating fresh juicy watermelon, handmade biscuits, and drinking thick black Arabic coffee served regularly to keep everyone going. And of course plenty of smoking; In these religious families there is no alcohol, but lots of cigarettes, it seems their only vice.

I talk with another of Nizam’s aunts. She is a fun lively woman who lost her husband a few years ago and now works hard to bring her 5 kids up alone. It isn’t easy she said, “The rent is around $200 a month and we have to survive on the same amount of money for the month”. Despite her struggle she has the most wonderful family, full of life and funny, they all speak good English too.

Arbady is in his late 20’s, as the eldest son he must now be the man of the house, he has just lost his job and now struggles to supplement his income. “He isn’t lucky in life” his mother laments. Arbady looks confused as Nizam shares his dilemmas about bringing himself and his family back here to live. For them the dream is to leave for the West like Nizam did 10 years ago, and the best way for them to do this is to study abroad. Travel is a great thing I say, I love it. But nothing can replace home and I sense this is Nizam’s quest now. He is finding it more and more difficult to see the West as his home.

It all feels confusing to me too. Here I see a simple uncomplicated life, but an affordable one, the dreams in the West are so out of reach at times. I wonder if Arbady realises this. Later, I’m talking with his sisters aged 16 and 18. They complain that their mother won’t let them go jogging in the park “We dream of doing simple things like running in the park but here it is difficult for women, and my mother is afraid”.

By their very nature dictatorships have streets which are generally safe and secure, and Syria is no different. “I can’t believe you don’t let your daughters” out I say… “After my husband died there is only me to look after them so I feel very protective towards them both. When they marry then they are free to go out because they will have a husband to protect them.” “Free, after marriage!?” I question, “Surely their husband will stop them jogging alone as soon they are married?”. “Yes, yes” the sisters say. “I can’t imagine this happening in England” I say, and our parks and streets are far more dangerous then yours.

I am constantly fascinated by the notion of freedom when I travel, what it is that we call freedom, and how it differs from that of other societies and cultures, but here, on my last night in Syria, as a visitor in the warm embrace of a loving family, I feel free and I feel safe.