Impunity

A woman was murdered here last night.

In Guatemala, that’s not so unusual. Last year, 620 women were murdered, and not one person was brought to justice over it.

While filming in Guatemala, we are staying at a seminary, the largest in Latin America. It’s a beautiful oasis in a violent city. High walls surround lovely green areas, well-manicured lawns, well-kept buildings and engaging students.

We left the compound at 8 a.m. for our day of shooting. At 7:30 a.m., the woman who cleans the rooms, makes sure the towels are fresh and who keeps the guest comfortable, was dropped off right in front of the main gate of the seminary.

A student who lives across the street was an eye witness to what happened next.

The cleaning woman (who’s name I do not know) alighted from the vehicle and moved toward the gate.

A car sped around the corner and a well-trained assassin leaned out the window with his pistol and shot the woman in the head.

The car sped off and the woman collapsed in the arms of her sister. She died soon after.

The eye witness said it was a well-executed operation by a well-trained person. Apparently it’s quite easy to hire such a person in Guatemala.

One of the seminary professors knew the woman quite well and she’s the one who told us about the 620 murders of the previous year. Trembling with anger and frustration, the professor told us that most likely, some routine paper work would be done on this murder and then it would be put in a file somewhere and would most likely never see the light of day again.

The professor talked of those who operate with “impunity.”

Seeing her anger and helpless frustration gave me an inkling of what the residents of La Limonada slum must feel at times. The Ministry of Justice building is an imposing structure (see photo) that stands literally on top of the ridge overlooking La Limonada. The task of the Ministry of Justice would be similar to the FBI in the USA. They are charged with investigating murders, suspicious deaths, etc. Being so close to La Limonada, a violent slum in a violent city, should be job security for them.

However, as we found out, what happens in La Limonada stays in La Limonada. According to those who live and work down in that deep ravine, murders that happen there are just not worth investigating by the Ministry of Justice.

At certain times of the day, the shadow of the Ministry building literally falls into the slum. But that’s about all the residents of the slum will get. Murders down there are not investigated.

Imagine being one of those residents and knowing that murderers can operate with impunity. Simply being a resident of La Limonada makes you unworthy of official protection. You’re on your own.

The United Nations says some characteristics of slums include lack of security of tenure, lack of security and lack of sanitation. For those in La Limonada, we could also add lack of rights.

Selma's War

I have never, ever, in my life, heard a story quite like Selma’s.

Imagine Job. You know, the guy in the Old Testament book of Job. Now add rape, sexual abuse, physical abuse and a severe beating with a machete, add a life-time of rejection by an alcoholic mother, being sold by her to the sex trade, a string of men who added to the rejection and abuse she felt, and you start to get an idea of what Selma’s story is all about.

Being a journalist, or in my case, a documentary film maker, opens up portals into stories and lives one could never enter otherwise. I remember interviewing a lovely woman in Sierra Leone who was finally, a few years after the war there, recovering her sanity. She was buried in a deep hole for days, was raped, assaulted, tortured, and made to hold the severed head of her aunt for hours on end. That happened during a war so in some bizarre, strange way, maybe the fact of war somehow lessens the horror of her experience for those that hear her story later.

But Selma’s story takes place in Guatemala. Today. The war officially ended in 1996 but even so, her story really had nothing to do with the “official” Guatemalan war.

When Selma finished telling her story to Tita and, in effect, to you the reader of this blog and eventual watcher of the film, Tita and Selma hugged each other tightly and they both wept for several minutes. It was a most holy moment there in Selma’s house. Iron sheets on a narrow spit of land on the side of the steep ravine that is La Limonada.

After catching my breath, Tita told me that Selma’s story is actually not that unusual. Women in Guatemala are abused and beaten all the time. “At least 50% of them,” she said.

I suppose poverty is a war of sorts. It assaults its victims and puts them in situations and predicaments that would seem unimaginable in peacetime. Selma, the men that beat her, the impoverished alcoholic mother, the men that used Selma when she was sold as a nine-year-old girl; all part of the violence of poverty.

Does it really have to be this way? In a world that generates so much wealth, does Tanya have to beg on that corner every day, and does Selma have to suffer so much?

Today, as I write this blog entry, Selma is experiencing yet another chapter in her life. She’s having surgery somewhere in Guatemala City to try and remove her cancer.

For her, the war goes on.

Behind the Black Door.

Today we entered La Limonda, the largest slum in Central America. 60,000 people crowded into a deep ravine one mile in length. At the bottom of the ravine a rushing stream carries the sewage of these 60,000 people to the Rio Las Vacas which empties into the Rio Motagua, which empties into the Atlantic Ocean.

If you wind your way up from the sewage through narrow alleys, you’ll come to another alley, more narrow yet, and one of thousands just like it. Turn right, wend your way through it and pound on a black door. A man will open the door and let you in. We stepped through a tiny courtyard—literally about six feet across—and into Tanya’s bedroom.

She was laying on her bed, covered with a blanket. The first thing we noticed is that the “normal” shape of a person under a blanket was missing. And that’s part of Tanya’s story.

I won’t trouble you with all the details, we’ll cover more of that in the documentary, but here’s the short version. Membership in a gang, brothers murdered, Tanya shot, bullet hits her spinal cord, she loses the use of her legs, later a severe break means she has one of the legs amputated, she now lives in this tiny room with her father in his own room right behind her. She wheels herself to a busy intersection each day and works—rain or shine—begging next to the cars when they stop at the traffic light. She must earn about 50 Quetzales each day ($1=8Qs) to survive so even during rainy season—now—she must be out there begging.

At the end of a long day, she wheels herself back down into La Limonada, through narrow alleys to her own, comes to the black door and papa lets her in, helps her into bed so tomorrow she can do it again.

Tanya welcomed our crew into our home. She was painfully honest about her life, her frequent thoughts of suicide and her oft-repeated questions of “why me?” What troubles her greatly is the comments people make to her, or about her, as she begs at the corner. Rich people, particularly, are harsh, she says. She cried while telling that story.

She was also honest about how she gets through it all. Her faith in Jesus is what sustains her. By her own words, she went from a hard gang member, to a women with a deep faith in God, despite a personal story even the best Hollywood writers would have a hard time matching.

Tita is the woman who linked us up with Tanya … and is largely responsible for helping Tanya, and many, many more like her, find that deep and abiding faith. Tita’s story is a documentary in itself. Maybe another day.

Meanwhile, Tanya is resting behind the Black Door while I write my blog. Tomorrow morning we will be at the red door at 6:00 a.m. so our cameras can follow her as she makes her way out of La Limonada, over the crest, down to the busy stoplight and begin another day of survival.

La Limonada, Guatemala: The Precarious Life

Next week we go to Guatemala to shoot.


Why there and not a favela in Rio, or on the outskirts of Mexico City? Why do the Latin America shoot in Guatemala?


As we looked at the various slums in Latin America (unfortunately, there were plenty to choose from) we decided to focus on a slum that hasn't received much attention from the world. Not that most slums have, but some are more famous than others. Rio, for example, has been featured in several movies and the favelas are almost romanticised in some quarters. Funny how media can make a location famous (i.e., just think about the baseball fields here in my home state of Iowa.)


Guatemala is a small country right next to Yucatan, Mexico. We don't hear much about it in the news, it gets very little attention, and yet, 70% of the population lives on less than US$2 per day. In the countryside, 30% live on less than $1 per day. In the city, 8% does.

Guatemala City has about 2.5 million people and estimates show that at least 60% of them are poor. Those with the lowest incomes live in very precarious situations.

Our goal is to spend a week with two women who live these precarious lives; Tanya and Selma.

Tanya and Selma have stories that border on the unbelievable. We hope to make their stories real and believeable with our lenses and microphones. They live in a slum community called La Limonada, which had its beginnings in 1959.

When the government put an end to the agrarian reform program in the '50s, that, plus socio-economic problems accelerated the migratory process from rural to urban. About 600 families invaded the sides of the gullies in front of the Olympic Stadium and thus was born La Limondada, one of the largest slums in Central America today.

We don't know Tanya and Selma's history or complete story yet, but we hope to find out. As the author Chaim Potok said, "in the particular is contained the universal." Through the particular stories of Tanya and Sara, we may gain clear insight into the more universal story of the plights of tens of thousands more who live the precarious life in Guatamala City and in cities around the world.

I'll post more here about Tanya and Selma, the good people who are making this possible in Guatemala City, our experiences as we shoot, and what we learn. Thanks for checking in.

...better late than never.

I'm at a “Going Global” two-day workshop in Santa Monica. The reason I'm here is because I've discovered something all independent filmmakers discover at some point in the production schedule: The marketing and distribution of a film is one of the most difficult aspects of the entire production.

Filmmakers get pretty excited about their films. That's good because it takes a lot of passion and energy to make one! They do the preproduction, they do the shooting, they do the postproduction, and then … then they start asking questions like, “Who's going to buy this thing?” “How will I get this out to my audience?”

I was very fortunate to come across Stacey Parks and her company, Film Specific. Stacey has a long history of working with independent filmmakers and getting sales and distribution deals put together for them.

Stacey had a nine-week, weekly conference call that about 50 of us from around the US and Canada were part of and the topic was, “Distribution in Reverse.” The premise being; whatever stage of production you're in right now, you need to be thinking clearly about the the final stage, which is, marketing and distribution.

To that end, our conference calls were useful in getting us to think about questions like international financing deals, global distribution, the film festival circuit, and the mother of all deal breakers: deliverables.

Deliverables are the myriad nit-picky little things that any TV distribution deal worth its salt, or any deal for that matter, will lay out in the fine print. The list of deliverables can stretch to nine pages long and will include things like:

E&O Insurance: Errors and Omissions Insurance. After I've proved that I did everything possible to mitigate possible lawsuits by having all those who appear in the documentary sign releases, making sure my music is legal, having no intentional slander and so forth, I still have to purchase an E&O policy in case something should arise down the road that could get me or the production company into legal hot water.

Music and FX. For global distribution, there may have to be some recutting, say, in Japan, to make the movie more palatable for a Japanese audience. Music, dialogue, sound FX: all these need to be delivered in a specific format so the editors over there can move things around, make changes, etc., to fit their audience.

Title Tracks. If the Slum Documentary gets shown in, say, Germany, all the subtitles, credits, even the Title, will have to be changed into the German language. There's a very specific way that all these titles have to be delivered to a third-party vendor to expedite that process.

There are a LOT more deliverables, but I'll just copy and paste a few from our notes so you get an idea of what goes on behind the scenes of every movie that actually makes it onto TV or the bigscreen or to your Netflix account:

(a) Original Picture Negative: The original first-class completely edited color 35 mm Film Stock Picture negative, fully timed and color corrected.

(b) Original Optical Soundtrack Negative: A first-class completely edited 35 MM Film Stock optical sound-track negative (including combined dialogue, sound effects and music made from the original magnetic print master described in Paragraph 5 below conforming to the original negative and answer print. The Sound track is to be in Stereo.

(c) 35mm Low Contrast Print: One (1) first class 35mm composite low contrast print fully timed and color corrected, manufactured from the original action negative and final sound track, fully titled, conformed and synchronized to the final edited version of the Picture(if available).

(d) Color Interpositive Protection Master: One (1) color corrected and complete interpositive Master of the Picture, conformed in all respects to the Answer Print for protection purposes without scratches or defects (if available).

(e) Color Internegative/Dupe Negative: One(1) 35 Internegative manufactured from the color interpositive protection Master conformed in all respects to the delivered and accepted Answer Print without scratches or defects (if available).

Get the idea? I'm becoming more and more convinced that trudging through the slums of the world is the easy part. The marketing and distribution is where it gets tough.

So that brings me back to Santa Monica. Our nine-week call sessions are ending with all of us here together at the Viceroy Hotel on the beach, discussing these issues, listening to experts in a variety of fields, and learning a lot. None of us want to join ranks with the countless filmmakers out there who have made a good movie, but then get hung up in this final stage of things.

Will this delay the release? Hopefully not … but better late than never.

Yes. It matters.

You’ve probably heard a variation of this very cheesy story: There’s a beach with tens of thousands of fish washed up onshore and they’re dying. An annual migration of sorts.

A boy is on the beach picking up fish, one at a time, and throwing then in the water.

A man tells the boy that he’s wasting his time, he can’t possibly save all the fish and it really doesn’t matter.

The boy stops and, looking at the fish in his hand, says, “it matters to this one.”

I’ve been rather astounded over the past few months as I’ve spoken to groups and individuals, of the number of people who are like that boy.

They hear the “one billion” but then they immediately want to know what they can do to help a person or a family. “How can we make a difference in the lives of the poorest of the poor?”

My own family is on an odyssey of sorts. Jovelyn is the 15-year-old daughter of Jose and Elvie Alquino, the family under the bridge in Manila. Jovelyn is a shy girl, bright-eyed and eager to learn.

Working with some very very fine people in Manila, we’re exploring the possibility of having Jovelyn come live with our family here in Iowa, finish her last year or two of high school in our small town, then go on to Dordt College where I teach.

It’s sort of like the kid on the beach. That kind of opportunity can matter—big time—to one family. And who knows what the ripple effect will be?

Many others want to know what they can do for the one billion.

I suspect there’s a way to create connections, but it needs to be done without reinventing programs and opportunities that other fine organizations are already involved with.

I’m delighted there are so many out there like that boy. I hope his attitude prevails, and that of the “it-really-doesn’t-matter guy” become a very small minority.

What's In A Name?

“The Slum Documentary Film Project.”

Not a real grabby title, is it.

Not like, “Warehousing the World’s Surplus Humanity,” or, “Zone of Silence” or a few other ideas I have for a title (in fairness, that first one about the “warehousing” comes straight from Planet of Slums by Mike Davis. I include it to make a point.)

So why the vanilla title?

As you may have read in a previous blog entry here, documentaries are definitely works in progress. They evolve. Heck, as of this writing, I’m still not 100% sure of the final direction this film is going to take. And I probably won’t know that ‘til I’m much further along in the shooting. To date, all I have is footage from Manila. Next month is Guatemala, and later this year, Africa. In between these will be interviews with a variety of experts.

As all this wonderful footage comes in, the ideas begin to gel, things come together, and yes, a title begins to emerge.

The title may come from something I read or a comment made during an interview. Some of the best titles come quite by accident in an off-handed remark made by someone, or the unusual juxtaposition of ideas when you see images cut together inside the Avid timeline.

What I’m saying is: “The Slum Documentary Film Project” isn’t the final title. It’s just a working title for a work in progress.

Eventually, something much better will reveal itself.

And then I’ll reveal it to you.

In the meantime, I’m wide open to ideas. If you suggest the title that ultimately gets used, be assured I’ll give you the credit when the credits roll on The Slum Documentary Film Project.

The Power of Media

“Slumdog Millionarie” is sweeping up awards and nominations around the world as people fall in love with the scrappy kid who wins it big in India’s version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?”
Danny Boyle and his crew did an excellent job of capturing life in the slums of Mumbai. The grittiness of life there, and the desperation of slum dwellers is evident in many of the scenes in the movie.
Today, the news talks of some of the child actors from the movie who actually live in the slums. Azharuddin Mohammed Ismail, who plays the young Salim, elder brother of the film's central character Jamal, recently had his slum neighborhood razed and is now hoping for an actual house.
His father, Mohammed Ismail Mohammed Usman, who sells cardboard to eke out a living, said that since the movie came out, "The only thing that happened was that I became well-known because of my son. That's it. Nothing else changed. My kid became a hero and I'm living like a zero. This is my shack," he said.
The power of a film like “Slumdog Millionarie” is the power to get public attention focused on a subject like abject poverty. These people were acting, yes, but when the lights went off for the final time and the camera crew left, not much changed and the world is taking notice … at least of the few who appeared in the movie.
I really don’t think our documentary is going to sweep the world in quite the same way this movie did (but I can always hope). But our movie, like this one, will do its bit to help focus public attention on a subject that really needs the public’s attention. Mohammed, mentioned above, gathers up cardboard in hopes of getting enough money to live on. The Alquino family in Manila does that too. So do several families I shot in various parts of Nicaragua. As do people all over the world and yet the vast majority of these people will never be featured in a theatrical release or a documentary film. That doesn’t make them any less important. It just makes them less known.
Meanwhile, this very popular movie will eventually come out on DVD, then move to the “old” section of the neighborhood movie store. Eventually our documentary will come out, perhaps make a splash then also fade from the scene.
But the poverty won’t fade away, and if projections are correct, the one billion slum dwellers will grow to two billion and maybe more.
The power of media is to focus that spotlight. But that’s where it ends. To actually do something about it takes people who are committed to seeing real change.

"Poorism"

In case you’ve never heard of it, “poorism” is a term used to describe what some tour companies and individuals are now doing: offering tours to foreign visitors of the poorest slums in the city.

Mumbai, for example, has tours through the slums. Visitors come from around the world to gawk at the malnourished children and see the cardboard and iron-sheet structures that they call home. Some think this is a good form of responsible tourism as it exposes the more affluent to the reality of hundreds of millions of people worldwide. Others call it exploitation.

One person in India took this accusation of exploitation one step farther by saying,

"If you were living in Dharavi, in that slum, would you like a foreign tourist coming and walking all over you?" he sputtered. "This kind of slum tourism, it is a clear invasion of somebody's privacy....You are treating humans like animals."

A tourism official called the tour operators "parasites [who] need to be investigated and put behind bars," and a state lawmaker has threatened to shut them down.

Those are the thoughts I had in mind as all 10 of our students here in Manila accompanied our team of three into the garbage dump and slum in Cavite. We brought them in so they could experience first-hand what their teammates were filming, and to get a taste of what life is like in such a place.

Was this irresponsible “poorism”?

I sure hope not.

Did it feel weird to go in with 11 foreigners while dozens of Filipinos of all ages were scrambling … again… in the muck and garbage to accrue the approximately $1 or $2 that most of them get by on a day? You bet it did. Ask any one of those students and they’ll tell you of feeling out of place, perhaps a bit exploitive.

At the same time, ask any one of those students if they have different thoughts now of what a slum is, of the reality of its awfulness, of the horrid, filthy conditions these people live in, and you might wonder if they’ll ever stop talking. These folks have now experienced firsthand what this stuff is all about.

I think there was a cost for us as Westerners to gain this empathy and understanding. The cost was some of the dignity of the people living in that slum. They knew what was going on. They knew rich people were coming to look at poor people. That’s a definite cost.

Was it worth it?

Time will tell. These students are on their way to becoming leaders in many different arenas of life. This experience won’t leave them. Perhaps they won’t leave the experience. Perhaps one, or two, or all of them, will use their considerable gifts and talents in the years to come to make a difference.

In my mind, that’s different than “poorism.” That’s tourism with a purpose.

A Work in Progress

The Slum Documentary Film Project is a work in progress. As time goes on, the website will reflect more content and greater depth. It will offer a richer viewing experience. As interviews are conducted--with slum dwellers and experts--that material will be posted here. As images and video clips are shot, portions will be put on the "media" page of this site. As we uncover new evidence in the growth of slums, we'll post that.
So the moral of this story is: Check back often to see what's happening. Over time, this should become a rich site not only to check the progress of this documentary film, but also to keep yourself informed of the story of slums in our world today.
Thanks for your interest.