Blog love for Tapestries

Tapestries is in post-production (a HUGE shout-out to Kent and the amazing team at Fat Box, and our editors Robin Chin and Vanessa Perez!)... feels like the beginning of the home stretch. From the first meeting with Betty Makoni in April 2007 and beginning of pre-production in Summer '07 to now feels like a long journey. Now the wait begins...

The ability to tell such a powerful and important story... we're excited, to say the least!

The blogosphere is excited too this week. Following is a snapshot of the collective bear hug the project and its director received:

- Amy Jussel's Shaping Youth blog... an excerpt:

Obviously, it’s a touchy subject to awaken the world to the story of two child abuse survivors fighting to expose these horrors, but Michealene has managed to ‘pay it forward’ with profound positivity by giving people the tools to engage at IndieGoGo, a cool social media film fundraising site for supporters like me to make a difference.

- Mamalicious blog... an excerpt:

I’m so lame. Tapestries of Hope has been on my to-blog list for a minute, but I hadn’t gotten around to it because it deserves much more than a rush job, and that’s where I am these days. But Amy Jussel at ShapingYouth has done the damn thing–and done it right.

- Ideas for international development blog (blog in French).

On another positive note, Tapestries is the first movie to repeat online fundraising success on the new site IndieGoGo! Check out the project's page and get involved today. You can choose the movies that get made.

Thanks a ton for all the support. Stay tuned for more updates.

We love you too!

Cinematical covers TAPESTRIES Trailer launch

Cinematical, the top blog covering independent film, makes a mention of the recent Tapestries trailer launch on YouTube. From the post by Kim Voynar:

While it's always fun to enjoy a big, effects-laden blockbuster or the latest rom-com at the theater, it's little films like this, driven by the filmmaker's passion for the project, that really speak to the dedication it takes to make a doc. like this.

Stay tuned for news and updates throughout the year! Contact us to get involved!

Other blog mentions about Tapestries trailer launch:

- George Karahalios' blog
- Srihari's blog
- TED Fellow Ethan Zuckerman's blog (I left my heart in Accra)
- AfricanLoft feature article

TAPESTRIES' teaser trailer out in time for the holidays

The exclusive TAPESTRIES OF HOPE teaser trailer is now live! Check it out and spread the word...

Expose the myth. End Abuse. Donate.

Thanks a lot for your support, and happy holidays!

Update 1: The trailer subtitle text has been updated and the new embedded video is the updated trailer. Enjoy!

Update 2: Tapestries trailer honored on YouTube as one of the top videos to watch on Mobile!

Women's Radio News... radio interview!

Check out the Women's Radio News radio interview conducted by Pat Lynch (editor of 'Speak Up') with Michealene C. Risley!

Topics include distributing Flashcards to the members of the Girl Child Network, arrest of the crew in Zimbabwe, help from a volunteer who knew of the crew through Facebook, the current situation in Africa and the efforts to tell the story of TAPESTRIES OF HOPE.

Invited blog on Huffington Post - personal recounting of events during shoot in Africa!

This is the first time that I have used my pen to write an original thought since my arrest. I will never take for granted the power of free-thinking or the ability to speak of my experience without fear of repercussions, torture or death. I type these words with a great deal of reverence, responsibility and respect. I borrow from Edward Bulwer-Lytton:

Beneath the rule of men entirely great,
The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold
The arch-enchanters wand! -- itself a nothing!
But taking sorcery from the master-hand
To paralyse the Cæsars, and to strike
The loud earth breathless! -- Take away the sword
States can be saved without it!

Read the entire piece on The Huffington Post. If you are interested in donating, you may do so directly off the blog.

An interesting week...

Admittedly, the last week has been a crazy one. Director calling a producer from a Zimbabwe prison and crew detained for 24 hours after day-long interrogations isn't exactly dream scenario for any project. Here's an excerpt from one of the press reports:

Internationally-acclaimed child activist Betty Makoni was arrested in Harare on Tuesday. Two other women - American filmmakers - were also arrested on the same day.

According to media reports, 15 state security agents descended on the home of Betty Makoni on 21 August 2007. They arrested her for allegedly bringing in foreigners (the two American women) to cover Zimbabwean issues without state accreditation. The two women were actually documenting the experiences of Girl Child Network that enabled the organization to win a World Prize on Child Rights for Zimbabwe.

If you are a member of the media and would like to contact Michealene Risley, feel free to email michealene(at)freshwaterspigot(dot)com directly for inquiries or if you would like to schedule an interview.

The crew did come back with footage from filming at the end of 3 very difficult days.

UPDATE:
Interview With Michealene Risley (on Voice of America)
Listen to Interview With Betty Makoni

POSTCARDS FROM AFRICA - #7 of Michealene Risley's live-blogs from Zimbabwe

Ed. Note: Sincere apologies for the delay in posting this. These blogs were written during the production/filming of TAPESTRIES OF HOPE in Zimbabwe. Between sporadic electricity in Africa and getting to blogs back in California, we lost a couple of days. Afterwards, the crew was arrested and interrogated by the Zimbabwe Police, and the blogs were temporarily taken down out of concern for their safety.

8/18/07
What strikes me the most about the young girls at the empowerment village is their tenacity. The poverty is readily apparent in their torn and worn-out clothing. There is only one girl with shoes. The underwear we have brought here from the US has been enthusiastically received. Each of the girls has a story surrounding rape, AIDS, or being orphaned. The youngest girl at this village in Rusape is now three years old.

After our first day of singing and blowing bubbles, the girls greet me enthusiastically. They laugh at my attempts to speak their language. They are kids who laugh and tease each other and are remarkably self-reliant. Each of the girls seem protective of each other, the little ones are always being held and taken care of. Once again I am humbled by their ability to handle their circumstances.

It is difficult not to want to take them all home, to ease their suffering and give them a better chance at life. When I hear the squeals of their laughter as they chase bubbles, it eases the heaviness of my heart.

I have fallen in love with the littlest one. Her name is Runyarara Makoni. GCN has given her Betty's surname as her own. She is a tiny, beautiful little one with a knowing light in her eyes and she is quite shy at first. After she is comfortable, she loses her shyness. Her head is shaven, as all the girls here. It is too costly to do anything else with their hair.

Runyarara was found abandoned in Rusape. She has been raped. Both her parents are dead. No one really knows how they died but most likely from AIDS or Malaria, or both. A man has come to the village to claim her as his own, but the staff and Betty believes he is her rapist and refuse to let him take her. She has not been tested for HIV as the test is costly.

The girls and I sat by the side of a hut while Lauren filmed us. The sun was setting in front of us and you could look out and see the breathtaking valley below the Chitsotso mountain. We all sang the song which the girls have created. It is a song that they have created to their rapists and abusers. As we sing they translate for me. The words go something like this:

A little baby
Why did you rape a baby?
Why did you rape her while she is so young?
Jail the rapist, arrest the rapist
Cut his penis
We don't want to be fondled
We don't want people fondling our breasts or our bodies.

As we wrap up the day singing this song, there is a little five year old named Tendai. She can move her hips and dance amazingly. Everyone shouts for her to get up and dance. Then all of us get up to dance. It is impossible not to feel a spark of hope that through the Girl Child Networks these girls will heal and have some happiness in life. Some of them are so inspired by Betty they want to join her crusade and continue to fight against these crimes. The spark of hope ignites in my heart and there laughter fans the flames. I still want to take them all home though…

Michealene Risley

POSTCARDS FROM AFRICA - #6 of Michealene Risley's live-blogs from Zimbabwe

Ed. Note: Sincere apologies for the delay in posting this. These blogs were written during the production/filming of TAPESTRIES OF HOPE in Zimbabwe. Between sporadic electricity in Africa and getting to blogs back in California, we lost a couple of days. Afterwards, the crew was arrested and interrogated by the Zimbabwe Police, and the blogs were temporarily taken down out of concern for their safety.

8/18/07
Sleep had eluded me in this barren beauty of a God-forsaken place. My mind rocks back and forth with the intensity of an animal caged. I am imprisoned, myself.

Last night in the comfort of a bed, I vacillated between feeling grateful and ashamed. How was I lucky enough to be born in a place where the very basics of survival come easy? Why me? Why not someone else?

I am grateful that my life has been less about these hardships, these difficulties that my parents faced. Both of my parents have scars from the Great Depression. My father started selling newspapers on the street corners at five years old. There were nine children in his house, every penny counted. My mother's father died in a gas explosion at Chrysler Corporation. Her mother became a widow with three children and no job. So I understand and grew up with some understanding of hardship and suffering. But nothing compares to the suffering I see here.

My feelings of personal shame run deeper. That shame has to do with the country I was born in: America. It is my country, and my next-door neighbors', and the people who live across the street from us. We have a serious disease that is more ravaging than the illness and poverty I see here: apathy. I despair, even in Zimbabwe, of the world's opinion of us. The voices of Zimbabweans are strangled by persecution and poverty. Our voices are forgotten behind a fascination and celebrity adulation, by drug-induced athletes who are poor role models and our ever elusive thirst to make money and buy things.

I cannot comprehend why the world continues to fight against the equality of women and making personal choices about our bodies. In America, the majority supports the right to choose - yet, a small portion of people continue to force their opinions on us all. Their arrogance makes them blind.

A woman yesterday in Harare took her newborn, placed it in a plastic bag and put it in the garbage to die. When arrested, she was asked why she killed her child. She said that it was impossible to feed the child. The Magistrate is sending her for a mental evaluation and he will not address the complexity of the issues; in this way, his response is very American. Issues are not black and white but with many shades of grey. The woman did not want her child to suffer from starvation - I understand that. What a horrible decision to have to consider at all!

We can send spaceships into space and have Rovers land on Mars but we can't stop the rape and sexual abuse of women on this planet. And because I mention this, someone will insist that I am a feminist, like the word is a slur and the request is unimaginable. I am confused.

We were in Chitungwiza yesterday. I saw this precious little five year old. She came in the Girl Child Network white van with "Mr. Rescue". That is the nickname his fellow GCN people call him. The girl was tentative. She had a light brown dress and limped noticeably as she walked towards us from the car. If you look into her eyes, you could not help but feel the pain. She had these knowing brown eyes that were shell-shocked. Her stepfather had raped her. She is being tested for HIV and has genital warts on her vagina that are so bad that it has forced her to limp. I wanted to weep and hold her in my arms and take her home with me. I wanted to promise her the world was going to change, that we adults were smart and that we could stop these acts and educate people so that this never happens again. I had to stop the words from tumbling from my mouth unheeded. I can't promise what I cannot deliver.

"Practice what you preach", I tell my boys. So, I stayed silent and held my grief.

Michealene Risley

POSTCARDS FROM AFRICA - #3 of Michealene Risley's live-blogs from Zimbabwe

Ed. Note: Sincere apologies for the delay in posting this. These blogs were written during the production/filming of TAPESTRIES OF HOPE in Zimbabwe. Between sporadic electricity in Africa and getting to blogs back in California, we lost a couple of days. Afterwards, the crew was arrested and interrogated by the Zimbabwe Police, and the blogs were temporarily taken down out of concern for their safety.

8/15/07
Johannesburg Airport was a wild cornucopia of bright colors and an assortment of people from all over the world. This airport is one of the major hubs on the continent; there was an electric, contagious energy about it. A woman’s voice with a British accent continued talking intermittently on the loudspeakers. “Frankfurt passengers Rigell please report to your departure gate, Paris flight arriving at Gate 75”. The sounds, the languages, and the colors of the native dress were almost overwhelming.

Headscarves, native drums, books on Nelson Mandela were everywhere. A collective pride echoed through the terminals. You could not walk ten feet within the airport without an employee that was ready to help you. The airport staff wore these vests over their clothing, with a faint glow from the yellow reflection tape; the kind of vests we might see on traffic workers in the United States.

Everywhere I walked, people actively asked where you were going. Two women had just come back from a Safari in Zimbabwe. They had hand-carved walking canes, with the signature of their maker, Jobu, at the end of the stick. There were lion teeth marks, as well! Both women lifted the sticks to show me the teeth marks. Apparently, the lions liked to chew on the sticks when people would take their walks. I could not imagine how that actually worked, but nonetheless it fueled my imagination.

One tall young man asked me if I was to go hunting in Zimbabwe. No, I nodded, surprised that I could consider this option. I asked, “What would they do with the carcass after it is shot?” He shrugged, “I do not know, but after you shoot the lion, you take a picture.”

After almost two days of traveling, we finally boarded the last plane for Harare. The plane was small and somewhat empty. I immediately noticed the difference in the atmosphere on the plane as we prepared for landing. As we descended, I looked out the window of the plane and noticed barely any lights; no skyline, not even a sunset. Compared to the tall skyscrapers and the “scene” of Johannesburg, this was quite a shift. It felt like we had just left Downtown Oz, and slid into a bad B-movie. I could physically feel the change as well.

My assistant Lauren and I looked at each other a bit nervously. When we departed the plane, again there were many airport employees in yellow traffic vests, but no one was smiling. Each of them lined up against the wall - suspicion their only form of greeting. At this point, I began to question my own sanity. Of course, I would not go to a country that was not safe...I thought.

When I went through immigration the woman asked me “whom are you visiting.” I quietly said “Betty.” The worker looked up, “Betty Who?” I said “Betty Makoni,” hesitantly, not sure if that response would land me in jail. She said, “The one that does the Girl Child Network?” “Yes” I nodded solemnly. She nodded and let me through.

After discovering one bag of luggage was missing we filed a claim, and immediately went out to meet Betty. She had her hair curled up, looking quite glamorous, and beside her was her husband, Ivan. Ivan loaded the luggage in their car. Like England, we left the airport driving on the left side of the road, something that always takes getting use to. The streets were deserted. Betty said, “It is like a graveyard here; no one is about because of the fear. It was more than deserted; there was a palpable damper in the air.

Betty reiterated that we are safe. She has constant protection with her, probably the best in the country. “I have been under surveillance from the government for at least three years”, she said. I anxiously look back over my shoulder.

Investigative reporter, I am not.

More soon...

Michealene Risley

"I AM DAILY ROBBED OF MY INNOCENT GIRLS" by Betty Makoni in memory of little girls who died as a result of rape

Death, death like Brutal Brutus
Remember the historical bloody murder
So cruel and so unkind
Uncaring and no courtesy
You come like a robber by the night
To rob me of my passion, my lifeline
My girls my little innocent girls
I am daily robbed of my innocent girls

Two of them I remember clinging to breath
Faith the little baby girl from Rusape rural
Watched her taken from the freezing cold
Just wrapped round with torn rags
By the arms grandma held her
She wept endlessly, flows and flows of tears
I cuddled her into my own hands
Into the car we drove to the graveyard
There thousands of other little girls heard me make them prayers
If no life dignity , then last body viewing your last dignity Feyi
I saluted you my innocent girl, Faith
I am daily robbed of my innocent girls

From Norton, mid July 2004 broke news of one Norton girl
He raped her, brutally murdered her
He wanted her genital organs for ritual purposes
Such beauty, innocence swamped into a coffin
What loss, grief, death, murder, brutal murder
The worst murder, rapist he is
Some let my little girls live on after rape, the first murder
This one raped, extracted bodily parts, murdered her
Reason not pronounced for this is brutal murder
Pain, panic, my little girls perish just so
Oh my own little girls, my innocent little girls my own life
I am daily robbed of my innocent girls

Wish they were all here to sing, “Betty Makoni----“
Like you they initially murdered me
Memory from Chivhu murdered , infected with the deadly virus
Died, too scared to break silence, too intimidated
Simply said, “ Girl Child Network should continue”
Spirit lingers on my little girls, so brave so strong
Endured it all, injured you were, reason not pronounced
Male dominance, overpowering the most vulnerable
I am robbed of my little innocent girls

Totally robbed, just remnants and girls’ memories
Daily raped, used, abused, overused
Daily cornered, sexually harassed, suffocated
Reason not pronounced, just brutal rape and murder
As if we only the desires men hunger for
So many infected and affected by AIDS
They think they are a cure for AIDS
How dare I let go robbers, rapists of my little innocent girls
Next time you rob, you rape one of them
If not death then curse you for life
My sword up, my dagger up
Communities swords up, their daggers up
Up forever by our front doors
To stop this robbery, brutal murder of my innocent girls
Sick and tired of this daily robbery of my innocent girls

One day we assemble my little girls
Raped, half murdered from all walks of life
With tears flowing down our cheeks
We want justice, compensation and compassion
Wear your black in memory of Faith, Memory, Isabel and them all
For they died, fighting, struggling
March we will do to the fathers of this country
Every bail should be reversed
Raped, half murdered by rapists, murderers
Show them our tattered torn genital organs
What brutality, cruelty, for murder is rape
Rape is murder, oh no murder is rape
I am daily robbed of my innocent little girls

Way home, way to school
Tie them innocent souls to your hands
Tell them Betty Makoni witnesses so many rape cases of minors daily, hourly
She mourns, weeps even more and more
This is death of my passion, robbed of my constituency
Armour of my activism, my little girls, my little innocent girls
I am very bitter, angered, evoked
For I am robbed of my little innocent girls

(This poem was written by Betty Makoni – Director of Girl Child Network in memory of little girls who died as a result of rape)

Betty Makoni putting a stop to Zimbabwe's rapes

At the end of the summer, I am planning on going to Zimbabwe to film a documentary about Betty Makoni and the Girl Child Network. Betty is an incredible human being. I came to know Betty in March of 2007 through an introduction by my friend, Paola Gianturco. Last year, Paola and I had gone to a Global Fund for Women event in San Francisco. It was at that luncheon that she had mentioned the plight of young girls in Zimbabwe. She spoke of Africa’s traditional healers who were guiding AIDS infected men in Zimbabwe to rape virgins to cure their disease; this includes their own daughters. I was horrified, but having had tremendous luck in catching every exotic parasite when I traveled internationally, I did not even think of going to Africa.

About a year later, Paola invited me to meet her at the International Women’s Day 2007 event presented by IDEX at the World Affairs Council in San Francisco, featuring Betty Makoni. When I called IDEX for a ticket, Sarah Dotlich, who is the Africa Program Director, answered the phone. Less than a week later and the morning of Betty’s speaking event, I found myself sitting across from Betty Makoni and Sara. Wow. It happened so fast. Betty stood with this big hug smile and lots of black hair, pulled together in a pony tail. I could feel her determination, and she was so genuine in her passion and beliefs. We shared our childhood stories and talked about sharing her story with the world. I gave her my short film on child-sexual abuse, "Flashcards" and she held it to her chest. The act of clutching those materials to her chest was so endearing to me! She actually valued a film and curriculum that helped educated people on abuse, something that has not been my experience in the United States. I suggested I ship the materials to Zimbabwe so that she did not have to carry them with her. She said no. She did not want them out of her hands.

That night, she was introduced at the World Affairs Council event by Walter Turner, who is a professor of History and Ethnic Studies at the College of Marin and Chair of the Department. He is also the President of the Board of Directors for Global Exchange. As these two individuals engaged in conversation and I listened to Betty talk, I started to weep. I don’t know what made me cry, as I am a public speaker and I talk about my own sexual abuse as a child to large audiences often. I even co-authored a book called, “This Is Not The Life I Ordered”, which talks about my abuse. Here I was being reduced to a puddle by her fierce protectiveness of the girls and her absolute conviction. She didn’t get caught up in the feminist bullshit that many of us do in the United States. “Women have a voice” she says as a matter of fact, “and I am going to die using it if I have to”.

Since Betty has gone home, we have been coordinating the details and logistics for the trip and documentary. I have recently asked her to start sharing her daily stories so that I can share them with others. I get notes from her when she has electricity. Last week she wrote me from her computer in the dark. Here is what she wrote:

“Today, I am out to help in the burial of a ten year old girl. She died today of HIV and AIDS as a result of rape. Her body has been lying in the home for 6 hours because due to poverty they could not afford the funds to hire a truck to take the body away. I arrive there at 10 pm and give some help. Tomorrow the uncle buries her and what pain I have to see such innocence lost. I will pay my courtesy call to the girl and try to make her a decent burial and eternal rest. Then this Sunday in Rural Mutasa, we will go to a village where a church leader allegedly raped 7 girls and he is behind bars. Two of them were herding cattle and one girl took her torn clothes with blood stains and this must have traumatized a lot of people-it is so sad.

I will be back on Monday and pass through the Girls Empowerment Village and meet rape survivors you will all meet when you come.

I will email about my experiences and what I would have seen. This is part of what I enjoy doing, being in the remote parts of the country listening to many stories and offering help wherever I can. That way I heal. I just leave my home without anywhere specific to go.”

This is the beginnings of an amazing story that needs to be told. Help us do that.

You can send a donation to the Girl Child Network through FreshWater Haven.

Please make your check out to: FreshWater Haven
Mail to:
455 Old La Honda Road
Woodside, CA 94062

More to come…