Appelez-moi Salma sur ARTE partout en Europe
C’est tout à fait par hasard qu’on a découvert hier que Appelez-moi Salma a joué sur ARTE les 9 et 16 novembre dernier! On savait déjà que la vente du film à la chaine franco-allemande avait été officialisée, mais on ne connaissait pas encore les dates de diffusion.
Hélas! on l’a découvert un peu trop tard… mais n’empêche, on est très heureux de savoir que tous les Européens on pu voir le film à la télé! En plus, ARTE en a fait la diffusion sur Internet jusqu’au 21 novembre. Quelqu’un s’est même amusé à copier le film et à mettre les 15 premières minutes sur YouTube.
Vue d’en Haut: Trailer
Here it is!
L’avant-première du documentaire aura lieu à Dijon le 3 Novembre prochain au Festival international du film d’aventure à Dijon en France.
Pour plus d’info cliquez ce lien.
Et cliquez ici pour lire un article sur le film et le projet
MERCI!!
Empress theatre music video
A couple of months ago i had the opportunity to be the cameraman for this video shoot. Pretty happy with the way it turned out. Thanks a lot to our friends at Bis Films for producing this clip.
Il y a quelques mois, j’ai eu l’opportunité d’être derrière la caméra lors d’un tournage vidéo. Je suis très content du produit final, merci à nos amis chez Bis Films pour avoir produit ce clip.
Interview on CBC radio’s Masala Canada
Hello,
If you have a few minutes to spare check out the interview i did on CBC radio’s Masala Canada
Click here to listen to it. I get on roughly 39 minutes into the show.
thanks again,
Another article about ‘Call me Salma’
Hello,
There’s a new article out about our documentary ‘Call me Salma‘. It was written for this week’s Concordian.
Thanks again,
Interview with BIS films
Hey there,
Katherine and Emmanuel of BIS films wrote a little blog post about who we are and what we do! Really appreciate the time they took to do this.
Click here to read their blog post!
Mohammed Alley: cabby and keeper of the night
It’s easy to spot the taxi cabs in this arctic town of 3500 people. Their cars and mini-vans account for almost half of the city’s traffic and their massive cab numbers are on their back windshield like numbers on a hockey jersey.
But what’s even more interesting are the people driving the cabs. There are two taxi companies in this small town, both run and driven almost exclusively by Muslim men. And interestingly enough, these are the men who know everything and everybody in town. They keep people moving, they keep the town on schedule and to a certain point, they keep the city in line.
Take Mohammed Alley, (no, it’s not spelt Ali) taxi cab number 8 and manager of United Taxi cab co. Lebanese by origin, he has been driving cabs here for the last 15 years and in turn saw his town change and grow. Generous and open, he invited me to sit in the passenger seat during one his Saturday night grave yard shifts. I was in for a ride.
He picked me up at 10pm, I barely have a chance to say hi, because he’s constantly getting phone calls from people wanting him to pick them up. His clients call him directly rather then by dispatch. He’s seen these people grow up, go to school, get jobs, have babies and has developed a close relationship with the community that he says ‘wouldn’t be possible if he was in any other town.’
He’s more then just a driver, he’s an adviser and counsellor. A few days back a girl entered his car with a severely swollen ankle. Although she was reluctant to go see a doctor, Mohammed almost without her consent brought her immediately to the hospital. Saturday night, we picked her up from the emergency, cast on her foot all she said was ‘Sorry Mohammed, you were right, I’m sorry!’
It’s 2am and as the bar closes, northern lights are shining bright above the street that everybody crowds onto. Suddenly two police cars arrive, like wolves to a weak herd of caribou, they look for an easy catch. But here comes Mohammed, cutting through the street telling people to stay out of trouble and to get into his mini-van. Here he is once more saving the day.
When people drink here, he keeps them in check. He tells them they drank too much, tells them to stay away from certain people, reminds them to wake up in the morning for work, school or practice. I wondered how the night would have been if he wasn’t around.
I could keep on writing but to be short, I would just like conclude this blog by mentioning a moment which for me symbolizes what this town is all about. It happened when Mohammed dropped off his neighbour, a small quiet Inuvialuit women. She slowly walked out, waved to Mohammed and said ‘Salam, Shukran!’ that’s ‘See you and thanks’ in Arabic. The world, cultures and people are changing and who would have thought that one day Inuvialuits would speak a bit of Arabic. As much as we need to preserve our cultures, languages and heritage we also need to be proud of the links and bonds we have created between them.
Prochain Blogue/Next blog: La mosquée/the mosque!
Just givin’r on the Dempster
Our parents got worried when we told them we were going to drive the infamous Dempster Highway from Dawson to Inuvik. The Dempster is a 700 km gravel road (or mud depending on the weather) that snakes it’s way through mountains, tundra and boreal forests of Northern Canada. There are no cities or towns along this highway expect for a pit stop at the half way mark called Eagle Plains (Stay tuned for a post about that!)
A view from the Dempster Highway of Tombstone National Park (yes this is a real picture we took ourselves! and no color correction!)
We were told to bring a satellite phone, extra tires, wood and a Sherpa guide in case something went wrong but unfortunately all we could afford was a bag of chips and some carrots. So we set off, naively driving into nowhere slipping our way through the nicest scenery I’ve ever seen.
And it’s only after we completed the drive that I realized how remote the arctic was. The Dempster was only completed in 1979 and is the only all-weather road that connects a few arctic communities to the remainder of the world, or should I say North America. The majority of all other first nation communities that are at this latitude or higher are only accessible by boat or plane, making their access to the south extremely slow or extremely expensive.
So that’s when I wondered, why did the communities of the Mackenzie-Beaufort Delta luck out on getting a road linking them to Canada and not others?? Are they cooler? Did they win a draw? It’s not hard to find out when you dig deeper, and no pun intended on that one, that the Dempster is more then just a road linking friendly communities and cultures together.
The fact is that during the 50 and 60’s geologist, researchers and whole slew of smart people concluded that there were vast and abundant resources available underneath their ground. Whether it’s minerals, gas or oil the MacKenzie Delta has it. And eager to get a hold on it, the Canadian government quickly decided to link this area to the south. So that’s why they cut through crazy landscapes to create an abnormally long and lost highway.
Eagle Plains: only safe spot on the Dempster
So what did this highway bring to these communities? How did it and how will it change them? I guess that’s a big question to answer and I’ll try, in the blogs to come, to shed a bit of light on this extremely complex issue. But for now I got to go. We took over 300 pictures along the Dempster and I can’t believe they’re real. That’s why I want to have a look at them… for a 3rd time today.
see you..
‘Be careful, some people might be wanted here!’
‘Be careful, some people might be wanted here!’ That’s what Al the gold miner told us after we took out our camera in the local bar of ‘Dodge’… or as tourists and everybody else calls ‘Dawson City’.
We arrived in town late afternoon after a very beautiful 5 hour drive from Whitehorse. After having heard so much about this town, I had built many pre-conceived notions, thinking it would be sort of a small Mont-Tremblant/Disney World, where the early 20th century architecture and style was maintained for the drones of tourists coming to see what the gold rush might of been. It is, to a certain point, true but there is raw and authentic feeling bubbling from this town that I’m having trouble explaining.
After having supper in a century old diner with loads of cowboy hat wearing German tourists, we left trying look for the locals. We walked around and heard some yelling coming from a dark musky bar.
We hesitated to enter at first, with the majority the patrons being native and middle aged, we felt out of place and almost unwelcomed. But we bit the bullet and asked for a beer. After having sat down we began speaking to the people next to us, who later introduced us to Al.
Al is the person we wanted to meet. Originally from Newfoundland he moved to Dawson many years ago to find work as a meat cutter. He later decided to change hats and begin work as a gold miner, yes there are still gold miners here.
Working 12 hour days, 7 days a week for 5 months straight in the summer, Al works in a ‘dry’ mine with 3 other colleges, one being the multimillionaire Australian owner. The camp is an hour away from Dawson, where they set up and live there for the majority of the summer. I say ‘dry’ mine, because alcohol, as he said was not welcome into his work place.
Al had a lot to say, so much that I won’t have time to write it all up in this blog. But the one thing that struck me was that he said he was related to one the man who lead the way for the Dempster Highway construction. Married to a local first-nations women, her grand-father had a trap line starting from Fort McPherson ending near Dawson City (nearly 800km long). The RCMP, basically followed his route and constructed a gravel road along his trap line.
He also mentioned that there was a small first-nations community just south of Dawson, where the real history was, he said. He promised to bring us there and show us where the natives where forced to live when the gold rush began, note that many still live there today.
That said, after hearing his stories, I realized that this city still had the heart and soul that we read of in history books. Excited we decided to take pictures in the bar, but soon after, Al brought Aude in a corner and tell her that she should be cautious of who she takes pictures of. That’s when Al said, ‘Some people might be wanted here!’ I’m getting chills… these are the next people we’ll have to meet.
p.s. did I say there’s a guy that lives in a cave?
The bar that told us stories
‘Call me Salma’ theme song \\ Chanson thème pour ‘Appelez-moi Salma’
Hey ,
Have a listen to the track ‘Salma’s Anthem’, the theme song for our documentary, produced by Jonathan Rist, who’s also known as Morbin.
You can also download the song by clicking the following link.
Ecoutez la chanson ‘Salma’s Anthem’, chanson thème de notre documentaire, composée par Jonathan Rist, aussi connu sous le nom de Morbin.
Vous pouvez télécharger la chanson en cliquant le lien suivant.
Article de Salma sur le site de Kalibre Québec
Psst! Jettez un coup d’oeil au site Kalibrequebec.com, il y a un bon article en ligne!!
Psst! If you have time, go and visit the website Kalibrequebec.com, there’s a good article online!!
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Rhapsodie-Mise à jour-Update
Comme vous le voyez, c’est évident que nous ne sommes pas trop actifs sur notre blogue ces temps-ci. Mais venez faire un tour sur notre blogue de Parole Citoyenne où il y a quelque chose de nouveau chaque semaine!
As you can see, it’s clear that we haven’t been to active on our blog these days. But come and take a look at our blog on Parole Citoyenne where we post something new every week!
à bientôt-see you soon
Voici un exemple d’un de nos derniers blogues/Here’s an example of one of our last blog posts
EVERGREEN DEMO!
The Evergreen demo is finally up!
After an exhaustive and emotional pre-shoot we managed
to pull something together and edit a short demo.
Watch it, talk about it, write about it,
thank you Salma and Pinky
Version française
thanks for watching
Part One – Dhaka Chronicles
Husain Amer, a friend from Montreal currently living in China, will be our guest writer for 4 little chronicles about Dhaka inspired by his visit in July.
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As the plane started to lower its altitude, I was able to look at Dhaka from the sky. It seemed as if the city was flowing on a river. The lights are low, close to the ground as there are no high rises, and some of them are flickering. It was as though I was watching fireflies sitting on a lake, while the moon reflected off the water in a dream like fashion.
I got picked up by Sam and Korvi who came along with Seb, giving us a ride back to Seb’s apartment where I will be crashing for the next 4 days. The city was dark during the ride but the geography is quite refreshing compared to Beijing. Palm trees and fresh air provided by all the greenery around and the humid wind blowing along. It was refreshing.
I didn’t want to sleep as I was too excited but did feel the need for some rest. The next morning, Aude, Seb and I headed out to “New Market”. On our way there, I got to see the city for the first time as it truly is, not quiet and sparsely populated like the night before but loud and packed with rickshaws and some cars and busses that don’t seem to ever stop, even when dropping off or picking up their customers.
I’ve taken the rickshaw rides 6 times today. I feel terrible about these short men peddling with all their strength, getting off the bike pulling when arriving at an uphill slop. The streets are simply packed with them and they are fashionably pimped up with glitter and silver ornaments to… I guess it adds some style to their ways.
We shopped in the markets for a while and during our visit, Seb and Aude’s tailor spotted them from across the mall and called them to invite us for tea. My first tea invite for this trip!! Hurray!! The tailor could speak some English, which is good compared to the rest of his competitors. I found it amusing when I asked him what his favorite meal was and he answered “rice and meat”. I guess I was expecting a name of a certain meal or something.
That night I decided to sleep on the living room floor. When it comes to fading to the dream world I need sound, noise, a constant stream of something, anything to get me to drift. Seb’s apartment is perfect for this. Their balcony overseas a lake and at night, the local Bangladeshis are all around it sipping tea and chatting. The sound of the rickshaw bells and honks coming from afar definitely got me to flow away nicely, in a trance which I’m sure I will miss once I leave.
trying to get our heads around it…
As it was described in our last blog, the more we immerse ourselves into our project, the more we realize we don’t know. The more we get to know our subjects, the more we realize they live a complex, multi-layered life. This consequently only continues us to ask more questions, rather then giving us the answers we want to get.
And as much as this might seem frustrating I’m extremely happy that this is happening, because this seriously forces us to think of what we want to show and for what reasons. Many people always ask us, ‘so why Hijras? What brought you here to do this?’ This answer is pretty simple since after having visited Bangladesh, we heard a bit about them. While doing research back home little information was found, but what we did find was extremely fascinating and vague. All the elements of mystery that shrouded the Bangladeshi Hijras made us believe that they would be perfect subjects for our documentary. We were excited to be get information that no one had previously gotten and even more excited to show it the way we wanted.
Amongst all of this we’ve come to realize that we are faced with a huge dilemma. We want to create a documentary that is told like a fictional story, i.e. no interviews, no one looking at the camera describing facts.. etc.. The last thing we wanted were specialists describing and categorizing facts. So this said, in order to create a compelling story with a narrative arc; we’ll therefore need, to a certain extent, to romanticize the story, i.e. create mystery and above all entertainment.
But this is where our problem lies; we continue to preach that we want to show that the Hijras are individuals just like us, who are in search of love, friendship and above all happiness. Filming them through our narrative story-telling lens might only personify them into exactly what we don’t want them to be shown as: mysterious secretive and different.
Although I often lose sleep thinking about what I have just expressed, I’m still confident that we can cross this fine line between demystification and romantization and give the audience something representational as well as entertaining.
Only time will tell, inchallah!
Joya reads out the rules and duties to the new elected members of the hijra group (Shojeton Shilpi Shanga)
