Videos

The production we are currently working on is gaining momentum. We are slowly ticking off the episodes and the general look and feel of the project is coming together nicely. More importantly, we are meeting some of the most inspirational Namibians possible; ordinary folks doing extraordinary things. Their lives and their stories make for some very emotional filming and interviews. Due to the brevity of the shows, a lot of that meat lands on the cutting room floor. Nonetheless, we are very grateful to be a part of each of the participants lives for a day. They are so gracious about accepting us with our camera gear and lights and open their doors and hearts to us. That, above all, makes this a magical project.

Please head over to the link below (my company’s Facebook page) and take a look at these incredible stories. Let me know if they inspire you too…

PAGE TEN PRODUCTIONS

Deon

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Status Update

After a grueling second half to 2012, my fledgling video production company is seeing a bit of light. We have a wonderful project filming some of Namibia’s extraordinary ordinary people and creating five minute episodes from the material. There will be twenty one episodes in the series.

Below is a link to the first episode. I will update future episodes as they become available on the web. Please let me know your thoughts. Thank you.

Windhoek Lager Ambassadors

Finally – an explanation

It’s no secret I’ve not been active on my blog this year.  I can now offer a brief explanation.

 

My place of employment had some tough decisions to make.  In a nutshell, a restructure was called for.  That restructure meant my going from full-time employment there to being utilized on a freelance basis.  The change took effect on 01 July, but we all knew about it months ahead of time.  In anticipation of the shake-up in my life and the effects it would have, I started preparing early by channelling all of my energy into learning as much as I could about the entire spectrum of my trade.  See, if you do freelance videography in Namibia, your chances of surviving off a regular income are slim to zero.  I therefore considered, and after much hand-wringing, decided to start up a videography production company with one of my colleagues once our time at our previous place of employment lapsed.

 

We are in our first month now, and it is a scary ride so far.  As you can expect, starting up a business of your own takes up a lot of time and energy.  So much so that I’ve not been able to write or read very much for some time.  Of course, I’m hoping that all changes as quickly as possible and that my blog can once again become a part of my life and routine.

 

I want to thank all of those of you who continue to support me when I do post.  Please don’t see my absence from your own blogs as rejection – I dearly want to catch up with your exciting journeys.  You have all been so inspirational to me, and continue to be.  I value all of you.

 

For those of you who are interested, you can see our company showreel here: Page Ten Productions – Showreel
We also have a Facebook Page here: Page Ten Productions – Facebook
 

Thank you all once again for your marvelous support.  I will be back.

POW

I saw a Marine on my TV screen

On his knees, begging please

Release me, release me.

I saw men, shackled and cuffed, shuffle

In pain chained to the taint of their skin.

On their knees, they begged please,

Release me, release me.

I saw the ninety-nine percent torn from tents.

Maced in the face, teary-eyed for asking why

They were kicked to their knees and told to beg please,

Release me, release me.

Bradley, an apache; Assange, a messenger.

Hillary’s husband lied under oath.

Where is the hope?

The truth is proof that justice is a hoax.

I heard when Monica was on her knees Bill begged please,

Release me, release me.

I watch my son run in the wind and sun,

Under the African sky.

He is too young to know what is going on;

That we are all prisoners of a war we do not want.

The only way I can look him in the eye

Is to go down on my knees, and beg please,

Do not hate me.

By Way of Absence

I had to find myself

Back in the desert

So I hung around

‘Til the skies turned gray

Suicide in the rain

City streets wash

What remains

What remains?

I found myself underground

With commuters and the homeless

Restless travelers’ destinations

Built on broken dreams

Suicide in the rain

City streets wash

What remains

What remains?

I have to lose myself

Stand still in a storm

While flood waters rise

My illusion sinks

Suicide in the rain

City streets wash

What remains

What remains?

Coming Soon – Part 2

A couple of weeks ago some colleagues and I were filming a one minute ‘trailer’ for a non-existent television show. The post with my character’s picture is here – Coming Soon

This is one of the other characters as played by Callie, a colleague.

Photography: Andrew Robson
Model: Carel (Callie) Louw
Copyright: 2011

Strawberry – what my Daddy taught me

Continued from 12th and 13th December.
I am already halfway to my feet before I catch myself. This is none of my business. I sit down again. The trucker looks straight at me with icy eyes and cocks his head back; a challenge.
I hold his gaze for a moment, then look down at the menu. Its words swirl meaninglessly.
My Daddy taught me that to back down is cowardly. But my Daddy isn’t here. And he can’t remember how many times I saw, from the back seat of his car, his lights punched out in the parking lots of bars. Back then I’d started to plan how I would’ve handled those situations differently. This is one of those situations.
“Here we go,” she says sliding a cup of steaming coffee onto the table. “You having anything else?”
“A piece of that chocolate cake I saw when I came in?” I point towards the door.
Her space fills with stillness. I glance up. Her pen is aimed at a little white writing block she holds in front of her face. I can see her eyes looking over the top of the writing block. Looking right at me. I get that sense of being strangled again, of my blood heating up and running so fast through my brain that my mind feels light and dizzy.
“Sure,” she says putting the pen and paper into the opening of her apron. “Would you like some cream with that?”

Strawberry – trucker trouble

Continued from yesterday…
“Good morning, Sir. Have you been helped yet?” the drawl of her smoky voice has a history of poverty.
I shake my head, unwilling to trust my own voice. It feels like someone is strangling me. I am faint. My blood is boiling in my head.
“Hang on a sec for a menu, okay?” she says, then walks toward the till.
I am weakened and thrilled by the sight of her pert ass jiggle from side to side underneath her skirt. The backs of her nude, white legs, formless as pencils and so confident in their youthful stride, captivate me.
She whisks a menu from behind the counter and starts back. I avoid her eyes by looking elsewhere, only to see the trucker lick chocolate covered fingers with salacious delight as she passes by him. I bite my lip.
“Here we go,” she says placing the menu in front of me with a graceful sweep that brings with it a waft of her deodorant tainted sweat. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes.” It’s my voice. Sounds so foreign. Still, I avoid looking at her.
She walks off again. I peek.
“Hey, Honey,” the trucker grumbles, stopping her with a hand as she is just about past his booth.
She gasps. Even the kids in the background fall silent at the sound.
“How ‘bout another one just like that,” the trucker says and stabs his empty plate with a blunt, fat finger.
I am already halfway to my feet before I catch myself. This is none of my business. I sit down again. The trucker looks straight at me with icy eyes and cocks his head back; a challenge.