Below is a no-budget video I shot for a reggae artist last February. I met him two years ago on my first trip to Malawi. He was walking around a cafe selling his cassette and I bought a couple as souvenirs. I ran back into him last November and now I'm his number one supporter. Malawians are generally very nice people but this guy is NICE, super warm guy. In exchange for the video, he's agreed to let me use his music for my documentary, which I'm really excited about. This video will also run on Malawian TV where no-budget is the standard. The videos aren't sleek, but they charm the hell out of me, like Spike Jonze doing Fatlip before it was postmodern. This one was shot in a day and a half with about 25 dollars. I rented the radio he's carrying to use as playback, so he's actually listening to the song on that player as he sings along. Fitzgerald's record rocks, so anybody who wants a copy, I'm selling them and sending the money back to Fitz so he can make his next record. He only needs about 300 dollars to do the whole recording. He writes a lot of songs about poverty, which he knows all about; this song is about a bird that's had its nest destroyed. Anybody interested can just drop me an email at cykuck@gmail.com, ten bucks plus shipping. The image here is a new CD cover I made for him from a picture taken the night of the video shoot.
Production Budget Outline, and Post Workflow
Back from Malawi Feels good to be back home, but always hard to let go of the daily interest of a new place. Would like to thank everyone who purchased 'The Troubles in Zolokere' DVD, so far we've raised several hundred dollars for the school project in the village of Khutamadji (Malawi) through the sale of the disc. Peace Corps Volunteer Jake Wilson (http://www.malawijake.honkatonk.com) has done an amazing job implementing this project. Being there in person and seeing first hand the difficulties, I can say frankly, I don't know how he's doing it.
The village name, Khutamadji, means 'full of water'. In the rainy season the youngest kids from this village can't always make the 4k walk to the next village where there's another school, so this new building means they don't have to. The new structure also gives the community a center for meetings and activities where there was nothing before. Considering the entire budget of the project is around 20k, the money being raised with this DVD makes a big difference. A few hundred dollars goes a long way, so thanks again to those who bought it and to those who will.
The last weeks of shooting were intense. Tony Bomber's came in second place after a big controversy. Another team threw their last game, which locked the main rivals hold on first. It's complicated stuff, apparently money was exchanged and a near riot ensued at the final game as all the animosity came out. Sorting out all the details in the film is going to be tough, but I can't complain, my big worry was that nothing would happen at all. Over the next few weeks I'll be posting the best photos from the trip starting later this week. For now here's a picture of the school and a guy working at the kiln next to the school. They actually had to make the bricks on site, by hand.
Thanks again to those who purchased the DVD, it feels good to be helping out.
Roots Reggae: Last Words from Malaw
Spent all day yesterday shooting a music video for a local reggae musician here in Mzuzu. He's a friend named Fitzgerald, I want to use his music in the doc, so in exchange I'm shooting this for him. The videos on TV here are mostly just master shots with the artist standing on a hill or sidewalk dancing and singing. I love them myself, but they aren't commercial at all. I hope this makes an impression. We shot in his neighborhood, which is a slum. Looks rough, but it's full friendly people and full of life. Morning was terrible. Kids crying, kitchen smoke blowing all over, light problems, rain. By afternoon I chilled out and started tossing out any too-complex ideas and went for what I could get. We did a set of shots on bicycle taxis, a bunch of kids at a day care, a crowd in the street and my favorite; a kid doing a barefoot solo dance on a porch at night. Tonight is the closing scene, a night time bar. Tough because of the lack of light and electricity outlets. Spent a bunch of time two days ago going through a hardware market putting together light sockets with extension cords. Made some diffusion sheets with canvas and watercolor. So far some of it looks really good. Tomorrow back to the monsoon ravaged village. Rain is destroying everything; roads, bridges and crops.
One more week to finish shooting the doc, lots of loose ends and a three way tie going into the final game. Last week Jake staged a protest against a local team, a year ago they caused a riot and threw bricks at people, so Jake refused to let them play on the local ground. He drove his truck onto the field just as the game started and refused to let them play. It was a scrimmage match, so no one was there except the team and Jake. When I showed up he was basically alone with a wiffle ball bat facing off a whole football team, epic stuff and fairly dangerous. As a friend I was proud of him and as a filmmaker he gave me a gift from God.
Realized this three months has been really good for me, feel like I'm getting grad school washed off and behind me. Forgetting all the hard work and misery and now seeing more and more how well that school shaped me. Still make tons of mistakes but it feels good to finally have some of the tools.
Back home Feb 28th.
Lightning Bombs and Botsi Flies
I think there are fleas in my bed. I'm laying here under a mosquito net with a headlamp on reading. Every now and then I can feel something jump off me. We're in the village still, the rainy season is running at full steam, sometimes it comes down so hard I get nervous the roof may cave in. Earlier this week there was a lightning strike so close that I sprinted out the back door into the rain. It sounded like a bomb went off. Shooting is plugging along, I think I've shot around 35 hours now. There's been a couple bloody accidents on the soccer field during games, some big arguments between teams and the ref, and it looks like the drama can only escalate as the season enters its final weeks.
I've done three or four more interviews with people surrounding the team and some of them have dropped some heavy dope about life here. One of the most interesting things I've noticed is how well some people understand the predicaments they're in. The assistant coach/team doctor is a subsistence farmer with no farming equipment or pack animals, but he has a clinical understanding of the economic forces at play in his life. It doesn't make common sense to sit with a guy in his mud brick house with a grass roof who can talk like Jeffrey Sachs.
A couple weeks ago I noticed a little bump on my back that itched. It didn't look like much so I let it go, but it kept getting bigger and itchier. One of the local guys took a look at it and it turned out to be a botsi fly. They lay their eggs in damp clothing. I must have put a shirt on before it was completely dry and the eggs got into my skin. One on my chest and two on my back. Issac is one of the soccer players from the team, guy has fingers like pliers. He squeezed out three little maggots, nasty but harmless. I could feel the biggest one working on me, moving around in there so it was a relief to get them out.
Tomorrow we'll make the long drive out of the valley to town, I'm excited to eat meat and drink a fanta. This next cycle of shooting I hope to get further in with a few of the women I'm following, one is HIV positive and taking ARVs. To talk to her you think her life is easy, but she's got six kids no husband and farms for survival. The ARVs are a pretty new thing here, 18 months ago when I visited they weren't available, so its a profound development.
Whisky and Coke Christmas
Was hit by some kind of funk on the 23rd. Got a pretty good fever going and had the weird sick dreams that always follow suit. Seems like the standard issue stuff, but its no fun at all. The bathroom is a key shaped hole in a concrete lid over a hole in the ground. At night, its pretty heavy, big insects hanging around. By Christmas morning thought I'd bounced back, so Jake and I got into a bottle of Knob Creek I brought for the holiday. Probably a little too early though since even now I'm still a little weak. All the same, happy with things and having a lot of fun. I've got around 20 hours of footage so far, some I know is good and what makes me happy is that a lot of it is pretty funny. The problems here are truely heavy, so I'm glad to be getting the lighter sides of life as well.
I'm continually impressed by the people here. They're strong as hell. Chatwa is the team captian. The night before one of the games, he slept under a tree in the dirt while it was raining then got up, farmed a little bit, ate a big chunk of boiled corn mash then led the team against the local rivel. He's about six inches shorter than me, but seems much larger.
Got some good news today, the Orphans will screen at the Pompidou Modern Art Museum in Paris. So damn amazing. Also sounds like the premier in Lithuania went really well. Both the actors spoke and I guess they were happy about it all.
Hope everybody has a great new year, back to the village tonight after another repair to Jake's truck.
Found: Ancient British Pregnancy Magazine Serving Villager for 15 Years
Declared war on the night time insects that cruise through the giant openings into Jakes little mud brick house in the village. So far have taken out at least five wasps, a giant millipede thing, the biggest cricket like creature I've ever seen, a scorpion, a bunch of beatles and some beefy roaches. Guess with the rainy season hitting top speed, all the bugs are shagging like mad. But getting used to it. At the dinner table last week smashed a roach with my glass and continued eating with an appetite. Its getting normal. Shooting is going well. Have a few priceless moments on tape already. Talking with a newly wed man about sex (background for the HIV angle) he told me masturbation is, "a good system" and a couple days later brought over a magazine from 1983 written for pregnant woman. Yes, he's been using it to his own ends since he was 15. Men are all the same!
Dust and dirt only real issues since it might kill the camera. Otherwise, steady as she goes. Back to the village tomorrow morning.
End of Week One, Shooting the Bush League
Been in Zolokere for one week. Shot much more than expected. Origional plan was to take some time to survey things, but its all happening fast. Following the local soccer team and trying to tell the story of HIV through the players lives. From afar didn't have a concrete approach, being here seems like a no brianer, though its still tough going. Rainy season is ratcheting up daily. The afternoon sky is a showcase of dramatic cloud formations.
Yesterday evening, driving across valley floor, dusk light, a figure came out of the bushes and laid on the dirt road in front of us. Thought it was a teenage boy pranking us. A second figure came out and dragged the first off the path, as we roll by I could see it was a woman. The second figure called out. It was a sick woman trying to kill herself she explained. The whole thing went down in a strangely everyday way. My admiration for the natural surroundings feel frivolous.
Today in the medium size town called Mzuzu, two hours out of village. Charging batteries, then back in tomorrow or tonight.
From Munich Int. Student Film Fest, Last Day ::
Major improvements. Thursday was a train toward the Alps to see Ludwig's famous castle. Kitsch as can be, but being there, with dramatic mountain tops above and long green valleys below, and feeling the mass of the stone work, was impressive. Next day found the little river here in Munich where they surf a standing wave. Hypnotic. They tie an apparatus to the base of the bridge with climbing ropes, jammed by water pressure, it forms a little two/three foot standing wave. Its mostly one at a time, guys and a couple of girls. They were polite and so was the surfing.
The films went from bad to mind blowing. Monday they started with all these slow pace, Eastern European block house stories. Like dentistry to watch. By Thursday they'd screened a couple films that could hang with the pros. 35mm shoots, full crews, name actors, art direction and pretty solid writing and good editing; impressive. All the same, it was much better on the days without any films. Talking to people from all over, without the interference of competition, was nice.
Out of here tomorrow for Malawi. Been waiting for this. Spent a lot of time this week talking with people and thinking about the approach to this next film. Foolish to try and control a doc at this stage, so been trying to get some general ideas on paper before melee hits. Many many challenges. The web of complex problems that fall down with the pull of one little thread. Talking about HIV means talking about gender inequality, polygamy, sex, political corruption and poverty at the least. Heady stuff, and all that in a society so traditional that knee caps are considered too sexy for public. Also concered about hitting the audience too hard with heavy stuff. Hope to find some ideas to give Joe Blow access.
Got some motivation from a film I saw here this week. A doc short about an AIDS orphan in Zambia, poorly shot, poorly cut, from another American who was obviously slumming. It was pretty offensive, straight exploitation of a kid in a terrible situation. A great example of what not to do. The judges lost all their credibility with me and a lot of others by awarding it a 5000 euro prize. I have to wonder if any of that money will get back to Zambia. They should have given the kid the money. Clowns.
Really looking forward to Malawi.
Landing
The plane just hit the ground in Lilongue, Malawi. Havent been this happy or excited in a long time. The land looks incredible, hundreds of farm plots with red dirt furrows and everywhere else is deep green. The last time I arrived in the dry season, it was red hot dusty. The rain clouds look like heavy river stones.
The filmmaking part of me now goes into the cloud bank. Perspective and clarity will be hard to come by for a while, for now its all guts and big hopes. Even after so much flying, feel like a million bucks.
From Munich International Student Film Fest
Long story short, the festival is rough. Tons of bad work that lacks emphasis, narrative density and other very depressing things. In the midst of this, looking at my film on a bad projector with bad sound a few lessons finally settled in. Anybody back at CalArts, take this to heart! Make a SHORT film, ten minutes or less. Turns out the world doesn't care about your vision if it isn't disciplined. If its loose, its going to get walked on. I'm taking some heavy shots and I thought I'd done OK. I was wrong. The films that are getting love here are short and too the point. All the spacious, moody films look like junkers next to those.
Germany than Malawi
I fly out to Munich tomorrow for the Munich International Student Film Fest. I'm excited about it. It's a weeklong and there'll be filmmakers from all over the world to meet. I got an email a couple weeks ago with the itinerary and there'll be a tour of one of the big beer breweries. I love film and all that, but I'm really excited about the brewery. After the festival, I go to Malawi. Whenever I'm getting ready for these big trips, something crazy always happens right before I leave. Today the neighbor tried to bag my UPS delivery of videotape for the Malawi shoot. I got it back five or six hours later with the box shredded, the invoice gone and my address ripped off the box. He'd opened up one of the tape boxes inside too. Loco. Then I went out to pick up a rain jacket, cause it's Malawi's wet season right now, and on the way back, a hundred yards from home I felt my transmission depressurize and I could hear oil spraying out the bottom of the car. Its actually good luck in a weird way, I got everything done that I had to before it blew, then coasted it in right in front of the house.
So thanks for checking out the new site, I'm really happy with it. I'll update whenever possible from Munich and Malawi. All the posts following this one are transferred over from the Greyhorse Blog, check the dates above the posts so you don't get lost.
Cy
Been back in California for a while now. Just finished at CalArts, which feels great. My grad thesis film the Orphans opened at the MoMA last month. I have no words to describe the shock I'm in, I never ever thought anything like that would happen. To see my work contextualized with all these other amazing filmmakers was surreal. It was especially amazing to have my work sit next to Naomi Uman's. So now I know I have to shoot another film. And I have to do it quick. I want to go back to Malawi as soon as I can...
Hypnotized
Cresent moon casts shadows. The weeds next to the dirt road cast stretched images of themselves on the dust. Long road, the Milky Way bends down bright till the mountains. Down the road drums are beating. The trees between us and the moon roll by like giant black paper cutouts. We step around the deepest shadows, Jake tells me that puff adders like the warmth of the road at night. We're going to the traditional healer. Dancing cures sickness. Our shadows paint long black forms in front of us as we turn away from the low moon. The rhythms are close and intimidating. Wood sticks clack fast between deep beats from hand drums. Human voices sing together, slow, like group moans.
Off the road. Near a large tree, several people huddle around a fire, nearby is the throbbing hut. The doorway is low and open, light flickers out from inside. Two men greet us and we follow inside.
There's a lantern hanging from a low rafter. Thirty or forty people form a pressing circle and in the center a woman jumps with the beats. Its dusty low light, and salty smell. Two men with large hand drums pound the core of the beat. Women all over the room have wood sticks and blocks, they tap beats that float in between and around the drums. There's a break after some minutes and the dancers change. They exchange a belt full of chimes, the second dancer moves harder.
Some of the dancers must certainly have HIV. I watch, I'm struck, today I must have greeted several people who will die.
The beats come back up, and I'm hypnotized. I've never seen this scene before. In no oil painting or anywhere else. Only Conrad's paragraphs have come close.
Last Night
http://www.flickr.com/photos/cykuck/427669867/ Woke up in total blackness with a muggy body and cold feet beneath the open window. Cool air gliding. There’s a total silence outside, then after a moment a rooster crows. No sound of mosquitoes around my ears. Slept again after a half hour, laid there remembering different things. My brother and I playing in the back yard when we were kids. A long time ago, but something here brings me closer to it. Two kids, one tall one short, looking out at the dusty horizon in the valley wondering if the stuff on TV about a war was true.
This morning we had oatmeal then walked down toward the river. Jake has a garden project to help the soccer team earn money so they can buy shoes and a good ball. Some of them play barefoot. The team will use the money from the crops to fund the equipment. Some of the players walked on the path in front of us on the way back. A guy gestures from beneath a tall white tree toward an upper branch. We come under the same tree and Jake points out the bee hovering near the trunk. It’s the guard, waiting for an intruder, buzzing loudly.
Near the house a woman greets us. She asked me how my morning was, but skips some of the normal formalities. Jake tells me later, he’s sure she’s HIV positive. She’s sick all the time, she has children.
Day Three Zolokere
Wood window is ajar, and pressing into the mosquito net a foot about my knee. Roosters are crowing and the sun is already strong. The malaria pills don’t let my skin make melanin – my arm is still pink from two days ago. Gama is in the kitchen making tortillas. He works for/with Jake, helps with the chores and the farming. How are you Gama? “Sure Cy, sure.” He says sure a lot. He’s smart, and continually moves me with his kindness.
There are big spiders in the tree behind the house. The neighbor knocked one of the nests off a branch this morning. It was empty, no giant spider inside. I dread spiders, but I would have liked to have seen one just the same.
Day Two In Zolokere
Lot’s of introductions today. Met the sub-chief, some of the neighbors, the retired policeman, went way down the trail to the market, saw the drinking circles, butcher – slaughtered a goat that hung from a tree branch, used an ax to cut pieces off. Long walk back – dinner of pancakes, then talk by the kitchen. Here’s what I learned from the talk. Woman aren’t exactly property, but not far from it. Men select women for marriage. If they can afford it, they may buy her. Men are excited by the sight of a woman’s knees. She has to keep them covered in public.
About deadly animals. We spent the day walking on narrow trails walled by tall grass. Malawi has puff adders, spitting cobras, black mambas, and green mambas. There are some pretty big spiders, scorpions, crocodiles, killer bees, and hippos (which kill the most people).
We were all sitting around a candle talking tonight when Jake jumped up and yelled “fast one!” A big hunting spider was running across the ground. He smashing it after a couple tries. I looked for the carcass this morning, but the chickens had already eaten it.
First day in Zolokere
Third day in Malawi, first day in the bush. Jake’s letters and website come nowhere near fleshing this place out, not for lack of trying, it’s just a hell of a lot. Got off the plane, straight out to the road to start the long journey north hitchhiking. A couple picked us up in an SUV. Next leg was a couple in a car, then a minibus, then a truck with a minibed. We’re let out at small towns; the car goes no farther in our direction. I counted 24 people inside the minivan, 6 of us squeeze into the bed of the little Toyota meshing our legs, hugging our knees under the pressure of the wind. At each stop people loiter along the side of the road. Smiles and waves. Men hold hands with each other. The buildings remind me of Baja. The business names hand painted on planks and stucco walls are ingenious. Telephone communications and International Business Center, it’s a tiny grass hut with an old landline telephone on a reed table, a wire is strung to the rooftop of the neighboring building. The land is shaped like Arizona with softened angles, the fauna is African. Proud trees command the hillsides. The ride continues well into the night.
In the back of the truck. The driver is pressing hard up what must be a mountain. I’m looking backwards, but I can feel we’re climbing through the darkness. We yell against the wind to communicate, now and then I can feel the temperature drop as we get higher. After the long trip on the planes, and the day on transport, the muscles in my back feel like hot red iron straps. The sun set in a plunge, and for the first time I see the Southern Stars. It looks like a diamond wave is crashing through night. The Milky Way is so bright you can make out all its densities, like knots in wood, the bulk of the Milky Way seems to be down here, in the South. Shadow woods fly by the side of the road, I look up and see the biggest falling star I’ve ever seen. It wiggles from one horizon to the other on the lip of the diamond wave. I yell and everyone in the truck looks up then we all look at each other with our mouths open.
We spent the night in a Peace Corps house in Mzuzu after dinner in a local café. Mosquito nets hang over all the beds. I washed my face and fell asleep in the middle of Jake’s story.
Next morning. The guy sleeping in the back of the house has malaria. He’s sitting on the coach wrapped in blankets when we leave for the market. There’s a coffin shop on the corner. The market is full of healthy foods, but for many people they’re too expensive to buy. People are friendly here. There are tables covered in small silver fish that shimmer in the sun. As we walk around picking up supplies, Jake fills me in on the background stuff. One fifth of the population is HIV positive, its one of the 10 poorest countries on Earth. Polygamy, women have few rights. This is a vibrant, tragic country. I took a picture of the girl who works at the coffin shop. Her smile turns it into a pleasant place.
Next morning, transport day. Still one more leg to go to get to Jake’s village. An egg seller gives us eggs and chats with us while we wait at the bus station. Two hours north then we cut through the hills. The land is green, flat valley floors with blue smoke tendrils rising around stony green hills. Broad flat topped trees – its autumn here and I’m surprised to see that some of the trees have turned orange. The van stops at Rhumphi, the district capital. Shops line the small main street, dozens and dozens of people line the road. Jake picks up packages of dried soy pieces, then we go stand under a tree to wait for the truck. All morning Jake has been warning me. Thirty-five, forty people packed onto the bed of a five-ton truck. Three hours on rutted dirt roads through the hills. After that a four mile walk to the village. Just next to the tree is the hut of a traditional healer. A dead lizard hangs on a stick in the front. Bottles of viscous liquids are on display. The truck pulls up empty except for fifteen or twenty gas cans strapped down in the back. Jake claims the seats in the cab and tells me we’ve been really lucky. We wait another hour and a half for the truck to fill.
The truck stops at the foot of small walking trials to let people off. The driver stops to chat with people along the road. People jump off the back and disappear into the brush. The kids smile if you wave to them and wave back. I’m amazed, the people are so friendly. A little girl in a yellow dress is standing at one of the last stops before we get out. She’s watches me intently and whispers ‘foreigner’ to the little boy next to her who repeats her.
The sun is setting as we walk from the trading post where the truck stopped. The road to the village is a capillary through a sea of green. It’s two tire tracks with a foot of grass in the middle. Close to the village there are tobacco plants growing in plots near the road, this is the bush.
May 8th, Kenya
Woke up around 4am somewhere over Africa in a hot sleep, jaw slack and cotton mouthed. Swollen feet say, long flight. In the airport in Kenya, muggy air and a tornado morning sky outside. It strikes me that the days in Lithuania are much longer than here at the equator. sun has just come up. Smells are all new. Three guys sleeping in a little glass cubbyhole behind the glass box customs check. Like scifi meets exotic. Dehydrated and burnt out, but could care less. This place feels amazing.
10 hours in London, Heathrow Airport
Back at Cal Arts. Spending most of my day editing, but I thought if I'm ever gonna put this stuff up about Africa, I ought to do it now. I'll try and get one up ever couple of days till its done. May 7th, Heathrow Airport
Two girls roll plastic pink and green suitcases with eager eyes and open wrists – the only thing of interest for hours now. I’ve tried to calculate the daily profits from a coffee stand by counting orders received for the last fifteen minutes. They’re making a fortune. The currency change from Litas to British Pounds is mind blowing.
I tried to burn some time hanging around the magazine stand. A magazine about the chic of plastic surgery raised my eyebrows for the first time today, but in the end tired feet put me back on my laurels.
Pink and green. The girls just disappeared into the smoker’s area, open wrists and taunt spines. The surveillance camera was turning the wrong way to see them leave.
Toro! Toro!
(Saturday Night) I just got into a bizarre chase/street fight with two drunk Lithuanian men about 30 minutes ago. Damn, these guys are such dumb monkeys. I guess it's a wonder it didn't happen years ago in the village. Though I have to admit, lately I've been feeling especially fed up with the idiocy. Last night some guys were yelling at me because I was walking with two Lithuanian girls, and earlier tonight some guy made fun of me by the river. Basically, and this is gonna sound harsh, but after three years I can say the 'average' guy here is a drunk coward. If they're alone they're quiet, if they outnumber you two to one they're brazen xenophobes. If you're a hardworking sober guy in Lithuania I hope you'll excuse this cause God knows I love this place, if you're a drunken loud mouth with cracked knuckles, then go to hell.
So here's what happened. It's Saturday. I'm working all day inside to get my place cleaned up cause I leave in a week. The sun is going down really late now, so around 9 I decided to go out and walk along the river to watch the sunset. It's a great walk. I walked all the way down to the Cathedral then looped back up toward Gedimino (the main street in the capital) and just as I came around the corner I see: A small guy, maybe Spanish or Italian dressed in a nice sweater and collared shirt with glasses backing into the middle of the road. Two guys in jean jackets are making threatening gestures toward him then the smaller of the two throws a sucker punch at the back of the nice guys head. The nice guy kind of stepped out of it by accident and didn't even realize the guy had thrown the punch. A big Lithuanian guy walking in front of me stopped with his girlfriend and I stopped behind them. He was really big and just kind of peeled the two bad guys back toward the sidewalk where I was. They started to go for the big guy and that's when I did something really uncharacteristic. I said f it, and jumped in. I never do that by the way. So for a second it turns into a push pull deal with all four of us, the girl friend is pissed and she's yelling, the nice guy is bailing. Then the big guy kind of brushes these two off in my direction and moves out with his girl. The two focused on me. At that point it wasn't good, but I really didn't think it was gonna get worse. They were telling me off in Russian, and I started mocking them. (Andrew and Jake this is your fault). So I was pushing them into a cafe table, they pushed me back, so I started to retreat since I can see no one else volunteering to get involved. I don't provoke the empathy like a well-dressed Southern European does. So the smaller guy runs up to kick me as hard as he can. By now I'm already back peddling and wondering what the hell I got myself into. There are people all over the place milling around all dressed up for a summer Saturday night and I'm yelling in English at these two to f off. His kick missed and he came down hard on the granite pavers flat on his back. The crowd cheered. The big guy seemed really offended by this and everything went up several notches. Not too sure what happened after that but I know I was back peddling full speed for a while. They were waiting for me to turn my back, so I just kept going up the street like that. What followed was even weirder.
The back peddle turned into a jog with looks over the shoulder. The guys are right behind me and with a pretty steady rhythm they're trying to throw punches or kick me. Thank god American kids play football cause I was thrown jukes down like OJ. Honest to god, like huge full speed sweeps across the street, from one sidewalk to the other then I'd slow down and wait for the next assault. In the middle of it I passed the Nice guy who looked seriously bewildered. I also passed the big guy whose girlfriend now seemed firmly in control of him. I was on a solo dance through the street dodging these guys. I thought they would get tired faster than me so I really started to just run down the street, fast. I got to a security car parked in front of the post office and I'm thinking 'cool, its over'. Two security guards are sitting inside, so I run up and yell 'call the police!' (which is a funny thing to yell at security guards) My antagonists barely even paused. They security guards didn't crack a window. (which supports my impulse to ask for professional help) So I put the car between them and me and I'm yelling at the guy in the passenger seat to call the cops. The bad guys come wheeling around the front end so I have to bail the whole thing and just keep running. Way the hell up street I see two huge guys walking. I'm getting really tired, and the demons behind me are keeping up, much to my surprise. All the exercise seemed to be clearing their heads. So I yell at these two giants to help me out and I'm trying to get them involved even if they don't want to by putting them between myself and the knuckle scrapers who're coming up fast. The evildoers caught up quick and I don't even remember what happened next exactly. The tall one got behind me somewhere and the smaller one ran in front of me to block me in. He was saying something and starting to square up with me to throw a punch. It's so odd. I've never punched anyone in the face in my life, not once. My hand just went on autopilot. All the fear and adrenaline took my head over. I hit him with my right hand as hard as I could and it landed perfectly square in middle of his knotty monkey grill. It was like hitting a home run, you don't even feel the ball cause it's so square off the bat. I heard one of the giants standing a few feet away exclaim and somewhere way back on the street I heard someone yell 'Geras!' which means 'Good one!' He just disappeared toward the ground, and I blazed the hell out of there. I have no idea what happened after that cause I never looked back. My lungs were on fire so I ducked into a courtyard and ended up under this weird little stoop with three homeless people for a second. They knew I was up to no good, and I actually asked them between wheezing breaths 'is there a way out of here!?' Damn, that was crazy. Thank god I didn't get the $^%& kicked out of me! I jumped the wall out of the courtyard and hustled home. Somewhere between there and home the absurdity hit me.
So here are a couple things I learned. First of all, all that crap I thought I could remember in a situation like this like 'jab with my left, then throw the right' or ‘punch'm in the throat' or 'box his ears' or basically anything I've ever seen in any movie - not one dreamy synapse awoke those ideas. The only thing I could think was 'I can't believe this. Two guys are chasing me down the street in daylight with people everywhere. What the hell am I doing?'
I would like to say one thank you. Some guy sitting at an outdoor cafe gave me a heads up that saved my ass. Half way through the chase I slowed down cause I just couldn't believe they really wanted to go through with it. I was watching the smaller guy cause he was the most aggressive and the tall guy came looping around from the back. The guy yelled from the cafe table and I ducked some kind of wild kick or punch. Thanks.
Thank God that we play football when we're kids and they don't. If those guys knew how to tackle it would have been all over for me. And thank God they didn't pull a knife. Don't even want to think about that.
I hope that guy isn't hurt bad, but I think he is. He fell like a soggy feather and unfolded on the concrete with the crackslap of a boney steak on a hard kitchen floor. Bastards.