Love Actually
Trish (friend who's also from Atlanta living in Kisumu!) brought her copy of the movie Love Actually to me. I love the movie, actually, and saw it three times in an Atlanta theatre when it came out! Not having a TV, I sometimes watch movies on my laptop’s DVD player. But I haven’t watched a movie in a while because it always reminds me of being home, while sitting in the middle of undeveloped Africa, which can play with my head sometimes. But I watch Love Actually on a Friday night while quilting and crying all the way through. Then I watch it again the next night, without crying so much, but getting used to being in London, where the movie takes place. I was getting used to being in London and not in Kenya.
I watch the movie again Sunday night, not wanting to leave London. Not wanting to leave the characters. There are several scenes cut from the movie on the DVD. I watch these to prolong the visit. The director explains each scene before it plays. The final two scenes that were cut, he says, were filmed in Kenya!! What?! But we’re in London, I’m thinking, I don’t want to go back to Kenya, which is just outside my window.
In the scenes with Laura Linney’s character at her desk, there are two huge posters hanging behind her. One poster shows two old mamas carrying bundles of sticks on their back, tied to their forehead (which is how women here carry things if the object isn’t sitting directly on top of their head). The women are in a field and the text on the poster says something about helping them to help themselves. The second poster is a man standing next to his field of dead corn. In the scenes cut from the film, the camera closes in on these posters and the characters come to life. The director says they wanted to showcase a foreign country, like Kenya, because most people might think life in these countries would be so hard, people wouldn’t have time to think about love. Hmmmmm?
The two mamas come to life and they’re chuckling as they walk side by side across the field, talking about one woman’s daughter who has fallen in love with an inappropriate young man. They’re speaking Kiswahili with subtitles and I’m able to catch a word here and there. The friend remarks that everyone thought her husband was inappropriate for her, too, years ago. They laugh and move out of the frame. The young man next to his corn field comes to life and he’s lamenting the drought and crop failure. His wife walks up and tells him to come inside. He comments on not being a worthy provider, fearing she won’t love him anymore. She tells him as long as she can see the goofy grin on his face; she’ll be by his side. She also says they should think about moving and remarks, “I hear Paris is lovely this time of year.”
Well, there are so many things wrong with these scenarios, though I’d like to believe in these Kenyan characters created by the director of the movie I love so much. First, love can be the catalyst for most marriages in Kenya, but other factors are considered as well, like paying a dowry to the woman’s family by her future husband. He’s buying the woman as property. In Kiswahili, the word for “husband” means he’s marrying a woman. The word for “wife” means she’s being married. The woman can never marry, but she is married.
Having multiple wives is common in Kenya among many tribes, even among my co-workers. Many of them have fathers who are polygamists. I’ve met several men who have two wives. The men here giggle that polygamy is necessary because the have such strong sex drives, one partner isn’t enough. Whatever. In Kenya, and especially within the rural Luo communities surrounding Lake Victoria, women do not decide if they'll use birth control. The man does. He tells her what type she can use. He tells her when they’ll have sex. He’ll tell her when she’s had enough children or should have more.
Progressive couples, those who are educated, are often more equal. But education and awareness of other cultures does not lead to modern couples being fully equal. Men can take a second wife if they please, even without their wife's consent. My enlightened, educated male co-workers know alternative ways of relationships, but they believe in the plural wife system without question. Love may exist in new marriages, but more often it's a match made to ensure security and procreation.
As for the man looking at his dead corn, well, it’s the women who farm the land. The men go off their land to look for work, or they hang out under a tree with other men, chewing miraa or drinking the local brew. It’s the woman who tills the earth with a hoe. It’s the woman who plants the seeds and waters the rows and pulls the weeds, usually with a baby strapped to her back and another little one playing at her feet. She also keeps the chickens and goats and cooks the food, which she has grown or which she has walked to the nearest market to buy. Men may help with harvesting, but not always. What I saw in the cut scenes from Love Actually was a Western philosophy of love superimposed on Africans. It was very strange to watch. Plus, most rural Kenyans do not know Paris, do not know it’s in France, do not know France is in Europe. Many people here think Canada is somewhere in Europe. When I say I’m from the US, they automatically think I’m from the UK. I’ve learned to say America instead, but they still ask me about my home in London. Kenyans are too busy hoeing the soil, irrigating, looking for work, wondering where their next meal is coming from or standing in line at hospitals with sick children to think about countries and cities far, far away.
I love, love, love the movie “Love Actually.” Love it for its western slant, love it for the characters’ troubles, which aren’t really troubles compared to what a rural Kenyan lives with, love it because it recognizes love, in all its forms, as existing everywhere. Love Actually is everywhere, even in Kenya. But it doesn’t look like western love. It’s much more life-and-death and much more quiet and certainly even desperate at times.
I watch the movie again Sunday night, not wanting to leave London. Not wanting to leave the characters. There are several scenes cut from the movie on the DVD. I watch these to prolong the visit. The director explains each scene before it plays. The final two scenes that were cut, he says, were filmed in Kenya!! What?! But we’re in London, I’m thinking, I don’t want to go back to Kenya, which is just outside my window.
In the scenes with Laura Linney’s character at her desk, there are two huge posters hanging behind her. One poster shows two old mamas carrying bundles of sticks on their back, tied to their forehead (which is how women here carry things if the object isn’t sitting directly on top of their head). The women are in a field and the text on the poster says something about helping them to help themselves. The second poster is a man standing next to his field of dead corn. In the scenes cut from the film, the camera closes in on these posters and the characters come to life. The director says they wanted to showcase a foreign country, like Kenya, because most people might think life in these countries would be so hard, people wouldn’t have time to think about love. Hmmmmm?
The two mamas come to life and they’re chuckling as they walk side by side across the field, talking about one woman’s daughter who has fallen in love with an inappropriate young man. They’re speaking Kiswahili with subtitles and I’m able to catch a word here and there. The friend remarks that everyone thought her husband was inappropriate for her, too, years ago. They laugh and move out of the frame. The young man next to his corn field comes to life and he’s lamenting the drought and crop failure. His wife walks up and tells him to come inside. He comments on not being a worthy provider, fearing she won’t love him anymore. She tells him as long as she can see the goofy grin on his face; she’ll be by his side. She also says they should think about moving and remarks, “I hear Paris is lovely this time of year.”
Well, there are so many things wrong with these scenarios, though I’d like to believe in these Kenyan characters created by the director of the movie I love so much. First, love can be the catalyst for most marriages in Kenya, but other factors are considered as well, like paying a dowry to the woman’s family by her future husband. He’s buying the woman as property. In Kiswahili, the word for “husband” means he’s marrying a woman. The word for “wife” means she’s being married. The woman can never marry, but she is married.
Having multiple wives is common in Kenya among many tribes, even among my co-workers. Many of them have fathers who are polygamists. I’ve met several men who have two wives. The men here giggle that polygamy is necessary because the have such strong sex drives, one partner isn’t enough. Whatever. In Kenya, and especially within the rural Luo communities surrounding Lake Victoria, women do not decide if they'll use birth control. The man does. He tells her what type she can use. He tells her when they’ll have sex. He’ll tell her when she’s had enough children or should have more.
Progressive couples, those who are educated, are often more equal. But education and awareness of other cultures does not lead to modern couples being fully equal. Men can take a second wife if they please, even without their wife's consent. My enlightened, educated male co-workers know alternative ways of relationships, but they believe in the plural wife system without question. Love may exist in new marriages, but more often it's a match made to ensure security and procreation.
As for the man looking at his dead corn, well, it’s the women who farm the land. The men go off their land to look for work, or they hang out under a tree with other men, chewing miraa or drinking the local brew. It’s the woman who tills the earth with a hoe. It’s the woman who plants the seeds and waters the rows and pulls the weeds, usually with a baby strapped to her back and another little one playing at her feet. She also keeps the chickens and goats and cooks the food, which she has grown or which she has walked to the nearest market to buy. Men may help with harvesting, but not always. What I saw in the cut scenes from Love Actually was a Western philosophy of love superimposed on Africans. It was very strange to watch. Plus, most rural Kenyans do not know Paris, do not know it’s in France, do not know France is in Europe. Many people here think Canada is somewhere in Europe. When I say I’m from the US, they automatically think I’m from the UK. I’ve learned to say America instead, but they still ask me about my home in London. Kenyans are too busy hoeing the soil, irrigating, looking for work, wondering where their next meal is coming from or standing in line at hospitals with sick children to think about countries and cities far, far away.
I love, love, love the movie “Love Actually.” Love it for its western slant, love it for the characters’ troubles, which aren’t really troubles compared to what a rural Kenyan lives with, love it because it recognizes love, in all its forms, as existing everywhere. Love Actually is everywhere, even in Kenya. But it doesn’t look like western love. It’s much more life-and-death and much more quiet and certainly even desperate at times.
posted by Cindi at 6:08 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home