“Yo Irish!”, perfectly
executed dialogue by the very talented Abduwali Muse played by Barkhad Abdi.
Barkhad is a Somali-born American national. Ironic, as the movie plays on those
lines as well.
It was date night mid-week and a rarity with
Abeer in his rare generous mood. I mean the kind that takes me by surprise with
thoughtful little gifts and an impromptu dinner to follow. Divided treats where
we tried to outdo each other to do something for one another. Off late
everything seemed a bit flat with even plans being cancelled last minute. I had
internalized the lividness brought on by a recent evening where I looked
forward to going south side with him; which was planned and conveniently
ditched for a cold beer and prawns to follow. The lividness was considered
made-up for (in my mental check book)!
That’s ok. Life’s such anyways. Even a beer
and signature Jai-Jawan prawns were a far cry from my days spent staring at a
feeble father and catering to his recovery 24x7, always waiting for that lil spark.
THIS particular evening goes in my catalogue of memories to save. We indulged.
No caviar or champagne. Just a good ol’ movie, flowing food, funny
conversations and a bit of naughtiness.
Captain Phillips had been on our agenda. I
love Tom Hanks and had unintentionally caught nearly every flick he had worked in.
There is a mundane genius to him. I am drawn to people who are walking
geniuses in plain clothes and maybe a little gruffness to them. In that rough
no-fuss exterior lies a bunch of molecules all similar to mine but aligned in a
peculiarly brilliant manner. Nothing flashy about his role or get up and yet I
was easily taken in. I guess his real skills poured in at the final minutes of
the movie where a shocked and shaken Capt. Phillips is rescued, medically
examined and reassured that he was safe. He stammered and struggled to express
himself both physically and verbally – much like my daddy in his bedridden ICCU
state. The medic comforted and interacted with him – much like the doctors and
I did on a daily basis with dad. The likeness hit me hard and I tried not to let
the tear glands win.
Coming to Barkhad who played the genius
Somali pirate captain. I think this guy is a find. Held his own in a cast of
veterans and had tremendous screen presence. He took me back to Nigeria and
Benin and the surrounding African past that I had the rich privilege of
experiencing and sadly leaving behind. He reminded me of the countless stories
and sordid living that the ‘blacks’ were subjected to everywhere. In my
explicit opinion, color is the single biggest racial discrimination and
struggle that has dogged this earth since early man. And not because I am
biased, but from the very beginning my kiddie eyes couldn’t escape how
absolutely stunning Africans were. They just are and there is such sheen and
glow in black. Which no one really sees.
However, I saw them always in tatters, wild
colors, tribal surroundings and garb, destitute most times, a rare escape of
laughter and that tubelight like smile – as if they would be killed if they let
a grin escape. Their disheveled look never bothered me, pale nails and barely
there footwear (mostly never there) also didn’t let me judge them. They were
just beautiful people: misused, mistrusted, misjudged and misspoken about. They
were exploited and robbed, beaten and trampled upon, screamed at and rarely
ever heard. Their version of luxury was to be recognized as an individual and
enjoy civil and basic rights. It never happened and most 3rd world
countries will not let that happen.
The movie depiction of a remote fishing
village full of fishermen (read pirates for hire) was a near accurate 1 – dry, destitute
village mostly filled with men high on amphetamine addictive khat leaves
and ready to blaze and gun down anything and anyone. Desperation drives these skeletal
mortals to punish, however brutally, whoever irked them at anytime. And this
when they lacked clean water and food – worse still the scarcity of khat.
This takes me back to Lagos, Nigeria. Sure I didn’t live with pirate-like
people but I sure did witness and hear their mistreatment. Another ironically
common factor being that all of them screamed, fought and shed blood and flesh
(literally) for causes and people which gave them and their families no
security or returns in any shape or form. No money, no food, no safety, no
respite.
Then what drives them? Anger and an agenda
for vengeance running in their blood stream from the moment they touched down
on the red African soil? I think that being 1. That beautiful earthy and rich
as hell soil and ground. So many treasures. So many pirates. So little hope. I
hope I’m wrong.
Eu amo a África!
