Central America
That moment, My first TV camera
After I did the Sewer Children story in Colombia I talked to the TV dept. I can do lots of
stories, only need a contract. I told the camera operator in Costa Rica that for every story he finds (that’s taken) he gets $100 as well as the camera fee. I peeled my eyes for stories, trends and controversies. Soon, I had 14 stories lined up to do in 15 days. There was however a camera problem. When I did my first working Central America , I rented a NTSC camera as there were no Betacam cameras. Ideally, I could shoot with a Betacam machine and skip paying rent for the NTSC camera. Renting here in Germany was too expensive. I went to my German bank and talked with Frau Gunther about a big loan. I showed her my contract for 14 stories and she authorised a massive loan. I purchased a Betacam camera for 35 000 DM a huge amount of money. I could not afford a tripod and had basic sound equipment. I would later thank her for trusting me and giving me a chance to start a career.
Years later, we’re filming appropriately a grave site in Vietnam and I hear this noise.
‘Constantin, do you hear that tractor? Did not know they have tractors on hilltops in Vietnam!’
Silence but the ‘tractor’ sound…
‘I can’t see the tractor, where is it?’
‘James, it’s the camera heads, their going!’
Dutifully the camera did its last major job in Vietnam. The Agent Orange film, on a personal level one of the most important films, we ever made.
I loved that camera. Still today, I say the pictures were so amazing. This digital stuff where you see everything so clearly. The clearer the better. Not for me.
It’s final resting place is with Documentary camera man and good friend Constantin in Constanta, Romania. The technology is no longer used. Constantin still maintains the camera and lets the engine run. He told me when he’s buried, he wants the camera to lay besides him.
Honduras Child Kidnapping
This is a truly horrific story. Still today, I see the mother’s eyes. I see their faces like
yesterday. These poor women coming from distant parts of the country in the hope that my tiny little report may help. There are today men and women walking around America and elsewhere who know nothing about their past. They may have been told they were found in an orphanage in Honduras and brought to America. Some babies ended up in Europe and other countries. And this is surely what the well intentioned parents believe, but the truth for many people and children is horrendous. The baby trade does not only mean children having been stolen from their mothers for adoption. There are also allegations of children being murdered for their organs. There are allegations of sexual abuse, children being forced into prostitution. The trade was mostly in babies, nappy wearing humans, but little children starting school were also targeted.
I read about this story as reports were coming out of foreigners being viciously assaulted by the indigenous population. After the conquistador invasion it’s said that Mayan mothers believed that Europeans were anaemic and therefore needed the blood of darker people to be healthy. Over 500 years later, this ancient fear emerged again as children were regularly stolen by their mothers.
To make a story about this I had really great help. Rosario Godoy de Osajo who started the ‘Committee for the defence of missing Children.’ Put me in contact with mothers and also a detective. This is what happened: A baby was worth up to $ 20 000. The fairer the baby the more worth. Children were stolen. When I arrived at the office of Rosarioshe told me the official number of children declared missing for just one year was 155, she believed the number to be much higher.
A mother told me she was at the local hospital waiting for a prescription in a long queue with much noise and commotion. Her baby was crying and a kind lady said she’d care for her little one so she can have a break. For a short moment she lost sight of the kind lady and her baby daughter. They must have gone to the other room, it’s quiet there, she thought. That was the last time she ever saw her.
Another told me, after she gave birth to her baby in hospital she was told by the doctor her child was stillborn. (Lady in film crying) He was not dead, he’d been stolen. She was one of the fortunate mothers who found her little one. The corruption was enormous a chain of devils taking their cut on a child’s life. A detective told me there were so called ‘Fattening’ houses full of babies been bottled, changed and fed waiting for their adoptive parents to take them. Corrupt lawyers and politicians were getting kickbacks.
Canopy in Forest
With the help of Dr. Donald Perry, was able to film a complex ecological system among the tree tops of the jungle in Costa Rica. I never thought of life in the tree tops, till I went up there and saw for myself this beautiful little universe. A quote from Dr Perry:
“In 1973 I took a class in tropical biology where I was astounded to learn
that while most rain forest species lived in the tropical rain forest canopy,
it had yet to be explored. Without a doubt, many species new to science
resided within that realm, not to mention the amazing natural history
hidden there. But this treasure chest of biological diversity had remained
unexplored for good reason. While humanity’s amazing exploratory efforts
had recently allowed us to walk on the moon’s sterile surface, there was
still no effective method for exploring earth’s “arboreal continent” – home
of the most-complex communities of life in the known universe.”
Dr Perry constructed a chair lift that floated in the canopy. I treasure a book he gave me and signed called “Life Above the Jungle Floor.” He persuaded me however to go up there with a canopy zipline. In the section “James” you’ll see what happened!
Dr. Dagmar Werner and her Iguana Project
With and without German commentary
The locals called her “Mama Iguana” and for a very good reason. Dr. Dagmar Werner cares for thousands and thousands of Iguanas. These herbivorous reptiles grow up to two metres long and yield high protein meat. They’ve been eaten for years and acquired a nickname: gallina de palo. (chicken of the trees)
With the introduction of cattle farming their habitat’s been destroyed. Dr Werner a German zoologist idea is to save this near extinct tree-dwelling lizard from extinction. Her ultimate aim is to protect the rain forest. Instead of destroying their habitat the locals are encouraged to plant new trees so iguanas have a new home and multiply.
I filmed Dagmar in Costa Rica where she has one Iguana ranch and a dedicated team of enthusiastic graduate students from her University of Costa Rica wildlife course. I also filmed Dagmar at work in Panama opening her third Panamanian Iguana ranch. Farmers were happy to join her programme. Years after filming this enterprising project, I notice there are many Iguana farms all over Central and South America.
Father Josef Schendel
I made a short story about Father Schendel and his missionary in a place called Corinto, Nicaragua. It may have been by chance but this place is the hottest place I’ve ever been to in my time of filming. Hot, hot, sweltering, steamy sultry and burning hot. Father Schendel has devoted his life to helping the poor and needy. He was hoping after transferring certain skills to the younger generation, they’ll be able to continue without
his help.
I noticed there is still today a web page devoted to the good father. And a newspaper article:
https://omnesmag.com/en/newsroom/nicaragua-gastronomy-fair-parish/
Cuba
I made two trips to Cuba making six mini reports in the early nineties. The people were desperately poor and very well educated. The government invests a large portion of their national budget in education. When the Soviet Union collapsed, Cuba faced economic hardship, many people lost their jobs. A taxi driver took me for a lift, who studied Engineering at Leipzig University.
I arrived from Costa Rica and there was confusion. The customs were suspicious about my nationality and my British passport. The official was not a person to be argued with and took my passport. My receipt was a piece of paper, written on it was a room number in a building called ‘The National’ and a scribbled address. That is all I had. To make matters worse I made a cardinal mistake. The TV tapes (in those days, it was not digital) was in my baggage and the suitcase was lost. I’m in Cuba with no passport or tapes…
Returning to the airport to see if my case had turned up, I noticed a very similar case in the left luggage. Almost identical. Looked at the address and had an inkling what may have happened. I looked at the label, phoned the address and discovered someone had taken my suitcase by accident. Sent a taxi to the other side of the island and paid dearly in dollars for something that was not my mistake. Problem one solved. The next day I go to ‘The National’ and realise it is not a building but a glorious hotel. I go to the room number and knock. A man opens the door and could not help but notice a silky looking lady lying on a bed. ‘Passporte’, I say. ‘No, no’, says the man, shuts the door. Knock again louder, voice louder ‘Passporte! Passporte!’ Am I at the wrong place? Muffled sound, will he be angry? Try again. ‘Passporte’. Then the door opens a tiny bit and I’m passed my precious passport. Cuba is an incredibly beautiful place.
That evening I’m walking around town and there’s some sort of ceremony going on. I stop and stare, wander in a courtyard to have a better look. Standing with some people together. There’s a priest holding a chicken and lot of voodoo stuff going on. I wander closer. I trod on a chicken bone. How was I to know there’s an important part of the ritual lying on the floor. All stopped and eyes were on me. You could hear a pin drop. I start apologising in broke Spanish. ‘Lo siento’. At the end of the ceremony the priest spoke with me. I’m a superstitious person and really don’t want to be cursed. I offered to pay a modest ‘chicken donation’.
A film I made was about how people make satellite dishes. Thousands of people look at another world and dream. Satellite dishes were rare so these enterprising people made their own. I came into contact with incredibly talented Jorge Scott. He was an electronic whizz kid and made a system (in those days really remarkable) so he could see on a video screen who was his front door. We watched Yolanda his daughter aged 8 ringing the buzzer.
Jorge is a very good artist and it just so happened it was my birthday (6th December). He let me choose a beautiful painting and wrote a very beautiful dedication for me. He gave me a precious gift. Later in Cologne I went to good ‘framer’, I heard about with Jorg’s sketch. The framer put a lot of thought in the picture and the story I told him about Jorg and it’s there downstairs today at this time of writing. Each time I relax and look at the picture I see something ‘new’. Just occasionally whilst filming, I met someone who ‘wowed’ me.
Tomás Gutiérrez Alea
The director unknown to me was very ill. The film called Guantanamera is a romantic comedy following the termination of Soviet aid to the country The chief protagonist of the film is like the taxi driver I mentioned; an engineer making a living as a lorry (truck) driver. In Cuba there is no special treatment for actors, directors and extras. They eat altogether. No class divisions.
There are rare occasions where I witnessed history been made. I happened to be in Cuba when Cardinal Jaime Ortega newly appointed by John Paul II, returned home. The raw footage of his arrival:
James Pastouna 