The Lemon Tree of Kensington

Several months ago, I met with award-winning playwright Ben Ellis as he was writing his latest script for The Lemon Tree of Kensington, a play comissioned as part of the Kensington & Chelsea arts festival "Across The Street, Around The World". In 2007 Ben wrote Blindingly obvious facts about the death of Rachel Corrie. Ben wanted to meet with Arabs living in Britain to interview them about their experiences as research for his play.

I went to see the play on Wednesday of last week, October 7th, a strange experience to see some of the stories we talked about acted out on stage. The Lemon Tree of Kensington. It was a also an exercise in egotism as three others friends who had also been interviewed by Ben tried to unpack the script to see which of our stories and characteristics made it into the play. After the performance, we compared stories.

I saw the main narrative of my talk with Ben in the story of Nadia (was her name Nadia?) - her father wanted her to go into finance, she wanted to be an international news correspondent. Later in the play, another story from my life. A shopkeeper recalls a story from my own life, a story I had told Ben weeks before, a sad story of guns, Libyan politicians and innocently buying a newspaper that had happened to my father when he was on holiday with my mother in Italy. I was probably only a year or two old at the time, so I remember none of it. All I remember is my mother retelling the story to me.

Strange to see these events dramatised. Stories that are central to my own life, and shape the way I approach everything I do now, acted out on a stage for the audience.

The next phase of Shooting Back

The videographers are publishing, they're making films about their lives. They're getting media coverage, now the project is public. If I hear more, if I see more links I'll post them here.

I hope I had something to offer them. I can't help thinking I wasted BT'selem's time and money by not getting into Gaza to run the workshops there. This is why they hired me in the first place. It wasn't my fault, of course, but I can't shake the feeling.

I received an answer from the GPO, about why my application for a press card was rejected. It seems - from what I understand, because all they did was quote their own list of requirements - that they weren't convinced I was there for legitimate journalistic purposes. Explain further, please...

So we want to tell stories, we want the filmmakers in Gaza and the West Bank to tell stories. They are monitors, witnesses, and maybe they want to be, can be more than that. They can be reporters, journalists, filmmakers, storytellers, whatever they choose to call themselves. The important thing is to put the power and responsibility back in their hands. Remember Issa saying "my camera is my weapon."

Second remote Gaza workshop

Rif'at's film on the tunnels. He's sitting underground with the diggers, they all show their faces. He's talking directly to the camera, reporting 'from the field.' They laugh occasionally, the diggers, finding it funny that someone would be reporting from inside the tunnel, talking about them to the invisibles behind the camera.

Interview with an injured fisherman, he can't walk anymore, he sits in the corner of his room with his children in his lap.

Destruction after the war, a man described the damage done to his house. Ahmed says even animals were killed.

Testimonies about ordinary life, what about emotions? Feelings? Reactions? (maybe we need them in the videos as well)

CLIP 25: Message to the world.

These are the elements in our stories: personal introductions, coverage (visuals), interviews. Find the main subject! subject, subject, subject...

What's the main subject? If it's a family home, stay with them. Go back the next week, go back a month later.

The power in Gaza cuts. We lose video. We call Fadi on the phone, he's still there, but in the dark, they can't watch their videos any more. Put us on speaker phone - we continue the conference by telephone.

Yoav suggests smaller regular meetings, to keep the continuity of the project going. I say goodbye, hopefully next time I'll see you all in person.

Gaza Workshop - remotely

When I think about it, it still makes me angry. The GPO press card was denied, but until now, no answer. No official response. Perhaps so it can be said that no, they didn't deny it, it's just taking them longer than usual to process it. Jason says they have 45 days to approve or deny an application. but I know any successful application is done in one day. Any more, and you can forget about it.

So today, on the day when I should be in Gaza running a workshop, and filming, photographing, writing, I have to instead use a faltering internet connection to talk to a group of filmmakers and citizen journalists. It takes over an hour to set up and test the connection.

Yoav calls Palnet to order an upgrade on the line to 2mb/s, but it's still not good enough. We test the line, call Fadi and the video flickers to life. A grainy face in a white room, light bleeding on to the screen from the open door behind him.

"Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Can you see me?"
"Yes."

The room fills with more videographers, the images still jumping in fits as the connection cuts in and out.

Introductions take around 40 minutes, because we can only hear and see the person sitting directly in front of the laptop. It has to be passed around to each individual. Most of them have been filming for a year or two and have already made some short films, so I'm here to review their work currently and try to encourage them to get to the next level and start thinking about short, creative, personal films.

We don't need to start from the beginning. Luckily we don't need to run technical workshops on camera use - that would be impossible by internet video. No contact. They can't see my hands waving, my gestures, I can't see their faces clearly, there's little feedback, it has to be: I talk, they listen. They talk, I listen.

All interesting stories, different trajectories somehow bringing everyone together. Here. Awatif used to work for Ramattan, but she got disheartened with daily news so she joined the project. "The news doesn't fit my personality," she told me. I often feel the same way.


Variously: "My camera is my weapon."

"Sometimes we're using the media against ourselves."

The process is frustrating, every sentence has to be repeated a few times - when the line disintegrates their faces are suddenly pixelated smears still frozen on the screen.

(Is my denial to Gaza censorship?)
(Should I appeal it?)
(I'm thinking of the wrong thing. I should be thinking about them, in Gaza, not me)

The exercises are basic, from here we can't do any practical training. I can't run through camera techniques with them, or watch their footage with them. I can't have a debate about the use of media or representation of Palestinians in the news. We're trying to discuss the theory of citizen journalism, what are the reasons for making films? Is there a purpose to this? Can any of this really make a difference? Can it influence international law?

I don't think changing international law is our responsibility as filmmakers. I think our responsibility is to tell our stories, and hopefully work on individuals. Those individuals elect their Presidents and Prime Ministers, those rulers help write the laws, they have influence, they have power and money and weapons. All we have are cameras.

Abdullah: "like anyone in Gaza, I want to show our message, how we're people, we like peace, but the situation for people in Gaza is the opposite." (Film on fishermen. "They're supposed to be free but they have a wall around them.")

Ibrahim: "so the whole world can see how we live. They can see some of us living normally."

Fatma: Arab media is under dictatorships. They still have the Ministry of Information.

"In Gaza, if one hundred kids die and five soldiers are killed, the media will say 'fighters were killed'."

Suggestions: Make a film about cultural or intellectual imperialism, against globalisation?
A Palestinian kid studying in the US?
Film about the freedom to travel?
The sea?
What's missing in your country?
Who's responsible for this?

Soussia - South Hebron Hills

South Hebron Hills, farm land. Settlers surrounding Palestinian farms, and the people here don't live in houses. They have only tents, not connected to any electricity grid. This area, near Nasr's family, gets power from a wind turbine and a solar panel, no reliable power supply. (Donald MacIntyre recently wrote about them here)

I've seen a BT'selem video from here, a girl films here parents working on their land. Three settlers approach with t-shirts wrapped around their faces. One is carrying a heavy stick, and he walks quickly to the father and starts beating him. The girl panics and drops the camera. That video made it around the world, broadcast on international news stations, came to represent both the potential of the shooting back project (evidence) and the growing threat of settler extremism (violence).

A dog skips over the stones and tufts of grass that define the ground in Soussia. It's dry and rocky, no place for a farm. Look up - the roof has pieces missing, charred edges from where settlers tried to burn the place down a few weeks ago. Nasr's dog was also killed. The one outside isn't his, it must belong to someone else.

Eid, red t-shirt, one year with the BT'selem project. The camera is a weapon, he says, but it's a legitimate weapon, not forbidden, they should be afraid of the camera, not us. But some are just thugs, and they're not even afraid of the camera.

Majdi, (blue striped shirt). "The army is starting to get scared of the camera, because it gives power to the other side."

Jamal (blue eyes, check shirt) "I like anything that shows the truth of the situation."

Why do we film?
Evidence.
Show another image of Palestinians.
If the media was here they would see the truth.
We want to reach the people, not governments.
We need to understand who the Palestinians are (how images are used)
The true image is not present, it doesn't exist.

Issa (older man, not afraid) "the camera is my weapon. Even if your brother is being beaten by soldiers, don't put the camera down. He's not your brother any more, keep filming." If you stop to help him, he explains, you'll just be beaten too. Then you have two beaten Palestinians, and no evidence. Keep filming. Don't think of him as your brother anymore, think of him as evidence.

I'm surprised to hear this. Some of the group disagree, they say no, I have the right to defend myself, I'll do it, I'll put the camera down and do it. Issa says keep filming. Even if they fire tear gas at you, even if they try to shoot you. He tells the story of once holding the barrel of a soldier's gun with one hand, and his camera with the other hand. Keep filming.

There's no end to it. During the workshop, Nasr gets a call that a group of settlers has arrived at a nearby Palestinian farms. He disappears with Yoav and Assaf, both from BT'selem, to follow it up and make sure the situation is under control.

I missed a riot

I'm not a very good journalist. I missed a riot. And it wasn't a very easy riot to miss, considering it happened thirty seconds from my hotel. And it happens every Saturday at around the same time.

Normally, I wouldn't be so flippant about covering a riot. I'm not an adrenaline-junkie who likes seeing people hurt and moans that there wasn't enough blood. If people are getting seriously hurt, I'm not happy. But this was a different riot. It's being called the Sabbath Wars, and is based on the fact that God said to Jerusalem's Ultra-Orthodox Jews not to open a car park on Saturday. But he did say that in response to that car par opening you could riot and burn tires and assault police.


Then, not happy just attacking police (and getting themselves hurt in the process), they attacked journalists, forcing a Channel 2 news presenter to cut short a live broadcast. That's just a step too far. I mean, attack the police all you want, but for God's sake (no pun intended) spare the journalists.

I'm starting to think the most dangerous thing about covering this conflict is not the armed violence, it's the threat of being attacked by Orthodox rioters.

Now I'm still in Jerusalem waiting for news on my press credentials. The press officer made it very clear that they don't like freelance journalists. They probably don't like Palestinian/British freelance journalists much either, but he didn't say that. He did say that my commission from the London Bureau of Reuters wasn't good enough, I had to have it commissioned through the Jerusalem office. So I called the Jerusalem office and said "you don't know me, but..." and head of the bureau said "okay, tell the London bureau to contact me and tell me who you are". He was very nice about it, actually.

So I called the London bureau, but of course my editor is away on holiday, so I had to speak to the deputy editor and say "you don't know me, but..." You get the idea. She was also very nice about it, and said yes. At least the official paperwork will be taken care of. Now it just remains for the "other stuff" to be passed. This, from what I understand, is an intense background check the GPO does before issuing press cards. This is what the foreign press liaison said he was doing at the GPO office last time I called him.

We can only wait and see...

In the meantime, I've been finding other stories in Jerusalem. Here's another series of images that was promoted to the front page of Demotix (Ultra-Orthodox won't like this one much either, I'm afraid...)

Now, another coffee...

On a hill in Hebron

"Have you been to Hebron before?" Yoav asks, sitting beside me in a large transit taxi, driving out of Jerusalem.
"No,"
"You're in for a treat," he chuckles.

Everyone has heard about Hebron - the anomaly in the Palestinian/Israeli landscape. Around 600 settlers live in the centre of a city of 170,000 Palestinians. The handful of hard-core settlers are guarded in turn by hundreds of Israeli soldiers, and the centre of town - off-limits to Palestinians - is a dead zone. All the shops on the main market street are closed, shutters pulled down over doors and covered in graffiti. We drive through a series of checkpoints, but no one stops us in our taxi with yellow license plates. The roads are completely empty. We drive through H2 (the zone of Israeli settlements) to H1: the zone theoretically under Palestinian control, but still peppered with settlers in Arab houses. It's a short walk up-hill to Issa's house, but under this sun and my heavy backpack - full of my cameras and microphones - I'm struggling. I'm also out of shape, that doesn't help my endurance much.

Issa's house is being used as the headquarters of a media project supporting the use of video in monitoring human rights abuses. So far, hundreds of cameras have been handed out across the West Bank, and these hundreds of Palestinian volunteers have provided invaluable footage to international news broadcasters, as well as filmed crucial evidence for legal appeals.

Now I've been brought here to raise the skill level a little and encourage the participants to start thinking about directing their own short documentaries, representing their own lives and revealing the human details of existence to an international audience that often has little understand of the ordinary, banal, daily life of a Palestinian.

The participants here know exactly how the international news media portrays them, and what's missing in the picture.
"People don't understand us, they don't see us as human beings."
So we talk about simple stories. Your family. Your neighbours. What it's like getting water from the well every morning. What it's like farming next to a settlement every day. Very simple stories, the sort of thing many of the participants would just overlook, but exactly the kind of stories that people outside Palestine need to see to understand the humanity of the situation.

It's not a easy project, and this isn't an easy idea to sell to everyone. Fadi leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs, and scowls at the group. He's a big guy, tall and wide. Even with a baby face, and his round bald head, he can still look intimidating. Fadi volunteered for the project, and he's enthusiastic about filming, but he's also angry.
"Why should we film? What's the point? Am I going to open a case against the Israeli courts? Then what happens? Nothing. If my son is being beaten, what am I going to do, just sit back and film it?"

Good question, of course. I'm not here to convince anyone that this project is going to save their lives and end the occupation, and I tell them that. I'm not here to tell them to stop everything and just film from now on, and I'm definitely not asking them to put themselves in danger to get evidence. But, amidst the politics and violence here, in the middle of all the pressures and strains, there is suddenly a very small possibility for Palestinians to take ownership over their own representation for once, to tell their own stories rather than having them told for them.

It's a tiny gesture: pick up a camera and film. But it can have massive consequences. I talk about how the footage is broadcast around the world. I talk about how much support the project has in the UK. I talk about the capacity of the participants to tell a story that no one would otherwise ever hear.

I realise quickly that I don't need to tell them all this, because there are others in the group already convinced of the project's potential. They tell Fadi their own stories. They describe what they filmed and what it feels like to finally hold a crucial piece of evidence when, for so long, the Israeli police and courts have asked - in answer to any complaints - "where's the evidence."

But I also know my limitations. "You know better than me what your lives are like. I can only tell you how to use this camera, where your footage goes, and what impact it can have. The rest is up to you."

"But we know the media is controlled by Zionists" they complain. It's an oversimplification I hear over and over again in Palestine, and I'm sick of hearing it. Not only because it isn't strictly true (the media is controlled by capitalists...) but because it's a phrase often used over and over again just to absolve us of our responsibilities.

"Whoever controls the media," I answer, "Maybe this is your chance to take back some of that control..."

First day of training

I spent Tuesday in a town near Nablus, running a preliminary training workshop with a media NGO here (I'll give the details once I leave..) Hundreds of cameras were distributed around the West Bank as part of a programme to document human rights abuses and so far it's been a huge success, footage broadcast around the world on international news channels. Now I've been hired to run a few workshops and training sessions - a review for some and an introduction to those who have just picked up their cameras for the first time. We're aiming to bring the skill level up a notch, to facilitate them eventually making their own short films.

There are several brave families in the room. Husbands and wives, some young children, all of them volunteered for the programme because they could both see the value of it, and wanted the feeling of having a role in documenting their own lives. Tired of seeing the news and finding so may holes in the representation of Palestinian lives. Tired of taking their cases to court only to be told "where's the evidence?" Now they have evidence. Things won't change overnight, but at the least the possibility for a video camera to empower these families is promising.

Bassam, on the right in the photograph, never used a camera before. He came to the workshops because a friend told him about it, and he liked the idea of documenting what he was going through in his village of 'Aqraba. 144,000 Dunums of farm land, it's on the border with the Jordan Valley, and as the whole of the Jordan Valley is under military law (far more strict than that in the West Bank) the authorities keep creeping into 'Aqraba. They restrict the movement of 'Aqraba farmers, they take a little more land, they take a little more water, they suddenly designate an area as a closed military zone. Things are getting worse, Bassam explains.

Maybe the cameras can help...

Back in Jersualem

This is the fastest I've ever made it through Israeli security. Face freshly-shaven. Shirt, tucked in. Papers all in order. I sat for only ten minutes, they called me into the security office next to the immigration window. They welcomed me back, said they knew I'd been there many times before as a journalist, and said they wanted to get me through as fast as possible. They and asked a few simple questions.
What are you here for?
Reporting on the reconstruction in Gaza.
With who?
Reuters.
Who's your contact in Gaza?
UNRWA.

That was it. Gave them some phone numbers, and walked out - even finding my luggage still by the carousel - to meet Dori in the cafe with green chairs (we always meet in the cafe with green chairs. Although this time I went to the wrong cafe. Apparently all the cafes here have green chairs.)

I haven't seen Dori in a few years. What's new? He finally finished renovating his house. He's a grandfather - his daughter has a one year old she called Ariel, after the Little Mermaid (not Sharon). He's started driving medical school exams between the students and professors for money, apparently it pays quite well. They trust him not to look at the questions. He asks where I'm going and I tell him West Bank for a week, then Gaza.

"Oh, Gaza. Make sure you wear PRESS on your back all the time, one of our snipers might see you and know you're not from Gaza and shoot you."
"okay..."

I'm exhausted, having had too much coffee trying to stay awake. It's not working. So I'll give in and go to sleep...

Demonstration at Iranian embassy, London

Following the alleged electoral fraud in Iran, protesters gathered in front of the Iranian embassy in London to demonstrate. My photos of the event made the front page of the Demotix website.

(Not sure how long it'll stay up there...so catch it while you can. If you miss it on the front page, my personal page is here.

In other news, I'm working on a lesson plan for a series of workshops I'll be holding in the West Bank and Gaza for media workers, to develop the use of video in online citizen journalism and human rights monitoring. More details to come...

Egyptian bloggers: kidnapped and tortured

You may have read earlier about the time I spent waiting in Cairo for Laila El Haddad so we could both cross into Gaza together to work on a media training project. That never happened.

But while I was in Cairo, I managed to trace four Egyptian bloggers recently allegedly kidnapped and tortured by state security officials. They have all since been released, but their stories - and the revelation that government officials are virtually immune from prosecution - make for some very disturbing news.

I originally made the film for Al-Jazeera English's Focus on Gaza programme, but while in the middle of the final cut, the programme was suddenly cancelled, so the film is now looking for a new home (most probably in a slightly different form).

If you've read this far, and you're still interested, you deserve a sneak peak. This is a link to a rough preview, and you'll need the password "bloggers".

Let me know if you have any ideas...

Hard Time Killing Floor

A few months ago, I (very much by surprise, and sort of by accident) became a playwright when my script Hard Time Killing Floor - about a Turkish/British man returning to London after awaiting execution in a Turkish prison for 12 years - was selected for the Angle Theatre's New Writer's season at the Hackney Empire.

I'd like to extend and invitation to everyone to the first public reading of my play on June 7th:

"Hard Time Killing Floor"
Hackney Empire Studio
291 Mare Street, London E8 1EJ
Sunday, June 7, 4:30 pm
Tickets are free but you should book through the season producer Amelia Nicholson.
Her email is amelia@iceni-productions.com

For details of the venue, click here


HARD TIME KILLING FLOOR
A man returns to London after serving twelve years in a Turkish prison awaiting execution. We don't see the crime and we don't see the violence - only the consequences of both. The question is not one of guilt or innocence, but of the process of putting your life back together after being released and allowed to return home. Things are no longer in perspective. The man can't see his friends and family - let alone himself - in the same way, and there are some questions that he can't answer.

Hope to see you there, and please feel free to let anyone else know who you think might be interested...

I See The Stars At Noon screening in London...

Our first documentary, I See The Stars At Noon, is still (thankfully) being screened five years after it was made. Next week it's screening as part of the excellent installation Leaving Room, by artists Roberto Cavallini and Daniele Rugo at Goldsmiths University in London. The screening is free, and there's a Q&A with director Saeed Taji Farouky following the screening.

5-7pm, Small Cinema, Main Building, Goldsmiths, University of London
New Cross. To find the university, visit their site here
Screening of:

Sin Papeles | Sam Stevens, 2005
I see the stars at noon | Saeed Taji Farouky, 2005

Followed by a conversation between: Roberto Cavallini, Saeed Taji Farouky, Daniele Rugo and Sam Stevens

Free entrance, no reservations needed.

For more info about the film makers:

http://www.samuelstevens.eu/

http://www.touristwithatypewriter.com/

For more info about the project:

http://bisproject.org/leavingroom/

Tourist admits defeat (don't expect it to happen again...)

After ten days of waiting (it seems like longer) I've finally been urged to, and have painfully agreed to, admit defeat in the face of the Rafah border. All indications are that there's "no way" I'll be allowed in (that's a direct quote from Cairo's Ramattan Bureau. They were very helpful in offering advice and paperwork and contacts, but ultimately couldn't do anything more for me)

It was very bad timing, after all, nothing more dramatic than a series of separate incidents that all combined to make the crossing virtually impossible for me. First, Laila El-Haddad was refused entry to Egypt and detained in Cairo airport for 36 hours (sleeping on the floor with her two children, aged 4 and 1). Laila's a Gaza resident, so at least that would have made it easier for us both to get across Rafah (which is typically only for Palestinian residents, but during the war in January was open for a while for international journalists, and is still occasionally open for delegations).

Then, an undercover Hezbullah sleeper cell was apparently discovered operating in Egypt. That accusation alone would have been bad enough to close the border, if Nasrallah hadn't admitted it was true two days later...

So, with these factors piling up, crossing the Rafah border was becoming more and more difficult. Then the Egyptian Government Press Office announced it was no longer issuing papers to foreign journalists crossing into Rafah, and THEN the British Consulate announced it was no longer even issuing papers absolving itself of all responsibility for UK journalists wanting to cross! They can't even commit enough to sign a piece of paper saying I can't sue them if I die? Things are getting really bad...

By that point, it seemed the only people being allowed through Rafah were injured Palestinians getting medical treatment in Egypt or returning home to Gaza. As dedicated as I am to my work, I'm (only slightly) above pretending to be an injured Palestinian.

Oh, and a few bright sparks also pointed out that even if I did get it, it might be difficult to...what was it again? Oh, that's right. Get out.

Luckily, in the meantime, I've managed to take my stress and boredom and frustration and make another film while waiting. Of course I can't tell you anything about until I leave Egypt, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun, (and probably not a very good documentary if it was done with the approval of the Egyptian state)

Laila back in the US

The latest news is that Laila finally arrived back in the US at 3am this morning, after a transfer through London. I haven't heard directly from her yet, but will let you know when I do...

Laila living in Cairo Airport

Laila has now been in Cairo International Airport for 20 hours, sleeping and eating on the floor with her two kids, aged five and one and a half. After hours of arguing, the guards are now telling her nothing. Instead, they're just stalling - telling her something's happening, someone's coming to see her, a decision is coming soon. But they don't seem to know what happened to her file.

She's still not being given access to a phone, and is eating the food she brought with her and donations from the airport staff.

The whole thing is looking like a maze of bureaucracy and illogical arbitrary rules, with her and her kids trapped in the middle.

One of the guards just asked her if she wants him to put up a shelter for her, so she has the feeling she's going to be there for a lot longer...

At the moment, I don't know what else to do. Myself, her husband and father have been calling and appealing to everyone we can think of. Politicians, journalists, NGOs, diplomats - even with some high-up connections, nothing seems to be making a difference.

http://twitter.com/Gazamom

Laila in the Airport

Laila arrived in Cairo at around 11:30 last night, but since then has been detained by security with her two children, Yousuf age 5 and Noor age 15 months. She's been there for 17 hours so far, and they've given her no access to a telephone. She managed to find a wireless signal in the room and has been keeping in touch with her family and I for hours, but the latest news is that they intend to send her back to the US because orders for all Palestinians to be refused entry unless Rafah crossing is open.

I'll keep you posted as more information comes in...

Back in Cairo

I'm back in Cairo after only a few weeks away. (I had a feeling I'd be back so soon...)

At the moment Laila El-Haddad in on her way over (I think she's still airborne at this moment) and when we meet here, we'll start planning for Gaza. At the moment, I have no idea what the situation is with the border, when/if it will open, how/if I can get through as a journalist. I'm hearing completely different stories from different sources. The British Embassy says they have nothing to do with crossing any more - they don't provide any letters or paperwork. The Egyptian Journalists Union were providing press passes during and just after the war, but now they say go to your embassy...

UNRWA says it should be no problem going through Rafah with a commission letter from a news media.

I think we'll just end up going to the border on a rumour and taking our chances...

We are the future

In order to keep up with the future and secure our place in it, we've signed up to Twitter. Wow. Amazing. It is indeed a revolution.

I'm sure there's a way of linking Twitter here...
But in the meantime, find us here

Cairo and Cairo again

FROM: Saeed Taji Farouky
Sorry, we disappeared for a while there. But that doesn't mean we haven't been busy (double negative...in other words, we've been busy)

Gareth and I just got back from Cairo where we filmed and researched (very quickly) a five and a half minute film for Al-Jazeera English's new programme Empire. The programme is an hour-long round table discussion on empires, power structures, imperialism, etc and this latest episode was about Arab unity (or the lack of).

We were asked to make a film about the Arab League and how it's faired in the past dealing with regional issues itself, without foreign help. What we found was that, not surprisingly, it hasn't done well. In fact, we would call it a failure.

This was a challenging film, we haven't made anything like it in the past. Very research heavy, relying on a lot of library footage, and most importantly VERY opinionated. It was definitely a relief to be able to say things like "The Arab solution was a failure" as an opinion, without having to write a 2000 word article on why it was a failure. So hopefully someone believes my opinion...

The show aired last night (March 25th) and should be online soon on Al-Jazeera's youtube page We'll let you know...

In the meantime, I'm back in Cairo around the 6th of April on my way to Gaza to implement a video and blog-based human rights monitoring project in Gaza (more about that later). I'm planning to make a few more films - hopefully with Gareth involved - while I'm there. Any idea? Let us know...