I went to the movies last night. When I say ‘movies’, it was in Ramsbury’s village hall. I saw a short film (twenty minutes?) about a local girl, a primary school teacher, who’d gone to work for a year in a remote community in North-western Ghana. I will confess to a slightly vinegared view of such gatherings: my bleary cynic’s eye anticipated another opportunity to drop my loose change and pocket fluff into a Tupperware picnic box on the way out.
Noting that the hall was already packed, probably beyond the Parish Council’s H&S limit, I settled into my surprisingly comfortable stacking chair, sipped my glass of excellent Prosecco (a snip at £3.50) and waited with the chattering throng. The room fell quiet as a tall, slim, presentable man, whose name we were not able to mention until recently for security reasons (honestly!) came to the fore and introduced the film and its makers to us with the ease and eloquence of someone used to addressing more auspicious gatherings: When Sir Robert (John) Sawer, former head of MI6 speaks, audiences listen. So we did, then we watched the movie.
Twenty minutes, did I say? I didn’t know I could stop breathing for so long. It shook this old cynic up. In fact, it shook up everybody present. I know this because of the explosive burst of applause, that ripped through us all as the screen went post-credits black. Its already impressive decibel level rose to a crescendo as we became aware of the presence of Sarah Gardner, the remarkable, driven, singular young woman at the heart of the movie. Parallel with a seeming tsunami of noise, she walked, in the half-light, from the back of our village hall to its front. As each row of eyes caught her, another row of pairs of hands clapped louder. Sarah, with beaming smile a mixture of relief, gratitude and self-conscious quiet pleasure, waited patiently to speak. When finally she was able to, she did so in the same level, warm, authentic tone, which had spellbound us through the previous twenty-odd minutes.
Yesterday morning, as I chomped my Waitrose Luxury Maple and Honey muesli (fab with chopped banana), I flicked through the newspaper, pausing briefly to glean with mild distain that Sean Penn had apparently been a complete tit – again – at the Cannes Film festival: I thought of that moment again as, in the bosom of that wildly appreciative audience, I applauded a stunning, unforgettable little movie which, had the Cannes Judges known of it, would have easily scooped their bauble for Best Short Film.
This morning’s breakfast was taken with more circumspection and appreciation of my comparative privilege as I reflected upon the purpose of last evening’s gathering. Was it really four years ago that Sarah met with her friends in The Bell for a farewell drink before heading off to Lawra, in remote north-west Ghana for a stint of voluntary work? An admirable whim, I thought, but not untypical of the sort of things embarked upon for adventure and fun by bright, thoughtful young people fortunate enough to be raised and educated in comfortable middle-class environmenti. But, at the end of her stint, this particular bright, confident youngster returned to her mother country a mature, impressive, sharply-focused and driven woman. She had seen the starkest poverty, the most spirit-breaking hardship and simple, plain lack of fundament, which made her want to run home to her assured teaching job. But she didn’t, because she had also seen the glowing light of innocent hope, optimism and trust in the eyes of almost every child she encountered. It ate into her: it is that still-constant gnawing which drives her on.
Sarah eventually came home only long enough to tell of the plight of the extraordinary people among whom she now lives and whose remarkable story of survival and improvement is entirely due to her single-minded determination to make a difference, or fall in the attempt – and fall she almost did. If poverty, hunger, lack of education and work aren’t enough, there is also the constant threat of Africa’s plague, malaria which struck at her, not once, but six times.
“Six times?” I remember asking in disbelief when she casually mentioned it during a small fund-raiser at a friend’s house a couple of years ago. “Yeah, well,” she shrugged, grinning with astonishing magnanimity, “what doesn’t kill you…” And that was that. I haven’t heard her mention malaria since.
The story of Lawra is one she could now tell with deserved pride, but she doesn’t: Sarah simply lets it speak through her: a remarkable gift she doesn’t seem to be aware she possesses. This 32-year-old former primary school teacher has become conduit to the world for an on-going saga of collective human spirit and determination. At present, outside north-west Ghana, this world doesn’t extend much beyond Ramsbury and a couple of local market towns, but when the wider community sees Sarah’s film, hears her story and becomes aware of how loved she is by the proud people of no-longer-quite-so-remote-and-helpless Lawra, her work and that of her adopted, thriving and expanding family will gain the unstoppable momentum it and they rightly deserve: But what of that work?
When she arrived in Lawra, brimming with VSO ideals and confidence, the arid, dusty, parched reality of lack almost floored her. Lack of shelter, lack of food, lack of healthcare, lack of education but, worst of all, lack of hope, because this was an isolated, deprived, forgotten community. Yet this was also the key to Sarah’s urgently needed inspiration: It was still a community, if she could help keep it together, it could survive. Might it possibly thrive? Thus was spawned ATE.
Action Through Enterprise is the charity she immediately founded to attract volunteers and funds, firstly to feed her new charges so they no longer needed to leave school during breaks to scavenge roots and berries from the impoverished surrounding. With that imperative in place, she dared to help the adults – particularly the skilled tradespeople desperate to support themselves with dignity – to find the means and the tools to do so. Funds were raised to buy rudimentary looms for weavers and essential implements – and small parcels of land – for farmers. Builders were put to work and paid to repair and improve, firstly the school buildings, then the homes of the families of the schoolchildren. Sarah is unswervingly aware of the single virtue that must never be undermined: basic human dignity.
In that aim she has so far succeeded, as her admirable film attests. We are all weary of trite little ‘docudramas’ bloated with cliches, sentiment and false jeopardy. Sarah’s film gently demonstrates that the art of unsentimental, dignified, even-handed and educational reportage is not dead.
Only when continuity and fluency require it, does she appear before camera, though never centre stage. She appears, artlessly and almost incidentally, right of frame, steady calm gaze fixed on an unseen person slightly wide of the viewer’s left shoulder: a confident but unchallenging position which says she’s here to do an important job, not fashion a career: ‘Listen, learn and, if you possibly can, get involved’ is her simple, clear unspoken message.
Never did I feel less like I was being mugged for charity.
There is no ‘voiceover’ on the sound track, none is necessary because, mostly, the information is delivered by Sarah’s Ghanaian colleagues or, happily and proudly, by those who have been helped towards success and security. There are also subtitles, not just to help decipher some of the strong, regional accents, but for Sarah’s words too: she insisted upon it. Firstly, because it would be patronising and demeaning to her bright, determined and committed African colleagues and friends to sub-title only them, but it meant also that she could speak naturally, fluently and at the speed she is most comfortable with. Yes, she admits her speech is a little fast, but I, and my fellow viewers, can assure her, it is eloquent, spellbindingly honest, authentic and clear.
Looking back now, she could, though rarely does, recant stories of heart-rending sadness, tragedy and despair. Sarah’s focus is unerringly forward, her task just begun. She is aware that she has impacted upon only a tiny part of a vast region peppered by villages in similar difficulty to the one she found herself in, almost by accident, seven years ago. I do not for a moment think she will let up and rest on her considerable laurels and I pray that those of us fortunate enough to hear of her, privileged enough to meet her, will not let up in our support for her fearless Action Through Enterprise.
By Kevin Dennis, Resident of Ramsbury and ATE Supporter
You can read more about The ATE Film at https://ateghana.org/ate-film-premiere/