The Making Of
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Filmmaker David E. Simpson talks about the trials of filming in remote areas in the African bush, overcoming indigenous people's suspicions and a shocking scene that didn’t make it into the final cut.
What led you to make MILKING THE RHINO?
The idea came from my co-producer, Jeannie Magill, who has a background in educational safaris in Kenya and had some awareness of trends towards community-based conservation. I like wildlife as much as the next guy, but what attracted me to the project was the people. I'm fascinated by the notion of a community undergoing rapid, radical change. The Himba and the Maasai are among the oldest cattle cultures on earth; herding is in their DNA. So for the Il Ngwesi community to retool their economy and lifestyle to favor eco-tourism and wildlife conservation—at the expense of grass and space for cattle—is like removing a rib. They are making this change not merely out of desperation, but with ingenuity and entrepreneurial spirit. But not everyone in the community agrees with the shift. I'm fascinated by the debate within the community and by the dynamics between the actions of these indigenous groups and the expectations of the Western world.
What were some of the challenges you faced in making this film?
One challenge was in pre-production: trying to get information about events on the ground while still in the U.S. We had contacts, but they rarely answered phone calls or email. It took months of slow-motion back and forth to figure out what might happen when we arrived. And it rarely happened.
Once there, the shoots could be pretty challenging. Ninety percent of the filming was done at really remote locations, particularly in Namibia where we were off the typical safari path in areas that aren’t easily accessed. You have to drive three days from the capital city to get to these Himba communities, over roads that helped me understand the purpose of Land Rovers. And electricity is rare. You have batteries to charge, you have to find means of transportation, camping gear… we had to be pretty self-sufficient.
How did you gain the trust of the subjects in your film?
I think our relationship with people in the film is founded on the fact that we received our introductions from the right people. We traveled with guides and non-governmental organization (NGO) field officers who were intimate with the communities we visited. If we had arrived on our own, cameras in hand, we would have been thrown out. You can hardly find a spot on earth where film crews haven’t been. And if they’re extremely remote places, film producers are that much more attracted to them. So you will often find that people in far-off places have had somewhat negative, exploitative experiences with the media. We find ourselves having to repair the damage. In our case, I think the trust also stemmed from our subjects sensing that we were genuinely interested in telling the story of community-conservation from their perspective (rather than that of the white conservationist whose point of view is at the center of every wildlife film I’ve seen).
Do you think community-based conservation will continue to pick up speed in Africa as well as elsewhere in the world?
Community-based conservation has quickly become the dominant paradigm in Africa and elsewhere. Yet, it faces formidable critics and obstacles. Along with successes, there are failed programs that are cautionary tales. It’s not a one-size-fits-all solution, but requires case-by-case adaptation to the resources and culture of each place. What gives me hope is that there are a lot of committed, passionate, smart, entrepreneurial people like James and John, our two main characters in the film. Most of them are affiliated with small, grassroots NGOs. They are in it for the long haul and for the right reasons—not because of a three-year grant from some large funding agency. At any rate, few serious people in the field advocate a widespread return to the orthodox “fences and fines” approach, which bred resentment between communities and conservationists. Most agree that a people-centered approach, while fraught with difficulties, must be made to work.
What do you think is the biggest challenge for places like Il Ngwesi Lodge?
Challenges are many. There’s the gaining of capacity to run a tourist lodge to high standards—Western tourists expect clean sheets and a cold beer at the end of the day. There’s the winning of the community’s hearts and minds to the idea that the benefits of eco-tourism outweigh the hardships of living with dangerous animals. There’s figuring out how to administer and allocate the benefits in ways that seem equitable to the whole community. There are the “droughts of tourism,” such as what happened at the end of 2007 and in early 2008, when Kenya’s botched elections resulted in a flare-up of violence.
But to me, the biggest challenge to a place that’s already successful, like Il Ngwesi, is welcoming an increasing presence of the modern world into their communities, while continuing to keep intact the values and traditions that make them so attractive to tourists in the first place.
What would you have liked to include in your film that didn’t make the cut?
There are several scenes that I regret leaving on the cutting room floor. One of them, illustrated by a local conservationist’s photos, shows how a throng of villagers surround an elephant stuck in a dung pit and eventually kill the animal. The sequence was intended to make the spectator aware of the magnitude of the frustrations among villagers who have to share the land with wild animals. In the Western world, we’re often oblivious to the fact that most wildlife exists where people are trying to make a living. This cohabitation is dangerous and costly. The reason the scene did not make the final cut is that when we showed a rough cut of the film to various people, the scene misfired—the reaction was overwhelmingly one of revulsion. People were shocked at the “savagery” on the screen. So instead of tackling the stereotype of animals as all cozy and benevolent, which was our intention, the scene reinforced another stereotype—that of the “savage” African population.
Were there any technical challenges you faced while shooting, and if so, how did you resolve them?
Aside from the logistical challenges noted above, we also dealt with extremes of climate. The summer heat in northwest Namibia reached 105°F. While filming the scene at the remote Himba village, where the old woman dresses down John for his collaboration with the nearby lodge, a grain of sand must have entered the camera tape-transport, because it shut down cold. We spent a fretful few hours taking it apart before the problem somehow fixed itself. Finding a replacement and a way to get it up there would not have been easy.
What has the audience response been so far? Have the people featured in the film seen it, and if so, what did they think?
Audience reaction has been quite positive. Several people in the film have seen it, including the two main characters: James Ole Kinyaga and John Kasaona. Big John flew to Washington, D.C. for a conference during post-production of the film, so we rerouted him to Chicago for a few days and brought him into the editing room. He was riveted by the film in progress and laughed at his own scenes, saying, “You have to show this to my wife, because she thinks that when I drive off to Kunene, I’m just loafing around. I’m working hard!”
On the final trip to Africa, we brought a portable monitor and showed rough cuts of scenes to the staff at the Il Ngwesi Lodge and also to the Himba villages. We filmed the reaction of Komungandjera (the woman who collects commiphora plants) to her scene. This behind-the-scenes clip is an extra on the DVD and on the film’s Web site.
We hope to stage a lot more grass roots screenings in Africa: at the villages where we filmed, as well as in other communities where people share the land with wildlife.
The independent film business is a difficult one. What keeps you motivated?
I love good filmmaking, and I detest the bulk of mainstream-media representations of the world. So, both love and anger keep me motivated. Good filmmaking, whether non-fiction or narrative, can strip away the baloney of profit-driven media (think “reality TV”), and give us a window onto aspects of the world that are strange, beautiful, difficult or affirming. My love of viewing documentaries has always been what motivates me to make them. Going to a good film festival charges my batteries. Also, sitting at an Avid (or Final Cut Pro) editing station, manipulating an image of the world to one’s own satisfaction, is a very powerful thing.
Why did you choose to present your film on public television?
Public television seems a natural home for MILKING THE RHINO. Conservation-minded people and lovers of wildlife films are a core PBS constituency, one that we hope to attract even as this film subverts their expectations by focusing on people. We also hope the broadcast will pique interest among African communities in the U.S., a group who is rarely accustomed to seeing balanced, nuanced images of themselves. I feel that public TV still occupies a unique and important spot in the U.S. television landscape. It has the freedom to air some serious programming that would be unwelcome or cost-ineffective at more advertising-driven networks.
How long did it take to make the film?
It took about three years to make the film (not counting the extra two years spent writing treatments and looking for funds). We made three trips to Africa—each about a month long—between May 2005 and August 2007. Editing took about 13 months, spread over a couple of years.
What didn’t you get done when you were making your film?
I abandoned my family for months at a time (years, if you count the time holed-up in the edit room). I’m still working off the debt. Speaking of which, I also didn’t get all my bills paid. While the film was “fully funded,” the work always stretches beyond the plan. Documentaries are a labor of love.
Learn more about the filmmakers >>
Read an update on the people and places featured in the film >>
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