Ammar Thabit, in Baghdad
The lucky number is 25 and every one of those twenty-five is wearing a black suit and standing in the midst of post-war ruins in downtown Baghdad alongside the other twenty-four. They are all accomplished Iraqi musicians, members of Iraq’s National Symphony Orchestra. The weather is steaming hot, and as the summer sun beats down, beads of sweat drop steadily from every brow onto the dusty rubble beneath their feet. This is a most unusual stage for all of them.
Samer Bassem, 19, plays double-bass. He, like the others, has volunteered his time and talent, in this unlikely setting, for a Red Cross Red Crescent TV spot. "We are glad to be doing this work for the Iraqi Red Crescent. Volunteerism is an apple to be grabbed by humanity," says the bass player, after having spent the past eight hours performing in the sweltering heat.
Behind him roars the inescapable chug-chugging of a diesel generator, which has been running as long as they have been playing. That’s because the people in Baghdad, as in much of Iraq, continue to suffer from the unpredictable stops and starts of the power supply, after years of neglect in the upkeep of the grid and the intensive post-war looting of power station equipment and copper wire. Power cuts are just one of the many problems the film crew is coping with, trying to produce a video clip in this war-torn city.
The spot is only 120 seconds (two minutes) long, but the preparation has consumed the last four weeks. About 100 people are each playing a part in the filming in the ruins of the Al Saydya district, and at the Ishtar Sheraton conference hall. "I did not expect that this project would be so demanding," comments Iraqi Red Crescent volunteer Liqa'a Abdul Zahra, 28, as she adjusts her yellow scarf with a charming and patient smile. "Thank goodness I have a second scarf with me. The one I wore today is soaked with perspiration."
The bellowing voice of Hadi Omran, who is directing the spot together with Federation information delegate Till Mayer, covers the sound of the generator. “Quiet please!” he instructs from behind the camera. “And get those spotlights working again, because the sun will soon be setting. If we do not finish soon, we will lose the best light, and the camera is running low on batteries," he adds.
Seated on the piano bench of a grand piano pierced with a single bullet hole is the noted Iraqi singer and composer Raied George. "I am honoured to donate one of my works to assist in whatever way I can,” declares Mr. George. “I am here for the sake of my country and for the Red Cross and Red Crescent."
As the shadows get longer and sunset approaches, each musician can be seen glancing at his or her watch. "We have to be going home," every face is saying silently, not wanting to interrupt the production. That’s because there will be no second chance to get all this equipment set up again amongst the ruins.
And finally, applause breaks out after the last shot has been filmed from the rented crane overhead. "Shukran. Thank you. We have the footage we need," Hadi Omran and Till Mayer both shout with satisfaction.
But the following day the struggle continues. The delegates’ living quarters have been converted into an editing studio. The production team has brought in all kinds of equipment and is scurrying back and forth setting up this temporary arrangement. "We will have to stay here throughout the night, and continue to work as long as the generator keeps running,” announces Till Mayer, “because we’re not going anywhere after the curfew begins.” The seven-member editing crew is not looking happy, faced with the prospect of working all night.
It’s three o’clock in the morning and a creative battle is in full swing between the two directors, Hadi Omran and Till Mayer. Each one of them is defending his creative vision. "No special effects and it should all be in black and white," Till insists. Meanwhile, Hadi is pushing for colour footage. Other members of the team help to strike a compromise. "Okay, let’s produce it Till’s way for the international version and Hadi's way for the local one," they suggest. Agreed. Everyone’s yawning but happy.
At 07:00, the job is done. The video clip plays with the sound of a traditional Arabic song, newly re-arranged by composer Raid George. The visuals are a mix of the Iraqi Symphony Orchestra, intercut with poignant photos of a destitute family staring out from the screen with a strong sense of personal dignity.
"I met this family while I was doing another story,” explains Till Mayer, who conceived the project and wrote the scenario. “When I took those pictures, I could feel their determination. They are the heart of this spot. We did not want to produce anything like an advertising clip, because this is a message about human suffering in Iraq, to show that the Red Cross Red Crescent Movement is aware and involved."
At 10:00 that same morning, in a single, poorly-furnished room Red Cross/Red Crescent workers gather around an old television set. As the clip begins, the sound of a piano bursts into the room. The pictures begin to flow together with the music, one image after the next, until the spot is done. The emotion is too great, and no one applauds, however the credits can be measured by the tears filling the eyes of this very first audience, people who have seen too many injured, too many dead, too much suffering.
Humanity is the common bond and the message conveyed by the spot.
The TV spot was produced to promote the image of the Iraqi Red Crescent and its activities to help the most vulnerable. It was shown to the General Assembly of the Iraqi Red Crescent on July 29, and well-received. The Assembly made a point of thanking the musicians and composer Raid George for having donated their time for the cause of humanity.
The spot was also shown on Al Arabiyah television in prime time that evening, The aim is to have it broadcast on as many television channels as possible.
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