Que(e)ries: Talking To The Directors Of ‘Call Me Kuchu,’ The Summer’s Most Important LGBT Doc

Que(e)ries: Talking To The Directors Of 'Call Me Kuchu,' The Summer's Most Important LGBT Doc

A few weeks back, we offered up this list of 10 LGBT films you should see on the film festival circuit this summer, but there’s also a few heading to traditional release. Among them is Malika Zouhali-Worrall and Katherine Fairfax Wright’s Ugandan LGBT
rights doc “Call Me Kuchu,” which is being released this Friday in New York (and then next weekend in LA) after nearly a year and half of winning considerable accolades on the festival circuit. 

Upon its world premiere at the Berlinale last year, the film won the Teddy Award
for best LGBT documentary. It followed that win with prizes for best international feature at Hot Docs, the audience award at Frameline, and the Amnesty International human rights award at Durban.

Specifically focused around LGBT people and activists in Uganda, “Call
Me Kuchu” (gay and transgendered citizens are called “kuchus”) centers
around the life and tragic death of David Kato, a veteran activist who
spent years fighting against his country’s insanely homophobic society. 
Among other terrifying things, an anti-homosexuality bill proposing
death for HIV-positive gay men is introduced and Kato is one of the few
brave enough to try and stop it. Unfortunately, after courageously
changing the face of LGBT rights in the country, Kato was brutually
murdered in 2011.

Canonizing Kato’s life and shedding light on
the remarkable efforts of people like him, Zouhali-Worral and Fairfax Wright’s first film as feature
directors is a powerful and important one that should not be missed, putting into perspective how horrifying the situation is for LGBT people in parts of our world (and works very well as as double feature to “God Loves Uganda,” which is playing at both Outfest and Frameline this summer).

Indiewire talked with both filmmakers about the film and what they hope people take from it.

How did each of you get into filmmaking?

Katherine Fairfax Wright:  In college, I studied
anthropology and film, so for me documentary is a natural intersection
of the two. I was the type of student who was really keen to think about
a lot of things from a lot of angles, but perhaps not to the degree
that would require one to hyper-focus on a single discipline or
vocational niche. So filmmaking allows to me to pursue my myriad
interests concurrently, to consider complex geo-political issues,
questions of logic and of humanity, but with a creative mindset and
output. A character-driven documentary such as “Call Me Kuchu” also
enables me to explore a situation on a nuanced individual level from the
point of view of a select few, but then to share that intimacy on a
macro level with countless viewers and points of view—and I find that a
really fascinating dynamic to take part in.  

In terms of developing a skill set, my undergraduate studies were
mostly film theory not practice, so as a supplement to that I began
interning on a couple of film productions, then associate producing,
then producing, set photography, and various other roles. But this is my
first film in this capacity—as co-director, director of photography,
and editor.

Malika Zouhali-Worrall: Before “Call Me Kuchu,” I was
working as a print and video journalist, reporting from the U.S., China
and India for CNN.com and other publications. After a couple of years
of freelancing, I started to feel creatively stifled by short-form
journalism and having worked for a couple of production companies as a
documentary researcher, I soon realized that the intimate, creative and
in-depth nature of storytelling in documentary film was what I was
yearning for. That was around the same time that I first heard about
Victor Mukasa, a Ugandan transgender man who, in 2008, had won a
landmark case against the country’s Attorney General in Uganda’s High
Court. It was too late to make a film about Victor’s case alone, but it
seemed that there was still a film to be made about the East African
LGBT community, so I started speaking with activists in the region, and
shared my research with Katy, who had also been closely following the
situation there. From there we decided to make a film.

What was the genesis of “Call Me Kuchu” as a project? What drew you to the material?

Katherine Fairfax Wright: We had both read about the
tabling of the Anti-Homosexuality Bill in October 2009, and we were
increasingly disturbed by its implications. But Victor Mukasa’s case had
also intrigued us, because it showed that while the country’s sodomy
laws were still routinely enforced, and even harsher laws were being
considered, the country’s judicial system was independent enough to
allow LGBT people, or “kuchus,” to reclaim their constitutional rights.
We also soon learned that there was an increasingly organized LGBT
community in Uganda that was fighting state-sanctioned homophobia
through the courts and other means. Within just a couple of weeks, we
found ourselves on a plane bound for Kampala.

Malika Zouhali-Worrall: David was the first person we
met up with after we arrived in Uganda. We had to find him in the
restaurant of a specific hotel — the only place he felt safe in the
city center. He reeled off names and numbers and introduced us to
various people in the kuchu community, so initially he was somewhat of a
fixer to us. But as we spent more time with him, we were increasingly
intrigued by his fierce intelligence and passion, and realized that he
was one of the most outspoken activists in the community. It soon became
clear that he was the protagonist of “Call Me Kuchu.”

What do you hope people take from it?

Malika Zouhali-Worrall: “Call Me Kuchu” tells the
story of the last year in the life of David Kato, Uganda’s first openly
gay man, up until his brutal murder in early 2011. We followed David
over the course of a year as he worked to combat both an
Anti-Homosexuality Bill that proposed a death penalty for gay men, and a
gay-bashing tabloid newspaper that was outing members of the LGBT
community with vicious fervor.

Of course, David’s brutal murder changed our motivations for working on
the film to some extent. While we had always been keen to get the story
of Kampala’s kuchus out into the world, that sentiment became far more
urgent and personal when David died. We had essentially documented the
entire last year of his life, and since his life was cut short, we had
been filming during a time when he was at the pinnacle of his activism,
when his philosophies and oration were most concrete and
well-formulated, and when his voice and understanding of the complexity
of the scenario was strongest.  Therefore, both of us felt the
responsibility to honor his life by making the best film we could, and
ensuring that it has as broad of a reach as possible.

Katherine Fairfax Wright: Since his murder, David has
been mythologized as a courageous and passionate human rights activist
— which is exactly what he was. However, over the time that we spent
filming with him, we also got to know a man who was charismatic yet
vulnerable, sharp witted, and often afraid to sleep alone.  As is true
of the heroes of any movement, some of these character and situational
subtleties have been overshadowed by the broad strokes of his
accomplishments.  Our hope is that “Call Me Kuchu,” as a long-format
character study, will help supplement the canonized David Kato, and
ensure that people understand that he was a normal man who went to
astounding lengths to liberate Uganda’s LGBT community.

We also hope our audiences will take away a fresh understanding of
Kampala’s kuchus and what they’ve achieved as a community. The
Anti-Homosexuality Bill has received plenty of coverage from the
international news media, however, in most cases the dominant narrative
is that of victimization. While the LGBT community certainly suffers
under Uganda’s harsh state-sanctioned homophobia, many of the kuchus we
met were not only victims. David and his fellow activists worked hard to
change their own fate through every means possible: the Ugandan courts,
the United Nations, the international news media.  There is a reason
why everyone is talking about this issue, and it’s because the kuchus
have worked relentlessly to push their movement forward.  As a result,
“Call Me Kuchu” is a nuanced story of empowerment as much as of

The access you got for the film is quite remarkable? How did you manage that?

Malika Zouhali-Worrall: As we said, David was among
the first people we were in contact with when we started researching the
film in 2009, and it was he who introduced us to the kuchu community, a
gesture that proved to be a crucial step towards gaining the
community’s trust. From there, we took careful measures to approach
everyone respectfully, and explained exactly what we were trying to do. 
We also tried to make clear to them that we wanted to document their
stories well beyond the sound bites they were accustomed to providing to
journalists.  We really had to convince them we were in it for the long
run, that we wanted to be around for hours on end as they moved house,
had meetings, watched TV, ate dinner, etc.  There were definitely people
who chose not to be filmed, and we respected their wishes of course.
But those who decided to let us into their lives did so because they
wanted to be involved in a project that would get their stories out, and
we were surprised at the intimacy that engendered. In many cases, it
seemed that those members of the LGBT community were looking for an
outlet through which to share their individual experiences.

What were some other challenges? This must have been an emotionally stirring process, to say the least.

Katherine Fairfax Wright: Most definitely, and by far
the hardest moments for us were in the weeks immediately after David
was killed. One of the most difficult moments to film came when we
visited David’s mother with Naome, David’s close friend and fellow
activist, and Bishop Senyonjo, a retired bishop and staunch supporter of
the LGBT community. We had spent time with David’s mother before so she
was comfortable with us filming, but it was nonetheless a very tough
experience. The pain of her loss was so raw, and our memories of David
so fresh, that we were both sobbing as we tried to operate the cameras
and sound equipment. It was moments like these that forced us more than
ever to ask ourselves what exactly we wanted to achieve with the film
and how we should go about it.

For more information on how to see “Call Me Kuchu,” click here.

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I was in Uganda a few weeks ago for a fortnight and met plenty of campaigners, many of whom were in this documentary, yet none of them have even seen it. You'd have thought the filmmakers would at least mail copies back to the country they filmed in, for the people they filmed and their communities?

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