Let’s face it, most of the Western made films about educating girls as a means of combating poverty (even when inspiring) are pretty predictable. They’re mostly promotional pieces like what we set out to make. Shanta’s death has compelled us to move this conversation to the next level.

We tackle that level by going inside Shanta’s family’s day to day life. This UN video below makes it look like a simple decision to send a girl off to school– like it is a matter of just the family making up their mind that it is the best thing to do. It does not mention the weight of hunger, financial stress and deep discrimination.

The costs of opportunity.

Hmmm…

Rama works in the little guest house my friend, Kristin, and I stayed for a few nights in Bandipur, Nepal. She cooks and cleans.  She doesn’t have all that much English and I have hardly any Nepali.  We overly “Namaste-d” to compensate— knowing if we spoke the same language we would have a lot to talk about.

After a long hike in the hills, Kristin and I moved some chairs from the guest house restaurant into the sun and Rama brought us tea.

Rama asked me to guess how old she was. I thought I was really being conservative by saying 27. I was sure she must be in her 30′s. But no, she told she was twenty-five and with two daughters. One is 11 and one is 10. She busted out all her English now.

Me married. 13. Chitwan (a region hours away)

(she shakes her head as if to say, “I know, criminal right?”

Divorce.

New wife.

Me. No house. No see daughters.

Me work Bandipur. Very difficult.

No house. No see mom. No see daughters. No husband.

Daughters husband house.

Nepali culture no new marry.

(Rama looked at me right in the eyes for a long time. Then  let down her gaze. She changed her painful tone to one of conversational optimism.)

America? America is beautiful?

I got the feeling all her English is reserved for her story. These tourists coming through this small town are her only hope.

Later on our hike up to see the sunset I daydreamed about visas and South Seattle Community College with all its English and immigration classes and taking Rama to the airport.

What would it take to rescue her?

I know I could… and I can’t, but what will happen to her if I don’t?

What is my responsibility?

In these 10 minutes we see her walking home from school, doing her homework, doing laundry and being pushed out of line while getting water, because of her “Untouchable” caste status. We get a big dose of how frustrating it is to live in a small space while trying to get ahead in school. There is also a hint at the enormous tension she has with her sister in law.

It ends with Shanta looking into the camera, and her voice over saying, “I am…hoping to become somebody.”

Chills. It gets me every time. I wonder if it does others. (And every time I ask myself: Do I get chills because I know her and know how true this is for her? Are conveying this meaning–and the chills–to other viewers?)

Something important to think about. This is the reason we believe we need an editing consultant—someone who wasn’t in the room with us filming, who can say, ‘that might have been a big moment in Nepal, but it doesn’t translate in your footage’.

Not that we want to hear that. Unless it’s true. Then it is Super valuable.

But all in all, we think the trailer works. It sets up the problem, introduces a main character and shows off our filmmaking style.

The thing is, this wasn’t always the trailer. I made a 3 minute trailer that I love. I actually think this gets folks* more excited about film, so I am not going to shelve it. What do you think?

*{by “folks” I mean regular people, civilians, as opposed to people who live and breathe documentaries, like funders and other documentarians}

Here’s the 3-minute version. What do you think?

Three: The GirlWorld Teaser from NonFiction Media on Vimeo.

Then after that, came the week of editing the trailer–a different kind of blur. The kind where we didn’t collect our mail and ate off the same pizza for breakfast and dinner. After three long days including two very late nights, we finished it and are continuing to finish it. It is difficult not to pick at–like a scab or zit–no, it is more like a painting on the wall that never looks straight, so you keep gently adjusting its placing and then move back to take a look at it again. 

However, it is time for the trailer to stop being babied by us and for it to leave the nest for the real world. We would like to invite all of you to give us feedback. We would like this trailer to continue to change and get better and better. We need ya’lls comments to do that.

We need to look at it with some new eyeballs. YOUR EYEBALLS. What do you see? Hear? Feel? When you watch this thing? Let us know. 

Three: Stories From The Struggle For Girls’ Education from NonFiction Media on Vimeo. 

A note on Vimeo viewing: If you have a fast computer, you can expand the screen by clicking on the little four-outward-pointing-arrows glyph on the lower right of the viewer window. Make sure HD is on and scaling is off. Also, probably best to let the whole thing load in first (hit ‘pause’ if needed). This will give you the best viewing experience (we’re still experimenting with the best way to output stuff for internet viewing).

Only, most people here earn no more than a dollar or two a day. If your job requires you to take a bus, you might have been spending 20 or 30 rupees (67 rupees=$1US) each way for your commute. Does not compute.

And that was before the recent fare hikes. I’m no economist, but I can see this is pretty much an untenable situation.

Strikes are a tremendous burden on the economy, but they are probably just an organic expression of the untenability. Make everything stop, and you can draw attention to a thing that needs to be fixed. It’s clearly not an ideal means of addressing a crisis. But it is just as clear that no ideal means exists.

So, the strikes are a pain in Nepal’s ass and all, but really, this is all about us. And what does this mean for us?

Rickshaws, baby. Human power. No petroleum.