What the hell is a matatu, you ask. It is neither your tattoo of your mother, nor your mother's tattoo of you. Matatu is a Swahili word for a form of public transport particular to Kenya, equipped with 13 to 19 seats, each with its own safety belt since the 2007 reforms. The name comes from the Swahili word for three, tatu. When they were introduced in 1992, the fare was three Kenyan dimes, or mateni matatu. This information might be of no use to you, or you could attempt to bring it up in conversation with your new friends at the Matatu Film Festival, now in its third year and opening on Wed., Sept. 23, in Oakland.
Admission to the Matatu Film Festival will set you back much more than 30 Kenyan cents, which is hardly surprising, since this isn't Kenya and even their rates are bound to have increased in 20-odd years, and besides, it's not a bus! It's a film festival named after a bus. Film festivals tend to be rather swanky affairs, and the Matatu is no exception, even though it's named for a relatively humble form of transport. More economical than a taxi, surely, from the medieval Latin word for tax. Yet not so humble, perhaps, as a tuk-tuk, a popular three-wheeled scooter affording more independence of movement. Less flashy than the piki-piki, a small motorcycle with a 125cc engine. Less enterprising than the boda-boda, a bicycle with a cushion for transporting one or two clients. In case of rain, tariffs have been known to double. At the festival, events range from $12 to $30, come rain or come shine.
Whatever your means of transport in Oakland, you will "navigate through four days of music, film, and performance inclusive of artists and films from all over the world," to quote the press release. The fun starts at Miss Ollie's on Washington St., at 7 p.m. next Tuesday, Sept. 22, where a $70 pre-festival dinner will be curated by Michelin Star award-winning chef Sarah Kirnon, as inspired by this year's cinematic offerings. Aesthetic luminaries will include Saul Williams, Bryant Terry, Mahader Tesfai, and Donte Clark. Next year, maybe some women artists will respond to their invitation?
A slate of 10 carefully selected films begins to roll on Wed., Sept. 23, with the 7 p.m. showing of Necktie Youth at the Starline Social Club on Grand Ave. More about that in a minute. My own personal pick, having seen none of them, is Asni: Courage, Passion & Glamor in Ethiopia, screening Fri., Sept. 25, at 8 p.m. I love the subtitle. I love seeing glamor in the same phrase with Ethiopia. And I love the film-guide description comparing Billie Holliday and Edith Piaf to an Ethiopian singer named Asnaketch "Asni" Worku, who, like female artists everywhere, braved the censure of patriarchal meanies who threatened to close Heaven to her.
Judging from the production stills on the website of the Tribeca Film Festival, which screened 23-year-old Sibs Shongwe-La Mer's debut feature this year, Necktie Youth is more taxi than tuk-tuk. Shooting in luscious black-and-white accentuates, distills or defines the black-and-white skins of the characters, who appear to be romping around a high-art interior in designer cast-offs. Stunningly, one wall is covered in the taxidermied heads and skins of horned and striped mammals in the sort of decor that really works in Johannesburg, South Africa, where the action is set. The sort of digs Oscar Pistorious should have lived in.
After the screening of Necktie Youth, Saul Williams will pitch his upcoming book of poems, US(a). The poet promises to "stop and frisk the moment, make it empty its pockets, and chronicle what's inside." Seems an unfortunate metaphor, but does I suppose beat simply shooting the moment and asking questions later. Also on the bill is Black Spirituals, "a locally venerated duo of creative sound-makers" who "mediate a three-fold vernacular presence." I think there's no point trying to imagine what all this is going to feel like. The point is to get on the bus and see where it takes you and who's sitting next to you. And whether their seat belt is fastened.
Info: matatufestival.org