A Surreptitious Journey
- 13 Nov 07, 11:35 AM
Posted from: Louisiana
5.00am: There is a beautiful sunrise and the mist crosses the mountains as Bruce, Luis and myself meet early. We await the possible go-ahead of a filming opportunity with illegal cocaine paste manufacturers. After lots of pacing and phone calls from Luis he finally gives us the thumbs-up. We load a lightweight shooting kit and jump into an unassuming car with local San Francisco number plates.
Because of the delicate nature of this scene a very low profile is needed so I鈥檝e chosen to shoot on the smaller HDV camera. As Zubin and Almu have taken the spare seats to accompany Matt on his emergency helicopter evacuation I鈥檒l also be recording sound, with Bruce on a radio mic and picking up any other characters using an onboard gun mic.
Our driver is a smiley, lovable type of guy who knows everybody in the area and is confident that as long as we do as he says we should be fine. Despite this it still feels edgy as we set off speeding along the dusty tracks. Occasionally we pass other identical white vehicles to ours travelling in the opposite direction.
There are two types of vehicles about: the white four-door saloons like ours that are used for coca leaf deliveries and the pimped pick-up trucks used by higher-up-the-chain cocaine paste dealers. From a distance we blend in as coca leaf traders until you get closer and see the two rather conspicuous white men sat in the vehicle. Despite this our driver keeps smiling.
Suddenly he pulls into the side of the track and instantly out of the bushes jumps a dishevelled skinny young man with bucked teeth, and two women. With no word said they quickly squash in with us into the back of the already packed car. Our driver gestures that they are our next link through to the cocaine paste manufactures.
We drive into the small local town and our car stops at a busy crossroads packed with tough-looking locals. Instead of passing quickly through the area we park right in the middle of the junction and our driver jumps out and disappears into a building for several minutes. Several passers-by give us puzzled harsh looks when they see the unusual occupants and they鈥檙e not sure what to do. I smile back.
They must think we are either the worst ever undercover DEA operatives or the only white coca leaf workers in Peru. Luckily our driver soon returns with his new packet of cigarettes and we resume our 鈥渓ow-key鈥 journey. We pass down a particularly tough-looking street and the driver shows concern and gestures me to cover my camera with a T-shirt. Having passed through the town we drive another 20 minutes and then swerve a right turn and up a smaller track with overgrown trees on either side.
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