When that time came for us, we entered a winding, tree-lined
driveway that paralleled the banks of a private lake, ending at a ranchero
style home, half-buried in a hillside. From the front, its full southern
exposure reminded me of a chateau overlooking Lake Geneva. The
interior furnishings tastefully matched its exterior design with modern
functionality, if not quite overt opulence.
We talked to the preacher for half an hour, before we went back to the
church to set up for his sermon. This is when I discovered some of my
expectations had been wrong; I had thought his flock would be desperate
and miserable people. Not true. Though obviously poor, they treated us
with a casual respect, did not intrude on each other's privacy or ours, and
viewed life in black and white terms. Literally.
When we asked, they said they attended church because they were
raised to do so, and though there was a significant difference in lifestyles
between God's mouthpiece and their mouths, this was an understandable
demonstration of what the nearness to God could do for you. That the
congregation paid for the preacher's lifestyle made perfect sense to them,
as did the pomp and circumstance of the Vatican make sense for Catholics
living in the barrios.
When we were alone, I asked our reporter, Gavin Hewitt, if he
understood where the blockage in their reasoning might be, to which he
said that wealth was not a criterion for evaluating the value of one's life.
However, he agreed that illiteracy, filth, and hunger, would likely diminish
the quality of it in some ways. Noncommittally (BBC) British to the
core…
We decided to shoot additional footage of the people at play, to
balance our story visually, when we learned that a couple of "the boys
were =goin coon huntin."
The scene was straight off a Hollywood lot. The first pickup truck to
arrive was a faded red, ancient Ford with round dented fenders, and
battered body. The owner, dressed in baggy denim overalls was gangly
thin, but I could tell I wouldn‘t have done well arm- wrestling with him.
He was casual but deliberate, treating his hound with a rough
affection that did not undermine his manhood, before setting the dog loose
to sniff a tree and pee. Then he called him back, " Bleeewww ...
Bleeewww-boy. Git heeauh!"
