Making Soapies in Kabul by Trudi-Ann Tierney

Author:Trudi-Ann Tierney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781743432006
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2013-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

After dissecting Marg’s break-up with her nut-job hook-up, we ended our night’s girly congress at Gandamak with lingering hugs, sloppy kisses and slurred mantras along the rather hackneyed lines of ‘All men are bastards’, before parting ways. But each of us knew that, come the next Thursday night, one of those bastards might just prove to be exactly the distraction needed for another chilly Friday-at-home in Kabul. Or perhaps even the bastard of our dreams.

Muffy and I had just spent the day in Jalalabad, working on what was undoubtedly the wildest shoot we had ever been on. We arrived back in Kabul hoarse, wind-blown, sunburnt, and exceedingly grateful for the copious wine and scrummy, home-baked dinner we were treated to at the home of some of our journo mates. Our dinner hosts had actually asked Moby whether they could do a story on the shoot. The bureau chief—the Big Juice—thought it would make a great feel-good story about Afghanistan, but our current CEO in Kabul, Saad (who had taken over from Jahid), wisely declined her request, correctly guessing that the day could just possibly go arse-end up.

The scene was for Season Two of Salam. Our team had been down in Jalalabad since February running the shoot themselves because Ahmad had prohibited Muffy and me from accompanying them due to security concerns. They had done a wonderful job to date but, knowing how potentially chaotic this day could get, Ahmad personally escorted us down there to assist them.

The script called for an uprising against the provincial governor and his mob of thugs. The local police were to arrive to quell the uprising; but they were unsuccessful until two helicopters, carrying counter-narcotics commandos, landed on a hilltop to save the day. Apart from our actors, the police, and the commandos, we had eighty extras—local lads who had never been on a set before.

Rounding up extras to appear on Afghan TV wasn’t very hard. It was not so much the lure of being on the small screen—a lot of locals didn’t even own televisions—but ten dollars for a day’s work was a good deal, and the guarantee of a free lunch proved a sweet incentive. But getting them to actually hang around on set and do their job could be a world of pain.

Sure, there was always a handful of boys who viewed it as a stepping-stone to stardom. They’d arrive on set with bouffant hair, shiny shirts and dazzling jeans for a funeral scene—and serve up more ham than a Christmas dinner. But, for most of them, it was just another job and, like most non-industry people across the world, they had no real concept of how tedious making TV could be. Into the fourth take of walking into the same shop, or strolling down the street again, they were routinely demanding their money and wanting to go.

With large groups of extras it was like keeping frogs in a box. They would concoct more and more elaborate excuses for nicking off. ‘I have to go to my sister’s wedding/My mother got hit by a car/ My goat fell in the river.

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