Mario’s Story | part one
Back in 2018, Jack did a rotation at a hospital in Maputo, Mozambique during his residency. I came along for the journey, camera in hand. I connected on a whim with Iris Ministries and their children’s home for HIV positive orphans. I told them I had a week and would love to capture a story for them. The result of that week is this film, Mario’s story.
I finished the film in 2018, but never shared it. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how. It felt too sacred of a story to share on social media.
Then came 2020, and Mario’s situation took a turn for the worse. I wrote out a version of this blog, mostly to just process the journey myself. I still couldn’t find it in myself to share.
Now, as we set off for Kenya for Jack to serve as a physician and as I continue filmmaking in a new part of the world, I am returning to Mario’s story. He encapsulates so much of the brokenness and yet the resilient beauty so present in East Africa and why we are doing what we are doing.
I know this is not a short one, but I hope you come along for me on this journey, and get a taste of why Jack and I feel so deeply called to share our skills - medicine and filmmaking - in this part of the world.
October 2018 - The tickets were bought. The calendar was cleared. Jack and I were heading to Mozambique.
He would be doing a rotation for his medical residency at Maputo Central Hospital. I would be bringing my camera and hoping to find something to do during our two weeks there.
As I sat in our Airbnb in Maputo, I remembered that an organization I’d long been a fan of — Iris Ministries — was headquartered in Mozambique. A quick google search later, I realized that they had a children’s home just outside the city where Jack and I would be staying. I reached out to an email I found on their website, and prayed that something would work out.
A few days later, I hopped into a cab with a driver who spoke little to no English, and made the 45 minute trek to the children’s home through the bustling crowds, honking horns, and crowded streets of the city. If not for WhatsApp and cell service, I’m not sure we would have found the home, tucked away of the main roads in the middle of a small, unassuming neighborhood.
The beautiful beaches of Mozambique! They suprisingly reminded me a lot of South Florida minus all the hotels.
Iris Ministries children’s home.
I was welcomed into the office - which also doubled as a living room and kitchen for Corrie, the Dutch woman who founded and still runs this home. But more than any position she holds, I think she’s most like to call herself a mother to the children who live here, the majority of whom are HIV positive and whose families are unable or unwilling to care for them.
The organization, Iris, has a motto - “Stop For the One”. The needs of the millions in poverty in Africa are huge. But in order to reach the millions, you must first stop and love the individual God has put in front of you. By laying down their own lives out of love for Jesus and in service to Him, they are able to be fully present to the those in need whom God puts in front of them every day.
After chatting about who I was and how I had ended up in her living room, Corrie happily agreed that I could use my background in video to tell the story of one of the kids in the home, and while doing so, share the vision they had to start a vocational center.
The question was simply, which child’s story would we tell?
It didn’t take long to settle on on Mario. He had recently come into the home at 16 years old with HIV, was severely malnourished.
The video shares his story, but to make a huge understatement: his life has been incredible uphill battle. He was born HIV positive to a single mom who passed when he was young. He was left to live with his uncle who would forced him to live in a literal shack adjacent to his house, separate from the family. His uncle was worried he would contract AIDS by sharing utensils or a living space with him.
When you meet Mario, you’d have guessed he was probably 14 years old. He’s a skinny as they come, every ounce of muscle showing through his thin arms and legs. He was 19 years old at the time, but his early malnutrition never let him grow to his full potential.
Needless to say, Mario has been through a lot.
He’s a quiet boy, at least with me. Shy and timid. I can’t speak Portuguese, and he can’t speak English, so that didn’t help either. Richard [the one who narrates and tells Mario’s story on camera] is our go between for communication.
Richard is a gem of a human being. After successfully completely college and having a killer job, he left it all to come serve these kids. It’s clear his sacrifice is not wasted. The kids have a deep trust and friendship with Richard. I feel that foreigners can only understand the situation for these kids to an extent. But Richard knows what it’s like to grow up in poverty. And he knows what it’s like to push past those obstacles. He is an example of not just unconditional love, but a beacon of hope to these kids.
But I digress. There are so many great humans to talk about.
We agree to tell Mario’s story that week, and I show up day after day to capture pieces of this project. Mario’s story focuses on his passion for for cooking, so much of our time with him was going to the market, getting ingredients, and making food.
With all the kids together from the home watching what we were doing, and with Mario’s quiet nature and shy personality - I was nervous so often that I was embarrassing him in front of his friends. We were also filming him at his school, in front of the entire community. Again, my skin color and the camera made everything I did a spectacle.
But Richard would assure me - Mario was LOVING this. Out of all the kids at the orphanage, we had chosen HIM to film. An American girl had come around the world with her camera, and HE was the one whose story I wanted to tell. He was the celebrity.
This was a big deal for Mario. If you’ve seen the story, you know that self-worth is a challenge for him. You can’t blame him. I cannot imagine what years of emotional abuse and abandonment your own family would do to your image of yourself.
But Richard’s words were an explosion of joy in my chest. I suddenly realized even if I never even finished this film—just spending the time capturing Mario would be enough. Showing him he IS worthy. He IS valuable. He IS loved.
I still remember the smile that would start off in the corner of his mouth shyly and then wrap around his face. And every time my heart would swell inside my chest. He’s beginning to see how special he is.
Mario and I had an interesting friendship throughout our week of filming. I could never hold a direct conversation with him due to language, but through the smiles and the laughter, and a few translated sentences, I reassured him what a great job he was doing, and also how delicious his food truly tasted.
The day before I left, I brought a rough cut of the film to show the team, so that I could see their reaction to it. We gathered in Corrie’s living room and I opened up my laptop. We turned up the volume and all huddled together - Richard, Corrie, Mario, and all of his friends - and hit play.
I was nervous about the first half, not wanting Mario to relive his pain. But to my surprise, the kids didn’t bat an eye. They knew his story and where he had come from. Many of them had similar stories.
And as the story turned - you could see the smile creep once again onto Mario’s face. Cooking, chopping, serving - you could see the pride well up in him, all of his friends smiling and laughing at the screen. Here was Mario - a movie star! A renowned chef!
Showing the group a very rough cut of the film before I left.
From left to right: Richard, Mario, me and Corrie at the end of our week filming.
I remember a conversation with a fellow filmmaker who shared with me that her greatest joy in producing films had nothing to do with the film itself. Her greatest joy in telling a person’s story through film was giving them a new lens in which to see their own story. That she could help them see their story in a new light, with a different narrative than the dark ones we often recite in our own minds.
A new story could show could the hope amid the pain. The beauty in the brokenness. A different ending to their story.
I sincerely wish that was the final line in this story. More to come in part two.
Watch Mario’s story here:
Watch the whole film here to see Mario’s story for yourself. Please note two things - one, the boy in the beginning is not actually Mario, as I would never want him to have to re-live his trauma through creating this film,. Also please don’t judge too harshly as it’s over four years old which is lightyears in the creative world. 😉