Pkf Studios: Video
Inside, 67-year-old Kofi Mensah adjusted the tripod for the hundredth time. PKF—standing for Panyin Kofi Films —was his life’s work. He’d started in the 90s with a bulky VHS camcorder, filming weddings, church anniversaries, and political rallies. His archive was a museum of the city’s soul.
They went to the hospital. Adwoa was propped up on pillows, her hands like dry leaves. She didn’t speak English well anymore, but when the video played—when she saw her husband’s face, heard the trumpet, then the crowd, then the real sounds of her lost world—she began to weep. Pkf Studios Video
“Probably,” he said. “But look.” Inside, 67-year-old Kofi Mensah adjusted the tripod for
Kofi sitting in his empty studio, watching the sunrise through the dusty window. He picks up his old camcorder, aims it at nothing, and presses record. For the first time in years, he smiles. His archive was a museum of the city’s soul
He played a rough cut. The funeral rites came alive. The mourners, the drummers, the pouring of libation. And at the center, a young Adwoa, radiant in grief, holding her husband’s favorite walking stick.
