‘Mama, ikiaka tá…a…Ah…AHHH,’ groans Miguel Angel as he stumbles over a phrase in Kukama Kukamiria, his grandmother’s maternal language. The lanky teen pulls at his short black hair in frustration.
‘I can’t do it,’ he says, glaring at the large studio microphone.
‘Breathe, son,’ says Leonardo, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder. ‘Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Good. Try it again.’
We’re recording a voiceover for a film which my husband Miki
