I was in Vancouver, in the final days of shooting an American television show, when news of the virus started filtering through. Vancouver is a busy place for film production; the downtown area plays host to a number of film crews on any given day of the week but, this particular afternoon, word began to spread that productions were shutting down left and right, sending everybody home. Then, filming on the production I was working on was also cancelled; the show would not “go on”. Everything stopped.
I was still able to fly to Barbados, to film a documentary on the origins of my name Harewood, and its links to the slave trade and Harewood House in West Yorkshire. Though I had been to the island many times before, this was a unique and unsettling trip. I spent my time uncovering uncomfortable truths relating to the treatment of my people – but it wasn’t the first time I had found myself confronted by difficult and painful facts.
