Category: Africa in Motion

A documentary set inside a salon in Tunis on the eve of the 2019 Tunisian presidential election, the second ever held in this new democracy. The hairdressers debate each other and their clients on the issues of the day and the merits of the candidates.

I love that this is set within a hairdressers. The sexist viewpoint of salons has always relegated their portrayal as places of female vanity and trivial or destructive female gossip. Instead, in this short film, we see the salon as a community space for women, one where they discuss the biggest political issues.

Women share stories of protest and resistance, their participation in the Arab Spring, and their contribution to their democracy. The old debate the young, showing differences between new voters who take a democratic status quo for granted, versus those who have lived through tyranny. The rise in popularity of the conservative religious party’s candidate is treated with suspicion, fearing it might herald a reversal of women’s rights, in a place where gains are still recent and precious.

For a short film, it fits so much in in just a small time. Substantive work.

Garderie Nocturne is a beautifully observed documentary focusing on Ms. Coda’s night nursery, looking after the babies and infants of women who work at night in the sex trade. Despite the contentious issues that might surround the subject, this film is purely a slice of life of what is. It shows a very domestic story in a world of women.

Odile and Faurida and others, they drop off their weans at Ms. Coda’s as night falls, breastfeeding them til they fall asleep full. Some nights we follow Ms. Coda and her daughter-in-law as they keep an eye over their sleeping charges, soothing them if they wake, and feeding them if they get restless. The children will play together, making friends and inventing games. The occasional gurns and cries are soothed quickly by Ms. Coda’s rocking and lullabies. An elderly woman, she has been looking after kids all her life, and is trusted by the women to take good care of them.

Some nights we follow the lassies out at work, strolling around outside clubs and bars. They drive off on the backs of motorcycles and return in the early hours of the morning, collecting their kids before dawn to take them home.

At home, the women live together in a shared house, a compound behind a metal gate. They share everything they have, living as an extended family. They cook together, eat together, bathe the kids together, and feed each other’s kids at their breast. They support each other and share stories about handling clients and unwanted male attention. In their reminiscences, they share strategies to keep each other safe, and lift each other’s spirits with laughter.

Despite how portrayals of women in sex work usually focus on the negative, traumatic, and dramatic aspects of their lives, Garderie Nocturne focuses on this world of women, sharing, protecting, providing and supporting one another. Really good film.

Excruciating. Excellent, but excruciating.

This is one of the only films I had to pause and walk away from and come back. So many things in this are a deeply uncomfortable watch.

So, this film starts with the intention of showing a more positive, fuller picture of life in Goma, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. But quite quickly becomes about the white, Western gaze, the use of it within the media as a form of abuse and exploitation, and its continuation and perpetuation of neo-colonialism. As you may have guessed, those two goals are not really compatible, and this film is a constant struggle to succeed despite its own structure.

The director Joris, a white European, first came to Goma as a journalist, being ferried about in UN jeeps, sleeping in their heavily fortified compounds, and generally being given the impression that Goma and the DRC was one of the most dangerous places in the whole world. Now he is back and working with a local Congolese team, who are united in the goal of showing that Goma is a living city, full of people who live, work and love like any other place on earth.

But in doing this, Joris has to dig into why a positive story about the DRC isn’t being told. And we get the usual ‘white guy late to the racism party’ education curve. Everyone who has contact with him agrees that Joris is acting in good faith with good intentions, and they do help him to think more deeply about his actions, question his assumptions, and improve his practices. But it’s not really about him, that’s not really the point. As they tell him over and over again, colonialism was brought by people professing good intentions. The aid economy, which is part of the continuation of the dependence dynamic created by colonialism, is run by people professing good intentions. All the good intentions in the world don’t matter, the harm caused is what matters.

And there is unfortunately, within the film, a need for the director to clean his conscience, to be the ‘good white guy’. Its sincerity and its identifiability is what make the film so excruciating to watch at times. About halfway through the film, he takes a vote with the Congolese film crew: should he leave and let them tell this story alone? Because his presence is just undeniably skewing the film, from how people on the street react when they see him filming, to what he chooses to shoot.

They decide to let him stay, some say they want to wait and see the end product to judge. In the last scene though, after he shows the film to a Congolese audience, it is said that, yeah, he should have left. In fact, he should just start the whole project again from scratch and let only the Congolese make the film.

But, as you can see, the goal of showing a positive Goma, has now been almost entirely eclipsed by the need for the director to position himself correctly. Like it or not, intentional or not, the focus of this film gets pulled to a white guy’s journey of self-improvement at the expense of the Congolese stories.

Stop Filming Us is a film made by a white European for a white European audience. While it is a good thing that it actively interrogates the media’s involvement in the harm perpetuated upon post-colonial countries and their people, it is a discussion point for the West. The initial goal of showing a more positive Goma is achieved only partially, and does get somewhat lost amid the debate over the white Western gaze.

Arachnid is a short film in which Anansi begs his woman to return. Ama, an Ashanti goddess, has been hurt too many times, but will Anansi, with all his tricks, be able to persuade her to take him back?

A really cool, beautifully shot piece playing out this scene from a traditional folktale in a modern setting. While the characters are gods and legends, the relationship depicted is so identifiable – the struggle to let go of a lover who is bad for you.

Holy fuck, that was great.

Each scene was so tense, I feel queasy. Covering the 2018 Zimbabwe election, President follows Nelson Chamisa, leader of the opposition party Movement for Democratic Change Alliance, and his team, as they fight the first vote since the deposition of long-incumbent tyrant, Robert Mugabe.

Quick intro if you are not familiar, Mugabe took power at the country’s independence in 1980, and showed every intention of remaining president for life. Corrupt and vicious, he siphoned money out the country’s economy and presided over a kleptocracy. Zimbabwe went from being the bread basket of Africa to people literally starving, and hyperinflation rendered Zimbabwean currency useless. While he went through the motions of holding regular elections, they were marked by fraud and violence, with opposition members arrested, beaten, tortured, and even killed. Elections were consistently followed by murderous repression of demonstrations against the results. And Mugabe might have achieved his aim of being president for life if he had not lived to be so fucking old. He was 93 in 2017 when his own vice president finally turfed him out of office with the help of the army. He was effectively given his pension at gunpoint and told to go home. A fate much too lenient for his many crimes.

For decades, the biggest thorn in Mugabe’s side was Morgan Tsvangirai, who had led the MDC for years, surviving assassination attempts, death threats, arrest and torture. It was with great joy, and optimism for the country, that he saw his old enemy defeated. Tsvangirai had enormous support from the people, who saw him as a man who had proved his character in decades of sacrifice and service, someone who was not simply a politician full of empty words, but a man whose deeds showed his mettle. With Mugabe out the way, he was sure to sweep to victory on a wave of overwhelming popular support.

And then life, like it so often does, kicks you in the nuts.

4 months before the election, Tsvangirai died of cancer. It was a moment of tremendous shock and mourning for the country. And in the aftermath, there was sense of fear and doubt as to what the future would look like now.

And this is where our story begins. President starts with Nelson Chamisa, Tsvangirai’s successor, trying to steer the MDC on the path to electoral success. This is an enormous undertaking. Firstly by filling the very big shoes left by Tsvangirai, and letting the voters get a sense of him as person. Secondly, by harnessing the momentum for change in the electorate that existed before Tsvangirai’s death, and ensuring it translated to votes at the ballot box. And the biggest challenge, is to ensure that the reigning Zanu-PF party don’t steal the election, as they have 40 years of experience doing.

And that is why this film is so tense. Because so much is riding on it. What in another country might seem like a little quibble about ballot layout is the first shots fired in a war the MDC must not give any ground on. And because, when people have suffered so much, and been disappointed so often, the hope they have now, in this first election without Mugabe, this hope is such a precious thing. It must be protected, and people’s faith must be rewarded.

Throughout the film, people have optimism about the possibility for change, while being realistic about the endemic entrenchment of power around the existing establishment. They are clear-sighted about the corruption they fully expect to take place, but hope that the propaganda that has been done around rebranding the Zanu-PF has actually allowed for enough scrutiny that it might actually impact their ability to openly practice fraud. And you feel that hope with them, despite everything you know about how democracy in Zimbabwe goes. For some people, this will be the first time in their lifetime to hold an election without Mugabe, and the first in the country’s history. Despite all the odds we know are against them, it feels like a singular opportunity which has never been had before.

Just a white knuckle ride of a film.

Rosine Mbakam’s latest film is Delphine’s Prayers, a heartbreaking and moving documentary about one woman’s life. Across the course of the film she tells her life story to the camera, a story of survival despite all odds.

Delphine, like Rosine, was born in Cameroon and now lives in Belgium with a European husband. But where Rosine, as we saw in The Two Faces of a Bamileke Woman, was given love and support, Delphine was given none. Delphine never knew her mother as she died in childbirth. She was left to the care of her feckless and unfeeling father. She and her siblings grew up in hunger and poverty. There was no money for school, and they moved around chasing any possibility of work.

When her father failed to provide for the family, her older sister Yvette stepped up to the plate, and started earning money from sex work despite being little more than a child herself. Because of this, they were able to eat, but when Yvette fell pregnant, their father threw her out the house, disowned her, and badmouthed her. I just sat listening, furious at this bastard who is shouting loudly about what a whore his daughter is, a child who has provided for his kids when he hadn’t the wherewithal to. And don’t give me that ‘it was hard’ shit because when it gets hard, his 14-year-old daughter was able to find a way. She can sell her body, and he can eat the food she puts on the table, but he’s more concerned about the opinion of others when she needs help? Bastard!

Rape and rejection run like repeating themes throughout Delphine’s tale. Sexual exploitation, assault, and abuse, which is followed by castigation, stigma, and abandonment. Endemic misogyny which seems inescapable in every direction.

Raped at 13, she finds herself similarly disowned when she falls pregnant from the attack. Homeless and parentless, she does everything she can to survive, selling grilled corn by the side of the road, doing any work she can find, eventually even sex work.

Many people wouldn’t survive something like that. The horror of something like that. But Delphine digs her nails in and hangs on to her life. She sinks her teeth in and doesn’t let go until life gives her something back.

Delphine’s story is one of making it, in spite of everything against her, despite even her father telling her she wouldn’t. She not only survives, but far surpasses him as a parent, providing her kids with food, education, and a safe roof over their head.

She tells her story so frankly, so openly, with such vulnerability, and ambivalence towards her situation both then and now. Her endurance and strength put you in awe. Her prayers, like her, are full of raw humanity. I hope they are answered with all the love she could hope for.

BMB (Black, Muslim and Bi) is a short film combining dance, poetry and film to express a journey of self acceptance, forging their identity as Black, Muslim, bi. Queer identities have always been a disruption to the normative narrative, and the experimental style of film tries to break free to say something that is struggling to be put into words. Ultimately ending in a place of healing, its initial pain gives way to hope.

Having just watched The Two Faces of a Bamileke Woman, I was eager to see what Rosine Mbakam’s next project would be like. I was pleased to find Chez Jolie Coiffure continues on the themes of strong women and female-centred community.

Chez Jolie Coiffure is this really enjoyable slice of life, set inside a hair salon serving Brussel’s West African community. Inside you see the whole of the ups and downs of life, from joyful pregnancies to marital troubles. Sabine is at the centre of it all. Her quick fingers braid her customers’ hair while she answers phone calls from home and directs other stylists. She is a woman who hates to sit still, and in the few times when the salon is empty, you see her grab a quick bite to eat while watching some melodrama on her phone, but soon she’s back up on her feet, tidying, cleaning, unable to stay idle.

For me watching the film had a real peaceable feeling, like I was there in the corner of the salon just listening to the chatter of the day. When it is busy, it’s calming just to sit and watch Sabine’s clever fingers work. When there is time to talk, people share news, who is doing well, who has fallen on hard times. Sabine is a canny businesswoman and is part of a tontine, she recruits members from among her customers. And when friends meet misfortune, they turn to her for level-headed advice and help. She helps the snack guy patch things up with his missus, helps a pregnant friend get a roof over her head when the landlord turfs her out, shares information about government schemes to help migrants get a legal, documented status. She warns others about mistreatment of migrants doing domestic work in Lebanon, and women who get sex trafficked in Canada.

Needless to say, Sabine’s salon is more than just a hairdressers, it’s a community hub, and a safe place for women dealing with life’s tumult. A bustling little island in the city of Brussels.

The first thing to know about this film is the cinematography is beautiful. Just stunning. The story is as much told through the camera’s gaze on these amazing landscapes as it is on the human actors in the frame. It makes every view a vista. Whether it is the powerful growl of the sea crashing to shore or the stripped and scarred expanse of an abandoned mining quarry. The camera seems to thirst after everything it sees, even when it is the litter and debris of a makeshift quarry encampment.

A Portrait on the Search for Happiness follows a number of people who try to make their living by scavenging for diamonds in locations the massive mining companies have already moved on from. On these balding, brutal plateaus of rock, the would-be miners break apart what rubble remains to see if they can find anything that will compensate them for their days and nights of effort.

Finding diamonds would be like winning the lottery, but most are not fixated on an extraordinary level of wealth, but looking for the basics of a decent life – a home of their own, to provide for their kids, to be able to afford Christmas presents. They are such modest and achievable dreams, or they should be.

What does not need said is unemployment and poverty is such that even the basics of a decent life seem so out of reach that the only hope is winning the lottery or finding a 4-carot diamond. The work is labour intensive and goes on into the night. The men’s clothes are torn and ragged. This is not work they would be doing if there were better or easier options.

The camera’s panoramic eye contrasts these immediate needs of the moment with the eternal forebearing earth. The sea, the land is resplendent with life, but the quarry is scourged to bedrock alone. In these desolate plains, the workers look small as ants, as they shred up the last vestiges of the earth. Without need for comment, we see how destructive this activity is for such temporary needs.

Only George One-Time has ever hit it big. He was a millionaire in the 80s after diving for diamonds beneath the waves. Now he is back to living in a shack, making ends meet like any other person. Even if diamonds are found, all is consumed so quickly.

A Portrait on the Search for Happiness is a meditation on material need, the wider scope of human necessities, and the ancient provider of the earth.

Just beautiful. The Two Faces of a Bamileke Woman is a love letter to the women in her family, a celebration of their strength which sheltered and nurtured her, a thanksgiving for all she owes to their sacrifices and their character.

The filmmaker returns home to Cameroon after 7 years, now a new mother with a European husband. You feel the ache of homesickness throughout the film. There is a need to fit back into a place which is sculpted for you, where the shape of you is missing and there is a peace in returning. She has been away so long, and she has underwent these huge life changes, she broke from tradition and forewent an arranged marriage, wedded a foreigner, and gave birth to her first child. You get a sense of the vulnerability she must have felt, after growing up in the bosom of this circle of support, the many voices of encouragement and practical wisdom, to be left to look after a child alone, be responsible for this most precious life, and have no one to help or turn to.

You can feel a palpable exultation at her return and a sense of relief. And in this emotion, she interviews her mother, her aunts, and films her family and community. Her mother and her sisters are such strong people. They talk about their lives, which have not been easy. There has been illness and loss. There has been poverty and hardship. There has been work and toil. There has been the callousness and selfishness of men. And they remember still, war.

Throughout this though is the constant language of togetherness. They got through these hard times by supporting one another, by setting an example for one another, by teaching one another, by standing steadfast by one another, “to make a chain so that none of the women fall”.

Coming from a family of strong women, I so identified with the sense of gratitude she felt. Not only for the practical sacrifices, but for the sense of dignity, self-reliance, and belief in oneself. The filmmaker is a dreamer, she talks being transported through books, then cinema, then literally taken abroad by her studies. Despite the airiness of her ambitions, her mother supported her through all of it, paying for her school fees working a market stall.

The Two Faces of A Bamileke Woman is about what is shown and what is buried in the countenance of her mother and her sisters, the strength that shows but also the sorrows it hides. It is also about the filmmaker, who has both this wandering spirit, keen always to see what is elsewhere, and yet also desperately and lovingly grounded in the heart of her family in Cameroon.