“Evidemment l’artiste ne pose que l’une d’une infinité des ouvertures de son
Clearly the artist only presents one of infinite possible interpretations of his work”
Sony Labou Tansi
“Evidemment l’artiste ne pose que l’une d’une infinité des ouvertures de son
Clearly the artist only presents one of infinite possible interpretations of his work”
Sony Labou Tansi
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Prolific writer, iconic filmmaker and father of African cinema, as he is so often called,Ousmane Sembène has been the inspiration, and a strong reference point, for many scholars and creatives alike in post-colonial African artistic expression. Through his compendium of work, Sembène’s films and writings have and continue to solidify his legacy as a leading pioneer in filmmaking and screenwriting throughout Africa. However, the story of the man behind the pen and the lens is often second to his work in discussions and writings on Sembéne and his influence. In Sembene!, directors Samba Gadjigo and Jason Silvermanpaint the portrait of a man as talented as he was complicated, delving into intimate territory as we visually traverse through both the personal and professional lives of the late filmmaker.
Opening the documentary, the film begins with a tender but commanding voiceover from Gadijgo, a close friend of Sembène’s as well as his official biographer, recounting a story of the filmmaker’s youth oddly familiar to some of us. Through this disclosure, the central theme of Sembène’s artistic journey, one of accurate representation, or the lack thereof, is revealed: How can one, as an African, form a healthy identity of themselves when we are not capable of watching ourselves through our own eyes?
In most photographs of Sembène he is seldom seen without a pipe wedged casually or hanging effortlessly between his lips. Tobacco, along with coffee, was said to be one of his few addictions, though the greatest of all was undoubtedly his affinity and flair for storytelling through film and the written word.
Long before social media made us more consciously aware of broader interrelated rhetoric concerning the reclaiming of representations of Africa and Africans by and for Africans, filmmakers such as Sembène were strongly preoccupied with this ideology, as stated in the opening words of the film. The seriousness and dedication in his approach to art was strongly parallel to the Griot culture often associated with Senegalese artistes, himself included. An author of ten books of fiction and one essay, numerous scripts that birthed four short films, ten feature length films, and four documentaries, Sembéne came to see the role of an artist as being synonymous with that of a revolutionary, evidence of which can be found in his films of which many, if not all, deal with topical issues and matters relating to social, historical and political consciousness. As he once pointed out himself, when speaking specifically on the role of African artists, Sembéne commented that, “Through his work of analysis, clarification, unmasking and denunciation, the artist arouses in his people’s consciousness the clear conviction that revolution is necessary and possible.“
Sembène’s origins are traced from Casamance, a rural fishing village in southern Senegal, where his rebel spirit and voracious curiosity are already apparent, to the docks of Marseille in France where a severe work accident frees him from the clutches of menial work – a blessing in disguise. It is at this point that the soon-to-be filmmaker begins an autodidactic journey, that involved studying film in Russia, where his exposure to literature and art leads him to quickly notice the gap where Africans should stand, a gap he dedicates his life to filling. This void not only concerned the representation of African experiences through film and other arts, but elements related to storytelling and access to the tools, resources and platforms necessary for the creation and dissemination of these creative expressions by, for and about Africans, and in particular those that spoke to and contextualized the historical and current state of post-colonial narratives.
Having made nine feature films during his lifetime, Sembène’s first forays into cinema revealed a man who refused to be bound by circumstance, unearthing a resourcefulness and tenacity that became a characteristic of the filmmaker, innovative traits that were integral to his work.
Using this new medium, and consciously deciding to make films in Wolof, he catered to those who were never spoken of and never spoken to with dignity and humanity, only observed from the detached perch of the oppressor’s eye. Sembène did not just want to create, he wanted to make his work accessible to those he wished to speak to – a complex aspect of his works that exposed some of the shortcomings of Sembène’s career. Though his films involved Senegalese actors, interrogated issues relating to tradition, modernism, gender issues, identity politics and post-colonial struggles in Senegal, and involved scenes that were filmed on location in various parts of the country, many of Sembène’s films did not successfully penetrate the masses in quite the same fashion we see evident with Nollywood-style movies today. With funding often coming from foreign sources, and with his heavy critiques of African leadership, patriarchy, colonialism and religion, Sembène often found it difficult to both accomplish his filmmaking objectives and simultaneously find favour among the general public.
Nevertheless, the importance of his work, both written and visual, cannot be underestimated or undervalued. Many of his films premiered or were screened at international film festivals, were some such as La Noire de…, Emitaï and Moolaadé won awards, bringing attention to filmmaking on the African continent. He eventually co-founded the Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougou (Festival panafricain du cinéma et de la télévision de Ouagadougou or FESPACO) in 1969, Africa’s largest film festival.
Nothing was free from his scrutinizing eyes. He criticized everything from religion (for which his 1977 film Ceddo was banned for alleged anti-Muslim sentiments) to archaic cultural practices and the treatment of Africans involved in European wars. He presented us with fleshed out human stories within an African context. His films, as the documentary shows, became increasingly more political following the wave of independence of African nations which was at its height during the 1960s and 1970s, to the point of getting his works banned in his own country.
Gadjigo and Silverman do not portray Sembène as perfect or unnecessarily deify him. Straying away from his god-like status in African cinema, his shortcomings are explored mostly through personal accounts. A detached father and absent husband, his personal relationships often suffered at the expense of his vision and unyielding drive – the price of his uncompromising vision. His passion for his work was so deep it consumed all of him, leaving little for anyone or anything else.
The documentary is an anthological treasure trove, showing clips of Sembène’s works and never before seen archival footage. We meet and are introduced to his family, friends, colleagues, and discover his connection with influential black thinkers, politicians and artists. If anything, it is a testament to art as a reflection of society, as political protest, as social revolution. This modern-day griot paved the way for many African creatives to not only use our craft to change our worlds, but to take pride in the telling of African stories. Towards the end of the film he imparts these words of wisdom we should all take to heart:
“I do not define myself relative to Europe. In the darkest of darkness, if the other doesn’t see me I do see myself. And I surely do I shine!”
Originally posted on Dynamic Africa
We are finally getting to the age where we have more control over where we decide to root ourselves. I am personally part of those who can see no better option for me but to move back to my continent. This was always going to be the case but I really had to decide for myself why I wanted to move back and what role I would or could have in the society I’d be reintegrating myself into. Returnee dynamics have already been covered on this blog, consider this my own pinch of salt. Recently I’ve gotten myself acquainted with two francophone intellectuals, Fatou Diome and Jean-Paul Pougala, both of whom have raised interesting questions on our function as part of the african diaspora and as returnees. Here’s a brief overview of what I have digested:
Get over returnee superiority
Let’s get one thing straight: our “sophistication” and degrees from abroad don’t make us better than those left behind for lack of a better expression. This is something that the african bourgeoisie really needs to start working on. Can’t be feeling like hot shit because massah has allowed you to play in his court now. We should also remember that we in the diaspora make up a stark minority of our populations. We may have had the chance to be exposed to more but a degree is just certification(by western standards might I add). In all honesty it’s not proof that I’m intelligent, skilled or anything – why are we acting as if people don’t pay or sleep their way to degrees? All I’m saying is that those of us who come from abroad have been “given” the chance to step out of our usual subaltern position – we can now operate within the dominant hegemonic system (I do believe our long term goal should be to eradicate said hegemony but that’s a conversation for another day) and we have the opportunity to speak on the behalf of our own, but if we too have been indoctrinated into believing that West is best, we won’t be able to. We should value the wealth of knowledge that is back home and not look down on our own like our western counterparts.
Killing the image of the El Dorado “abroad”
There’s this pervasive narrative of abroad as the land of opportunity. The media and television won’t show the whole story. Some of us have the benefit of coming from families of means so being sent abroad is a relatively simple process. The communities that we are being accepted into look upon us more favourably because our parents’ bank statements say we’ll “contribute” to that society. Now no one tells those at home how hard it is to set up with no certification (even the one you have they will make you upgrade –and that’s another insulting issue on its own), no money, with barely any chance at upwards mobility. Yet somehow boats and planes are filling up and people are risking their lives and pooling obscene amounts of money for a pipe dream (I’m only referring to economic migrants here – war refugees, though migrants, aren’t exactly choosing to leave*little amendment: 2016 me recognizes how short-sighted this statement is*). How will someone whose population is aging and whose birthrate is falling tell you that you’re leaving one struggle for air-conditioned struggle when they need you and your children to sustain their economy? Instead we sell this dream of A Land of Milk and Honey. Kill that shit ASAP. I’m not deluding myself that our countries are perfect but if I’m going to hustle, let it not be somewhere where I’ll be paying for my own oppression.
Formalizing remittance & co-operative investments
Nigeria’s $21bn remmitance may sound impressive but when you consider that the bulk of that money is sent to the uncle Bonifaces’ of the continent to be building half a house in the village for 10 years there’s a problem. Just like GDP, that big number means nothing if it’s not used to create infrastructure. If you don’t move back at least try to ensure that the money you’re sending back is actually making difference. Consider this scenario (forgive the oversimplification): there’s a strong river that goes across your village. Alone you can’t do much, but bring together a group of like-minded individuals, work with the local government (who hopefully will be able to finance projects with the help of a pooled remittance fund) to build a dam that will not only supply the village’s electrical needs but where you can sell extra power you generate. Now this isn’t the easiest project to undertake but when you at least table the first 2 issues raised here, you can start to lay the ground work for such endeavours.
If you’re planning on moving back, make sure that at the back of your mind you intend to translate everything you learn and can apply into the African context vs copy and pasting something you saw in the country in which you furthered your education. Different environments require different theory application – the knowledge you gain from your education is not one size fits all. If you come barging in like you have all the answers be sure to meet antagonism. No one is calling your abroad knowledge useless but your advance grasp of precipitation in the northern hemisphere doesn’t mean jack shit for someone who has to deal with harmattan.
On a final side note, our value can’t be limited to the commercialization of our culture, how palatable we can make it for others – we can’t be reducing our rich heritage to Ankara flavoured everything. The main consumer of African goods and services is going to be the African, let’s make sure that whatever we bring to the table reflects that.
Originally published on The Naked Convos.
South african filmmaker Francois Verster is no stranger to social consciousness. His most recent project “Dream of Shahrazad” follows the lives of various individuals in Egypt, Lebanon and Turkey as they come to terms with the events we’ve come to know as the Arab Spring through the art of story telling.
Shahrazad becomes omnipresent in this film through various incarnations. We meet an impassioned Turkish conductor running a two week rehearsal program for a youth philharmonic orchestra’s performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade suite. He uses the orchestra as extended metaphor for democratic participation, reminding the students of their role as agents for change. An Egyptian theatre troupe uses traditional storytelling methods to bring to life the testimonies of mothers who lost their sons on the January 25th revolution. A visual artist with a lifelong obsession with the 1001 nights finds himself re-inspired to create and share his art through a new friendship with a Shahrazad-esque storyteller and a young Lebanese actress begins to heal from the effects the horrifying images of war she witnessed during the political instability in her country and emerges a popular internet activist.
Heavily inspired by the 1001 nights, the documentary is sectioned into four “books”: Once upon a time, Story of change, After the battle and The future of the Sultan of Shahriyar. It becomes a loom, weaving together different stories to form the rich tapestry that is the middle-eastern story telling tradition. Verster applies Shahrazad’s cunning story telling philosophy, never ending stories and starting new ones each night, to his cinematography. He cuts between frames of protest footage, beautiful paintings, silhouette animation and a kaleidoscopic collection of engaging artists as they use their work to rebuild their various nation’s moral though the power of narrative. The eye behind the camera is always silent – it graciously accepts its role as observer presenting us with images free of personal commentary hence allowing us to determine their meaning for ourselves.
The value of a voice is put into focus, drawing allusion to post-colonial studies pioneer Gayatri Spivak’s notable essay “Can the subaltern speak?”. Echoing Aimé Césaire, another influential african intellectual, a potential solution is presented to the members of the youth philharmonic orchestra urging them to “channel all [their] ambition, all [their] rebellion, into [their] songs” and “let [their] voice and songs be the weapon of those without a voice.” The authenticity of this voice is also put into question. One of the troupes actors makes an interesting observation on the americanization mainstream acting in the country; after witnessing protesters’ raw yet eloquently expression of emotion in Tahir square and reflecting on their acting’s current form, he notes sadly: “we can neither express ourselves nor the society we live in”. Thus the troupe’s desire to create a new form of theatre that embodies Egyptian culture.
None of the film’s subjects are introduced by name – the stories they carry take the foreground. We have grown used to Arab world as object, it is always spoken off in most media outlets. In this documentary it speaks to us for itself. Verster entertains a wide array of interesting issues. Chief among those is the transformative power of storytelling. It allows all the artists to take pain and loss and turn it into harmony. Bound by shared trauma, the inhabitants of these nations now posses a new kind of consciousness: war brings the need to be reminded that one is alive, that they matter so they speak to ears now that are more open to listening because they too need the strength these tales carry, if not a sense of recognition and understanding in the other.
In the wake of recent and tragic drownings of migrants in the Mediterranean sea, news headlines have once again put this crisis and the issues surrounding it in the spotlight. However, despite the heavy spotlight placed by global news agencies on this matter, it is not a new and emerging event but part of an ongoing chronic issue that affects both the African and European continents. In the West, the hypocrisy of European governments is appalling yet not surprising. As they continue to pillage Africa for resources, using revised colonial relations often with the consent of African leaders, as they actively contribute to the conditions that create poverty and conflict in these migrant producing regions.
As NGOs and humanitarian organizations continue to exert pressure on European governments to act, one cannot stress the importance of coming up with long term solutions that address all sides of this issue. It is important not to focus on one side of this story as the bulk of current media coverage does. To reiterate the words of Senegalese writer and critic Fatou Diome, the dynamics of immigration and the relationship between the African continent and Europe show a failure in policy and leadership on both sides of the Mediterranean. In this clip where she appeared on a French television show, Diome shared her frustration with this by illuminating some of the nuances of this issue that western media fails to critically interrogate. I felt compelled to provide a translation of one particular segment not only because her words challenge current narratives, but because I believe it is important for Africans to continuously engage in conversation with each other. As diverse as we are, and with equally diverse points of views concerning the conditions that see Africans from various parts of the continent embark on the same perilous journey, it would do us good to share them with each other for the sake of our development:
[Translated segment from 2:22 – 4.45]
“When someone sets off, it is as if he is elected, chosen – perhaps the most resourceful one of them – and there’s an entire clan or a whole family that pins their hope on this person. [she addresses the previous speaker] Sir, today I can see that you well dressed and well fed. Suppose you were starving at home, it wouldn’t be too farfetched for your family to hold on to the belief that you could go off somewhere and make enough to provide a source of livelihood for those left behind. In essence, this journey become an act of solidarity. You let someone go and you count on them. [previous speaker attempts to interrupt her] You will let me finish.
[Here she references a point the previous speaker made about how the Schengen area’s passport policy creates porous european boarders that can be exploited. Note that Diome is a French citizen and therefore benefits from said policy] Sir, your quote unquote Schengen now allows me to be invited to the Netherlands and give lectures in your universities. We [as immigrants] are only worth something to you when you find our brains suitable for your purposes. It bothers you to welcome my brother who, though not has qualified as me, may also want to work in these same buildings. Your countries have split personalities. You can just sort people out like that with nonsense categories like useful immigrants and nefarious immigrants.
I also want to touch on a second point. There is so much focus put on Africa to Europe immigration – we are constantly being made aware of this movement. On the other hand, little notice is given to the movement of Europeans into other countries. Now this movement is that of the powerful, those who have money, those who have the right passport. So you go to Senegal, Mali, you go to any country in the world, Canada, the U.S., everywhere I go – and I travel all the time – I meet people from France, Germany, the Netherlands, I meet them on every corner of this earth because they have the right passport. So Europe has arrogated a unilateral concept of exoticism to themselves; it’s alway the other, the non-european who is exotic meanwhile, for someone from my village, there is nothing more exotic than someone from Amsterdam.
The continent has now done the same thing with the concept of the foreigner and modern travel in the wake of globalization. When the poor come towards you “There are waves of immigrants we must block!” But when you, with your passport and with all the pretensions that come with it, when you land in third world countries, in your mind you are in conquered territory. So we see the movement of the poor but we do not see that of the rich who come can make money off our land. Africa is developing at a rate between 5 and 10%. This is past progress and on to overdrive. But when third world countries are developing and don’t have the means to manage this excess growth, all of a sudden we need engineering economics, we need training, we need people to install a democracy. You need us to stay subjugated so you can use this excess growth help sustain European industry. So let’s stop with the hypocrisy – either we’re rich together or we’ll all drown together.”
Diome’s final words in this clip seem harsh but express a sentiment many of us a familiar with.
The focus, in regards to migration, is largely on disenfranchised and marginalized individuals that emigrate from Africa to Europe – rarely the other way around, if at all. We are constantly reminded of this movement, often in a negative perspective, by European media and politicians alike. Considering the heinous legacy of European colonialism, not just in Africa but worldwide, it is no wonder that the neocolonial privileges of Europeans, and other Westerners, continues to be swept under the rug. In this list of the most powerful passports in the world, based on which nationalities have the most visa-free access to nations around the world, no African country is in the top 20. Even in situations of travel and visa-facilitated movements, there is discrimination against citizens of African countries.
The hypocrisy and double standards that exists surrounding conversations on migration are a stark and concerning reminder of the power relations and racist systems that have remained unchained for centuries, despite African states achieving their independence from European colonists. The real concern, however, lies not in whether or not European governments will shift their attitudes to reflect a standards and instil policies that are in line with basic values of humanity and human rights, but in whether or African leaders will finally step up to the plate and acknowledge the humanity of their citizens.
Originally published on Dynamic Africa, artwork by Jacob Lawrence.