Thoughts of a Cineaste

Not so long ago, on a Cable News Network (CNN) programme entitled Inside Africa, I saw an episode concerning the preservation of handwritten Geez writings and the printing of Bibles in Ethiopia. Both were done using methods and printers that were first put to use sometime around the coronation of Emperor Haile Selassie. Unexpectedly, I found the way the episode was presented completely overwhelming. I couldn’t exactly put a finger on why it appealed to me at first – it was evident later on – but I was immediately sad to realise that this same type of documentary could never have been made by Ethiopians; not without losing its mystical quality.

I am not praising CNN, and I am not criticising them either, I just appreciate their point of view. And that point of view wasn’t born out of insight, superior intelligence or technical proficiency, but the simple by-product of being so far away from our culture and traditions. The CNN people simply had an outsider’s perspective.

An outsider has the benefit of seeing one’s culture completely bereft of its shortcomings. The documentary presented the printing machines as something supernatural – maybe as a result of the fact that for all this time they have been printing Holy Bibles – and the old men that operated them as sages, who have figured out all of the universe’s mysteries and have now simply retreated to the simple pleasures of life.

This is what the CNN documentarians saw when they witnessed the printing operation. Ethiopians would look at it in a completely different way – one of abject poverty and inflexibility. The age-old printing machines would simply remind us of our unfortunate, decaying and dilapidated factories; a sign of backwardness and a display of our lack of innovation and creativity. Here is another enterprise, which uses machines that became extinct alongside the dinosaurs! And the old men – manual labourers, working under measly conditions for minimal pay, which barely covers three meals a day. They probably never even finished high school (or perhaps didn’t even begin it).

And perhaps we are right, and perhaps the CNN guys, with their visions of glory, are the ones that have hit the bullseye. For them, to come from the US – where every manual job has been lost to automation and science has sipped all the sanctity out of the world’s mysteries – Ethiopia must seem a bit like Narnia. They would unavoidably have much nicer things to say about us than we do about ourselves. And the works the other way round too. Which Ethiopian doesn’t want to make a living in the US, trick-a-treat at Halloween and shoot fire crackers for the Fourth of July?

There is actually a part of Ethiopia that shares the white man’s romanticised feelings of this country – the Ethiopian Diaspora. A filmmaker, who was born and bred in this very country, would be able to make an ultrarealistic movie about Ethiopians that could be considered great. But an Ethiopian filmmaker who has spent a large part of his adulthood in a foreign land, with a relative outsider’s point of view and the added advantage of being a native, can make a movie similar to Teza or Lamb.

Both movies actually exist, and they were both made by directors that have spent a long time away from Ethiopia. I am sure most Ethiopians have seen both movies as factual representations of life in the countryside. I can’t really account for some of the scenes in Teza that transpire in Germany, but everything else about the Ethiopian political and social circumstances of the 80’s is either romanticised or denigrated.

Both films could have been made in another country without having to alter any of the themes or plot elements – the former more than the latter. Teza is about the negative psychological effects of a cruel government over its subjects. But every other country has had its share of merciless rulers, leaders and monarchs. The film’s hero could be a stand in for any individual that ahs tried to stand against tyranny and paid the price. And in between the film’s main points, Gerima squeezes in certain Ethiopian cultures and traditions, which, if we are to be totally honest about it, even though add a little colour to the film, can be reworked without blunting the film’s effect.

And we could say the same for Lamb – a film that deals mostly with backwardness. There is a hero, and that hero faces challenges caused by the narrow-minded community that threatens to suffocate him. One of the main things that brings him in to conflict with his family, and society, is that he cooks and doesn’t know how to plough. These things wouldn’t in anyway be an encumbrance for anyone living in Addis Abeba, or New York, but they would sure as hell make a difference in any rural part of Ethiopia (the film’s setting), other rural places in Africa or indeed any part of the world before the Renaissance.

But does it mean that any of this movies are less artistically, or simply slightly fantastical? All work of art requires a certain amount of disbelief; it can never withstand close-eyed inspection. But close hand inspection can only be done by those that know what to look for, and even they, under the right circumstances, could be persuaded to eliminate disbelief.

The thing about that CNN documentary is that it was never meant for Ethiopian eyes only, but for an international audience. And both Teza and Lamb are films that were acclaimed in the Western world, even before having being shown in their home countries. They have the mark of universality. That and time are the two things that separate good art from great art.

It isn’t just movies, but music, literature and paintings too. A piece of art could be considered brilliant, ingenious and all-encompassing in the country, and by the generation, that produced it, but unless it can cross those barriers, it would never be considered great. What good would a song the Saudi King considers the most patriotic, and as thus the greatest of all, do for me? I am not a Saudi Arabian. Timelessness is even more significant, but that isn’t the point here.

The point is that the CNN documentary may not be considered great, but it appeals – not just to those that live outside, but to an Ethiopian too. For a brief moment, I was able to see a certain part of my country as truly novel and magical. And, if I cared to venture and look at things from a certain distance, without delving too deeply into the mess of things, I am pretty sure that right there, in a different light, I may grow to appreciate more the little things. Foreigners come to this land and others like, maybe Jamaica or Hiati, for a trip. In these places, they may find relief, comfort and a great memory, which they can revisit in their minds and on their smartphones when the going gets tough. All of this because their time in these places have been momentary, lapsing; they leave before the true picture of a ‘Third World’ country comes into focus – just like that fascinating documentary.

Some would say that Ethiopia has festering wounds that will never be healed, unless we look deeper and ask the right questions. But there is a time and place for that and there is a time and place for such kinds of entertainment, and art, which can help someone like me to develop the sense of humour I direly, direly require. Yes, there is corruption, but wouldn’t that make for a chilling thriller. Yes, there is poverty, and a mindboggling wealth gap, but wouldn’t that make for a tear jerking romantic comedy, whereby a rich spoiled girl falls in love with a poor bookish guy. If we have to lie to ourselves and pretend we are perfect, let’s do it correctly. Believe me, that’s how countries grow.


Posted

in

by

Tags:

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.