Hachimiya Ahamada: Dreams from the Comoros

Hachimiya Ahamada, diasporan of the Comoros and French of Comorian origin, embraces both her cultures, while at the same time in search of an identity she knows only from her parents stories and images that she has seen. It is through cinema—the lens of her camera, that she finds her Comorian roots.

Hachimiya, you were born and raised in France, part of the Comorian Diaspora who has deep roots in the Comoros.  What is your relationship to the Comoros as a Diasporan in France?

I was born in Dunkerque where the Comorian Diaspora is very present. It is considered the third city of the Comorian Diaspora in France (after Marseille, Paris or le Havre—the first migrations coming with maritime workers). While a large community it is a rather quiet one.

I went to the Comoros for the first time when I was already an adult, a bit late to search for one’s family and origins. During my childhood in Dunkerque, the Comoros remained an imaginary country and I envisioned it through the eyes of my parents. I also discovered the archipelago through the images of an idyllic island: postage stamps, videos, photos, tourist posters, naive paintings...

My father worked as a packer in a metallurgy factory. His dream was to build a house for the family in his native village (Ouellah Itsandra in the Grande Comore). All of his savings went towards the realisation of this dream. Unless the house was completed we would not go to the Comoros. That is why it has taken so long to go there, even though the house is still not quite finished.

I define myself as a child of the Comorian Diaspora who has the wealth of two cultures (that of birth and of origin). Through cinema, I try to understand my Comorian roots. I want to film the Comoros from a different perspective than the folklore, large weddings, traditions, and the legendary Bob Denard. I want to show a different Comoros than preconceived ideas of it.

What were your experiences with cinema while growing up and how did you come to filmmaking?

During my adolescent years, I spent most of my Wednesday and Saturday afternoons in a video workshop entitled "School of the Street" in a youth and culture centre in Dunkerque. It is there where I took my first steps in filmmaking. Together, my friends and I came together as we made our first attempts at filming and also to watch films. We learned to see critically by watching challenging films. There was such a chemistry between us that today many of us are connected in some way to cinema (projectionist, producer, director, coordinator in the distribution to schools and so on). The “School of the Street” was our golden age: we lived our adolescence through moving images!

At the time, there was also "Les Rencontres Internationales Cinématographiques de Dunkerque / The International Film Festival of Dunkerque" (now defunct). Mingling among these established directors at the festival stimulated our desire to make films. I did not dare try. I did not feel capable even though I dreamed of doing it. With the motivation of my friends I found the courage to take the film school entrance exam. I studied film directing at Insas (Institut National Supérieur des Arts du Spectacle et de la Diffusion) in Brussels, graduating in 2004. Four years later, I made my first short fiction film The Ylang Ylang Residence about the Grande Comore Island. To my surprise, the film was screened at the International Critics Week at Cannes in 2008.

Ivresse d’une Oasis (Ashes of dreams) a film by Hachimiya Ahamada

The themes of most of your films focus on the Comoros—Feu leur reve, The Ylang Ylang Residence and your last work Ivresse d’une oasis— indicative of your desire to tell Comorian history through film.

The “history” of the Comoros, is a big word! In fact, more humbly, these three films relate the story of the house in the homeland: the ideal home that takes time to build or to be completed. Our parents thought at first it would be the 'home to settle in' and then over time it became the 'vacation home' and as time passed it became the 'grave house' because the descendants return less and some do not come at all. To build one’s home is to leave one’s mark in the native village in which one has been long absent. As a trilogy these three films allowed me to explore the fate of these uninhabited houses waiting for their owners who have remained in France or elsewhere.

Feu leur rêve, my graduation film, written in a poetic way, recounts a fantasy Comoros while still in Dunkerque. The Ylang Ylang Residence, my first short fiction film, relates how the islanders living in houses made of straw or sheet metal, are not able to benefit from the permanent structures of the absent migrants. L’Ivresse d’une Oasis closes the chapter of my exploration of the subject of the house, and going further by travelling on all four islands of the Comoros archipelago in search of its Comorian identity.

Ivresse d’une Oasis explores the relationship between the inhabitants of the Comoros and the Comorian Diaspora that return to the homeland—those who come from somewhere else and those who stay put. At the same time it highlights the dreams of the inhabitants and their ambivalence regarding the expatriates. This is in fact your story. While discussing the film, explore as well how you see a resolution to this phenomenon.

The phrase 'I’ve come from…' is usually a pejorative term, which refers to the Diaspora returning home with all the pretensions of success. By dint of hearing, 'I come from Marseille', 'I come from Dunkerque' or 'I come from Paris', the phrase, 'I’ve come from' has stuck. Which demonstrate the attitudes of the islanders regarding the return of the prodigal son and his family, even if it is a pejorative term.

Ivresse d’une Oasis relates the unfulfilled need of the islanders to achieve their dreams. They leave in order to have it better when they return, always with the idea of building the concrete house. But the difficulty in achieving this dream is that the perfect home is merely a mirage. I translate the film in English as Ashes of Dreams. Dreams that in the end send the islanders in transit, somewhere, either to France or to Mayotte and Reunion. And these constructed foundations continue to wait...

Ashes of dreams is a film written in first person singular and then first person plural. I wanted to go back to the Grande Comore, to the family, without the label of 'I’ve come from…' to measure the temperature of the family bond. But time creates a fracture even with those with which there are blood ties. I remember a comment by someone who said 'I come back in order not to stay'. It's a rather difficult acknowledgement to make. Then also in this film, I wanted to break the image of the idyllic island of the Comoros by meeting the residents of the other islands in order to get the secrets of the real Comoros. I found a lead: Comorian migration is constantly in motion, it has always been throughout its history. By economic migration, many of the islanders dream of leaving their villages in order to have it better when they return. From the island of Anjouan, some go some 70 km in order to reach Mayotte. Since 1995, when the visa policy was established by Balladur—which is difficult to obtain by the residents of the other Comorian islands—the islanders crossed the sea by a kwassa-kwassa, a fishing boat. The death toll continues to increase as a result of this crossing. Thousands of people have died in silence. The sea has become their tomb in the place of a house.

Then, the islanders who have succeeded in crossing are given the label  'illegals' on the land that is naturally Comorian, by those who have chosen to remain under the French fold. An invisible border has been created between these sister islands, each of which looks for its Oasis, but at what cost? Each day the Comoros Archipelago sees deeper cracks in its Comorian identity. It is very complex to describe this Comoros of today; maybe the archipelago has to go through this in order to arrive at a better future.

Ivresse d’une Oasis (Ashes of dreams) a film by Hachimiya Ahamada

I am delighted to see a real emergence of a Comorian cinema culture. In 1997 I interviewed Ouméma Mamadali, also from the Comorian Diaspora, who had recently completed the film Baco with Kabire Fidaali. She stated that the film was actually the first. You have been involved with the International Film Festival in Comoros created in 2011. Was this initiative a desire to put Comoros on the cinematic landscape? What are its goals and objectives?

I'd be interested to see your interview with Ouméma Mamadali. She is the first woman to have assumed the role of director and to have made a feature film in video format. I have never had the opportunity to meet the directors of Baco. I met two Anjouan actors who participated in the film and told me about their experience during the shooting. During my location scouting for a documentary in 2006, I was offered a copy of the film. I did not know about it at all.

My first fiction film The Ylang Ylang Residence is the first film in 35 mm format. It is one more step for the emerging Comorian cinema. Other Comorians of my generation are setting out as well.

Mohamed Said Ouma, a friend and great film buff, and also the director of FIFAI (International Festival of Films from Africa and the Islands of the World) in Reunion, initiated this project. He works with a team of Comorians, also passionate about cinema. They have skills and knowledge to share in terms of filmmaking. Among the group members I only know the artistic director Mounir Allawi, who trained at the School of Fine Arts of Reunion. He is a filmmaker and a specialist of Asian cinema, and the general secretary Yakina Mohamed Djelane, who has a doctorate in Anthropology. Being in the field, they bring a new momentum by giving an inside view of cinema to the audience. They are setting the foundation for a platform to develop and set standards for future filmmakers. They have made initiatives in some of the villages by showing diverse films. The festival itself will take place officially in December 2012. As a film industry does not exist in the Comoros, before one can create, one must be able to integrate the film grammar, to be able to analyze what's behind a shot, to dissect the language of a film. They have begun bravely to take on this task.

A future project on the Diaspora in France?

There is an idea for a feature film, which for now I'd rather not talk too much about because it is not completed, but it will be with the Diaspora in France! I am completing a screenplay for a short film. I am continuing my cinematic exploration of the Comorian Diaspora, which is visible in small numbers around the world. I would like to go back to the 1970s, where a Comorian migration was still very present in Madagascar, in Majunga. My mother was born in this city where there was a very strong Comorian community. I am inspired by that period and would like to tell how the Diaspora was perceived by the Malagasy people there.

Interview with Hachimiya Ahamada, and translation from French by Beti Ellerson, December 2011.

En français

Also see from the African Women in Cinema Blog:

Hachimiya Ahamada: A Filmmaker of the Land

Hachimiya Ahamada : De quoi rêvent nos Comores ?

Hachimiya Ahamada, diasporienne des Comores et Française issue de l’immigration comorienne, embrasse ses deux cultures, tout en recherchant une identité qu’elle ne connaît que par les récits de ses parents et par les images reçues. C’est à travers le cinéma, avec sa caméra, qu’elle retrouve ses racines comoriennes.

Hachimiya, vous êtes née et vous avez grandi en France, faisant partie de la diaspora comorienne avec des racines bien ancrées aux Comores. En tant que comorienne de la diaspora en France, quelle est votre relation avec les Comores?

Je suis née à Dunkerque où la diaspora comorienne y est très présente. On dit parfois que c’est la 3è ville comorienne de France (après Marseille et  Paris ou le Havre- les premières migrations venant des ouvriers marins). C’est une grande communauté qui reste pour le moins très discrète dans la ville.

Je suis partie pour la première fois aux Comores à l’âge adulte. Un peu tard pour connaître sa famille et ses origines. Avant cela, depuis mon enfance dunkerquoise, les Comores restaient un pays imaginaire et je le devinais à travers les yeux de mes parents. Je découvrais l’archipel également sous forme d’images d’Epinal: des timbres postaux, des cassettes vidéo, des photos, des posters touristiques, des tableaux naïfs…

Mon père travaillait comme manutentionnaire dans une usine de métallurgie. Son rêve était de construire une maison pour la famille dans son village natal (Ouellah Itsandra- Grande Comore). Toute son économie était pour concrétiser cela. Tant que la maison n’était pas finie, on ne partait pas aux Comores.  Voilà pourquoi on a mis du temps à partir même si la maison est à ce jour pas tout à fait terminée.

Je me définis comme une enfant de la diaspora comorienne qui a la richesse de posséder deux cultures (de naissance et d’origine). Par le biais du cinéma, j’essaie de comprendre mes racines comoriennes. Je souhaite filmer les Comores avec des sujets qui soient différents du folklore, des grands mariages, des traditions, de Bob Denard…montrer les Comores autrement que par les idées reçues. 

Quelles ont été vos expériences avec le cinéma en grandissant et comment êtes-vous arrivée au cinéma?

À l’adolescence, je passais presque tous mes mercredis et mes samedis après-midi  dans un atelier vidéo qui s’intitulait «l’Ecole de la Rue » au sein d’une MJC (Maison des jeunes et de la culture) à Dunkerque. C’est là que furent mes premiers pas en cinéma. Avec mes amis, on échangeait autour de nos premiers essais filmés et également autour d’œuvres cinématographiques. On forgeait notre regard à travers des films exigeants. Il y avait une telle alchimie dans notre groupe qu’aujourd’hui beaucoup d’entre nous avons un métier qui touche au cinéma (projectionniste, producteur, réalisateurs, coordinateur dans la diffusion auprès des écoles…). ‘L’Ecole de la rue’ était nôtre âge d’or : on vivait notre adolescence à travers les images!

À l’époque, il y avait également ‘Les Rencontres Internationales Cinématographiques de Dunkerque’ (qui n’existe plus aujourd’hui). Les réalisateurs confirmés croisés lors de ce festival, nous avaient incités à poursuivre le désir de réaliser. Je n’osais pas trop passer le cap, je ne m’en sentais pas capable même si j’en rêvais. C’est avec l’impulsion de mes amis que j’ai osé passer un concours d’entrée dans une école de cinéma. J’ai fait la formation de Réalisation à l’Insas (Institut National Supérieur des Arts du Spectacle et de la Diffusion) à Bruxelles.  J’ai eu mon diplôme en 2004. Quatre ans plus tard, j’ai réalisé mon premier court-métrage de fiction La résidence Ylang Ylang sur l’île de la Grande Comore. À ma grande surprise, ce film a été diffusé à la Semaine Internationale de la Critique à Cannes en 2008.

Ivresse d’une Oasis, un film de Hachimiya Ahamada

Les thèmes de la plupart de vos films se concentrent sur les Comores: Feu leur rêve, La résidence Ylang Ylang et votre dernière œuvre l’Ivresse d’une Oasis. Cela montre-il votre désir de raconter l’histoire des Comores à travers le cinéma?

L’histoire des Comores c’est un bien grand mot ! En fait, plus humblement, ces trois films racontent la maison dans le pays natal : la demeure idéale qui met du temps à se construire ou à être finie. Nos parents pensaient d’abord ‘maison d’installation’, puis avec le temps c’est devenu ‘maison de vacances’ et le temps passant ça devient ‘maison tombeau’ car les descendants viennent moins et certains ne viennent pas du tout. Construire son logis c’est laisser sa trace dans le village natal dans lequel on a été longtemps absent. Comme une trilogie ces trois films m’ont permis d’explorer le destin de ces maisons inhabitées en attente de leurs propriétaires restés en France ou ailleurs. Feu leur rêve, mon film de fin d’étude, écrit d’une manière poétique raconte les Comores de manière imaginaire tout en restant à Dunkerque. La Résidence Ylang Ylang, mon premier court-métrage de fiction, est un conte qui relate les insulaires vivant dans des maisons en paille ou en tôle et qui ne profitent pas des maisons en dur des émigrés absents. L’Ivresse d’une Oasis clôt le chapitre de mon exploration du sujet de la maison et va plus loin en voyageant sur l’ensemble des 4 îles de l’archipel des Comores en quête de son identité comorienne.

L’Ivresse d'une Oasis explore la relation entre les habitants des Comores et de la diaspora qui retourne au pays : les « je viens » et les « je reste ». En même temps, il met en lumière les rêves des habitants et leur ambivalence concernant les expatriés et vice à versa. Ceci est en fait votre histoire : celle de votre famille. En discutant du film, pouvez-vous nous expliquer aussi la façon dont vous voyez une résolution à ce phénomène ?

L’expression ‘Je viens’ normalement est un terme péjoratif qui désigne la diaspora revenant au pays avec tous les comportements de feindre une certaine réussite. À force d’entendre ‘je viens de Marseille’, ‘je viens de Dunkerque’ ou ‘je viens de Paris’, l’expression ‘Je viens’ est resté. Cela sous-entend quel regard porte les insulaires lors du retour de l’enfant prodige accompagné de sa famille même si c’est une expression péjorative.

L’Ivresse d'une Oasis raconte le besoin inassouvi des insulaires à atteindre leur rêve. Ils s‘en vont pour mieux revenir ; toujours avec cette idée de construire la maison en dur. Or les difficultés à atteindre ce rêve font que la maison idéale n’est que mirage. En anglais je traduis le film comme ‘Ashes of dreams’ : des cendres de rêves. Des rêves qui finalement mettent les insulaires en transit quelque part : soit la France ou soit à Mayotte ou à la Réunion. Et ces fondations attendent…

L’Ivresse d’une Oasis est un film écrit à la première personne du singulier d’abord et ensuite du pluriel. J’avais envie de revenir à la Grande Comore, vers la famille sans cette étiquette de ‘Je viens’ pour mesurer la température du lien familial. Mais le temps crée une fissure tout de même avec les liens du sang. Je retiens une phrase d’une personne qui disait ‘je viens pour ne pas rester’. C’est très dur comme constat. Puis aussi dans ce film, j’avais envie de casser l’image d’Epinal des Comores en rencontrant des insulaires sur les autres îles afin qu’ils me donnent les clés du Comores réel. Une piste : la migration comorienne est sans cesse en mouvement, elle l’a toujours été par son histoire. Par migration économique, un grand nombre des insulaires rêvent de quitter leur village pour mieux revenir. De l’île d’Anjouan, certains traversent 70 km pour atteindre Mayotte. Depuis 1995, depuis l’instauration d’un visa instauré par Balladur et difficile à obtenir pour les comoriens des autres îles, les insulaires traversent la mer par le moyen d’un kwassa-kwassa : une barque de pêche. Le nombre de morts ne cessent de s’étendre lors de cette traversée : des milliers de personnes ont péri en silence. La mer est devenue leur tombeau à la place de la maison.

Puis, les insulaires ayant réussi la traversée portent l’étiquette de ‘clandestin’ au sein d’une terre naturellement comorienne et qui a fait le choix de rester sous le giron français. Une frontière invisible s’est créée entre ces îles sœurs dont chacune recherche leur Oasis mais à quel prix ? L’archipel des Comores voit de jour en jour son identité comorienne se fissurer. Il est très complexe de décrire le présent des Comores, peut être que l’archipel doit passer par là pour arriver à un avenir meilleur.

Ivresse d’une Oasis, un film de Hachimiya Ahamada

Je suis ravie de voir une réelle émergence d'une culture cinématographique comorienne! En 1997, j'ai eu un entretien avec Ouméma Mamadali, également issue de la diaspora comorienne, qui avait récemment terminé le film Baco avec Kabire Fidaali. Elle a déclaré que le film était en fait le premier du pays. Le Festival International du Film in Comores en 2011, cette initiative, est-elle une volonté de mettre les Comores dans le paysage cinématographique? Quels sont ses buts et objectifs?

Je serai intéressée de voir votre entretien avec Ouméma Mamadali. Elle est la première femme à avoir endossé le rôle de réalisateur et à avoir réalisé un long-métrage sous format vidéo. Je n’ai jamais eu l’occasion de rencontrer les réalisateurs de Baco. J’ai rencontré deux acteurs anjouanais qui avaient participé au film et qui m’avaient raconté leur expérience de tournage. Lors de mes repérages pour le documentaire en 2006, on m’a offert une copie du film. Je ne connaissais pas du tout.

Concernant mon premier film de fiction, La Résidence Ylang Ylang, c’est le premier film en format 35 mm. C’est un pas de plus pour le jeune cinéma comorien. D’autres comoriens de ma génération se mettent à l’ouvrage.

Mohamed Said Ouma, un ami très cinéphile et directeur du FIFAI (Festival International des films d’Afrique et des îles du Monde) à la Réunion, est à l’initiative de ce projet. Il travaille avec une équipe composée de comoriens tout aussi passionnés de l’image. Ils ont des compétences et un savoir à faire partager en termes de Cinéma. Dans l’équipe, je connais seulement Mounir Allaoui (directeur artistique) qui a une formation à l’école des Beaux Arts de la Réunion, qui est réalisateur et un fin connaisseur du cinéma asiatique et également Yakina Mohamed Djelane (secrétaire générale) qui est doctorante en Anthropologie. Étant sur le terrain, ils apportent un nouvel élan en donnant des clés sur le travail de l’image auprès des spectateurs. Ils sont la base d’une plate-forme qui se mettra en place et posent des jalons pour éveiller nos futures graines de cinéastes. Ils font des interventions dans certains villages en montrant des films d’ailleurs. Le festival en lui-même se déroulera plus officiellement en décembre 2012. Comme l’industrie cinématographique n’existe pas aux Comores, avant de pouvoir créer, il faut pouvoir intégrer sa grammaire, savoir analyser ce qui se cache derrière un plan, décortiquer le discours en cinéma. Ils se mettent courageusement à cette tâche.

Un projet futur sur la diaspora en France ?

Il y a une idée de long-métrage de fiction dont pour l’instant je ne préfère pas trop évoquer car il n’est pas abouti mais ce serait avec la diaspora en France ! Là, je finalise l’écriture d’un scénario de court métrage de fiction. Je continue mon exploration cinématographique sur la diaspora comorienne présente en petit nombre un peu partout dans le monde. J’aimerai remonter le temps vers les années 70, où une migration comorienne fut encore très présente à Madagascar, à Majunga. Ma mère est née dans cette ville où il y avait une très forte communauté comorienne. Je m’inspire de cette époque-là et raconte comment la diaspora fut perçue par les malgaches de cette ville.

Entretien avec Hachimaya Ahamada par Beti Ellerson, décembre 2011

English version

Hachimiya Ahamada: A Filmmaker of the Land

Hachimiya Ahamada

Interview - Hachimiya Ahamada: A Filmmaker of the Land 

First published in Regarder l’archipel des Comores autrement – No Man’s Land Blog - 01 January 2010

Translation from French to English by Beti Ellerson

Born in France in 1976 to parents of Comorian origin, Hachimiya Ahamada is nonetheless a filmmaker of the land. Her camera pointed towards her homeland, the Comoros Archipelago, her favorite themes are identity and memory. In 2008, she directed the drama short, The Ylang Ylang Residence, co-produced by Aurora Films in Paris and Washko Ink in Moroni. The film was screened in some sixty international film festivals, from Cannes to the International Black Film Festival of Montreal, passing through the Women's Film Festival in Chennai, India.  In 2009 alone The Ylang Ylang Residence won numerous awards such as the Grand Prize for the Short Film at the Quintessence Festival of Ouidah, the Best Screenplay at the Francophone Festival of Vaulx in Velin, the Jury’s Special Mention at the Cinema of Africa, Asia and Latin America Festival in Milan. During this interview [with Regarder l’archipel des Comores autrement – No Man’s Land Blog] Hachimiya reveals a chapter of her professional and intimate life. 

No Man's Land: Hachimiya, how did you come to cinema?

As a teenager, I spent my Saturday afternoons in the video studio in Dunkerque on the Ecole de la Rue Street. With a group of friends, also passionate about cinema, I took my first steps while making small documentary portraits. So cohesive was the group, with such a passion for films, that today some of us have turned that passion into a profession. Among us there are directors, a producer, a projectionist (who is also from the Comoros) and a film events organizer. Moreover, the video studio was in the same building as the art film movie house. Hence, the film events organizer at the time planned an annual festival of international films during which we had the chance to interact with filmmakers from different countries. They helped us to sharpen our vision of the world and develop a cinematic discourse by the means of image and sound. Unfortunately, the festival no longer exists. This period of my youth provided the persistence of vision that continues to drive me to go further in this direction.

Subsequently, I enrolled at INSAS, a film school in Brussels where I trained in film directing and completed my studies in 2004. 

No Man's Land: You are a young woman, and also Muslim, born into a family of Comorian origin. How has your family reacted to your decision to make a career as a filmmaker?

Since my adolescence, my parents have always seen me with a camera in hand. They knew that I spent all my Saturdays at the video studio. Apart from that, I filmed some traditional marriages that took place in the Comorian community of Dunkerque. I also took pictures of my own family; it was obvious that I wanted to pursue this passion as a profession. However, not fully grasping the word “cineaste” my family is trying to discover it through my journey. I try to make them understand that I'm not a “journalist”! A term that is easier to conceptualize.

  

Whether men or women filmmakers from the Muslim community (and Comorian on top of it), we're all in this together. It's not being a woman that will be the obstacle, or religion that would thwart efforts to embrace this career. It is the lack of knowledge in general about any profession in the arts. Our parents have been lulled by the cinema of Hollywood, Bollywood and Asian films, and as we have not yet conquered this technology, it is normal for parents to be apprehensive about their child going into this unknown world. The women and men of our generation must move forward and not raise false problems and questions about religion or traditions. We strongly need artists, and in my area, filmmakers and actors who by stepping into the shoes of the super heroes will represent us as producers, technicians... To date, we are in a phase where we are laying the groundwork for the future generation. 

No Man's Land: What is your view on Comorian women, whether in the diaspora in France or in the Comoros in general? 

I confess that I find these very feminist types of questions difficult to answer. Comorian women are inwardly very strong. No matter in what situation she finds herself, and even though she is closely tied to tradition (since the Comorian woman is the guardian from generation to generation), she manages to assert herself with men. She makes the major family or collective decisions. Contrary to what one might think, women have authority! Although, we continue to be a society where women live within a world of women, this strengthens women, and they really support each other. The upside of this is that it provides the cohesiveness to better address their individual difficulties, oh so many! I admire the younger generation of women, who are very dynamic, very ambitious, very competitive and who know how to combine modernity and tradition. They give great hope for our future ideal Comoros. So be it!

No Man's Land: You've spent your whole life in Europe. Why did you decide to shoot your film The Ylang Ylang Residence in the Comoros? The language of this film is Comorian, is it a coincidence?

After my training at INSAS, I wanted to get into fiction. The Ylang Ylang Residence is my first short film. I've always done documentary films, which is a very good school to pass through to get into fiction or reality fiction. I began with a subject that was dear to my heart: home. This short film was very important to me because there are autobiographical influences and it was also necessary that I return to my roots through the film. I was born in Dunkerque, therefore, I belong to the Comorian diaspora and my gaze is necessarily one of "I’m coming..." With The Ylang Ylang Residence, I wanted to break through that gaze. Having completed the film, I still do not know if I managed to do it.

On the other hand, it was my greatest insight into the Comoros. During the research phase in preparation for the film, I met people who gave me the opportunity to understand the everyday life of the Comoros, through all levels of the social strata. The experience of this short film is also proof that we can make plans of any kind in the country and that the people long for this type of initiative. There is potential and so much energy that you cannot pass up this opportunity. The major problem that remains is by what means do we get there?

To the question of language, a film reflecting a country should be in the language of the country where it is made. Comorians were born and bred in the Comorian language: it would have been meaningless if the actors had played in French. And, Comorian viewers must forge a vision that is based on their own point of reference. For that reason, I shot the film in Comorian even though I myself am not fluent in the language. I must make a lot of progress to move my work further.

No Man's Land: You have presented your film around the world, at festivals, and internationally renown ones at that. What memories do you have of these events of the 7th art?

The tour of the film went very well. A short film normally has a two-year lifespan.  In two and a half years, The Ylang Ylang Residence was screened at over 35 international festivals. That is great and unexpected because I do not think my future films will have this kind of trajectory. The memory that I keep is the immense curiosity of the spectators about a country that they do not really know. They have heard the name but do not really know where it is located in the World: Comoros, in the minds of others is a world in a very remote location. What struck me was also their surprise to see the omnipresence of green (lush vegetation) or to hear a language that is unknown to them. These kinds of encounters at festivals encourage me to continue working in this direction. Unwittingly, I was a bit of a flag bearer or a spokesperson for the Comoros at each encounter with a different audience. There is a real thirst to see pictures from the Indian Ocean in cinema—not on television, but in Cinema. For this reason, there is much work to be done to quench the thirst of the outside world (and at home for that matter).

No Man's Land: The next Hachimiya film will talk about what, and in what country will it be shot?

I am currently working on a feature documentary project entitled “The Drunkenness of an Oasis” produced by Shõnagon Film and the CBA in Brussels. Five years of work that is about to be completed; a real uphill battle in terms of production. The production time was very long because I focused on a topic that apparently did not interest producers. This was not so bad, in fact, because I still have the freedom of content and form. I always shoot around the same theme: the unfinished house awaiting the return of its owner somewhere in exile. For an “I’m coming” what makes us go “back to the village” is the pride of the father: the family home he built in his native village.

No Man's Land: But as a child of the diaspora, what does one do with this house, which remains unoccupied for many years?

And more broadly, what happens to our Comorian cultural heritage when we're from France, or when we leave the Comoro Archipelago Islands, when we’re from the Grande Comore, Anjouan, Moheli and Mayotte?

In 2006 I went alone to look for filming locations on the four islands of the archipelago and came back with a small crew this year to film again on these islands. It's a film of self-examination about the Comorian identity of my family that leaves to go to elsewhere. Again, the wanderings through the islands were real revelations about my quest for identity, my encounters with, respectfully speaking, the common people. However, they made me understand each in their own way, what could be an ideal Comorian. I am currently in the editing stage in Brussels. In this long road movie, the editor and I try to bring the four islands together. I hope in the end to have a film in the “Cinema” that truly reflects the actual feeling of the whole archipelago.

No Man's Land: What positive affect can cinema bring to Comorian society in particular and societies in the world in general?

Whatever the genre of film (fiction, documentary, docu-fiction, experimental film), to make a film is to give a unique vision to the world around us. We share our stories with the Other in image and sound. In countries where there is a shortage of films, even if there is escapist types of films, this medium has a political role. It gives the contemporary feeling of the countries in crisis and expansion. The bigger the crisis, the more there is material to tell a story. The larger the crisis, the more there is censorship and this constraint requires the author to find a particular identity to her work (I have in mind Chinese and Iranian cinema whose authors manage to present interesting stylistic work despite severe censorship and they pay the price for just having the desire to film their country). This is the same for countries with no film industry.

With regard to our islands, there are so many stories to tell in the Comorian culture. It is a society rich in contradictions and there is enough for us to draw from so that we can make many, many films with strong subject matter. By portraying our society through film, without making any concessions would have an immeasurable impact on our self-representation. At present, in the North (we also see this in our own islands), what images are presented about us? Do we recognize ourselves in these pictures? 

There is a tremendous need to put up a mirror in order to correct our own problems, to reflect, to entertain or take a break with a hero who resembles our island. With the massive onslaught of American, Asian and Bollywood films on DVD, there is a lack of identification with Comorian characters. Except in Mayotte (but we must also ask who is the audience that goes to see movies), there is a lack of cinema houses on the other islands. To have at least one in each capital would be already quite a bit.

No Man's Land: When it comes to movies, we always talk about investment, cinema houses, viewers who go out and purchase tickets, distribution, in a word, an actual film industry. Do you think that the development of a film culture in Comoros involves creating a film industry like Nollywood in Nigeria, Bollywood in India and Hollywood in the USA?

But with what means, this creation of a Comorian cinema and the distribution of its films?

This is a crucial question that also affects all Francophone African cinema to date. In the North, there is concern about the lack of African representation on screen to show in their movie houses (outside of festivals for Africa), while in the South, films continue to be produced each year (though with financial difficulty) on a variety of media and with varying quality. Nevertheless, there is a real absence of structures that could focus specifically on the distribution of these films between African countries and outside of the film festival circuit.

For the moment I'm a bit pessimistic about the existence of a film industry in the Comoros. I have a rather different dream of a creative system that would be a mixture between a Nollywood, Bollywood and a director’s cinema that sets high standards. Everyone will find her or his place.

But by what method? So the Comorian State would create a film commission under the auspices of the Ministry of Culture as is done in a few African countries? If this kind of structure does not already exist in the country for other art forms such as literature or the performing arts, I will still be dreaming for a long time.

Then there is the other alternative, which is funding for cultural projects coming from the North or the Middle East, but should this be the sole means to produce our work?

It’s something to think about...

Image and text from Regarder l’archipel des Comores autrement – No Man’s Land Blog


Also see on the African Women in Cinema Blog:

Hachimiya Ahamada: Dreams from the Comoros