Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/594552
maltatoday, SUNDAY, 1 NOVEMBER 2015 This Week 43 personal light on migration 'The people hear about numbers, but not stories…' Zakaria Mohamed Ali is a Somali documentary film director who first arrived at Lampedusa as an asylum seeker, and then returned to document the experience with fresh eyes as a 'free man'. He speaks about how his fulfilling experience as a Somali journalist was cut short by the political unrest in the region, and how the safeguarding of migrant memories through film can help to restore their dignity When did you first start practis- ing photo-journalism, and what kind of challenges does the profes- sion face in Somalia? When I started to practise photo- journalism in Somalia, I remember it as a great time. I believed in being a good Somali journalist: I was mo- tivated to write and be made aware of the lives of my people. In Somalia I had many friends – all of whom were journalists, and just in front of our house they founded the office of the Somali Journalists Network (SOJON). Eventually, I requested to become a member of SOJON. After two years, SOJON became NUSOJ (Na- tional Union of Somali Journalists). Meeting and collaborating with all of these Somali journalists was a unique and precious experience for me – prior to becoming a mem- ber of NUSOJ, I wouldn't have im- agined that journalists could be as famous in Somalia as some of my colleagues were. But then, this was a great period, one in which I was exposed to many realities about So- mali life. One of my friends told me, "Za- karia, you must continue!" and I continued to write for a weekly newspaper (Haqabtiraha caashaqa), focusing on writing for young peo- ple, and about sports in Somalia, in Mogadishu. In 2004 I met Abdirashid Ab- dulle Abikar (Deyl) the manager of Xidigta Xamar newspaper and I started to work with Xidigta xamar newspaper, which was a daily. Though I enjoyed working as a journalist in Somalia, at one point in 2005 it occurred to me that this was also a risky endeavour. Basical- ly, you'd need to be in the employ of some of the warlords if you wanted to safeguard your life. The brief period in which I worked as a journalist in the country was both the best – and most active – part of my life, but also the most frightening. On 11 Auust 2007, my teacher Ahmed Elmi and other journalists like Ali Iman Sharmarke were murdered. This is the reason that I left my country, accompanied by 24 other Somali journalists. We headed to Hargeisa Somaliland on 2 December 2007… and here began my 'escape' – the journey in search of a better future. What are some of the crucial differences between looking at Lampedusa from the point of view of an asylum seeker, and that of a 'free man'? And what kind of impact do these differing perspec- tives have on your work? I think it is important to look at both aspects. When you are looking as an asylum seeker you don't know the place and you need to be one of the people in that place to be safe. You forget what you are, you for- get everything. You just remember why you are in Lampedusa. Looking at Lampedusa as a free man, you remember your arrival: what it was like, who you arrived with, why you arrived. But many questions still remain. I know it's very important to go back to Lampedusa, but there are plenty of answers I'm still searching for. Why did you opt for documen- tary filmmaking as your format of choice to approach the subject of migration? What are the ad- vantages of this particular me- dium? To come back to Lampedusa as a filmmaker, I concentrated on the search of lost memories. This is an important thing for me, to look at and show the lost memories. These objects must be memories for the people who are coming to Europe, and must be kept alive and not left on the street (as they are thrown out at the 'cemetery of the boats'). This work is simple, and gives a voice to all the people who couldn't say anything. The people whose names you don't know, who still have their families, and they don't know how their sons, broth- ers, wives, husbands, fathers and mothers died. Through voice and witnessing and the search of lost memories, I endeavour to illustrate why Europe must do something. And not just do something to solve the more immediate problems, but also get at the very source of these problems. What is the main driving force behind 'To Whom it May Con- cern', the short film you will be presenting at the RIMA Film Fes- tival in Malta? The importance of this work – which was self-financed – is down to who we are and how we got there. The people hear only the numbers of those arriving in Lampedusa or in Malta, but not the stories of the people who arrive. The point of my film is to say that migrant filmmak- ers can also give a voice to our peo- ple, the directors who speak about their migration route, and others who are also able to recount their experiences. Cinema allows us to do this. Are you looking forward to com- ing to Malta? I'll answer the question with an- other memory. When we were in the middle of the Mediterranean sea, we discovered that we were afraid. We did not know where we were going. We were looking for Malta. We were looking for Lampedusa. We called for help from Malta, from Italy, Libya and Tunisia. This was on 24 May 2008, and after three days we found a Tu- nisian military ship which brought us back to Tunisia. When you're in a harrowing situation at sea, you don't have a clear idea of where you're going… Zakaria Mohamed Ali