Sissako's 'Timbuktu'

Abderrahmane Sissako's 'Timbuktu' is about the occupation of the titular city by Muslim Jihadists, and the subsequent fight against the invaders and their draconian laws, by the inhabitants of this enchanted place. The story centers on herdsman Kidane, his wife, daughter and adopted son, whose tranquil life is thrown into turmoil, when Kidane accidentally murders a fisherman who has ruthlessly killed his favourite cow, interestingly named GPS, for wandering into his fishing nets, while drinking from a lake.

This film has a lethargic pace and the camera dwells, seemingly pointlessly, on seemingly mundane and inconsequential images. An example is when Kidane has just killed the fisherman. For a long time, both figures lie motionless, partly submerged in water, as if dead. Then Kidane stirs, pries himself from under the lifeless body of his victim, and staggers away, shocked. The camera switches to a long shot, which shows us two tiny figures, one wading across a wide, shallow lake, while the other lies motionless, half-submerged. It stays this way for a long time. I wondered what Sissako was trying to put across. It didn't dawn on me. There's a scene in which a group of young men are playing soccer on a dusty field, without a ball, because the Jihadists have outlawed soccer. They dribble and kick an invisible ball that exists only in their imaginations, and rejoice when they score. It's quite a sight. The players, and camera, actually move as though there is a ball in the scene, when there is none. It's skilfully shot and scored. It's sad.

When Kidane is held prisoner by the Jihadists, for committing murder, he expresses to his captors, that it is not death that he fears, but that he will not see his daughter's beautiful face again. He said this at two or three different occasions. At first, I was moved. And then it started to seem inappropriate. There's a very strange lady in this film, who comes across as a mentally disturbed sorcerer. She walks around dressed in strange garments that drag along the ground behind her, with a live chicken on her shoulder. At one point in the film the camera gazes upon this woman for a long time, as she watches the goings-on around her. I wondered why. I did not see anything of significance within the frame. When one has become accustomed to the machine gun pace that tends to characterize mainstream cinema, it takes some effort to appreciate an unhurried approach. I blame Michael Bay! Just kidding. :)

I laboured through 'Timbuktu', under the starry night sky, in the freezing cold, in the picturesque garden of the Alliance Francaise de Bulawayo. The images of barren, sun-scorched, wind-swept desert, were in direct contrast to the cold, and seemed to alleviate it a little.

P/S: When I was collecting images to accompany this piece, it is only then that it became apparent to me, how beautifully shot 'Timbuktu' is.