Daughter of Keltoum
Posted to www.marxmail.org on June 10, 2006
As part of First Run Features Global Film Initiative, "Daughter
of Keltoum" is a worthy if far from perfect
entry by Algerian film-maker Mehdi Charef, who has lived in France
since the age of 10. It is an exploration of the class and gender oppression
facing the Kabyle peoples, the Algerian branch of the
Berber nationality that lives primarily in the mountainous region of the north.
It is focused on the relationship between Rallia (Cylia Malki),
a 19 year old Kabyle who was adopted by Swiss parents
as an infant, and her aunt Nedjma (Baya Belal). Rallia
has returned to the village where she was born in search of her mother, who is
now working as a hotel maid in a distant city. She is also in search of answers
to the question of why her mother gave her up.
If Rallia does not understand why,
the viewer certainly will. This is a land of grinding poverty, where women are
treated as beast of burden. Nejma is in awe of Switzerland
where water is readily available from a tap. In her village, she fills up
plastic tanks from a remote well and trudges back several times a day. Nejma, who appears to have been driven half-mad by poverty,
has very few pleasures in life other than a occasional
visit from Rallia's mother, who brings candy and
trinkets for the family. In a nearby abandoned religious shrine, Nejma has constructed her own altar out of empty cigarette
packs and other colorful but worthless items found on the road beneath the village.
After spending a week or so with Nejma
and her grandfather in the desolate but beautiful mountains that her aunt
describes as a "hellhole," Rallia decides
to go to the city in search of her mother, with the hapless Nejma
in tow. "Daughter of Keltoum" at this point
turns into a road movie approximating "Thelma and Louise." As the two
women hitch their way toward the city, they run into a number of villainous male
characters who whatever their differences all seem to share a deep-rooted
misogyny.
Also, unlike "Thelma and Louise," the two women
never really form an emotional bond since it is obvious that director Charef, working from his own screenplay, has utterly lost
belief that any good can come out of modern-day Algeria.
This very bleak scenario robs the film of any potential satisfying resolution
since the characters have no insight into their misery.
Mehdi Charef's
father left for France
to work in road construction and his children grew up in the slums surrounding Paris
that exploded recently. He trained as a mechanic, and worked in a factory until
his first novel "Tea in the Harem" was published in 1983. He later
adapted his novel into a feature film with the collaboration of Costa-Gavras.
Although "Daughter of Keltoum"
makes no effort to explain the roots of Kabyle
oppression, it at least has the merit of presenting the stark truth about how
they live. Filmed in Tunisia,
presumably dictated by Algerian refusal to allow such a film to be made,
"Daughter of Keltoum" is a visually
stunning work that has nuggets of intense drama, especially between the two
main characters. Perhaps, it was inevitable that the film avoided any sort of
conventional happy end because that would not be true to Charef's
pessimistic vision.
Algeria
has come a long way from the hopeful note that "Battle of Algiers"
concludes with. This is a society torn apart by civil war and economic misery. The
Kabyles were among the most self-sacrificing fighters
in the war for independence but are now the most alienated from the government.
A new civil war has pitted this non-Arab people against the central authority
and a permanent peace remains doubtful.
In a Boston Globe article from June 8, 2003, Adam Shatz, the book
review editor of the Nation Magazine who has written frequently about Algeria,
had the following to say:
For several decades,
the Algerian government has dealt with the Berbers, the descendants of Algeria's
original inhabitants, the way most postcolonial governments in the Middle East
and North Africa have dealt with ethnic and religious minorities-by attempting
to buy them off, and when that has failed, by the blunt force of repression, in
the hope that over time they would assimilate into the majority.
To be fair, the
Algerians in power have never been as brutal toward the Berbers as the Iraqis
and the Turks have been toward the Kurds, perhaps because many of Algeria's
politicians are themselves assimilated Berbers. But today, it's clear that
those politicians have been just as successful in encouraging the very
resistance they hoped to calm. In the mountainous region of Greater Kabylia, the cradle of Berber Algeria, a full-scale revolt against the Algerian
regime and its Arab nationalist ideology has been underway for the past two
years: The repressed has returned, with a vengeance.
Ever since the late
19th century, Kabyles have been renowned for their
military valor. But despite Berber fighters' disproportionate sacrifices in the
revolution against French rule, the National Liberation Front (FLN)-the leading
party in the national struggle against French authority-defined Algeria as a homogenous, Arab-Muslim state upon
winning independence in 1962. It made standard Arabic mandatory in education,
even though the language is spoken by few Algerians, most of whom use a North
African dialect. The FLN also broke up Berber cultural meetings and frowned
upon the use of the Berber tongue Tamazight as a
threat to national unity.
Early last December, I
traveled east from Algiers to Tizi Ouzou, Kabylia's largest city and
the center of Berber unrest. A two-hour drive and a world away from the
capital, Tizi Ouzou is a
filthy, sullen town. The roads are barely paved, weeds shoot out of empty lots,
and the state appears to be on holiday. All the signs are in French and Tamazight; whatever Arabic there was has been effaced by
protestors. Grim, Soviet-style high-rises are scrawled with graffiti hailing
the "aarsh" (literally, "tribes"
in Tamazight), village committees that have undergone
a revival in the last few years. (Belad Abrika, the committee movement's charismatic leader, is a
hirsute young man who would not look out of place at a Phish
concert. Two years ago this spring, Tizi Ouzou erupted after an 18-year-old man named Massinissa Guermah died in the
custody of the gendarmes. Within days, Guermah's death
had touched off protests throughout Kabylia. Enraged
youths took to the streets to denounce "hogra"-Algerian
argot for humiliation by the state-and called for the removal of the gendarmes,
whose presence here is deeply resented, all the more so because few of them are
native to the area. But the chants soon came to embrace a wide, albeit confused
set of demands that ranged from democracy (a yearning expressed by many
Algerians) to regional autonomy for Kabylia, a
distinctly more controversial proposition. Although it began peacefully enough,
the "Kabyle Spring" degenerated into
rioting and looting. The gendarmes fought back with live ammunition, killing
nearly 100 unarmed Kabyles in a period of 60 days.
For an artist's version
of this reality, I recommend "Daughter of Keltoum".