The subject of Ousmane Samassékou’s moving and immersive documentary The Last Shelter (Le Dernier refuge) is a tiny sanctuary located at the foot of the Sahara, where dozens of migrants find themselves waylaid after trying to make the treacherous journey across the desert into Algeria, and then hopefully, over to France or England.
A temporary dwelling place for most and a permanent resting place for some—the latter evidenced in an opening scene set in a nearby cemetery of unmarked graves, with only places of origin (“Guinea,” “Togo,” “Bamako”) listed on the tombstones—the Maison du Migrant in northeastern Mali is a refuge for those who survived numerous obstacles on their way to Europe before turning back. Shell-shocked and barely able to speak when they arrive, these people have faced thirst, starvation, exposure, exploitation at the hands of smugglers, the violence of jihadists and, in the very the worst cases, forced prostitution and slavery.
Samassékou, who’s Malian himself and studied filmmaking in Senegal, casts a long and sober glance at the shelter’s residents, focusing primarily on a pair of teenage girls, Esther and Kadi, who wound up in the Maison after trying to reach Algeria from Burkina Faso. At first, the two simply seem exhausted, sleeping most of the day as they recover from the journey, about which they don’t reveal many details. But they gradually open up to each other, developing a friendship and deciding whether they both want to return home, as most people wind up doing, or else attempt the trek for a second time.
The Maison du Migrant is run by a generous man, originally from the Ivory Coast, who’s made it his mission to help the countless refugees ending up in his care. He offers them basic medical services, free convoys to take them back to their homelands, and above all, lots of advice. “The Sahel region is not safe,” (the Sahel is the strip of land, stretching horizontally across Africa, that separates the tropics from the Sahara) he warns them, “You will end up as sexual objects.” The real talk makes Esther silently cry, but doesn’t necessarily deter her from risking everything for another shot at Europe.
Operating the camera on his own, Samassékou gets extremely close to his subjects, filming them in bed as they stare at Facebook images of friends enjoying better lives abroad, or tearing up when they remember what they’ve already been through. “I endured all kinds of unimaginable things,” another girl mentions in one of the group therapy sessions held at the center, where the migrants speak candidly about their experiences and offer one another companionship.
And yet, despite all the warnings and horror stories, many will keep trying to get make it abroad, and The Last Shelter shows that the Maison is as much an oasis as it is a sort of mirage, offering a few days or weeks of respite for people willing to risk their lives again and again. Hemmed in on all sides by the desert, whose red dust is forever blowing through its doors, it’s a place where humanity seems possible if provisional: the lure of migration is always there, even for those who have already been through way too much.
Screening in IDFA’s “Best of Fests” lineup after playing at Hot Docs, CPH:Dox and other venues, Samassékou’s second feature-length documentary should continue its long festival run and find a place among pubcasters interested in such a vital reportage.
Director: Ousmane Zoromé Samassékou
Producers: Estelle Robin You, Andrey S. Diarra, Don Edkins, Tiny Mungwe
Cinematography: Ousmane Zoromé Samassékou
Editing: Céline Ducreux
Music: Pierre Daven Keller
Sound: Adama Diarra, Jean-Marc Schick
Production companies: Point du Jour, Les Films du Balibari (France), STEPS (South Africa)
World sales: STEPS
Venue: IDFA (Best of Fests)
In French, English, Moré, Bambara
86 minutes
