“Corruption over here, corruption over there,” says a young man at the start of the documentary We, Students! (Nous, Etudiants!). It is a line that can be used for nearly every country in Africa. In Rafiki Fariala‘s film, the country is Central African Republic. But change the country to any other one in sub-Saharan Africa and the statement would likely still apply.
The documentary follows some students at the University of Bangui, the country’s capital city. We see them express their displeasure at what the future holds, their admission into university being an indication of their personal ambition. But they can see that out there in the world and even while in school, their country doesn’t care, an indifference they attribute to the lack of youth representation in leadership. What passes as the film’s soundtrack—which in true no-budget style, is sung by one of the film’s subjects partly on camera—indicts the aging leadership. (President Faustin-Archange Touadéra, 64, has been prime minister before.)
We see the students at their classrooms, at their hostels, with their lovers, and all of these scenes are united by an aesthetic of paucity. It is one sign that the documentary’s subjects are not the offspring of the elite. And if you can’t tell just by looking, the soundtrack plainly states that the children of the elite are not to be found at their university. Asked what is needed to overcome their problems, a lecturer says they have to take initiative, otherwise they would graduate into just “hanging around”. Nestor, Aaron, Benjamin, all undergraduates of economics, do what they can to get by: petty trade, farming, securing a building. The fourth student is Fariala himself. He’s offscreen–videography, perhaps, being his own hustle.
As the documentary progresses and the students write their exams and receive their results, the story switches from being an anti-corruption project into something less directly concerned with national politics. One of them, Nestor, has to stay back at the university while the others graduate. The change in the complexion of their relationships is never really shown, but Nestor complains about his treatment at the hands of the film director. He’s not quite comfortable with being treated as a character rather than a friend, and this is complicated by the fact that his peers have already graduated. “You have become elders,” Nestor says. “Academically, I’m younger than you and that’s why you treat me like that.”
Perhaps the complaint doesn’t belong in the final film, but its inclusion allows Fariala to shift the focus to politics of a more intimate sort. One wishes he had recognised his true subject earlier and created the documentary around his relationship with his friends. It seems quite obvious that this inevitably altered relationship with Nestor, in particular, could be or should be the heart of this documentary. But there are always practical concerns around an African filmmaker’s ambitions. Would a project focused on the non-sexual friendships between four young African men receive attention from prestigious western institutions? A glance at the synopses of African documentaries and fiction films that have screened in major venues outside the continent should provide an answer.
So maybe Fariala is a canny operator. He does manage to convince his friend and his wife to allow him to film a bathing scene. It’s tastefully done but one wonders how he convinced them. And in his film’s last scene he gives a speech as his friends are gathered. Among other things, he says, “we’re friends but let’s be honest, we won’t always be together.”
It may be true and this documentary, which is the first film from the Central African Republic to show at the Berlin Film Festival, is evidence that he has hit escape velocity and gotten far away from the orbit of his former classmates. But listening to him say those words is heart-breaking, especially as Nestor, who has to stay back in school, looks on forlorn.
Fariala might have made that speech thinking of himself as a Moses showing his people the way to a promised land, but it’s hard to see him as anything other than Judas. But maybe that is what it means to take the initiative.
Director, Screenplay: Rafiki Fariala
Producers: Boris Lojkine, Daniele Incalcaterra, Elvis Sabin Ngaibino
Executive Producers: Boris Lojkine, Daniele Incalcaterra
Cinematography: Rafiki Fariala
Editing: Xavier Sirven, Christian Moïse Nzengue
Music: Rafiki Fariala
Sound Design: Marc-Olivier Brullé, Paul Jousselin
Sound: Anne-Bertille Ndeysseit Vopiande, Aaron Koyasoukpengo
Production Manager: Elvis Sabin Ngaïbino
Production Companies: Makongo Films (Bangui), Unité (Paris), Kiripifilms (Kinshasa)
Venue: Berlin International Film Festival (Panorama)
In French
83 minutes
