Mogadishu’s boy soldiers show the plight of Somalia’s future in this observational documentary
The Frames of Representation documentary festival at the ICA focused on the theme of ‘work’ this year. The itinerary featured a diverse range of documentaries spanning the globe from a textile factory in India, to Peruvian gold mines and African Union troops in Mogadishu, Somalia.
I went to see Mogadishu Soldier by Norwegian director Torstein Grude, who explained in the introduction the dramatic circumstances which led to the documentary’s creation. While working in a refugee camp in Tanzania, tensions with local authorities meant that Grude had to flee to neighbouring Burundi. When he arrived he was caught by militia, he explained calmly to the audience, and thought he would die.
Thankfully, he was saved by the Burundian army. This is where he met two soldiers who showed an interest in the filming equipment he had with him. He had the idea to ask them to film their next deployment to Mogadishu, as part of the African Union Mission to Somalia (AMISOM).
The documentary starts there, on a concrete strip at Mogadishu airport, with Burundian soldiers in fresh uniform marching out of a jumbo jet airplane. AMISOM are African Union troops mandated to help the federal government of Somalia stabilise the country and support it in its fight against al-Shabaab, a Salafist militant group. The documentary was taped from 2011–12 while the Burundi army was stationed there.
With no filming experience, the early scenes shot by the soldiers-turned-cameramen are akin to home movies, with shaky frames and sound equipment appearing in shot. They show us everyday scenes: inside the armoured vehicles transporting them across the city, their new garrisons, and soldiers’ conversations while grooming or eating. However, the film gradually becomes more artistic, with shots of derelict, bullet hole-ridden mansions and old office buildings. These scenes capture the battered spirit of the city, despite the people’s resilience. Nearly three decade of wars, battles and skirmishes have created an adversarial ecosystem in Mogadishu, encompassing death, despair, survival and hope.
The soldiers’ interactions with the people of the city is limited. One soldier states matter-of-factly that it’s not possible to make friends with the Somalis here as they could end up working for al-Shabaab. So they treat the city and its inhabitants with suspicion. When we finally see the infamous al-Shabaab fighters, it is not trained militants we come across, like the images of al-Shabaab paraded on social media, but rather teenage and prepubescent boys in t-shirts and jeans. Caught by the AMISOM soldiers, who also show surprise at who they are fighting, the boys shown in the documentary are visibly worried and scared. Two of them look 12 or 13 years old, and the third is in his late teens or early twenties. In their interviews they reveal how they ended up fighting for al-Shabaab: the two younger ones say they were kidnapped en route to school and the militants threatened to kill their family if they did not cooperate. The older one says he was not paid much but offered enough for basics such as food and shampoo.
Grude says he tried to trace what happened to these boys, and one of the Burundian soldiers informed him that he heard they were all shot dead after they were caught. However, the AMISOM/Burundian army told Grude that this was not true, but they could not confirm what had happened. This brings to light what becomes apparent in the documentary: the unredeemable brutality found in Mogadishu and in some of the organisations who claim to want to bring peace to it.
What’s striking while watching the documentary is that Mogadishu is a very youthful city. There are children and young people everywhere: playing outside the army barracks, injured in the hospitals, and in the neighbourhoods where the soldiers go to find and fight al-Shabaab. These young people are also, of course, fighting for al-Shabaab (which means ‘the youth’ in Arabic and is ironically a robbery of it), and also fighting for the Somalia National Army. There is a segment in the documentary where the Somali National Army are being trained by AMISOM, involving a boy no older than 12!
The difficulty with this documentary, which is also part of its authenticity, is that there is no commentary or explanations about what we are seeing, including the AMISOM training scenes and other brutal moments. This leaves the audience grappling for meaning in horrific and chaotic scenes. The documentary doesn’t leave the audience any more knowledgeable about the plight of Somalia, apart from reinforcing the assumptions many people probably came to the auditorium with.
As Grude puts it, if he were physically present at the filming or inserted commentary, it would not be the same documentary. By using the two soldiers as cameramen, he eliminated his professional gaze and influence on the filming. The benefits of this observational approach are apparent in the behind-the-scenes experience this documentary offers.
The question of what the audience are supposed to make of the disturbing scenes, with little understanding of the context, remains unresolved. What the documentary does show is a city fighting – with all it has – for stability. This is exemplified, however controversially, by the presence of AMISOM troops, who the federal government could not do without. But if the youth are battered and bruised – physically, emotionally and psychologically – by both sides, it begs the question: if stability is ever achieved, once the dust settles, what will be revealed about the multigenerational trauma caused by war?
Read more about the Frames of Representation festival here: http://www.framesofrepresentation.com/ and https://www.ica.art/whats-on/season/frames-representation-new-visions-documentary-cinema-2017.
Photo via Frames of Representation