With the documentary “Sudan, Remember Us,” filmmaker Hind Meddeb gives herself a rather difficult task. She sets out to tell the story of four significant years in the history of this African nation through the faces and words of a few young people. Within that time frame, a 30 year dictatorship was overthrown by a popular revolution, then that revolution was in turn hijacked by the military rulers of the country. Concentrating on the youth who were at the front lines, Meddeb manages something even more poignant” a thoughtful and empathetic look at how collective hope can mobilize a whole generation.
The doc, getting a North American premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival, begins with voice messages exchanged between Meddeb and the subjects of her film in the days after a violent war erupts in March 2023. These voices, still unknown to the audience upon introduction, are full of immediately recognizable emotions. Desperation and hope are juxtaposed together as they confirm their safety. That the war is still raging in Sudan almost 18 months later makes those moments even more distressing. Yet that’s not what “Sudan, Remember Us” is concerned about. The film takes the audience back to a time, in 2019, when considerable change seemed possible.
Meddeb chooses three narrative threads to tell this story. Instead of following her subjects separately, she follows them collectively, their stories grouped by theme. Firstly, this was a revolution of poetry and art. Secondly, it was a feminist revolution as most of its leaders were young women trying to break free from the constraints of a patriarchal society. And thirdly, this was a revolution that started as a conversation about modest individual dreams before quickly becoming, through sharing and solidarity, loud public demands.
Early in her introductory voiceover, Meddeb acknowledges Sudan as a land of literature. So it’s no surprise that her lens knows how to capture the flowing rhythm of poetry. Time and time again, she shows these young revolutionaries reciting poetry to each other while paying homage to their cultural predecessors. Their poetry is of the moment and about their own situation, but inspired by those who led previous uprisings in 1960s and 1980s. These moments are full of anger yet the camera also shows the fortitude and resolve of these young people for a better world they plan to build for themselves. A chorus of people yearning for change while their drums and whistles, even stones knocked against asphalt, provide the soundtrack for their rebellion.
Cutting away from these rhythmic moments to casual conversations, Meddeb and editor Gladys Joujou add another dimension to the narrative. Whether gathered in cafes, their homes or in the streets, the film’s subjects are always talking. The editing allows the dialogue to smoothly take shape and become a larger thematic thread about women’s rights, religious malpractice and, most importantly, the Sudan they hope to live in. The camera is also attuned to the locations, giving the capital city Khartoum its individuality as a place with a rich history that nurtured these smart eloquent people.
Crushingy, all these grand expectations were demolished when the military violently broke up the protestors sit-in in June 2019. Using mostly camera phone footage, Meddeb doesn’t flinch away from the horrible images of torture and intimidation; voiceover details the murders and imprisonment of others. Yet despite this defeat, the voices still carry with them the dream of a better tomorrow. Therein lies the ultimate strength of “Sudan, Remember Us,” it’s a story of a collective perseverance that cannot be broken.
Perhaps the only false note in Mebbeb’s love letter to Sudan, its people and its culture, comes at the very end. Rather oddly, for a film celebrating oratory in the Arabic language and in a particular Sudanese vernacular, the end credits feature a song in French: a language foreign to Sudanese people. Still, at a time when their homeland is being torn by war, famine and the displacement of millions, here comes a portrait of a better time not far in the past. It could be taken as a harbinger for the future, something to hold onto until this calamity passes.
Source Agencies
