Rawia Alhag is one of the directors of the powerful documentary “Khartoum,” which premiered at Sundance and recently showcased at Berlinale. The film follows five people as they relive their time in Sudan and where they are today, after the war forced them to relocate in a fight for freedom, their dreams, and survival.
Director Rawia Alhag, one of the only women along with Producer Giovanna Stopponi, who orchestrated getting the filmmakers out of Sudan
*Interview with Rawia Alhag, translated by Snoopy Ahmad, one of the directors
I want to start by asking how you got involved with the project — how it all started.
So it all started in 2021, when Phil [“Khartoum” writer] was filming a film after the coup called “Spider Man of Sudan,” and that’s where he had an idea of making, you know, another film, and that’s where he partnered with Sudan Film Factory and they had an open call for local filmmakers about a specific theme. Every one of us submitted his own story and my story was selected among these five different stories. We went through a series of workshops about developing our stories, and the structure of these stories, and also to align them together and wind them together and then we went on to film.
What year was this that it all started?
So there we started the workshop in 2022 somewhere around after August, not sure when that was. And then we filmed until April, early April, and then we traveled to Kenya and continued with the rest of the filmmaking in 2023.
Lokain and Wilson collecting bottles. Photo credit Ibrahim Snoopy
I was thrilled to see that you directed the parts with Lukain and Wilson. How did you decide, or how important do you think it was, to include their stories and have them — as children — tell them?
So I used to jog in the morning, waking up early to start my activities, and I used to see all these kids around Khartoum. They wake up early morning, collecting these bottles, and I, you know, wanted to tell their stories. So they get looks and often go unnoticed. In this Danish community, they’re supposed to be in school, you know, practicing; and with their age, doing activities they’re supposed to do. But rather than that, they’re collecting bottles.
What they are doing in terms of collecting bottles, it’s not safe at all, and that’s what draws my attention. There was this incident when they were crossing the street, and they were riding their donkey. They were in the street and then they had their friend being hit by a car and dying, so that’s why I chose to reflect that.
Khadmallah. Photo credit Native Voice Films
I wanted to bring up their incredible wisdom at this age, and I’m sure some of that has to do with their not having a choice, right? They had to grow up, they have to face all of this every single day, but a few times they made comments about the adults. And I found that so heartbreaking and so true because they’re children — the adults are supposed to take care of them, and that’s not the case. To each of them, the adults are a source of hurt.
And that’s why they have those kinds of looks at them. And then also in the market when we were filming, every time we came across a shop where they, you know — you saw that scene of where they were looking at the clothes — immediately the owner kicks them out thinking that these are, you know, these guys are aren’t going to buy anything and they’re just dirty little kids because they’re poor. And then another case: When they go to the public park, the guards don’t let them in because of the way that they look and dress and they have to show their money in order for them to be inside the park. In some cases, they wait until the park is closed and then they get to play these kind of games. It is supposed to be like a free public space for anyone to utilize. Okay, so basically, when they go to the paid park, they think that they’re coming here to get in for free, but according to how they look, they have to show their money so that the guard just respects them and puts them in the cue. In other cases, when they go to the public park, they don’t enter at all. They don’t allow them to enter. They have to go in after closing hours.
May I ask what happened to their families?
During the Khartoum days, their parents were there, but they live in a rural area. A very poor area. So they had to be working amongst other kids to provide their families and have that extra income. So, after the war, things got a little bit more difficult, and then they also had to work extra and since that area has been occupied by the RSF, they’ve been bullied and are harassed a lot. And then through the film, they went to Nairobi. They’re now in Nairobi and have guardians. The area that they used to live in — their parents are still there until this moment.
Madji on the set of “Khartoum.” Photo credit Native Voice Films
Is there any chance of their being reunited?
So far, I’m still in touch with their parents and so far there’s no plan of reuniting because it’s costly and it demands a lot of money. But we agreed on having them in schools to get proper education until they graduate. The focus right now is on themselves in Nairobi.
One thing that I, as well as many people, cannot fathom is what they’re experiencing every single day, and yet every person talked about happiness and being joyful. That’s what they’re all about, and I hope that people get this from the film. It’s this love for life, no matter what they’re going through.
The Sudanese people are very joyous, we love life, and we love to celebrate. We have many diverse musics and all these different cultures in Sudan. So, music is used in many different occasions, whether it’s celebration or the mourning of someone who you like, specifically in spoken words to reflect or express our grief or happiness. There’s many occasions, you know, throughout the year where we celebrate whether it’s for Ramadan, whether it’s New Years or harvesting, there’s like a specific chant for each and every occasion. Therefore, if we didn’t include that part, we wouldn’t be reflecting our identity or us as Sudanese people and what we do in our communities.
Jawad. Photo credit Native Voice Films
This kind of goes along with what you were just speaking to, but was it difficult for you and the other filmmakers to tell their stories without getting too political?
Most of the time we didn’t include the political side because it affects us all on so many levels and it’s become part of our daily life. And as you saw in the film, when the protests started to happen, each and every person from different age groups, from different genders, participated — there are small kids, and elderly people, and that’s where, you know, the political side is being reflected in our personal lives and also, whatever decision we make in our personal life is also being affected by politics in Sudan. And as you saw, the political scene in Sudan is like an endless coup, like the country that has the most coups since independence, we kept on going on the same rhythm. First a coup and then you know, temporary council, then elected president, and then another revolution. It’s like a nameless cycle that’s been happening forever.
What do you hope, or what do you all collectively as a group hope, that people will take away from this?
So what we want is the world to understand more about Sudan and to know our personal, emotional stories; humanitarian stories and not just numbers on the news. And also do our work to know that we keep fighting, we keep protesting, and we love their resistance. We don’t like to be oppressed, and no matter where you throw us at, we always keep surviving.
