Film Festival Film #8: Pink Saris

Pink Saris is a documentary about a woman of strong personality in India. Sampat Pal is a middle-aged woman who is the leader of a group of women called the Gulabi Gang (or the "Pink Gang") -- not a gang of thugs, but a collective of women who intervene in a variety of domestic cases, usually involving young women from the dalit ("untouchable") caste. Sampat, as I said, is a very strong personality and the group, in many ways, operates like a cult of personality. Through the course of the film, we see the kind of work that she does. Often, people come to her because they are young wives (twelve to fourteen) in difficult situations. One young woman has become pregnant by a boy from a higher caste, and the boy's family doesn't want him to marry a dalit. Another woman is being treated badly by the family of inlaws that she's living with. Another is a 14-year-old young woman, already married, but who is now in love with a young man.

The film follows these cases -- each somewhat unsettling. Sampat is a force of nature, who often uses the process of bringing the truth out into the open as a mechanism to trying to create a bit of safety for the women she's helping. She gets all the neighbours of a particular family, and holds a bit of a forum. Different people speak out, removing some of the secrecy of what's happening. To some extent, we can see how Sampat is making something of a difference in these women's lives.

But it also becomes clear in the film that Sampat, herself, is a very flawed person. At times, she seems to be chasing publicity. To some extent, that's understandable. Her renown affects her ability to have influence in some of these cases. But it gets a bit icky. Sometimes she seems to make bad choices. She's a damaged person who doesn't really feel loved, but she's trying to show these abused young women that they're worthy of love. She doesn't always get it right.

It was interesting, also, to see how often issues of caste factor in to these stories. The 14-year-old wife gets a divorce from her husband to pursue her love, Gudda. But Gudda's family doesn't want him to get involved with her because she's untouchable and will "stain" the family, making Gudda's sister unmarriageable.

I've met a lot of flawed personalities in Haiti work, and sometimes it's hard to talk about how such complicated people can be doing really good and important work. I liked that the film didn't shy away from showing Sampat's flaws, but because it does reveal those flaws, I feel like it's hard to talk about the good that she does.

The Theft of Democracy

As Haiti gears up for its first-ever internationally televised presidential debate Saturday, confidence in the government’s ability to hold a credible poll is being undermined by allegations that President René Préval is attempting to sway the election.

Details of an Aug. 16 meeting between Mr. Préval and members of Haiti’s election commission (CEP) has observers questioning whether the CEP rejected candidates based on politics instead of the Constitution.

The meeting came days before the CEP disqualified hip-hop star Wyclef Jean and 14 other candidates from running. It was confirmed by multiple sources and, while not in itself unprecedented or a sign of political manipulation, puts scrutiny on a supposedly independent body that is meant to ensure elections are free and fair.

"I have someone at the palace who told me about the meeting between Préval and the CEP," Haitian Sen. Youri Latortue told the Monitor. "In the meeting they decided which people would be on the list."

Mr. Préval has met in recent weeks with many of the remaining presidential candidates, which some have interpreted as a further attempt to maintain control over the election. Préval, elected in 2006 to his second term, is constitutionally barred from running again.

"It’s pretty clear that President Préval has significant influence in the daily operations of the CEP in its larger decisions, like decisions to include parties or not," says Brian Concannon, director of the Washington-based Institute for Justice and Democracy in Haiti (IJDH). "Local press reports he’s talking to the CEP on a daily basis, which is clearly not a sign of independence."

While candidates prepare for their first debate ahead of the Nov. 28 polls, disillusionment with politics and distrust of the political elite remains high among Haiti’s 4.5 million voters – many still homeless from the Jan. 12 earthquake that killed 300,000 people.

Though most observers say Mr. Jean was rightly disqualified because he failed to meet a residency requirement, hopes were initially high that his star-power could bring overdue scrutiny to the election process. Yet in the larger context of what is best for Haiti, international observers say that a somewhat-credible election is better than no election for a country struggling to get back on its feet and dig its way out of 700 million cubic feet of rubble still lining the capital’s streets.

The eight-member CEP, entirely appointed by Préval, denies any political interference. "We are technicians, we analyzed each candidate’s files according to the electoral law and the Constitution," Wolf Lafargue, one of the CEP’s lawyers, said at a press conference in August. "We know no political pressure."

— "Haiti election commission under scrutiny for ties to President René Préval", Christian Science Monitor

Film Festival Film #9: I Am Slave

Man, I'm exhausted. I feel like I haven't stopped doing stuff for the last two weeks straight. Final two films were today.

First up: I Am Slave, a feature film by Gabriel Range (director of Death of a President and The Last King of Scotland). This was a tricky film, and I found myself constantly going back and forth about whether or not I liked it.

The story centres on Malia, seen in the film in two time periods -- as a twelve year-old girl growing up near the Nuba Mountains in southern Sudan, and in the present, as an eighteen-year-old young woman in London.

Pretty much at the beginning of the film, we see Malia arriving through the airport in London. She's entering the country to work as a domestic servant for a wealthy Sudanese family. It quickly becomes apparent, though, that she doesn't really have a choice in the matter. The family make clear to her that she's not allowed to leave or speak to anyone. She lives in a cold storage room in the house. The windows are barred; a security system sounds an alarm if she tries to sneak out at night.

Through flashbacks, we learn that Malia was separated from her parents during a raid on her village. She was taken prisoner by the armed raiders and sold into domestic slavery, first to a household in the northern part of Sudan, and six years later, sent to London to serve the cousin of her first "owner".

During those six years, her father constantly searches for his lost daughter, moving from town to town, taking odd jobs, trying to hunt her down.

The topic is not about sexual slavery, and there are no creepy overtones of sadism. The slave masters are not sympathetic, but they're (mostly) not beating her or subjecting her to petty tortures (although there are punishments when Malia disobeys them). They keep her controlled in an almost cult-like practice of keeping her afraid and removed from any kind of support structure. Strangely, that made the masters seem so much more real. You could really see how someone like that could exist and live their lives thinking that they're entitled to domestic servants that they don't have to pay.

The other major character of the film is Said, the family's chauffeur. Said appears to be an Arab man who has been living in London for a while. At first, I thought he was going to be playing the role of creepy guy who has the upper hand but he doesn't. He seems to be the only one who strikes up a friendship with Malia. At first, he doesn't know that she's forced to serve the family, but finally pieces it together. And then there's this jaw-dropping scene. Malia is talking to Said in his car. She has spent a week locked in her room in punishment, and Said asks her where she's been. This is the moment that Said understands that Malia is there against her will.

Said: "You need to go to the police. They can't do this."

Malia: "No, I can't go to the police. I need to leave this place."

Said: "Right. Get away."

Malia: "I'll contact the police when I'm free."

Said: "Now you're talking."

Malia: "I need a place that I can go to. Someplace safe."

Said: "Do you know anyone in London?"

Malia: "I know you."

Said: "Uh-huh. But do you have some place you can stay?"

Malia: "I can stay with you."

At which part, he totally starts backpedaling. He has a wife and family, see. And his place is small. And he really needs this job, and can't do anything to jeopardize that. He fully understands what's going on in that moment. But he doesn't want to risk his job.

I think it's the quotidian that really makes it so horrible. The everyday qualities of the story line. If the characters has been any more larger than life, I think I would have mentally categorized them as fictional, and the film wouldn't have had as much of an effect on me.

I found myself constantly hyper-aware of race in the film. Malia and her family are Nuba; the slave-owning families are Arab. They're all Muslim (although the film does briefly broach the topic of prejudice that I'm given to understand exists in Sudan: the prejudice toward black Muslims by the Arab population).

Nonetheless, I did keep thinking: "oh, look. Helpless black people. Evil Arabs. Hm." I'm pleased to report that no white person rode in to the rescue. In fact, I think that the only white speaking role might have been the customs official. I think I'd want to see it again to fully figure out what I think of the race dynamics of the film.

The film ended with some stats. It suggested that estimates suggest that there are 5,000 people living in domestic slavery in London. And that the Sudan might have something like 20,000. Those are pretty sobering numbers. I confess that I'm more interested in knowing how many people are like Said.