CEDDO (SENEGAL/1977/OUSMANE SEMBÈNE)

In an unknown sub-Saharan town at an undisclosed period in the past, princess Dior is kidnapped by the ceddo, or ‘outsiders’, in an act of rebellion. The abduction is a protest against the king’s conversion to Islam, which they see as a threat to tradition. Rather than immediate upheaval, the king seeks consultation with the spokesperson for the ceddo, a middle-aged man named Diogomay. Diogomay’s approach to the debate is led heavily by traditional procedure – he begins by placing in the ground the Samp, a ceremonial staff, as a marker of resistance. The ceddo argue that the king is only in his position by dint of the traditional hierarchy. The king counters that times have changed, and promises that life will be lived by Islamic law. The two factions refuse to listen to each other’s pleas, but the suggestion of physical combat seems to resonate with both parties. Disco legend Manu Dibango provides the score.

Director Ousmane Sembène, one of the masters of African cinema, insisted that his film should not be seen as anti-Islamic propaganda, but while it is made clear that the antagonists are under the sway of Islamic law, and Sembène certainly offers sufficient argument against it, the target seems to be religion in general. There are frequent reminders of the most recent conversion to Catholicism, and the locals are clearly not better off for the European influence. In this way, Sembène’s challenging film portrays the ceddo as noble people protecting their pride, regardless of the enemy.

BADOU BOY (SENEGAL/1970/DJIBRIL DIOP MAMBÉTY)

Taking inspiration from the likes of Charlie Chaplin, legendary director Djibril Diop Mambéty’s debut film follows the exploits of a street urchin with the sobriquet Badou Boy. Constantly in trouble with the authorities, he spends a lot of his time on the run from them, ducking and diving through the narrow streets of the Dakar shanty towns as they struggle to keep up. Though his offences are mostly petty, it is his devil-may-care attitude which the cops appear to take umbrage with, and when the portlier of the two finally catches up with his playful archenemy, he relishes the moment, his hand clenched on the back of the boy’s trousers like a hawk’s talons on its prey. This, of course, is not the end of the mischief, as Badou Boy makes an effortless escape during a Marx Brothers-style imbroglio.

With few words, Mambéty creates a powerful character in Badou Boy, a quirky, rakish anti-hero whose problems are readily discernible, and his assertion that the film is somewhat autobiographical comes as no surprise. Shots last minutes without the protagonist uttering a single word, his mannerisms becoming the dialogue, while a soulful guitar-led soundtrack fills the silences with a sense of wistful nostalgia. Upon reflection, this could almost be an early blaxploitation movie, sharing elements of its style but not its hubris. Fans of this short feature should make sure to see Mambéty’s next film Touki Bouki, an ingenious, outlandish West African pastiche of Bonnie and Clyde and the French New Wave.

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO SOLD THE SUN (SENEGAL/1999/DJIBRIL DIOP MAMBÉTY)

Sili is a twelve-year-old paraplegic girl living a hand-to-mouth existence in downtown Dakar. Despite her physical disability, Sili is a tenacious, mature individual who is determined to make a life for herself selling Le Soleil, Senegal’s national newspaper. Though adults never doubt her resolve, her peers aren’t so accepting and often victimise her, knocking her to the ground. When a benevolent customer gives her 10,000 francs for all of her newspapers, she is stopped by a policeman who questions her sudden wealth. Frustrated, Sili marches him to the station where she successfully argues her case and even convinces the sergeant to free the agitated political prisoner they had detained at the start of the film. Though revitalised by this sudden surge of power, Sili keeps her head, remembering to give the money to her employers and even standing up against serious physical threats from rival vendors.

The film hangs on its effervescent lead character, whose indefatigable smile could very well be the sun of the title. Sili is constantly challenged in her occupational endeavours, particularly as this field of work is dominated by older, able-bodied males, but we never see her struggle or give up. It is clear that Mambéty’s message is one of unfettered optimism, but one can’t help thinking that the film would have benefited from more convincing obstacles. Nonetheless, The Little Girl Who Sold The Sun captivates and inspires, and those discouraged by more defeatist African films would do well to watch this short but sweet treasure.

LA NOIRE DE... (SENEGAL/1966/OUSMANE SEMBÈNE)

Diouana, played by the statuesque Mbissine Thérèse Diop, is a spirited Senegalese nanny who jumps at the opportunity to work in France, hoping to mingle with the upper echelons of society there. Upon arrival, she is treated as a servant by her employers, who tie an apron around her waist and insist on taunting her with monosyllabic commands. Diouana’s narrations and reflections upon the past show us her disillusionment and increasing oppression in her new job, and soon she begins to act up in the hope of being treated more like a human being.

Though it’s not the most admonitory film, it still makes for quite a heavy-handed experience, as almost immediately we are greeted with echoes of post-colonialist racism. Diouana’s employers discuss her as if she were an animal, knowing that the language barrier will prevent her from climbing the rungs of society. Stylistically, the film evokes a number of French New Wave films, representing the romanticised world that Diouana had envisioned for her sojourn in France. Her gift to her employers, a tribal mask, sits through the film as a reminder of her origins, and is perhaps emblematic of her – and Senegal’s – refusal to hegemonise to French culture. On the other hand, the soundtrack is maddeningly cheap, constantly flapping between the cultural extremes of a shrill honky-tonk piece and a kora riff. This is on many counts an excellent film, but those looking for an introduction to the West African cinematic experience might want to start somewhere else.

TOUKI BOUKI (SENEGAL/1973/DJIBRIL DIOP MAMBÉTY)

Mory and Anta are star-crossed lovers, desperate to get away from the doldrums of their everyday lives in Dakar. Mory spends his time restlessly tearing around the city on his motorbike, adorned with the ominous skull of a cow, while university student Anta follows him almost wordlessly, her sexual ambiguity generating an aura of metropolitan mystique. Planning the right time to make an unencumbered escape, Mory begs, steals and borrows so the two can immerse themselves in the higher echelons of Senegalese society. Having nabbed the clothes and money of an effeminate businessman whom they had approached for help, the two jack his Americanised car, and plan to board a boat to France.

It’s a simple story, Mory and Anta essentially the valiant couple from every escapist movie, but there is much more to be experienced here. From a cinematic perspective, Touki Bouki is an enthralling mélange of many different filmic traditions. The jump-cuts of French New Wave and montages of early Soviet cinema show that director Djibril Diop Mambéty had certainly done his homework, but the film is no frail facsimile of these styles. Mambéty’s audio-visual idiolect engenders a sensation of impatience, the sounds of each scene overflowing into the one preceding it. A pompous exchange between Parisians demonstrates a cynicism for Western influence common to many African films, but for the most part the film is cheerfully optimistic about Mory and Anta’s goal. Hilarious, surreal and vivacious, Touki Bouki is a real gem aching to be sought out.