It not entirely an accident that Timbuktu is a colloquialism for any faraway place. The intricately complex conflict in Northern Mali is one that seems even more remote from our comprehension than other modern armed conflicts.
In broad strokes, several insurgent groups began a campaign early in 2012 against the Malian government for greater autonomy in the north of the country. Later that same year President Amadou Toumani Touré was removed in a coup d’état. This led to the proliferation of many Islamist groups and eventual foreign intervention.
That by no means is the end of the story, but it gives the context for Abderrahmane Sissako’s 2014 film Timbuktu. A magically real drama, the film explores the occupation of Timbuktu by militant Islamists seeking to impose Sharia law. Sissako recently visited the Paramount Theater in Charlottesville, Virginia to speak about the film. As the final scenes ended a weighty silence filled the theater. The story is heartbreaking and yet tinged with hopefulness. It follows the lives of individuals, casting them each distinctively, which allows it to capture the subtleties of conflict and culture.
As Sissako took the stage his first comment was simply that he could offer no words of explanation. In spite of this the audience was brimming with curiosity and hands shot up. His responses were nearly as edifying as the film. One man in the upper deck asked about the Westerner shown at the beginning, so obviously being taken hostage. Sissako rejoined, “Il n’y a pas que des hôtages occidentaux.” which may be roughly translated as, “Not all hostages are Western.” That the narrative of Mali, and of terror abroad, is too often seen simply through the lens of kidnappings, but that the people of Mali were the ones being held hostage.
A young woman asked if he thought that his film might inadvertently portray a negative image of Islam. “Au contraire,” said Sissako, who explained that in fact the film shows the beauty and virtues of Islam, a religion of love and compassion he said. This was emblemised in the character of the Imam, who entreated the militants to respect the citizens of Timbuktu.
Sissako went on to comment on the nature of violence, saying, to the laughter of French speakers in the audience, that American films were violent to the point of absurdity. To witness violence in extremity is to numb yourself to it, Sissako commented. He did not want his viewers to be desensitized to the pain that the people of Mali suffered. Sissako said his goal was to humanize the conflict, and he does this through various transcendent scenes – the end result of which is to convey a distant truth.
It is this truth, often strange and incomprehensible, which enlightens us into a deeper appreciation of Timbuktu and conflict in Northern Mali.




