J.K. Pikkujämsä

Wednesday – À la prochaine, mama, produced by the community theater Ras el-Hanout, dealt with death, grief, and coping with loss, all of which touch each of us sooner or later. It elicited very moving reactions from the audience and made me think that perhaps such issues are not widely discussed in the Moroccan community. Admittedly, this may be a hasty generalization. I have noticed that Ras el-Hanout has a way of allowing emotions to surface both on the stage and in the audience.

Thursday – Heartwarming Senegalese vibes with Noir, je bois du blanc, a performance lecture at La Signare by my friend Mbaye Diop. He recently took part in a cross-residency program between the Dakarois gallery Selebe Yoon and the Moussem Nomadic Art Centre in Brussels, and the performance was based on a book Mbaye is about to finish. The excerpts we heard from the book about his journey from Richard Toll to Geneva and beyond made us laugh, and it also made me think of Bernard B. Dadié and how in this literary genre the impressions of an African, newly arrived in a European metropolis, become a rite of passage. A very interesting piece of news: Moussem’s multidisciplinary festival, to be held early next year, will focus on Istanbul. I can hardly wait!

Friday – Turistler by Bige Berger & Heleen de Wit , a documentary film about the Turkish immigrants who were active in the syndicalist movement in Brussels in the seventies. Fifty years later, we now met the filmmakers and some family members of the activists in the film. The event continued with Alevi poetry and music. The last question that came to my mind from that evening was: If you are living an immigrant experience but in your personal history you cannot trace back to any roots or a connection to the culture of departure, then what?

Saturday – I watched Khaled Mansour’s Seeking Haven for Mr. Rambo, a moving story of poverty and struggle in Cairo in the director’s first feature film. I loved the images of the empty streets of Cairo at night. Quite a contrast then, as is often the case, to leave the dark movie theater and step into the midst of the Kalabalik and Saturday shopping frenzy of the masses in the center of Brussels, where the Christmas markets are now in full swing. They call it “Winter Pleasures” but I have yet to understand what this pleasure could be. Allthough the air was a bit crisp, I don’t think we can even talk about a winter yet either.

Sunday – To my own surprise I decided to skip a book fair and a literary festival. I know that’s not a fair comment but I’d rather stick with the books and avoid their authors’ explanations. The reason I say this is that I have attended such events a few times and they have disappointed me because there was just so much talk on a very general level. Perhaps luck was not on my side and on those occasions the moderators asked very obvious questions, or were too much in love with their own snappy intelligence, or the authors were visibly uncomfortable because they had been assigned an entertaining role.

Monday – Back to Cinema Aventure, this time to see One of Those Days When Hemme Dies (Hemme’nin öldüğü günlerden biri) by Murat Fıratoğlu. This movie was a treat, both visually and with the very human story that triggered good laughs, despite of the main character’s palpable ordeal. But what is it with some moviegoers? The woman sitting next to me repeated a few words from the film for the entire hour and a half. There may have been some internal logic to which words she repeated – maybe the ones she recognized – but maybe it was just random, like trying to see what Turkish words taste like when you say them out loud.

Tuesday – I stumbled upon Voyage au pays du coton by Erik Orsenna in a second-hand bookstore. Let this book be an initiation and a mood setter for a forthcoming project about cotton bales, something that has been simmering in the back of the mind for a while. I will tell you more about it in due time!