Narrated to its audience like oral tradition, Dear Ancestor challenges the cost of “development” to indigenous communities.
Prostrating before a shrine, a mother and child pray fervently to their ancestors to right the wrongs of their home that they had to flee. The little girl turns to her mother for context after their prayers. We cut away to majestic baobabs towering over lush undergrowth; close by are children splashing around in a lagoon. In the background, the mother narrates to the little girl of ancestral times. Everything was in plenty. Plenty of fish for everyone to have to their fill, until the large trawlers scooped it all out. Plenty to live off the land until the mining companies felled the trees and scarred the land. Presently, the communities don’t take this lying down and are protesting the mining activity, emphasising their appreciation for progress but citing the costs it imposes on their polluted farms, water, and degraded marine life.
To the forest people, this is a desecration of their ancestors’ graves and a direct attack on their culture and identity. The mother emphasises this in her narration, pointing out that such an affront leaves them without a connection to their ancestors. Hopefully, they may be spared since they had nothing to do with it. At the very moment, the people of Ranobe are counting on the new government for reform that will protect their lands and livelihoods. Betrayal and greed, however, affect their efforts. Despite unity between the communities to defend their homes and sacred places, turncoats rubbish their efforts. Ultimately, the new government, elected on the promise to control mining activity in the area, dealt the final blow to the community by reopening the mines and framing innocent protestors as terrorists.
Ecological systems are under attack, and it is common to encounter this information dressed up as lengthy reports filled with jargon that is disconnected from the people affected. Sometimes it is presented as gruelling images of impoverished communities languishing in excess indigence. Lova Nanteniana makes the personal political with his method of storytelling. Told from the perspective of a child, Dear Ancestor narrates to us the plight of a community in the form of oral tradition passed down from mother to child. This gives us context into the genesis of their exile, while showing us in real time the toll of degradation to their community. What this does to the viewer makes the film much more engaging and lends a personal touch that makes their struggle even more compelling. To support this further, Lova’s approach connects the spiritual connection the people have with their land using stylistic devices such as song accompanying the prayer at the beginning of the film.
A rich and engaging narrative is therefore created that puts at the centre the people of Ranobe. It is simply not a fight against capitalist greed, but these people are protecting their way of life. The film also brings them into the conversation, allowing them to articulate the devastation of mining activities in their own words. We also get to see the trickle effect of patronising attitudes towards indigenous people, where they are ignored as poor and backward, resisting progress, yet they have lived in harmony with the nature around them for centuries. This bit is unfortunately used against communities to reinforce ideas of primitive locals’ resistance to dominance. It is also rooted in colonialism, with systems put in place to exploit inhabitants. The consequences of this, just as in colonial times, led to resistance efforts that directly mirror Madagascar’s colonial resistance.
Development and technological advancements have ushered in a new form of scramble for resources. Whether it is precious minerals that power green energy transitions or the expansion of oil exploration to reduce dependency on Gulf exports. The promise is wealth and economic elevation for the countries that hold these resources. Dear Ancestor’s storytelling removes you from a didactic lecture to a prophetic retelling of the cost of development to the Ranobe people. Instead of scenes with charged activists, we see the Ranobe communities as they are, engaging with their life as they, along with “The Mother”, narrate to us the effects of development.
The most memorable stories have an emotional hook. Dear Ancestor is exactly that kind of story. Hats off to its narrative style in delivering a thought-provoking look at eco-activism, green energy and capitalism. While these are not unique themes, the viewer is exposed to a new perspective of the cost of these developmental projects on local communities. Coastal Kenya, with the scramble to profit off of rare earth minerals and entire ways of life decimated in Congo. The environmental harm is one thing, but truly, how much more do indigenous communities have to suffer to assuage the global north’s environmental guilt? How much longer must they suffer to satisfy their insatiable greed?
This review emanates from the Talent Press programme, an initiative of Talents Durban in collaboration with the Durban FilmMart Institute and FIPRESCI. The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author (Michelle Abuti) and cannot be considered as constituting an official position of the organisers.