Colonel Honorine Munyole
better known as Maman Colonel leads a special police unit which is
fighting against sexual violence and which is supposed to protect
women and children. After 15 years she is transferred to another
region where she will face new challenges and where she has to start
again. The film follows her work and her devotion for raped refugee
women and abused children. In her neat uniform, as a sign of her
certain power, she appears as a dignified woman in her Forties. It is
hard to see a difference how she takes care of her own biological and
adopted children and the abused kids she finds in the streets. She
always addresses the people as “mothers”, “fathers” and
“children”. About the disrupted and cruel history of this
country, we learn only my the stories told by the widowed refugees.
Before their husbands were killed the women where raped in front of
them. Later we see handicapped and cripples men, other victims of the
past. They are officially recognized as victims but instead of
showing compassion for these women they doubt their status as
victims. That is s sign of a chauvinism even among victims.
What distinguishes Maman
Colonel from so much well-intentioned documentaries about
countries branded by violence and poverty, is the filmmaker´s
discreet mode to give space to this impressive woman whose
personality can unfold in front of the camera. She dominates the
space like a very lovable female pendant to Orson Welles. But behind
her certain power, her certain authority, evident in her correct
uniform and her ritualized body language according to her social and
professional status , the film reveals always her real strength,
that is to say her love and compassion for the poor and defenceless
people. When she addresses the people she makes less use of her
acknowledged authority but demands from them such good old fashioned
characteristics like solidarity.
There is a scene when she
and her police force free a group of children condemned as “witches”
and, locked into a cabin by relatives and their community. One of the
children shed tears. With her huge hands she wipes the tears from
this tiny face. This tender gesture is a small but memorable moment
and it seems to tell about both, the attitude of Colonel Honorine
and the filmmaker. The kind Dieudo Hamada gives space for the things
unfolding in front of his camera reminds me a little in one of the
basic ideas by late French critic André Bazin, the confidence that
the things in front of the camera will unfold as if by themselves.
There is a beautiful
example for Hamadi´s attitude – yes and let me again stress the
wonderful German word “Einstellung”, a word which includes the
technical term as well as the term a”attitude”. Colonel Honorine
is sitting on the right side of the frame at her desk. Three women
sitting in front of her in a slight lower position on a bank. At the
first sight it looks like a classical composition suggesting a social
hierarchy. Even more unusual, this moment seems to be on the surface
one of very few really volitional sequences. But than one woman
hands over a bunch of bank notes to Colonel Honorine. It is a
donation for the traumatized refugees and children, Maman Colonel is
caring for, a care that goes much beyond her professional duty as a
police officer. From one moment to the other, the hierarchy in this
image is dissolved. Honorine is almost speechless and touched by this
obvious and unexpected sign of solidarity. This is also the
dissolution of her as a representative of an abstract authority
evident in Honorine´s uniform and her certain social rank. But it
is also the dissolution of the certain power a filmmaker has to
determine a certain image of the world. Maman Colonel is not
just a film who pleads for solidarity and in a country afflicted by
violence and wars. Hamadi embraces this solidarity and compassion
manifested by Maman Colonel in a very cinematic way. Hamadi´s work
the sensitive “musician” perfect coordinated with the “singer”
called Maman Colonel.
Rüdiger Tomczak
18.02 Arsenal, 17.30
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