INTERVIEW WITH PIERRE YAMEOGO REGARDING DELWENDE
Africultures
“Wend” means “God” in Moré. And “Delwende”?
It literally translates as “I give myself to God” or “I lean against God,” which means just about the same thing. I added the subtitle, “Get Up and Walk,” an expression that I find both provocative and artistic.
One of the centers [for
elderly women accused of witchcraft] located in
Yes, but there are other centers as well: Pasnanga, Temboken, Sabou . . . This seems to
be a growing phenomenon since the number of centers is growing, and there’s no
law to protect women accused of sorcery.
I don’t understand why: it almost feels like collusion. How can they
accuse someone of being a “soul eater”?
Some women are stoned, old women are killed as if they were
thieves. I’m not a Christian but it
seems to me that they say that the soul belongs to God. It’s aberrant that in 2005 we’ve still got to
construct concentration camps in the center of
Are the women sheltered in these centers there solely for witchcraft?
Yes, they are there exclusively for that. Otherwise, if someone is accused of something else, they remain with their family.
Is the custom of “siongho” [as a means of locating witches] widely practiced?
Yes, there are many practices, but siongho is the best known. For the old man who plays the seer in the film, it is in fact the way he earns his bread. That’s how he earns his living: people offer him gifts. It wasn’t easy to convince him to play in the film. Six women disappeared from the center when we arrived there, and only returned several weeks later. It turned out that he was the one who had sent them there.
The film works as a
“Return to the Sources” [a subgenre of African film that is set in traditional
village life]: in it we find the classical structures of African cinema which
you had used in your film Dunia (1987). What was your intention?
I’m not sure about that: for me, it’s a film that
moves. Dunia was rather static, while in Delwende the village is in movement. Because it’s a village, we immediately have
the connotation of an ensemble, a community.
I couldn’t see how to film this subject without locating it in a
village. But it’s with cameras that
move. We can’t allow ourselves to be
typecast: we’ve got to really look at the subject. Some people are very unjust towards us.
The rhythm of the film
is really very strong, tightly edited. Nevertheless,
there is a flow that opens up over the course of the film: what was your
intention?
I simply wanted to treat African life. If people don’t move, the image can’t be broken
up: you need a length of time.
Westerners might like that, but it has no meaning for us; that’s what we
wanted [to represent life in
My question goes further into aesthetics: the meaning of the changing rhythm in the film.
When it’s a question of filming people in their reality, what good is it to speak of aesthetics? I don’t even understand this question. We can speak of aesthetics when we’re building a set, or designing a storyboard, when we’re dreaming up an image. But representing real life is a different thought process.
The character of The
Fool [the man with the radios] is someone who knows but doesn’t
communicate.
He wants to communicate but no one will listen.
Isn’t he the filmmaker’s eye on the reality here?
Yes, but he also shows us the unbearable way in which people will not recognize the truth. He finds old radios in order to inform himself, but he has to remain in his corner because he is chased away by everyone. The person who possesses knowledge but is rejected cannot pass it on. He remains a witness without a voice. I too am the object of this refusal to recognize. You too most likely. We all are at times. You ask yourself then if it’s worth carrying on the fight. A filmmaker must earn his living. If that’s no longer possible, it’s no longer worth the trouble. A film cannot please everyone, but if it doesn’t get seen, it’s not going to be recognized, which means it’s going to be bad! It’s enough to try to please good people.
The film’s technical
crew is essentially African.
Yes, I’ve always trained technicians. I shot this film in digital [then
subsequently transferred to film after editing]. I don’t know an African who can do it
skillfully enough to allow the film to be presented at
Is digital also a constraint?
There are problems, but it’s a way to go quickly. The filming is easier. Digital costs less, but the difference isn’t that great: the lab work costs the same, only the editing is more economical because you don’t need to develop the film. It’s perhaps a savings of 5 million CFA, or 10% of the budget of a 35mm film. This was the second time that I used it, but we still didn’t get the images that we hoped for; it’s still not quite there.
You used the music of Wasis Diop and classical Western music.
I said to Wasis that for this film I wanted to remain open to different sorts of music. He composed different styles, proposed them to me, and we chose. I took that which allowed me to dream. I listen to music when I’m alone, and it’s not Dombolo music that gets my eardrums going! At first, people told me that I shouldn’t put classical in it, but why not? It’s a nice confluence with the traditional village. I didn’t use it in an abusive manner.
Who choreographed the
dances?
That was Blandine Yaméogo, the lead actress (who plays Napoko, the Mother), who is above all a professional actress. She improvised that in an afternoon.
Interview conducted by
Olivier Barlet
http://www.africultures.com/index.asp?menu=affiche_article&no=3852
Translated by Michael
Dembrow