Filmmaking brings a new voice from Manus
Behrouz Boochani has been the voice of detainees on Manus Island for five long years, but he feels journalism can only tell part of the story. A new film has brought a new kind of voice, and audience, he writes with Ben Doherty.
Too often, the voices least heard in the global debate about refugees, are those of refugees themselves.
In a global order predicated upon nationality and bounded territoriality, those displaced from their homes lose not only a place to live, but their own agency and identity.
To lose one’s place is to lose, too often, one’s voice, one’s right to speak.
Behrouz Boochani has defiantly refused to be silent.
Over five uncertain, grinding, violent and despairing years held within Australia’s offshore detention regime, he has spoken out, on his own behalf, on behalf of the men held alongside him, and for refugees more broadly.
A Kurdish refugee from Iran and a journalist by profession, he has become the voice of Manus and the public face of a hidden regime.
Behrouz was one of the first people on Manus I made contact with as The Guardian’s immigration correspondent. We have spoken many hundreds of times, in private and in public conversations.
We have sent thousands of messages back and forth.
I have accepted awards on his behalf because he is unable to attend.
But we have met only once: last year during the stand-off over the forcible closure of the detention centre, in the abandoned, derelict husk of the place that had been the limits of his existence for so long.
Smuggled into the centre in the middle of the night, I was suddenly face-to-face with a man I’d come to know so well, but whose hand I’d never shaken. His eyes — deep-set rings of hazel and green — were as piercing as in pictures, but he was much thinner than I’d imagined.
Journalism has given Behrouz a purpose inside the offshore processing system. While he has suffered the same vicissitudes as others within that regime, he has, perhaps, borne those better, because he has seen himself as a working journalist in that place, with a job to do each day, a reason to get out of bed each day, and an obligation to fulfil. He sees it as his role to bear witness to the reality of offshore detention, and to chronicle the history of that place. He has reported on the violent deaths of friends, on torture and abuse, but also on the moments of levity and respite.
Behrouz has given much to journalism: it has also been his saviour.
He writes in a literary, florid style, and his journalism has ranged from first-person reports to deep data investigations, television interviews and question-and-answer sessions with fellow refugees. But he now has a new voice, in film, producing Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time, with Iranian filmmaker Arash Sarvestani.
The film, shot entirely on Behrouz’s phone, is stark. Frequently, there are long lingering shots: of a butterfly just outside the detention centre fence; of Behrouz himself, sitting silently against a gate; of a distant, unobtainable horizon. The moments of action come without warning. They are invariably confrontational: riot police storming the centre, the noisy, brilliant arrival of an ambulance after a suicide attempt.
Behrouz says he is proud of the film, but more importantly, it has given him a new voice, and a new audience.
BEHROUZ:
When I arrived in Manus I did not know anyone in Australia. It was a strange and unknown place for me but soon I started to write about the situation.
It took time for me to be able to make a network with the journalists in Australia and other places. It also took time for me to make contact with the human rights defenders to send out information and documents.
My earliest writings from Manus were short stories and poems, employing a literary language. I think a big reason as to why my works were not published earlier were, firstly, that Australia was not open to hearing from me, or understanding my work. This country was not open to hearing from someone who was imprisoned on Manus Island and they were unable to read me as an artist at that time. Secondly, for the first two years I was not working under my own name because I did not feel safe from the authorities. All of this affected my ability to publish serious works.
When I decided to work under my real name, I was able to build a wide network which brought more opportunities, including the chance to make a film. For a long time I had been thinking of making a movie.
I thought, and still think, that we are not able to describe the situation in Manus only in a documentary or journalistic type of language, but that it is only possible through more creative mediums such as photography, cinema, literature and other art forms.
The language of a journalist has a particular potential, and art has a different potential. I was also interested in filmmaking because cinema has a big voice and is able to reach many people and effect change. We’ve been able to send out our voice globally through the movie.
This movie, which I shot on my mobile phone and co-directed with Arash Sarvestani, has been shown in many film festivals: Sydney Film Festival, London, Glasgow, Sweden, Germany and now New Zealand. It has also been shown outside of the official film festivals at ACMI, at Cambridge University, and will be shown at Harvard in October. One of the effects of making this film has been to make some noise globally: the film was noticed by large international media such as CNN, BBC, The Financial Times, Al Jazeera and various newspapers, so attention was brought to our situation on Manus.
In a situation like ours, as refugees living on Manus and Nauru, it is a big achievement because it is often only when someone dies that there is media attention for our plight. But Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time brought a lot of attention from a broad spectrum of organisations, media and artists.
I have also written a novel which will be published in July by Pan Macmillan; co-written a play with Iranian director Nazanin Sahamizade; and I am working on a video installation with Australian artist Hoda Afshar.
I have used these different art forms as a platform to bring attention to our plight.
Behrouz Boochani is a writer and journalist who has been detained on Manus Island since August 2013.
Ben Doherty is a Walkley Award-winning reporter and immigration correspondent for The Guardian Australia.
Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time can be viewed on Vimeo On Demand: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/chauka
No Friend But the Mountains: Writing from Manus Prison will be released by Pan Macmillan-Picador later this year.
