Nyasha Kadandara Unpacks the Historical and National Trauma in “Matebeleland”

Nyasha Kadandara’s documentary film Matabeleland, which recently had its African premiere at the Encounters Documentary Film Festival, explores an overlooked and unresolved national trauma that haunts Zimbabweans. Centering on the story of Chris Nyathi, a man who believes his family has been  cursed ever since his father was brutally murdered in 1983, the documentary explores how time doesn’t tame pain and trauma. It also highlights the impact of the Gukurahundi massacres which resulted in the death of  over 20,000 people in Matabeleland, orchestrated by President Robert Mugabe. That decade-long trauma which Chris and other Zimbabwean citizens carry has slipped into their daily lives, making it impossible to express their pain and grief. 

The documentary equally explores the complex realities of African immigrants living in another African country. The stress, employment challenges, and feeling of alienation that Chris carries and his children experience as “foreigners” in Botswana are urgent issues of cultural and political concern. And the documentary, directed and shot by Kadandara, brings a familiar understanding, approach and empathy to capturing and witnessing the conversions of the documentary subjects. Dumi Ndaba, Chris’s girlfriend, isn’t portrayed as an extension of Chris but as a woman with her realities and troubles. While the documentary is mostly about Chris’ attempt at exhuming his father’s corpse from where he was unjustly killed and buried decades ago, Kadandara’s storytelling accommodates cultural and emotional conversations around masculinity, vulnerability, responsibility and love. 

In this conversation with Culture Custodian, Kadandara explores the film’s creative and political intention, the historical context it reflects, the storytelling choices, and its resonance in contemporary Africa.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Shari, one of the documentary subjects, spoke about the need to heal the dead to heal the living. Did this need for healing motivated the making of the documentary? 

That’s a very poignant line in the film and it carries the core of how we carry the silence, experiences and trauma of our ancestors. These experiences manifest in our daily lives one way or the other. For some people it’s in silence and for others, it’s by speaking up after they  notice other people doing the same. 

I currently live in Zimbabwe where I’m the first person in my family who was born there. My elder siblings and other relatives were born during the colonial times and my grandfather was in exile. This has motivated me to think about justice and what it means in this current generation, especially when I think of what personal and national freedom would be in my country if certain people hadn’t fought for it. Justice and freedom might not exist in my country if previous generations hadn’t spoken or done something. Resistance comes in different forms and for me, art is a big form of resistance. Thus, making the documentary felt personal and necessary to address injustices I witnessed growing up. 

Chris’ story isn’t just his. It carries an historical and national consciousness in it. Why him? What was the  research and production process behind the documentary

During post production, the team examined different ways  and angles to approach the documentary. But, in the various interactions, the story of masculinity in  Zimbabwe kept coming to the top and that was what we ended up focusing more on in the film. Chris’ narrative guided the overall story because it provided a unique access to a generation of men who aren’t usually seen and heard being vulnerable. Men like Chris exist in our societies and in our personal lives, but we don’t find them in a vulnerable state. Rarely do they emotionally talk about their romantic relationships. The documentary has made a number of people tell me that they haven’t seen their parents being vulnerable or exchanging kisses. And, with the documentary, we wanted to show Chris doing this with his partner, Dumi. For us, there’s something honest, refreshing and new about this character and the image he represents onscreen for Africans. 

I met Chris through Shari, a woman who conducts exhumations. She introduced him to me as a person whose family was going through this process of exhuming their dead father’s corpse and would be open to being filmed. Finding out he lived in Botswana as an immigrant was a very interesting element. As an immigrant myself, I wanted to connect with him on that level and explore the complexities of that reality. With the documentary, I wanted to explore the desire to go back home, the feeling of being estranged as an African in an African country, being in a romantic relationship with someone whose culture differs from yours, and employment issues. These are important issues and stories because when African media, African documentaries and Africans talk about immigrants and migration, the focus is on African immigrants in Europe. But the majority of African immigrants actually live within the continent. 

The documentary captures the feeling of an African feeling alienated in an African country. Can you talk about this tension and conflict? 

There’s a tribal tension in Zims as a result of the massacres where a group was politically targeted. As a filmmaker whose tribe didn’t suffer this violence, I have been asked if I have the right to tell the stories of people whose tribe, community and family relatives were killed by my tribe. There’s this disconnect in my country and this documentary is a way of addressing this cultural and political tension. 

For this documentary, it was also important to understand why certain tribes are unfairly treated. This unjust treatment is usually reduced to a simplistic tribal situation. But, for me, it goes beyond this for the victims of these violent ethnic acts. For them, it wasn’t just the bloody massacre, rapes, disappearance of relatives, but also the structural and government-backed effort of marginalising people from the Southern part of the country, which is still evident today.

This growing resentment in the country was a major driver behind my decision  in telling the story of this ethnic conflict. It is important for all Zimbabweans to understand what happened. My country has experienced a lot of violence over the years and as a thinker, I always encourage people who want to talk about violence to go to  the first instance of violence. The government has been encouraging this ethnic and tribal resentment and I wanted Zimbabweans and Africans to take a holistic view of the issue as opposed to seeing it as a strand of events that just happened in town one or two. It’s beyond just what happened to my “people” versus your “people.”

The documentary is a treatise in navigating historical trauma and memory through cinema. With this understanding, how will you explain the cultural and political place of documentaries in Africa?

Recently, I was asked why African documentary filmmakers make such sad films. The person said that African documentaries always focus on the political and cultural violence and trauma in their country. In my response to this, I said that a lot of filmmakers, like me, are on their journey of discovery and understanding their existence. African creatives, whether painters, musicians, writers, thinkers and filmmakers, are trying to work out who they are and their place in the world.

As a creative, your immediate environment feeds your creativity. And films like Milisuthnado, Khartoum and mine, told from a deeply personal perspective, are filmmakers trying to make sense of their identity. For the Sudanese director of Khartoum, it’s making sense of the ongoing war and the faction it has caused in their community and personal lives. For the director of Milisuthando, it’s trying to know what it means to be a black South African who grew up in this post-independence era. In my case, it means trying to understand the importance of place and trauma linked to this beautiful place I called home. 

These are images in the documentary — the mountains, the rivers, the lizards and other geographical backdrops, that are deliberately added to the film that only people familiar with it can recognize. As a storyteller, I am always trying to make sense of this place that I love. But at the same time, the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve realized that this place also carries a lot of trauma for its citizens. And, filmmaking is a way of trying to make sense of this. 

In Africa, the documentary genre has been presented to Africans in a troubling light by Western documentary filmmakers. Thus, for the current generation of African documentary filmmakers, we are trying to also shift this negative narrative and inspire change of ideologies for the younger generations. 

African documentaries are often funded by Europeans or foreign bodies rather than Africans or African bodies. What do you make of this lack of African-led funding and cultural and institutional support? Does European-led funding create a dilemma or enforces a subtle compromise in storytelling and framing of how African stories are told? 

From my experience making this film, we got certain international funders who wanted the documentary and Chris’ story to be more political. They wanted us to focus less on Chris’ personal story and more about him confronting and questioning the government as a way of holding them accountable. But, Chris isn’t that person. And, that he isn’t that politically inclined doesn’t make his story less important. Responses and reactions during and after the film screening has shown us the importance of telling his story. There are audiences who said they haven’t seen an African man being portrayed in that vulnerable state before and that it felt powerful for them, and healing to me. 

African documentary funders have limited funds and are often unable to fund as many films as possible. The question of survival is important to them. This also makes them fall into the same trap that international funders fall into. Their funding seems reserved for stories they think will do well on the festival circuits which will in turn help them get more money to give more money to films because they are trying to build an ecosystem. 

Sadly, we didn’t get money from any African organizations. But we were lucky with the few people that took a chance on us. Also, our funding challenge changed when we got the first Sundance grant, because as a respected and recognized institution, it inspired more people to support. While this waiting for a respected institution to support you before others do is the reality of the film industry, it’s really sad. 

The African funding space still has a long way to go in terms of opening up itself to the projects that get funding. There’s a need to be more adventurous on the films that get grants and a little bit more courageous in taking chances, particularly, on first time filmmakers. Filmmakers and the entire film ecosystem still have a long way to go in terms of getting Africans interested in watching African films because audiences dictate numbers at the end of the day. It’s also important for the audiences to start asking their local cinemas and exhibitors why certain African films aren’t shown in their cinemas. African audiences need to start holding cinemas operators, distributors and exhibitors accountable and demand that African films are shown. The more African films get seen, the more money exists in the ecosystem. The presence of this revenue means that more money can be put into more  courageous and adventurous projects. 

Distribution is a constant challenge for African filmmakers. The challenge is even more intense for documentary filmmakers. What are your thoughts about the “marketability” of African documentaries? 

I know all the stereotypes attached to documentary films. And, I have had to convince a lot of people to come and watch my film. Their responses have been interesting so far because they found that they were able to feel different emotions they originally thought couldn’t be found in a documentary film. There’s the perception that since the documentary addressed a dark subject matter, people inherently think it can only be sad. I have been able to  convince them otherwise.  

I have been making documentary films for 10 years and I haven’t made a Nat-Geo-Wild-esque documentary. It’s interesting being a documentary filmmaker in these times, especially the effort that goes into  trying to educate audiences.

The question of access and engagement with African documentaries is also a constant concern. What do you make of this? And are there plans in place to ensure this film gets seen by as many Zimbabweans outside the festival circuit? 

The Encounters Documentary Film Festival was our African premiere. That screening has gotten a lot of curators and film enthusiasts interested in showing the film in other parts of South Africa, in community screenings, academic spaces and cinemas. Currently, we are sort of working on our African campaign, which is to posit our willingness to show the film in as many African countries as possible.

The film is made for Africans and we are aggressively looking at different opportunities to show the film everywhere, including in Zimbabwe. We are aware that the film’s subject matter might pose a challenge in securing screening and exhibitions opportunities in Zims. But, we are monitoring the situation to ensure that we do as many community screenings as possible. These physical community screenings are important because, as someone describes it, they create a civic space for people to open up, talk about their experiences and find healing. The postscreening conversations help people talk about the pressures of being an African man and stress of being an immigrant. For the audiences, the conversations are a way of unburdening themselves. And, we want more and more people to experience this. Also, it’s a way to ensure that the film has a life of its own by having multiple screenings and conversions. 

Also, as a passionate Pan-Africanism advocate, it’s important that the film is seen outside the border of Zims. LBox Africa, a Kenyan-based company I am working with, is also passionate about breaking down the national borders that Europeans have created. To grow the African film industry, there’s a need to collaborate with each other and exchange ideas and insights. 

Dumi represents something more. How were you able to ensure that during shooting and editing, she isn’t just an extension of Chris? And what responsibilities do filmmakers have in presenting female characters with care and cultural understanding? 

Personally, I compartmentalize and when working I try to do this too. Not judging your character and being empathetic to their stories is one of the biggest script writing lessons. Having a humane and nonjudgemental approach to a character is a way to ensure empathy and avoid significant storytelling problems. I have familiarized myself with this over the years. 

Also, I am personally in awe of Chris and Dumi’s vulnerability, particularly when things were rocky in their relationship. There is something incredibly amazing and brave about them not asking me to switch off the camera. People underestimate that scene. And, I am not sure a lot of people would be fine with being that vulnerable and not feel self-conscious of the camera. 

If I had brought judgment into the room over anything, those scenes would not have unfolded the way they did. When we were editing, it was very important to stay true to the story and who the characters were. When I was filming, it was very important for me to film Dumi outside of Chris’ orbit. As the director, I needed her to understand why I was making the film. That meant having conversations with her about why I was making the film, why I wanted to show her in the film and why I wanted to film her on her own. 

There is a scene where Chris has a difficult and vulnerable conversation with one of his daughters. I was lucky enough to have witnessed that. Filming that scene, I could feel Chris’ pain. And, if I had gone into the film with preconceived ideas and judgement, I would not have been e able to capture that scene and have other people respond to it. 

As filmmakers and storytellers, our job is to bear witness.