Samia Osman: A pioneer in the Future of Somali film.

In the bustling city of Abu Dhabi, where modernity meets tradition, Samia Osman, a Somali filmmaker, is carving a unique path in the film industry. As a young black Muslim woman, her filmmaking journey is both inspiring and groundbreaking, particularly as she champions the nascent Somali film industry.

Samia’s roots are deeply embedded in Somali culture, but her upbringing in Abu Dhabi has provided her with a multicultural perspective. Reflecting on her journey, she acknowledges the absence of a filmmaking tradition in her family. However, she fondly recalls her uncle who had a penchant for recording family gatherings. “Whenever we had a gathering, he would prepare everything and bring the whole family together to my grandma's house to take videos,” she reminisces. This early exposure to archiving family moments ignited her passion for filmmaking, instilling in her the importance of preserving memories and stories. 

Interestingly, Samia’s pivot into the media industry was unplanned. She never envisioned herself working in film, photography, or journalism. “It just continued happening,” she says, attributing her creative journey to a divine calling. She draws inspiration from one of Allah’s names, “The Creator,” striving to embody this in her work and personal life. Her aim is to create meaningful connections and narratives, whether through her films or her interactions with family and friends.

The film and entertainment market in the Middle East is experiencing rapid growth, with projections indicating a significant rise in cinema screens and industry value. Samia views this development with cautious optimism. While she sees great potential, she also warns against blindly mimicking Hollywood. “We should be more open, especially in Abu Dhabi, in understanding the importance of film. We don't have to rush,” she advises, emphasising the need for authenticity and thoughtful growth.

The Somali film industry, which is evolving particularly among the Somali diaspora in Columbus, Ohio, has been gaining traction. This burgeoning industry holds immense promise for shaping Somali culture and identity. Samia believes that films can serve as a bridge, connecting Somalia’s rich cultural past with its present and future. “This film movement will change a lot because I think it's the only tool where we can connect between the past, when we had a strong government and we were safe, we were cultural, we had art and everything,” she explains. For Samia, filmmaking is not about rapid success but about creating a reflective and authentic narrative for Somalia. 

Given an unlimited budget, Samia’s approach would be collaborative and prolific. Rather than investing in a single high-budget film, she would produce numerous short films, involving many people in the creative process. “I would make films and films and films, instead of making one big film where 50 million are customs and stuff. I'll make so many films with so many different people and a low budget,” she shares. This philosophy underscores her belief in abundance and the power of shared creative endeavors.

Beyond her professional achievements, Samia is driven by a desire to impact the world positively. She strives to be a source of ease and support for those around her, balancing her helpful nature with a healthy distance from mere people-pleasing. “I try to be intentional with people. I don’t pressure myself anymore; I just do it when I can,” she reflects, highlighting her commitment to authenticity and intentionality in her interactions.

Samia Osman’s journey is a testament to the transformative power of storytelling and the importance of cultural preservation. As she continues to shape the future of Somali cinema, her work not only enriches the film industry but also offers a vital narrative bridge for Somali culture and identity. 

In conversation with the legendary Ruth Motau

Ruth Seopedi Motau is a South African photographer, visual storyteller and artist whose captivating career transcends only by the timeless allure of the images she has captured over the years.

Ruth Seopedi Motau. [Image taken by Wandile Khumalo]

Born in Meadowlands, Motau's journey started in the early 1990s, working as an intern for the Weekly Mail (now the) Mail and Guardian. Motau became the first black woman employed by a newspaper as a staff photographer and held the position of Photo Editor at three major leading newspapers in the country, Mail and Guardian, The Sowetan and City Press.

"When I started, there weren't any black women photographers. I don't know if they took me seriously", says Motau. "I think the wonder of people thinking whether I am doing the right thing allowed me to excel in what I wanted to do because in a state of them wondering, I created what I wanted, and it came out brilliantly," she adds.

Since then, she hasn't put her camera down, approaching each project and the people she photographs with the utmost consideration and respect.

Ruth Motau's images have become critical and monumental symbols of South Africa's photographic history, as she captures pictures in black and white. "I think black and white has a mood on its own. It's an interpretation of my world and how I see things. I see them in colour but interpret them in black and white," explains Motau.

When it comes to her approach to her work, Ruth Motau values the dignity of those she takes images of. As she engages in conversation with others in preparation to take pictures, Motau establishes a relationship between herself and others. "Most of the pictures I document I for ask permission," she says.

"I don't just point a camera at anyone else and then take pictures and leave," she adds. "With all my photographs, you can see that there is a relationship with subtext," she adds. "I have to ask for permission because that person allows you to create images that will tell a story and be part of history," says Motau.

Motau shared with me that her most memorable experience in her career was in her early years as Nelson Mandela's photographer. "I think it was during the Sharpville Massacre celebration, and he was with Bill Clinton. I was the only person who was supposed to follow them very closely in the same room," she recalls.

"It made me realise that as a photographer with a camera, you have the power to direct and do what you want to do and tell stories," says Motau.

"In that instance, I realised that Mandela and Bill Clinton were statesmen of countries and respectable countries. For me, it was like one minute I could photograph Mandela with him in the same room as Bill Clinton and the next second I would be with just ordinary people," said Motau.

Throughout her career, she has learnt many lessons that have helped her cultivate her skill. One of those being to "never stop learning". "I think I'm still learning as a photographer even with the experience that I have. Meeting new people, working with different people and different projects," she said. "One has to humble themselves to be able to create a body of work that will be a legacy for the next generations," she says.

With her images, Motau tells the stories she grew up with. Her curiosity and her camera have allowed her to explore her surroundings. "I always tell younger people when they want to do assignments. Stories are in your backyard. Don't let someone from far tell your story and then misrepresent you. It's better to tell your own stories," she says.

"Most of what I photograph are people that are in my community. Religion and spirituality in the black community is a big thing, it's one of my biggest projects that I'm always doing, and I don't know where it will take me," she adds.

Motau describes her responsibility as a documentary photographer as having respect, humility and being able to tell stories in a dignified way. "I always ask myself... What if it was me, or what if it was my family? How will I tackle it?" she asks.

"How would I want to be portrayed if someone comes and takes pictures of me, my family or my community, especially those close to me? I think in that sense, I have a different approach to how I tackle my stories with humility and respect," she concludes.

Apart from her long-term project called Black Beauty, Motau is compiling an archive of her work, a decidedly significant undertaking even with the help of the Photographer's Legacy Project and Wits University Library. "It's a drop in the ocean," she says. "I will soon have my website, and people will be able to access those images and will also even have to be able to buy some of the collections".

Motau takes on each project with meticulous awareness taking into consideration each step. "All the work is precious to me. I think I cannot single it out. Every project is important because I thought about it and spent time and formed relationships".

"I remember when I was doing a project on child-headed families. When we arrived - the boy was around 11, and the girl was around 5 or 6. The mother had just passed away, and the father had just before. And an uncle was staying with them. It's one of the stories that broke my heart. The boy didn't even have shoes. Luckily, we were the same size, and I took off my shoes and gave them to him," she shares.

"With those stories, you become part of it. As a mother, I felt like I needed to take care of them, but I couldn't because I needed to do a story and follow them," says Motau.

Over the years, what has kept Motau's passion burning and love undying for her work has been revisiting the projects, places she has documented and inspiring work done by other photographers. "Stories are there to be told. What I am doing now has been told before. It is a recycle of this kind of story," says Motau.

Ruth Seopedi Motau [Image taken by Damjan Banjac]

The international sound of South African hood

From the startling drum bass to the heartfelt harmonies, joyous percussions and memorable basslines, these elements make up the remarkable sound of amapiano. Amidst songs that sing of aspirations to win the lotto to ones that share the pain of heartbreak, amapiano is sure to transcend the dancefloor of any party.

Amapiano artists Focalistic, Major League DJ's, Lady Du and Musa Keys. [Image taken from Forbes Africa]

Amapiano is a fusion of jazzy chords and afro percussion that lends its sound to its predecessors. It is a cultural movement providing an accurate portrayal of South African music from the 1990s till today. The subgenre is a culmination of African musicality, with lyrics that encapsulate the black experience in the townships. Having a pace faster than kwaito but slower than gqom, amapiano revives the quintessence of the 1990s kwaito and the house sound di bacardi.

Amapiano was first created on cracked software, distributed across Whatsapp statuses and marketed by word of mouth and social media. The genre was pioneered by various artists such as Kabza De Small, Junior Taurus, Mr JazziQ and Josiah De Disciple to name a few. Amapiano music evolved in the manner it did as a direct response to how the South African music industry prevented most independent artists from recording their music and performing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=isYm52A9WFQ

DBN Gogo, Boiler Room System: Amapiano London

There is something to say about how amapiano has been utilised and transcended borders, unlike kwaito music, even though it had a unique sound. While amapiano is massive in South Africa, its potential for global impact can be seen in its popularity across Africa. The emergence of amapiano was incited by years of global intrigue for South African electronic dance music. The subgenre's transition from being an underground sound in the townships to one that is mainstream and, now taking on a global audience from using messaging apps as a marketing tool, holds teachings for other music scenes worldwide.

When amapiano squirmed its way into township bars and hot spots, its sound did not have the soulful vocals we hear today. In its formative years, amapiano was just instrumental, with elements of jazzy chord progressions, afro percussion, and a bassline imitative of di bacardi. Vocals were incorporated when the sound became famous and dominated the mainstream space. In 2016 the music began to receive traction apart from its enthusiasts and listeners.

Although its rise signifies a shift in what represents the sound of South African music at this moment, the affinity in samples used in amapiano overcasts the diverseness in sound that has grown over the years. To ensure staying power and more acknowledgement of the subgenre, an in-depth understanding of the history of music made in townships post-apartheid could be the answer to it being a timeless subgenre.