Truly in the Present in order to See
Interview with Jessica Beshir, director of Faya Dayi

Ｑ：Faya Dayi is your first feature documentary, what drove you to make a film on khat in your home country Ethiopia?

I grew up in the same town in the film, and had to leave at 16 years old due to the political turmoil. It’s a violent uprooting in a way, we had to leave in a couple of days, so naturally I want to make sense out of everything. When I was able to go back, I wanted to reconnect with my family, grandmother and friends who I haven’t seen for such a long time. Once I was there, I was shocked by all the changes. Some of the changes are not apparent at the beginning, but are visually manifested. When I drove to the town from the main city, all I saw was khat. I grew up with khat around me, but it’s visually shocking. The landscape has drastically changed. I had so many questions in mind, and that’s how I started.

I slowly learned that khat has become a single crop economy and there was a huge problem of unemployment. A lot of youth were leaving across the borders. Climate change was also a factor. The famers were no longer relied on the cultivation of coffee for example, which used to be the most important crop in the area. A lot of the farmers turned to the cultivation of khat, which can be harvested four times a year, with a lot less maintenance.

I also feel the urge to reconnect with the nation, the land and the people. The sense of time has felt like a huge vacuum and somehow I wanted to recover that.

Ｑ：Taiwan also has betel nuts, which has become an economic crop, so it’s interesting to see how your film revolves around khat. Can you give us a little bit of background on how Khat manifests in people’s everyday life?

Yes it really has something to do with human relationship with the sacred plants around the world. Sufi muslins chewed khat to help them meditate and pray for longer periods. That’s how this plant was used for a long time, but the practice tended to be limited to predominantly Muslim areas. Up until later, it started to become part of the culture, even a mainstream thing. Women, men, elderly and even children are chewing. For a lot of the youth, it’s a way to “kill time.” Because time is what holds an incredible amount of frustration.

What happens when you chew is that it has different stages. The first stage is “harara,” the time for having the craving, so around noon everyone is at the market trying to get their khat. Around 1pm, everyone gets inside their houses or gathers with people chewing. Entering the euphoric states, it’s really a social gathering thing. People talk about politics, religion, love and everything. But around 4 pm, it’s like dead silence. As euphoric states pass, people tend to turn to introspection, that is “merkana.” It’s like entering a lucid dream. It’s also a time to liberate yourself from the tyranny of time.
 

Ｑ：In your film, different segments are connected and arranged like a dream sequence. It’s also like a journey. It’s so beautifully shot that it makes you feel a sense of lightness, but again you also feel a sense of heaviness that ties to the characters’ inner world. Can you elaborate on the way you form your visual and experiment in forms?

The way I construct my film is really under the influence of Sufi way of thinking, especially the way of seeing. About how to be in the present moment in order to see. We are often either planning the future or thinking about the past. Truly in the present is a difficult thing to do. So the Sufi meditation stresses on emptying themselves in order to see. Empty your ego in order to see what’s in the present. For me, filming is to capture that sense of present. The construction of film also echoes back to the effect of khat on us. The effect of releasing yourself from time, and of releasing from the tendency of being everywhere but not here at the present moment. I have put a lot of energy into the making of that experience.

It's about finding people in their own spaces and environment, to see their relationship, for example the negotiation of the lights and shadows, the negotiation between fear and what’s the opposite of fear. Fear is a paralyzing force, so how do you confront your fear? And what’s its relationship to life? These are the essential things I have been thinking a lot about.

I also want the film to be quite open. For example, the opening of a boy coming out of the fog or a boy trying to get a ride in the final scenes. You don’t know whether he is staying or going. That truly speaks to the uncertainty being felt. Ethiopia has this civil war going on right now, but even back to the time when I was filming, you can sense this uncertainty, you don’t know what’s gonna happen, just feeling there are a lot of things moving underneath. I don’t want to tie a nice ribbon to end the film. To shoot this film is to be open to what life is going to bring.
 

Ｑ：It takes ten years of making. You are the director, writer, producer and cinematographer of this film, what's the biggest challenge along the way? And what’s the biggest rewards?

This film taught me so much about life, about patience, about self-reliance. I just decided to go for it. The freedom of doing what I want to do also comes with a huge commitment. Especially financially speaking, it’s very difficult. And it’s a constant back and forth, with lots of doubts and fears, but at the end of the day, it’s all about what you really care about. Follow your intuition. It would be a huge regret if I didn’t go for it.

It’s also very important for me to make this film in Oromo language. Oromo language is my grandmother’s language. But my parents and I don’t speak that at home. It also has to do with the Oromo struggle, as the language has been largely banned till 1974 (Under the dictatorship of Haile Selassie), and then all the way to 1991(when the military Derg regime was overthrown by rebel forces). Historically the Oromo people are the largest indigenous ethnic group in Ethiopia, but they have been marginalized and suffered a lot. So having this language at the center of this film is very important for me. In addition to Oromo language, Harari language is also included. These are the languages that I grew up listening to. With time, all these details in film acquire more profound meaning. It’s definitely transformational during this ten year span of making this film.

What allows me to make this film is truly to spend time with people. Intimacy grew out of trust. A lot of them knew my father, naturally knew about me. So a lot of time it’s like being where I was coming from, it has something to do with my parents’ roots. I come back year after year, so it’s never like a one-time deal. The community really supports and inspires me to make this film. It’s communal efforts that achieve this sense of closeness. Feeling truly comfortable. Actually I had great fun filming, especially in the factory. It was such a fun time.