Cece Mlay’s docufilm, The Empty Grave, 2024. / IMDB.
THE MINISTRY OF ARTS / FILM DEPT.
Filming the Prolonged Pain of Colonial Violence
Cece Mlay’s docufilm, The Empty Grave, 2024. / IMDB.
THE MINISTRY OF ARTS / FILM DEPT.
Filming the Prolonged Pain of Colonial Violence
German rule in Tanzania (then known as Tanganyika) lasted from the 1880s to 1918. It was established swiftly with the introduction of cash crops like sisal and cotton, infrastructure including roads, railways and ports built to transport goods, and mining of gold found in the Lake Victoria region. Tanzania was crucial to the German empire because of the economic benefits Tanzania provided from its natural resources. To extract these resources, German rule became violently repressive. They forcibly introduced the hut tax, a per-household taxation system that was payable through money, crops or labour. Not only did this fortify their cash-centred economy, it also led to forced labour of households who could not afford the tax. To enforce this system, the German colonists replaced native leaders with their agents to the great displeasure of the natives. Tanzania not only experienced great economic and labour exploitation resulting from these policies, it also experienced drastic shifts in its social fabric. For instance, the cash-centred colonial economy usurped their trade customs, and with men forced away from their homes to work, women had to take on more roles to keep communities intact. Their indigenous way of life, and therefore their quality of life was incredibly compromised by German rule.
Resistance efforts to overthrow the German government were buttressed by a deep grief for the loss of their way of life. In the 1890s, the Hehe people, a cluster of chiefdoms that reside in Iringa in Southern Tanzania, led by Chief Mkwavinyika Munyigumba Mwamuyinga (commonly known as Chief Mkwawa), fought the Germans. These resistance efforts are referred to as the Hehe Wars and are considered a precursor for the larger and more widespread Majimaji Rebellion of 1905-1907. The Majimaji Rebellion’s name is begotten from spirit medium Kinjekitile Ngwale, who spread the belief that a concoction he called ‘war medicine’ could turn German bullets into water (which translates to maji in Kiswahili), and would therefore protect Tanzanian warriors during resistance efforts. The Majimaji Rebellion is notable for its sheer scale; it united swathes of dispersed people of the southern part of Tanzania and it is said to have resulted in the deaths of up to 300,000 people. Not only did the German government use military action to subdue the rebellions, they also employed starvation tactics as well as public executions of resistance leaders to kill the spirits of the people. In Singida, a region in southern Tanzania, the relics of this violent occupation still exist to this day; an old military station used by the colonial government and a hanging tree near the station.
One of the ways the Germans justified these atrocities against their colonies was through racial science. German scientists would order human remains like bones and skulls of people executed, in a manner akin to a shopping list, so that they could conduct research that would affirm that the difference in the bones was evidence of Africans’ inferiority. German anthropologist, Felix von Luschan, in particular, owned a collection of Tanzanian human remains that amounted to up to 6,300 samples by the time of his death in 1924. The objectification of these remains is further realized when you consider that collections of bones were routinely stored and exhibited in German museums and institutions. For example, the Prussian Cultural Heritage in Berlin still holds some of von Luschan’s collection of these remains. More than a century later, most of these human remains have still not been returned home, leaving families grieving not only the painful execution of their ancestors but also the inability to lay their loved ones to rest in their homelands.
National discourse on restitution in Tanzania only began about a decade ago with most of the discussion pioneered by academic researchers. Public discourse is still infrequent but the 2023 state visit by the president of Germany, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, generated some conversation. In his visit, Steinmeier said Germany was open to discussing its colonial legacy as well as negotiations for the repatriation of artefacts and human remains. He also visited a region in southwestern Tanzania called Songea, where he met descendants of ancestors killed during the Majimaji Rebellion and he apologized on behalf of Germany for the colonial atrocities. In response, Tanzanian president, Suluhu Hassan, acknowledged that families are indeed waiting for their relatives to return home and that the German-Tanzanian negotiations will guide this process. There has been talk of monetary reparations by government officials, although some historians have expressed their wariness with quantifying the pain of colonial violence. On the institutional front, the National Museum of Tanzania has also been involved in constructing a national framework in preparation for the restitution.
But amidst the apologies, preparations and negotiations, it is unclear how much the experiences of the families and communities whose ancestors’ remains were exhumed and taken away have been considered. It is also unclear how much these communities’ traditions on conflict resolution and reconciliation are guiding the approach to restitution and repatriation. And while public discourse around the matter is relatively new, efforts by the families who took it upon themselves to figure out how to bring their relatives home are certainly not. But with little to no information of their exact whereabouts, most families have yet to find their ancestors, and those that have found where they are being kept are finding it difficult to return them home for a proper burial themselves, due to lack of national and institutional support.
The Empty Grave is a 2024 documentary in response to the decentring of these families’ voices. It prioritizes these families’ perspectives and galvanizes their efforts to bring their ancestors back home. It follows the journeys of two families. Firstly, the family of John Makarius Mbano and Cesilia Mbano. John is the great-grandson of Songea Mbano, who was a leader in the Majimaji Rebellion, while Cesilia, his wife, is a history teacher who engages with these painful histories in her classroom. The documentary also follows the family of Felix and Ernest Kaaya, descendants of Mangi Lobulu Kaaya, a chief from the Chaga community in the North of Tanzania who was publicly executed in 1900. Both the Mbanos and Kaayas have been on this journey for decades, grappling with the pain of not properly burying their family members, and eager not to pass on this grief to the next generation in their families. The documentary also features activist, Mnyaka Sururu Mboro, (whose ancestors’ remains also reside in Germany) and archivist, Konradin Kunze, who have dedicatedly fought to uncover archival information and open doors of German institutions that store these human remains. Set both in Tanzania and Germany, the documentary shows how the protagonists maintain their goal resolutely, even in the face of racism, bureaucracy and other delays.
This documentary is a Tanzanian-German collaborative effort between Kijiweni Productions and Kurhaus Production. It was co-directed by German native Agnes Lisa Wegner and Tanzanian native Cece Mlay. In this way, it mirrors the conversations around openness for reconciliation. In July 2024, I spoke with co-director Mlay at the Kijiweni Productions offices. Mlay is a storyteller who has worked on creative projects across varying mediums from film to television and radio. Passionate about telling stories that tackle social, political and historical issues in Tanzania, Mlay has worked on feature-length films like Child Protection Unit (2011), Aisha (2016), and short films like Shoeshine (2014) and Samaki Mchangani (2014). Her works also include popular television drama, Siri ya Mtungi (Season 1 from December 2012 till March 2013 and Season 2 from December 2014 till March 2015), and documentary Apostles of Cinema (2023).
In the interview, Mlay told me about her experience making The Empty Grave, and she revealing some of the ideas that came up during production including forgiveness, tradition and national grief.
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KAREN CHALAMILLA
What were you most excited about after you finished filming The Empty Grave?
CECE MLAY
I was most looking forward to engaging with the audience. For Agnes and me, Germany and Tanzania are our home bases, so I was aching to see what transformation would happen for the story itself as audiences from both places interact with it. Those interactions with the audience can either enhance how you feel about the story, or they might challenge you. To have done the premiere in Dar es Salaam and listened to the audience speak about what the film meant to them was very freeing for me. Although our team was well–balanced, it still felt like I hadn’t had enough engagement with my fellow Tanzanians. The anger I felt throughout the entire process was echoed back by the audience and that was freeing.
KAREN CHALAMILLA
The idea of forgiveness and reconciliation comes up in the film. Considering this film itself is born of collaboration between Tanzanian and German artists, how did you work through feelings of forgiveness while you were filming?
CECE MLAY
So, I want to speak about my co-director, Agnes Lisa Wegner, because I think our relationship was key to how the film came about. She was the one who brought the story to us, and she wanted to have Tanzanian creators’ partner on the project. From the beginning, we agreed that the story had to centre the families, because our understanding, up until that point, was that they felt as though they were left out of the conversation completely. So, I got to know the families and I learned quickly that when you start engaging with the story from such a personal perspective, you’re not thinking about it as a German atrocity, you are listening to people tell you about pain and loss. Nobody wants to be in a position where they’ve lost somebody and then not had the opportunity to properly mourn. You hear of individuals who have taken on the task of bringing back their ancestors because they don’t want to pass on this trauma to the next generation, to their kids. These are people who feel this trauma viscerally, but they are also people who have very specific rituals on reconciliation. Each community is specific in how they would want to address that matter. Once I started to understand this, I had to humble myself and unpack my own opinions on forgiveness. And I still have them, for sure, but the views of these families were central and they gave Agnes and I a sharp point at which to start from.
KAREN CHALAMILLA
The conversation on restitution is now happening parallel with that of reparations, with the latter being discussed at the national level. If these families and communities have specific rituals when it comes to restitution and reconciliation, how much does the national conversation hinder their needs?
CECE MLAY
Allow me to use a specific example to answer this question. For one of the families that was with us in Berlin, the DNA of the remains tested positive, so they know exactly where their Babu is and they even got a chance to see him, but they were not able to return him home just then. In a meeting with them in the hallway, one of the family members asked us what the point of them was coming to Berlin to see him if they still have to go back home empty–handed. It was incredibly heartbreaking. But even amidst the pain, he was still so resolute that eventually, they would bring him home. That despite all the negotiations delaying or complicating the process, their loved one will return home. And you know, unfortunately, our government isn’t very clear on their position and that’s part of the reason why they had to leave their ancestor in Berlin. But our national interests are directly tied to these very personal emotions. As Tanzanians, we know how important it is to give someone the honour of showing up to their loved one’s funeral. It is a normal practice for us to mourn together and that’s exactly how the state needs to deal with this. The families have said this too actually, that this is not just their funeral, it is the nation’s funeral. We need to have those ancestors returned, and then we need to mourn communally after we put them to rest. Especially when you consider that some of these ancestors were brutally killed as a result of atrocities like the Majimaji Rebellion, which is a history central to our national identity.
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KAREN CHALAMILLA
Another moment of heartbreak that echoes the idea of national mourning is when Felix Kaaya sees the tree where his ancestor, Mangi Lobulu, was hung for the first time.
CECE MLAY
Yes, and there is a link there. Another protagonist in the film, Mnyaka Sururu Mboro, moved to Germany and became a restitution activist because his grandmother witnessed the hanging of Mangi Lobulu Kaaya on that same tree in a market in Old Moshi. The day we took Felix to see the tree was perhaps the heaviest day of filming. Nobody was prepared for the emotions, and I don’t even think he was aware that he had been holding on to these feelings for so long. He cried, he talked to the tree and at some point, he even cursed the tree. And it’s just incredible how years later, as we look back on this history, we have been put in a position where our relationship, even to our own physical surroundings, has been completely tainted by colonialism.
KAREN CHALAMILLA
Tell me a little about the choice to use the microfilm of archival documents from the German colonization period for the scene transitions.
CECE MLAY
The use of a microfilm was a device that we credit our editor, Donni Schoenemond, for bringing into the process quite early. None of what you see in the archival documents is translated, which creates tension around the question of accessibility of historical documents. My favourite transition is when the microfilm was left on the landscape of Tanzania and when it breaks, we see that the families have arrived in Berlin. It illustrated how these terrible things have been imprinted on us. But now the veil is being lifted as these families are about to have access to information that has been kept away from them for too long. The archives are a very interesting question because colonists noted down every detail. In one document, a voyager is sending remains back to Germany and he notes them down in his book like ‘a skull, a full body,’ as if they are a shopping list. He details how he would bribe people with materials so that they would dig up graves for these remains to send to Germany. And you consider how this created friction within communities because these people were labelled traitors. But this person in this archival document is saying exactly how they were manipulating people to do heinous things to members of their own communities by giving them materials he knew they couldn’t afford.
KAREN CHALAMILLA
The film centres restitution but there are other interesting themes that come up. The reality that Tanzanian communities have been and still are deeply patriarchal is one of them. You see how women have been relegated to the role of a witness and nothing more, when they likely wore many more hats.
CECE MLAY
Interestingly, that came up a lot in our Q&As in Germany, mostly from women of colour. Agnes and I struggled with that a lot obviously because we are both women. Cesilia Mbano was by far one of the most interesting protagonists we followed. But something important that you’ve mentioned is that it is, unfortunately, the reality of where we are. I agree that women played a huge role in community-making during and after the colonial era. They kept language alive, provided food, kept homes, raised children, maintained lineages, sometimes all while their partners were away. When we were thinking about what would be of service to the story and what would galvanize the families’ efforts for restitution, we had to focus on certain themes more than others. But I hope that this documentary opens the door for further exploration of all the themes regardless of how much time we were able to spend on them.
KAREN CHALAMILLA
What did making The Empty Grave teach you about filmmaking?
CECE MLAY
We chose to do an observational documentary because we felt that it was the best way to tell the story. Allowing the camera to witness what is happening in front of us required a lot of openness. As a filmmaker, it gives you a different kind of intimacy because you get to witness what happens when you just allow people to be themselves and it gave us so much latitude in the edit. We had so much beautiful footage to start scripting this story. I think there are so many stories out there of things that happened to our Babus and Bibis that for whatever reason we’ve decided not to pass on to our kin. It’s one of the greatest tragedies. Yes, some families are excellent at passing on stories, but many others are not and we need to find a way of bringing these things to life. I think a lot of what happened during that period has brought us to where we are now. Recently, the question of what constitutes Tanzanian customs and values has come up a lot in the country. But when you go back to that point in time in which these things that we call our culture was broken, you have to start questioning whether what we’re looking at now is truly authentic to us. I’m not sure I believe the things we are fighting for now are consistent with the languages and customs that our ancestors fought for. Not at all. Moving forward, I would like to explore more of that. And I’m seeing more Tanzanian artists doing work introspectively in their own communities, which is exciting because it is only through deeply understanding ourselves that we are able to create more interesting art, better–suited policies and so forth. This documentary taught me that I would like to move in the world the way that John, Cesilia, Felix and Ernest do; with an assurance of who they are, and that it is enough⎈
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