Creating Community: Tanzanian Film Collective, Ajabu Ajabu

At the tail end of 2020, three film lovers Jesse Mpango, Gertrude Malizana and Darragh Amelia came together to form the audio-visual collective Ajabu Ajabu. At first, the three would meet to watch independent African films on a big screen with friends. Over time, they added members, panels, discussions and workshops all centred around engaging with film and audio art. The combination of streaming culture’s erosion of communal viewing and how rare African independent film showings are, meant that this filled a gap in the Dar es Salaam film scene. Eventually, the purpose was clear: to foster space for the preservation, production and presentation of audio-visual art. 

Although the purpose was clear, the means were left unbound. In fact, the name ‘Ajabu Ajabu’ is a nod to a limitless sort of creativity that can be found in the most unexpected places, a staple of the city of Dar es Salaam. “Sometimes you get on a bus and you see a film translated into kiswahili being shown,” mentions founding member Jesse Mpango, “there is all this visible cultural experimentation in the city, and we wanted to create a space for that in a way that contributes to our understanding of film.” As big screens are likely to prioritise international blockbuster films, there was a clear dearth of spaces for independent African films. Not many places were placing importance on African filmmakers, whether old or contemporary who made films with African contexts in mind. Ajabu Ajabu decided that at their hub, these are kinds of films audiences would be exposed to. Shaquille Kessy, a repeat attendee of Ajabu Ajabu’s screenings shares; “[Ajabu Ajabu] exposed me to African indie films that are not only artful but also have interesting non-mainstream narratives. I really enjoyed Air Conditioner by Angolan filmmaker Fradique (aka Mário Bastos). The film so beautifully transported me through the alleys and rooftops of Luanda telling poetic story, layered with lots of mystery.” Audiences got to immerse themselves in African films they might likely have not had an opportunity to watch otherwise, often simply because these films were not given the recognition of a big screen after a festival circuit. 

Before African cinema, Tanzanians had Bongo movies. The early 2000s saw a boom in the popularity of these locally produced movies, burned on VHS tapes and DVD and often sold by street vendors. The appeal of these movies has typically been the local storytelling; the use of vernacular languages and the casting of beloved actors made the stories feel incredibly close to home. Even with the growth of independent cinema, there remains this sense that local audiences do not feel like they have a stake in African cinema the way they do with Bongo movies. Jesse insists that despite this feeling, the idea that Bongo movies are on the opposite end to cinema is false. He suggests, that “those of us who think about film as a shared event need to do a better job of presenting independent film in a way that does not exclude the contributions of those films, but also doesn't exclude the audiences that might be like ‘I like my Bongo movies hizo nyingine ni movie za culture culture,’ or some other way of self exclusion.” 

This exclusion, as Jesse puts it, is roughly marked by class lines. Ajabu Ajabu core audience makeup was often people already in art circles, or those who resided in the affluent areas of the city. Audiences residing in other areas of the city rarely felt at home with contemporary films, let alone indulging a curiosity about them. One of the ways Ajabu Ajabu tackled this disconnect was through a project now titled Manifested Belonging. Firstly, the collective facilitated the re-release of Maangamizi: The Ancient one (Dir. Martin Mhando and Ron Mulvihill, 2001), a piece of speculative fiction that weaves together Africa, the Diaspora, the spirit world and healing. Maangamizi did the festival circuit but got archived shortly after because not many people got to experience it or feel like it was something they could enjoy. So, when Ajabu Ajabu were planning its screening, they looked for spaces like vibanda umiza in various Dar es Salaam neighbourhoods that were already established communal film hubs (although a lot of events beyond film are often televised, i.e. sports games). “In all these spaces we screened Maangamizi after a local DJ went through the film and was able to include a bit of the Bongo movies flavour to that film, which did not take away from the original at all. It situated the film in a meaningful way in the cinematic language of the local audience.”

The disconnect in Tanzanian audiences when it comes to Bongo movies vs independent cinema is of course, not innate; all audiences are not only able to enjoy a range of film types when made accessible to them. Also, communal hubs such as these vibanda umiza have great archival capacity for African films that would otherwise be put in storage to fade into oblivion. Ajabu Ajabu did this once again at this year’s Zanzibar Film Festival. They screened a kiswahili dubbed version of the legend’s Djibril Diop Membéty’s Touki Bouki on its 50th anniversary, which was well received by a Zanzibari audience already accustomed to a range of film thanks to the film festival. The essence of this project was documented via documentary that centred three Tanzanian film workers (Maulidi Frank, Shabaan Rajab Black and Rehema Maganga) a documentary titled Apostles of Cinema/Tenzi za Sinema (dir by Darragh Amelia and Gertrude Malizana with Jesse Gerard Mpango and Cece Mlay, 2023). Neema Ngemali documentary photographer, filmmaker and custodian of African film herself, describes this documentary as “nurturing African cinema [and] shin[ing] a light on Tanzania’s unique cinema culture and presents it in a beautiful time capsule.” 

Apostles of Cinema Film Screening Poster

Projects such as Manifested Belonging, and all of the collective’s work repeatedly drums the idea that the experience and understanding of film and art is best done as a collective process. It is work that should be done in community with others. The space for community that Ajabu Ajabu creates is just as crucial as the curation itself. Jesse agrees; “sometimes in Dar there's a disconnect between what we should do as a modern city and what we need to do in order to maintain community, survive, and make things last.” In October 2022 ajabu ajabu held a week-long program titled Mama Mishe and Moving Image: an audio visual interrogation around informal labour practices of women. This was an experimental filmmaking workshop open to those that identify as women, not unlike many they had held before. I joined this workshop with the intention of trying to fill up my evening hours with something more engaging than scrolling through my phone. There, I met women from all backgrounds; some working artists, others simply art enthusiasts. Each evening we would meet in what used to be the Ajabu Ajabu physical hub in Msasani, and we would learn, play and experiment with images and sounds without worry of producing a masterpiece. Not only was I invigorated by the process of learning a new skill, but I also enjoyed a deep sense of respite and warmth from women I would have likely never met otherwise. I laughed more than I had in a while and made a very subpar experimental short about something I was deeply curious about. I learnt a little more about myself and the way film works by the choices I made in my short, and watched others go through the same process.

Mama Mishe and Moving Image: an audio visual interrogation around informal labour practices of women

These sessions were hosted by Gertrude Malizeni, visual storyteller and founding member of Ajabu Ajabu. Gertrude, who always had a passion for storytelling, honed her own filmmaking skills through workshops not much different to this one. “I was more of a videographer I would say, but now I feel more refined in my craft,” she shares before adding, “all the various workshops, and films we watched together helped me learn so much more about the craft.” She credits her confidence in her abilities to the collective, “I call them my family because they keep me believing in myself. They believe in me so much that sometimes I feel like it would be disappointing if I didn’t believe in myself the same way.” Gertrude has since channelled her passion for women’s rights activism in her art through hosting workshops, being a part of painting exhibitions and creating her own films. When Neema Ngemali spoke of the nurturing quality of Ajabu Ajabu, she emphasised that “none of this happens in isolation,” that it’s the result of the collective’s commitment to “nurturing new voices by providing ongoing support and training in all things audio-visual.” And of course, its other nurturing quality is that of simply creating a space for people to feel less alone. 

Many that have gone through the Ajabu Ajabu pipeline, whether through attending a one-off event or being a more involved member, have felt its impact. As the collective has transitioned out of having a physical space, there is a hope that its ethos won’t only stay alive (through its current custodians) but will spread through the new communities that will be fostered by expanding their work even further beyond their current orbit. Their recently launched pop-up screening programme, Picha La Leo, opened up with Amil Shivji’s Wahenga, a documentary that follows the musical icon John Kitime as he puts a band together to bring back the genre of Tanzanian Zilipendwa. The launch of this pop-up screening programme was located at Africa Sana bar, a cornerstone bar in Dar es Salaam nightlife, which quite niftily merged a significant Tanzanian site with the viewing of a documentary about a significant Tanzanian musical genre. 

Amil Shivji’s Wahenga

It’s deliberate that Ajabu Ajabu is known as a collective, and that they foster spaces and not places. The collective is not bound to geographical limitations, but instead seeks to tether itself to established and enduring communities such as the vibanda umiza all around the city and a long-lasting bar for instance. The collective’s founders and its custodians have a deep understanding that for their cultural work to endure, it has to be firmly planted among the people; the collective has to be of the city, not just simply in it. In Gertrude’s words, “Ajabu Ajabu is people and ideas, it doesn’t have to be Dar or Msasani, it lives in us, you are Ajabu Ajabu, I am Ajabu Ajabu and when we meet to engage in the work then we are both Ajabu Ajabu.”