“Modernity must not make us lose our Africanity”

Senegal in the 1970s. The nation has just declared independence from the French, and have chosen to create their own government to rule over the people in the African way, establishing a fiercely proud politician as the President, and employing a range of businessmen and influential thinkers to serve as the country’s new government. At this this is what it appears to be, because in actuality, this newfound independence from the European colonial powers is only an act, whereby the African leaders put on a facade of being in charge, when the power still remains with the white Europeans, who offer enormous bribes in order to retain control over the nation and its people. In order to celebrate their new independence, the cabinet attends the wedding of one of their friends, El Hadji Abdoukader Beye, a local businessman serving on the government. He is set to marry his third wife, a fact that his first two wives are not thrilled about – he is a libertine who disregards everyone other than himself and allows his desires to run his life. What he doesn’t realize is that someone has given him “the Xala”, a curse placed on deviant men, which results in impotence. El Hadji now finds himself at the mercy of the society, feeling suitably emasculated, and a victim to the vicious rumours that this man who proposes himself as one of the pillars of the community, is too weak to even spend an evening with his new wife, and no matter how much he tries, he can’t overcome the obstacles that come with being seen as half a man in the eyes of people he considers less than him. Now having lost the respect of his colleagues, his wives (who openly express their disdain to him, and now finally have an excuse to criticize him) and the country as a whole, he has to face the fact that who he is, and what he represents, is far from the image the Senegalese people have been promised.

Ousmane Sembène is one of the most influential filmmakers of his generation, and most certainly an important figure in the history of African art, specifically as one of the most pivotal creative forces who worked unrelentingly throughout his career. Unfortunately, he is one of the very few directors from the continent that has been able to establish something of a reputation overseas, mostly through two films – Black Girl, a beautiful but harrowing film about a young African woman journeying to Europe to start a new life, but only finding despair in a place she does not understand, and the subject of this review, Xala, which is often considered one of the greatest works of cinema to come from the continent. It is a challenging film – it presents itself as a broad comedy, and it is indeed a hilarious and irreverent piece. However, there are deeper issues at the heart of this film that make it also quite a disturbing experience, one that takes advantage of its humour to deliver a scathing message about postcolonial society and the failed promises that came with liberation. Xala is a film that propels itself equally on the forces of its immense humour and intense rage, which manifests in an unforgettable experience, where we are given the chance to witness a country (and by default, a continent) in rapid flux, watching as the boundaries of colonialism come tumbling down, as well as demonstrating that even when they’ve been completely annihilated, new problems and concerns will most certainly take up residency, and rapidly so.

As the quote at the outset of this review mentions, a central core concept in Xala is that of modernity. A rudimentary understanding of the discourses surrounding postcolonialism shows that this is a key concern for many thinkers who align themselves with this complex field of thought, looking at the social situation brought about after emancipation from European powers. The question remains whether or not there is such a thing as true independence. Colonialism certain was the epitome of oppression, because it forced new conventions and beliefs onto others, as well as erasing the beautiful, often incredibly intricate histories and traditions of populations they saw as inferior. Right from the outset, characters in Xala make it very clear that they are not opposed to modernity, but they also don’t want it to be the way in which they live their lives, hoping to develop a new system that accommodates the African way, where their morals and virtues shape the way the country is run. However, we soon see that this sentiment is merely superficial and that these individuals, specifically those in government, enjoy the encroaching influence of the West. To them, modernity could not come faster – they are happy to be stripped of every iota of their “Africanity”, as long as it means they are given the opportunity to experience life in the same way those who advocate the adoption of a modern way of life do. Its a haunting concept – these government officials that claims themselves to be great supporters of Africa and its traditions clearly do so in order to not be seen as colonial puppets, when in actuality, they try and balance their desires – they want to be seen as African, but feel European, and they do succeed, but only to a point, because its soon shown that this comes at a steep price, and losing one’s cultural identity in favour of one perceived as being more modern is never a foolproof process, and can evoke even more issues that were formerly absent when sights were set solely on achieving independence, the time when they had a cause worth fighting for.

The effectiveness of this idea of modernity and Africanity is reflected throughout Xala in its adoption of two central viewpoints. The main story is that of a group of corrupt government officials engaging in debaucherous acts and getting away with it, but only until one of them slips up and reveals the disingenuous nature of their societal and political structure. The other is one that is not foregrounded as much but does become increasingly clear, especially towards the end of the film, where we see that there are essentially two versions of Senegal at the core of this film. There’s the rich bourgeoisie who are only concerned with titles and their reputation, and then there are the ordinary people, who occupy the streets, trying so hard to make a living to simply survive. This is a profoundly disturbing film because of its unflinching honesty – Sembène was never known to pull any punches, and the reason why Xala works so well is because it approaches its bilateral story with a blend of dark humour and towering compassion, showing the influence of perspective. The lives of the government officials, especially the main character of the film, is one defined by their decline in hopeless ennui, watching as their lives and ambitions for their nation fall apart around them due to their stubborn belief that once they take control of the country, everything will be repaired. Yet, they have absolutely everything and should not want for anything, while those who could benefit from their disposable income and effortless ability to engage in excess, are so much happier and more content. Perhaps its because the working class understands each day in itself is a miracle, especially in a country plagued with the problems as Senegal. Its the classic example of differing perspectives having various levels of appreciation for whatever they come across. This is exactly what makes Xala such an affecting, powerful work.

Xala may appear to be a very funny film on the service, but there is something much deeper throughout it, and it makes for compelling but harrowing viewing. The film serves as an allegory for the influence of the colonial powers, even when they have departed from being in control of a nation. Their culture still lingers on and has left an indelible impression that can’t be removed, especially not through the incompetence of the people who take power after them. The main characters in Xala are self-serving, manipulative hedonists whose only ambitions are to make themselves richer, and preferably to ignore all the suffering around them. Senegal is a country that was in dire need of assistance – as the numerous scenes in the rural parts of the city show, suffering was very common, as well as being dismissed as a foregone conclusion, something that could not be helped, as it was the result of the colonial powers – yet these new leaders still embody the same greed and corruption that they themselves fought against. This concept is embodied in the character of El Hadji, who finds himself only falling apart at the seams the more his reputation falters. His impotence has clearly been shown to be an allegory for the limp, lifeless nature of this new government system that exists on the inertia of colonial influence alone, rather than being progressive in any way. His eventual fall from grace could not be any less tragic: to be surrounded by the people he dismissed when he had power, but now was hoping for their love in his time of need, only to have them strip him bare and spit at him – its the perfect metaphor for this form of postcolonial rigidity, where certain systems claim to be “for the people, for the country, for Africa”, when in actuality, they are solely for themselves. Of course, the ultimate irony is that El Hadji spends the country’s money on his wedding to his third wife, only to find out that his Xala prevents him from consummating the marriage, plunging him into shame and despair, and removing his masculinity, which was the only quality he cared about.

Ultimately, Xala is an important film. It is one of the most astute postcolonial satires ever made, and its effectiveness comes in its simplicity. Sembène was not a director who was capable of drawing in a substantial budget, especially not in a country with a film industry that did not exist in any discernible or coherent way at the time. However, much like he did with nearly all of his earlier films, the director embraces the constraints by developing an overtly powerful but still profoundly simple satire that makes use of suggestion, innuendo and allegory to convey its message, which makes for thrilling viewing, because the small-scale comedy that ensues is not only entertaining but also allows for the clever concealment of deeper meanings that make for an active experience. The juxtaposition at the core of the film is harrowing, as is the downbeat way in which Sembène shows the plight of the poor, who often have to rely on the kindness of strangers to make even the most paltry of a living. Its a poignant snapshot of life in the early days of postcolonial Africa – the country may be in flux, and certainly is relishing in its newfound independence, which it hopes will help bring on a new form of modernity. Yet underlying these moments of progress are the traditions and customs that are so deeply embedded within the society, they’re almost inescapable. Sembène’s anger is channelled into this fascinating film that may have overt comedic overtones, but also possesses a potent rage that pulsates consistently throughout. Its a brilliant work of African fiction that’s grounded in a harsh reality, and while this may not be a film that can be appreciated widely, its importance and relevance is undeniable, and the impact it made, however small, remains and proves how Sembène made something in Xala far bigger and more meaningful than just what we witness, with our own thoughts being pivotal to understanding the social and cultural relevance of a film such as this.