ASAD An Oscar nominated short film FULL

[Wadani]

Safferz;930643 wrote:

I'll help them out by presenting Asad II:

 

Part 1

 

After walking through the market of his sleepy fishing town with his "catch," Asad visits old man Gacme (he lost his hand in a landmine explosion during the civil war), who reminsces about what Somalia was like before women wore tent-like religious garb and could sunbathe half-naked on the sandy beaches. Since no one in his town has ever seen a cat before (but see lions on a daily basis, and so can relate the strange creature's resemblance to its larger cousin), Asad continues to explain to the impoverished, illiterate villagers about his find as he walks home. The camera cuts to scenes of women peering out beneath their veils, several AK-47s and a rocket launcher, a toddler with a protruding belly, crying while his mother swats flies away from his face, before zooming in on bullet holes in the wall behind them and cutting to the next scene.

 

Hearing yelling and slaps outside of the hut he shares with 10 people, Asad listens at the door and realizes that his father has returned home with a second wife. His mother's battered face shows both physical and emotional distress, but she resigns herself to the fact she has no control as a woman in a deeply patriarchal society. And your useless daughters, his father says, what man will want them if they have not been cut? What will protect their modesty, and prevent them from engaging in shameful behaviours like the infidels? Asad continues to listen as his mother promises she will take the girls to the old woman in the village responsible for circumcisions tomorrow, Faro Dheer. It is only then, she says, that they will be ready for us to arrange their marriages.

 

A friend calls out to Asad to let him know that Al-Shabaab religious extremists are closing in on the town, and that he's received word that they have banned sambuusa, Asad's favourite snack. The small lion wimpers in his arms, as if confirming with the movie watcher's fears that no good can come from Islam. The distant crackling of gunfire can be heard in perfect harmony with the call to prayer.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

LMAO...excellent, just excellent. For a self-proclaimed cultural critic im dismayed that the well crafted satire in ur post was lost on Alpha.

[Alpha Blondy]

Safferz;930751 wrote:

Do you know what satire is?

NO ii bar.

[Safferz]

Alpha Blondy;930773 wrote:

NO ii bar.

Satire is a genre of writing that involves using irony, sarcasm, parody, etc in order to make a critique or ridicule something. What you recognized as negative, offensive and stereotypical is precisely the point -- that's how I felt about the original film, so I am mocking it with a continuation of the story.

[oba hiloowlow]

how the hell could this piece of shid be oscar nominated walahi bilahi this is one of the worst short films i ever seen. And whats up with that '' Muqdisho mey ka yimaaden'' comment in the film bastariin

[Wadani]

Safferz;930778 wrote:

Satire is a genre of writing that involves using irony, sarcasm, parody, etc in order to make a critique or ridicule something. What you recognized as negative, offensive and stereotypical is precisely the point -- that's how I felt about the original film, so I am mocking it with a continuation of the story.

You dont know Alpha yet do u?

[Safferz]

Wadani;930782 wrote:

You dont know Alpha yet do u?

Apparently not. I assumed by his reaction to my story, he really doesn't know what satire is so I thought I'd explain.

 

Well whether he likes it or not, Asad III is coming soon

[Wadani]

Safferz;930783 wrote:

Apparently not. I assumed by his reaction to my story, he really doesn't know what satire is so I thought I'd explain.

 

Well whether he likes it or not, Asad III is coming soon

Keep it coming.

[Maarodi]

Wadani;930408 wrote:

And to Maroodi, imagine we hadn't destroyed our country. I have no doubt in my mind that we'd have a robust and internationally acclaimed movie industry by now.

I know. I think about all the time with everything, but as they say inshallah kheir.

[Nin-Yaaban]

From what I've read about this movie so far, it sounds like a decent film. I'll have to see it if its Oscar worthy.

[Safferz]

PART 2

 

As the family slept, Asad crept out of the hut and sat next to a nearby bush, and reached under it to where he and his friends carefully tucked away their shared copy of Playboy magazine. It was given to them by a teenager from the Reer Dayuusboro clan. It was very difficult for Asad and his friends to understand his strange dialect, and they were unsure of what to make of their customs or the strange images he showed them from his village. Though Asad and his friends could not read, they kept the photos and dreamed of going to this faraway village called Maraykan, where white women walked around wearing nothing at all, unobstructed by veils. He saw how his mother struggled to saddle the camels and herd the goats in her tent-like garb, and he knew how his father beat her and his sisters for showing their wrists. He knew he had to leave this place soon, he knew he had to get to Maraykan, where he heard there was peace, freedom and prosperity. But how?

 

The following morning, Asad goes to a local qat dealer named Indo Cas - who owned a small shop that sold audio tapes, cosmetics, AK47s, anti-aircraft missiles, and of course, qat - who he knew had managed to get some people out of Somalia with his Yemeni connections. Asad tried to find Indo Cas’ hairline as the man pondered over the logistics of taking a young boy across the sea on one of the overcrowded vessels. His yellow teeth with flecks of green glistened when he smiled at the boy and agreed to take his small lion in exchange for a spot on the boat; the lion could, after all, keep him company during his late night, solitary qat chews. A woman with a young child strapped to her back appears behind Asad and begins complaining to Indo Cas for the poor quality qat he sold her, and the baby begins to cry. Indo Cas tells Asad to arrive at the port at midnight - or close to it, since neither of them owned watches or could tell the time if they did - to board the boat bound for Yemen.

 

Asad begins walking through the market in the centre of the town, and overhears a group of older men discussing politics in front of another storefront. The religious extremists have taken over the village adjacent to us, one man said, and they have started to lash women wearing bras in the street. Good, another old man said, I don’t like those things anyway, they are misleading like the devil. They were soon joined by the oldest man in the village, Oday Jajaban, whose laboured gait seemed more inspired than usual, and his henna-orange beard looking even brighter than Asad remembered it. No one is certain exactly how old Oday Jajaban is, but some say he fought in both world wars for the Italians. Others say he is a jinn who has been alive for over 200 years. But what no one disputes is his wealth and good fortune, as the husband of three women from respectable clans, who birthed 30 sons and only two girls, what some in the village consider a miracle from God. But today his old, cracked face excitedly announced his new engagement to his fourth, a young woman who he was sure would produce more sons to carry his name and his wealth. Well tell us her name, the old men exclaimed. Asad couldn’t believe it. It was Hodan, his 13 year old sister.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

[Wadani]

Looking forward to Part 3

[Safferz]

PART 3

 

Asad returned home at sunset to the sounds of ululation emanating from his family hut, as women from the vast, barren landscape convened to sing their praises and congratulate the bride to be. Since it was assumed Oday Jajaban could expire at any moment, the wedding was expedited and scheduled for the following morning. Asad caught a glimpse of Hodan as he rushed to collect and pack up all his worldly possessions - the Playboy, an oversized t-shirt, two pairs of shorts and a pair of dacas - and recognized her solemn expression as that of his mother and every other Somali woman he has seen, the bitter resignation to an inevitable, patriarchal fate. The women danced around her, as she was unable to participate in the festivities herself, her legs still bound together as she healed from her recent circumcision. Asad quickly wrapped up several sambuusa for the journey, perhaps the last this region would ever see of this delicacy, and found his father to tell him of his plans to leave that night. His father bid him well and shook his hand, reminding him of his duties to his father and clan, and the Dahabshiil contact information he would need to send money home.

 

The next scene opens with the camera fixed on the coastline as it disappears further and further into the distance, rocket and mortar fire occasionally lighting up the night sky as the Islamists overtake the town. The camera juxtaposes this intense darkness with the intense darkness of the African faces inside the Yemeni ship. Asad is huddled in a corner of the overfilled vessel, the waves beating heavily against its sides and disturbing the passengers on board, many of whom were backward nomads who had never seen the sea, or a ship for that matter, before embarking on this voyage. Relating it to concepts the Somali mind can comprehend, one nomad described the ship to another as a “great water camel.” A plump, effeminate Arab man named Abu Sisi is assigned to periodically check on the Africans crowded into the belly of the ship, but instead uses the opportunity to make advances on several of the young men and compliment one on his slender neck. Asad hears a group quietly discussing the ship’s crew amongst themselves. These are not normal men, one man said, these must be the Arab traffickers we have heard about. A woman sobs loudly. Asad takes a bite of his sambuusa, cleverly folded into his undergarments, and thinks.