Tomorrow, the Sun Will Shine Brightly
Bunga Siagian & Yuki Aditya
Seventy years after the Asian-African Conference (1955), which gave birth to the project of the Third World—a collective effort to shape a new world grounded in anti-colonial and anti-imperialist solidarity across continents—it is strange how limited our memory and knowledge of Africa remain.
What we know instead is the image of Africa as portrayed by Western media—an image that hijacks the very notion of the Third World itself. Africa is depicted as a continent of poor and developing nations, a meaning far removed from what the newly independent countries of Asia and Africa envisioned decades ago, when they were determined to forge political, economic, and cultural paths free from colonial structures—in other words, the spirit of decolonization.
Selecting the Sahel region of Africa as this year’s focus country is, therefore, a gesture of recognition—a call to rearticulate and share knowledge about Africa in general, and the Sahel in particular.
The first step is to dismantle the prevailing gaze toward Africa by reframing our understanding of the “Third World.” Poverty and economic disparity in the Sahel are not natural conditions, but rather the result of a long history of exploitation—colonialism, neo-colonialism, and imperialism—that continues to this day. The struggles to resist, to build, and to articulate critical knowledge—to organize and to move—are all part of the enduring history of African societies confronting oppression. This spirit has been passed from generation to generation.
One contemporary manifestation of this is the formation of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) in 2023—an alliance between Niger, Burkina Faso, and Mali that seeks to reclaim sovereignty through what they call the Sahel Revolution. Their programs include food independence, the unification of Sahelian armed forces to combat terrorism, and political education for the youth. The leaders of the Sahel Alliance represent a new generation who rose to power through popular coups, backed by grassroots movements long suffocated by exploitation and yearning for social and political change. It may be too soon to judge the success of this movement, yet it undeniably brings new hope to the Global South, especially amid the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people by colonial powers.
Thus, our curatorial framework for reading the Sahel rests on two key concepts that define its people: resistance and agency. These same principles also define the history of African cinema since its birth in the 1960s. Led by filmmakers who were also public intellectuals aware of cinema’s potential in the process of decolonization, African cinema became a site of critical reflection on colonialism and its lasting socio-economic impact. Its themes range from anti-colonial struggle, migration, and postcolonial corruption to international donor politics and existential displacement.
The films we have selected for Madani begin from the decline of the Third World project in the late 1980s—marked by the rise of global economic aid—up to the present. This period allows us to contrast the socio-political landscape during and after the life of that project, tracing the continuous struggles of African and Sahelian societies across generations. Despite being made in different decades, these films reveal parallel concerns and collective responses—resistance as an inheritance of spirit. Through them, we see how cinema participates in shaping critical consciousness and public education.
Equally important to our curation is the diversity of cinematic languages employed by these films—forms of resistance against the homogenizing language of the global film industry.
Among them, Bamako (2006), directed by Abderrahmane Sissako, stands out as a key work embodying our framework. The film exposes the corruption of neo-colonial policies adopted by Senegal’s postcolonial government, which eroded national sovereignty and deepened inequality. In a powerful gesture of cinematic performativity, Bamako stages a public trial in a poor neighborhood—where ordinary citizens act as judges—to indict international financial institutions that have entrapped African nations in cycles of unpayable debt.
Our focus extends beyond cinematic representation to the filmmakers’ concrete efforts to build a locally rooted film culture, free from dependence on foreign donors and markets. In this regard, we look to Nollywood, Nigeria’s homegrown film industry that emerged from the digital revolution. Nollywood arose out of necessity—circumventing reliance on international funding, distribution obstacles, and strict state control of television. We feature the work of Tunde Kelani, a pioneering figure of Nollywood, known for his theory of the “conscience camera.” His acclaimed film Saworoide (1999), shot in a local language, exemplifies how small-scale video industries can serve as vehicles of political education.
To understand the contemporary condition of the Sahel today, we turn to Borders/Frontières (2017) by Burkinabe director Appoline Traoré, a travelogue that spans nearly the entire Sahelian landscape. The film lays bare the ongoing legacies of colonialism and imperialism—from economic inequality to border tensions rooted in the Berlin Conference of 1884. Journeying from Senegal to Lagos, Nigeria, the film centers on women—those most vulnerable in the act of crossing. Through their encounters, friendships, and acts of care and resilience, we witness resistance to corruption, patriarchy, systemic injustice, and even sexual violence.
Our most recent inclusion is Dani Kouyaté’s The Dance of Scorpions (2025), a bold adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Set in the Sahel, the film explores the region’s persistent theme of power struggle and stands as a major cinematic achievement, having won the top prize at FESPACO (Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougou). This noir adaptation reveals African cinema’s capacity to localize and reinterpret a canonical Western text. There is something provocative in the fact that to speak about endless ambition and imperial desire, an African filmmaker must draw from one of the world’s imperial centers—perhaps suggesting that the expansionist urge for domination has always originated elsewhere.
For us, giving space to the Sahel at this year’s Madani International Film Festival is profoundly meaningful. We extend our gratitude to the festival for making this possible. In a time of genocide, colonial violence, and imperial arrogance, it is essential for those of us long dwelling in the darkness of the Global South to learn from one another and to nurture solidarity among fellow southerners.
Ultimately, solidarity and collectivity must not remain ideals—they must be practiced.
This screening program is one such practice.
May tomorrow, the sunshine bright.