The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.
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The wastelands and crowded streets of an African country are traversed by a woman bearing a wooden cross on her back. She is followed by sellers, beggars and passersby, outraged voices, pity and curious glances. Parallel to her, among a herd of sheep, a lamb toddles its way from the far away mountains into the heart of the city, only to find itself dangling, skinned and headless, on a butcher’s shoulder. In the meantime, under the scorching sun, in a roofless house, a woman is persistently knitting a garment, unwinding a thread coiled over her son’s face. ‘Mother, I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You’ is a symbolic social-political voyage of a society, spiralling between religion, identity and collective memory. “I saw in you what they saw, mother. You deserve your war”.
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Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese
DFI , Mokoari Street
