Story highlights
Photographs show African women wearing traditional clothes
The series is the work of photographer Joana Choumali
"Being a modern African woman is a complex position," she says. "The continent redefines itself so fast."
Photographer Joana Choumali found that when her grandmother passed away in 2001, much of the woman’s story went with her.
Choumali, who is half Ivorian, half Spanish-Equatorial-Guinean, used to visit her grandmother in Abengourou, Ivory Coast during the holidays. However, a language barrier prevented conversation, and her grandmother struggled to pass on her experiences as a woman of the Akan people.
“I realized that even if I knew about her life, I didn’t know much about her inner thoughts,” the photographer explains. “All these unanswered questions led me to take portraits of other women in a similar situation.”
Her series “Resilients” captures women who are told they aren’t “real Africans,” says Choumali. She focused on the generation of women growing up in cities or out of their country of origin, picking up international influences along the way.
“African societies mutate. Being a modern African woman is a complex position,” she admits. “The continent redefines itself so fast.”
Choumali found that when she introduced traditional clothing and jewelery into her portraits, her subjects felt more comfortable exploring their own heritage.
‘An almost religious moment’
Posing were women from a variety of ethnic backgrounds from all across the continent: among them Baoule, Fon, Yoruba, Fulani and Malinke.
“Most of the models came to the studio with their mother, friends and/or sisters,” says Choumali. The process was collaborative, with the women talking about the look they wanted. Some clothes would come from the family home, others were borrowed.
“(It was) like a ritual, an almost religious moment,” she recalls. “I was impressed to see how the attitude, gestures and postures of the women would change after they were dressed in traditional clothing.”
“The jewelry and rich fabrics would make them feel stronger, elegant (and) royal. Many of them talked about their mother, or grandmother, remembering and sharing stories about their family. They also spoke about the personal challenges – family issues, professional challenges, the way they perceived themselves. These unexpected deep conversations had a positive impact on each of us.”
"This issue of immigration in Algeria is pretty much never talked about. I hope that someday people will talk about it as a real issue and social problem in Algeria," he adds.
"We live in the same neighborhood, and we see them every day, but don't have a real relationship with them." Many of his subjects, he adds, were resistant when he first proposed the project to them.
"It wasn't easy for them to let me into their lives in Algeria. But I was persistent, and I came to be friends with some of them. But even with this friendship, I couldn't go all the way into their world," he adds.
"To take the picture, I would have the person stay in the scene for a bit. Then he would leave the scene while the photo was still being taken, so you can see what was there after him. The time lapse was precisely chosen to leave just a trace of him in the picture," he explains.
"I would just walk with them, and whenever I saw something I liked, I'd say to them 'n djoudjou,'" he says, referring to the Cameroon word for ghost.
"I approached each shoot like a game. Every time I said 'n djoudjou,' they had to stop to take the picture. It was a way to be pleasant with them and to play around."
"Some of these people came to Algeria 10 years ago but they still don't have a steady situation or stable life. Why are these people still outsiders even 10 years after coming to Algeria? It's a question I really want people in Algeria to answer."
"Today they're here, but tomorrow they may not be. These people are even scared to have children in Algeria; they worry about how they can live with children if they don't even have papers. How will they get (their kids) to school and get health insurance?"
"This is not the kind of help these immigrants need the most," he says.
"I want to talk about how people in Algeria don't take the time to talk about immigrants.. Society doesn't care about these people," he says.
"They can't just take a plane. You have to go by boat and through the desert of Algeria," he notes.
"I haven't been approached by anyone in Algeria yet to exhibit this work. But more than anyone, I want Algerians to see these photos," he says.
"I want to keep working on the same subject, because for me this is not enough. I haven't done enough for this project yet. I want to keep talking about real matters that affect our society," he says.
Choumali drew inspiration from the teachings of her own heritage. The Akan word and symbol “Sankofa” means “It is not taboo to fetch what is at risk of being left behind,” she explains.
“The Akans believe that there is much movement and new learning as time passes, but as this forward march proceeds, the knowledge of the past must never be forgotten. I wanted to illustrate the fact that there is an indissoluble bond that associates us with the previous generations.”
“By knowing who we are, where we come from, by understanding the past, we can prepare a better future.”