The Bedouin land that turned into concrete
Photo: Concrete Land. Dir: Asmahan Bkerat. Arabic with English subtitles
Daniel Nelson
A Bedouin shepherd caresses a flower and sings to his sheep. It’s a rural idyll. But as he hobbles back to his home the field is behind him and a town veers into view.
Concrete Land is about his family’s life-changing choices between field and town, permanence and mobility, tradition and change.
There’s joy and comfort in their home on the outskirts of Amman, Jordan. A magical gallery of colourful objects hang from the roof of their tent. The warm companionship of a mother and her pet sheep, Badya (“Your eyes shine like Spring, Badya”, she croons). Kids giggling at their father’s soft toy show. A cake with candles and a family “Happy birthday” sing-song. Fresh air and trees.
But downsides and discontents are encroaching. Dad Awan’s construction company boss hasn’t paid him for a while. The oldest daughter, Eman, is barred from wearing make-up by shepherding grandad, who sticks to the old ways; tears flow, she longs for a room of her own. Differing attitudes between father and son. And, most threateningly, a developer who is about to turn the land on which they live into a massive housing scheme. A tractor appears and starts destroying the trees.
The noose tightens further when they are told by the local authority to get rid of their animals — a catastrophic blow for grandad. A neighbour in a smart brick house says he can’t stand them any longer: they must move.
They are on a list for re-housing but have been waiting five years. Even if by some miracle they secured a home, grandad insists he wouldn’t go with them: “I need my freedom.”
It’s crisis point.
There’s more drama, a death, a birth, an attack on their tent. But the die is cast.
It’s a sad, touching film, an Afro-Palestinian-Bedouin soap opera, but real.
Director Asmahan Bkerat has said: “Concrete Land echoes the struggle of the Najar family, who have survived exile, only to be displaced again and again, until the point of erasure. My passion for storytelling is deeply tied to telling stories of my people. Their erasure is my erasure. I wasn’t a filmmaker before meeting the Najars. This film was born out of the threat they faced, the brutality and destruction of the land, a threat that compelled me to pick up a camera, to document what was left of it and them. I believed their beauty was too precious to be lost, their knowledge too vital to be erased. Through this film, I hope to honor their stories, to preserve their existence, the love of the land and the people who belong to it can never be extinguished.”
Concrete Land will be screened at the London International Film Festival on 8 October at 8.55pm and 10 October at 1:50pm at the British Film Institute, Southbank Centre, Belvedere Road SE1 8XT