Makala means 'charcoal' in Swahili. This film won the critics' prize at Cannes. (A foreign film, for once, that's not just on in London. Dublin and Manchester, too, that's almost general release!) I nearly cried off this evening as I was swamped with work but I'm so glad that I just got up from my desk and walked out the door. (Sshh. Don't tell on me.)
It's a documentary but it's almost like a road movie. It follows a Congolese charcoal maker from the opening scene where we see him felling an enormous tree until he sells his load of charcoal at market. We see him sketching plans for his dream house, three rooms roofed with metal sheets - if only he can manage to save enough to buy 15 metal sheets. And then he wants to plant fruit trees, oranges and apples; he has been saving orange pips. You see his wife grilling a rat for the family meal.
But mostly the film is on the road as he pushes his bicycle, heavily laden with sacks of charcoal, on a dusty road, 30 miles to the market in town. You feel every backbreaking shove and push. Your heart is in your mouth for him as lorries whizz past him in the night; his life seems so precarious, and what will happen to his family if he suffers an accident? And then as he nears the town, you see all the others pushing similar loads. He makes this journey once a month. He is one of many.
There's no voiceover or commentary. But the director of the film was there tonight to answer questions. And reassure us that the young man has been able to build his house with the metal roof. I hope his orange trees flourish. There's a review here and a trailer here.