I met with Musa, a migrant from the Gambia, in Italy last summer.
A forward to Musa’s Story,
The journey from Africa to Europe is the most dangerous migrant undertaking in the world. The path is marred by inhumane conditions, extreme weather, malicious people and even war. Last year close to 4,000 people died trying to cross the Mediterranean sea into Europe. And that doesn’t even count those that die in the jungles and deserts of Africa. Many are unaware of the risks of the journey and head out without much of a plan. Some are fleeing abuse, persecution, or loss. And some are simply looking for a better future.
In Italy, I was introduced to many young migrants who had taken the same route; from Mali, through Niger, to Libya, and across the Mediterranean sea on an inflatable raft. Everyone I talked to was fortunate enough to survive the crossing and lucky enough to be allowed at least a temporary stay in Italy. Each seeking something different, like Adesuwa who ran from home because of family abuses or Hadjer who took her young kids across the sea in the middle of the night landing on the shores of Sardinia. And Musa who decided to chase a dream.
Musa is a great representation of the spirit of a migrant. I’m an American and I was raised to believe in the American dream. But to me it is more than just the American dream, it’s really a human dream. Something that everyone has, all over the world. Musa’s story is about loss, fear, and hope. Musa will tell you himself, “I am a dream chaser”. He was so inspiring, I ended up spending the day with him at his temporary home in Portoscuso, Sardinia along with 10 or so other boys from all over West Africa. Everyone there had taken one version or another of the journey through Africa to make it to Italy. Everyone there had their own reasons for leaving home. Everyone there had seen things no-one should ever see. And they all admired Musa’s drive and spirit. When you speak to Musa, you can see the depth of his experiences in his eyes. The love for his mother “I wanted to make her a queen”, the extent of his pain, and the wisdom he has gained through it all. But not until you get him out onto the football field, do you see the light in his eyes shine. This is where he truly comes to life. “I’ve always wanted to be a footballer, that is what I want”. He is so comfortable and so confident on the field, you might mistake it for arrogance. “My team always wins”, he said to me just before kicking a goal from across the field. And it’s there that you connect with him most. It juxtaposes the terribleness of his journey and to me that’s what makes him human, that’s what connects you most to Musa. That’s empathy. And that’s the power of storytelling.
As a filmmaker, my goal is to bring you in close to the subject. Put you in their shoes. Have you walk the path they walk. And my goal with Musa was no different. When I’m interviewing him, I’m simply there to have an ear to listen and a voice to inquire. And my hope for his story, as with all, is to connect you closer to the individual. To me, there can be no great change, no progress, in the unification of humans, without empathy. Furthermore, without an emotional understanding of the lives of another person, how can we hope to care for them? When you make a connection with Musa you’re making a connection with all the migrants that have made, or attempted to make this journey. Reading about the death rates in the news is one thing, but knowing someone, as I hope you know Musa after watching the film, is something completely different. The empathy created through sharing a story, however small, is the kind of thing that can change the world for so many.