By Farayi Mungoshi

THE Minister of Information, Media and Broadcasting Services, Christopher Mushowe, earlier this year, at a consultative meeting with independent film content producers in Masvingo, reflected on the need and importance for us as Zimbabweans to tell our own story, in our own language, describing it as a way of branding ourselves as a nation, as a people and as a country.
I know most of us have heard this story before.
Some look aside and say let’s see if it will take off.
They stand aside and watch, anticipating failure.
Meanwhile, others are gearing up to take their place in the future of television in Zimbabwe.
Some have submitted lots of content and are hopeful.
The need to tell our own Zimbabwean story has sparked much talk and arguments between people of different age groups across the nation.
Just the other day there was a comment on facebook that got me thinking.
The person was arguing that radios play more Western content and this is all they know since it is what they have been exposed to.
She complained that they are being asked for originality in their content, Zimbo stuff which, according to her, is not easy as her originality has become the Western stuff she has been exposed to.
I found this sadly eye-opening to think that indeed, there are people in this country who have drifted slowly away from who they are because of what they are being fed through the media.
However, another person then commented that Professor Jonathan Moyo was right when he initiated the 100 percent local content on radio and television years back.
Genres like urban grooves were birthed from this move and now we have Zim-Dancehall, which is giving sungura music a run for its money, albeit all Zimbabwean, but still with a foreign touch.
In other words, can we label Zim-Dancehall or urban grooves as Zimbabwean?
When it comes to film, approximately over 90 percent of the films ever produced here were in English, with American accents flying all over the place in some – can we label that Zimbabwean?
What is originality?
Is it in the story?
I recall some Danish filmmakers asking why Neria was produced in English, arguing that had it been done in the mother tongue, it would have been even more effective.
I guess they couldn’t get round the idea of an African woman, in an African setting, sitting on a rocky outcrop and crying in English.
It just doesn’t feel right.
This is why I once again commend NAMA for awarding Nakai Tsuro a film award.
In her speech, she said she would continue producing films in Shona since this was her first Shona film and it won an award.
As a director, I have found that Zimbabwean actors are more natural acting in Shona than in English.
We can always put subtitles afterwards.
I would also like to believe that after we have argued about all these things, the main issue that still remains is what story are you telling despite the instruments, tune, camera, or even language you have used (contradictory as it may sound).
The main aim for story-telling is to communicate in the best possible way to your audience.
Many years after you have produced your film or dropped your record, will you be able to show it to your grandchildren?
Will your grandson or great-granddaughter one day pick up your film or song and learn about our ways, culture and being Zimbabwean?
Will it inspire them to speak positively about Zimbabwe?
Recently I met a cousin of a friend, visiting from the Diaspora, who openly confessed to me that when asked where she is from, she lies she is from South Africa.
I asked her why.
“It is embarrassing, those people in Australia ask too many questions and some even ridicule you,” she said.
I just nodded, but I could clearly see she was not well-informed about who she is.
However, there are also those in the Diaspora who openly reveal they are Zimbabwean and are proud of the fact.
The difference between these Zimbabweans is that one knows who he is and the other doesn’t.
Often you find the one who doesn’t know about how we got to this stage as a nation, what wars had to be fought, and are still being fought, is the one who is embarrassed to say Zimbabwean because he/she believes in everything Western more than what his/her own are saying.
They lack a sense of belonging because they never heard that one story that makes them love themselves more.
That is where film and television come in.
Joyce Jenje-Makwenda’s description of film as a modern way of story-telling, likening it to the story-telling in olden times (pasichigare/emandulo) last week in The Herald drove the point home for me.
It reflects the fact that storytelling has always been a part of us long before Hollywood or Bollywood.
It should come as no surprise that just by sheer observation, it is clear that Zimbabweans now know more about Nigerian movies compared to the Hollywood productions, especially in the high density suburbs and rural areas.
The reason is simple.
We are African and we like an African story.
We can identify more with these stories being African than the Hollywood ones.
Some people may not like Nigerian movies, but it still does not defeat the fact that everybody else is watching them despite the poor quality on some of them.
It is an identity thing, Africans are drawn to African stories telling that Tsuro naGudo story your grandmother told you, whose lessons are embedded in our very own culture without external influence albeit using Western/Eastern devices to tell the story.
I believe Zimbabwean film, for as long as it remains Zimbabwean, can also go places like what the Nigerians and Indians have done.
Since we also have a history of producing quality work, people all over the world will not have problems watching our movies.
The story must be told to preserve our culture and identity lest we mislead our own children into thinking they are Americans or Europeans.