3 reasons to watch the documentary “Children treading the boards”

Article by Sophie Gueffier

His name was Denko Sissoko. A young man from another country. His tragic fate shook the daily lives of those who had shared his journey and set their voices free.
A tragic news story forms the backdrop of this vibrant documentary. On January 6, 2017, the young man from Mali threw himself from the eighth floor of a building in Châlons-en-Champagne.
The summer following the tragedy, the other residents of his shelter took part in a theater workshop, guided with kindness by Marie-Pierre, and created a performance drawn from their own testimonies. Powerful, funny, and heartbreaking.

1 – Meeting a youth whose journey never seems to end
“I am not a foreigner because I am a migrant. A migrant is a traveler who goes from one country to another.”
Sekou, Maria, Gaye, Salma, Mamadou, Koroba, Emmanuel, Kevin and the others made it to France, to Châlons-en-Champagne, after unspeakable odysseys. All of them are minors. They arrived alone or accompanied from Mali, Russia, Nigeria, Côte d’Ivoire and other African countries. Each has their own reason for exile, often fleeing a terrifying reality – war, massacres carried out by Boko Haram… What they found here was far from what they had imagined. Their path toward freedom and safety is far from over.
One of them says, in the face of rejection:
“We didn’t come here intending to do anything wrong. We left a situation that was not favorable to us.”
Their disappointment stems from their incomprehension in the face of that rejection.
“I came to look for a better life. I am on the way. I want to be part of society, to integrate.”

2 – Learning to share painful memories
For us in the West, speaking out, unburdening oneself, seems obvious. We are taught that “speaking sets you free.”
These young people carry heavy burdens. Their journeys have been long and filled with obstacles. Yet their cultures have not taught them to speak openly about their pain. Seeing a psychologist can feel like admitting you are mad. So other paths must be found to release their voices. The theater workshop becomes that path.
The young performers must learn to trust one another, and to do so they must get to know each other. To know each other, they must tell their stories. Through their silences, their anger, their held-back sobs – and even their laughter, when Mamadou tells the story of his sheep – they finally meet. Little by little, their fears, exhaustion and hopes take shape. And the play begins to emerge.
“Through theater, you manage to bring things out of yourself, and it feels good.”

3 – Bringing suffering to an end
They all know why they left their countries. Some expected difficulties; others imagined nothing. All faced the worst.
“When you are in Libya, consider yourself already dead. Everyone who has passed through there knows it.”
After surviving the ultimate ordeal of the sea, they hoped for rest, for welcome, for a better life. Yet their ordeal continues. Faced with suspicion, rejection and racism, they struggle to regain balance.
“Here, you die mentally. They gave me a bone test and told me everything I said was a lie. It kills you. More than anything I fled in my country.”
Another adds:
“I have no parents anymore. Here, I’ve lost my life. I am nothing, just as I was nothing back home. I am too tired.”
On stage, one after another, they shout: “I didn’t come here to suffer. Okay?”
Their companion in misfortune, Denko, could no longer bear the suffering.
Marie-Pierre – “the good woman” – Maria, the Russian mother, the volunteers from RESF, La Cimade, La Comète, and the educators chose to stand by these young people, helping them find again a path toward humanity and fraternity.
Through their example, and many others, France is still striving to live up to its motto.