Notes from My Memoirs: On My Attempts at Cinema

1

I have long hesitated to share excerpts from my diary in this blog, perhaps because I feared confronting the memories that shaped my identity as a filmmaker in an environment that sees cinema only as a luxury or a waste of time. The truth I discovered early on is that cinema in our country is not a luxury; for me, it is an urgent human necessity, a mirror in which we recognize both our flaws and our beauty, and the most powerful tool to raise awareness about people’s rights.

For me, entering the world of cinema was not merely a career choice; it was an early confrontation with a social system that reveres medical and engineering schools. I remember clearly that critical moment when I was trying to choose my university major. As soon as word spread about my desire to study cinema, specifically directing and screenwriting, my family was alarmed. Some relatives even came to our house specifically to try to stop me, as if I were about to ruin my future with my own hands. Yet, despite the pressure, I remember one response from my father, may God have mercy on him, that settled everything and silenced everyone present. He said with confident authority: “I will not interfere in your choice of study, but I will hold you accountable only if you fail.” His words gave me the right and the support to pursue my passion without fear of others’ reactions and challenged me to prove to everyone that my choice was not reckless.

2

My true perspective on films did not develop in lecture halls or cinemas, which were scarcely available, but behind the counter of a film shop on Gamal Abdel Nasser Street in Tripoli. There, in 2010, I was granted an invaluable opportunity: free access to hundreds of titles. Amid that passion, my father strengthened my pursuit with an unforgettable gesture; he secretly bought me my first professional camera without my mother knowing, becoming the first tool of my dream and the driving force behind my academic study of cinema.

I entered the Advanced Institute of Art Techniques in Tripoli with grand dreams and a desire to learn everything about the industry, only to face weak curricula that were out of touch with the field’s developments, overly focused on outdated theoretical material. Yet there were luminous moments; I recall immersing myself in Italian Neorealism, captivated by its honesty, and the enchanting worlds of director Federico Fellini. Despite the overall weak teaching, I cannot forget my “Viewing and Analysis” professor. Though modest in teaching skills, his absolute love for Alfred Hitchcock’s cinema was my sole benefit. He would simply turn off the lights, screen the films in complete silence, leave the room until the screening ended, and then return to say: “You may leave, class is over,” giving us a natural ability to analyze suspense without formal instruction.

I was fortunate. In the period following the revolution, specifically between 2012 and 2014, I received intensive training with international institutions, most notably the Scottish Documentary Institute. This experience honed my skills before the security situation collapsed during the 2014 Libya conflict, known as Fajr Libya, when opportunities disappeared, and international training ceased entirely, making any pursuit of new horizons for self-development possible only through travel abroad.

The greatest shock came after graduating in 2015, when I confronted a job market that did not recognize the role of “filmmaker.” I had to rely on personal initiative to remain in the field, and because independent filmmaking did not generate income, I spent my years working as a photojournalist for local and international agencies, as an event photographer, and in television programs and channels to ensure a source of livelihood. This work was merely a way to survive professionally until the moment of true transformation arrived.

3

This transformation came during the COVID-19 pandemic, when I was part of a group of filmmakers and activists engaged in voluntary efforts to face the crisis. During our activities, the idea arose to collaborate with an organization to produce awareness films, but we were surprised to discover that at the time there was no nonprofit organization in Libya exclusively devoted to cinema and filmmaking, operating from within the country. From this institutional void and out of our fieldwork, the idea of the Libya Film Institute (LFI) was born in 2021 as an independent initiative to fill that gap. We sought to create a specialized environment that the country lacked, organizing film screenings and workshops, and producing films that reflect our reality, driven by the belief that cinema is the mirror that reflects our identity and makes our voices heard.

Today, despite everything, I find myself at a new chapter. Since moving to the Netherlands two years ago, I have felt as if everything I started has returned to zero. The competition here is far greater, and the challenges entirely different, yet I hope to develop my skills and benefit from the experiences here. My ambition is not merely to remain abroad, but to one day return to Libya carrying more tools and greater professionalism, to create films worthy of our stories and contribute to building collective awareness that refuses marginalization. My sense of responsibility toward my country and toward the initiative we began at LFI is stronger than any distance. May God have mercy on my father; it was because of him that this journey began, and it continues wherever I am.