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Ghost Towns, Surreal Ebola Docs, Hip Hats: It's Africa's Big Photo Show

A scene from the first science-fiction film being made in Kinshasha, capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The movie takes place in the year 3010, a time of terrible heat, health crises and deep poverty. The actors are wearing what's described as "protective eyewear." Courtesy of Collectif Périnium hide caption

toggle caption Courtesy of Collectif Périnium

A scene from the first science-fiction film being made in Kinshasha, capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The movie takes place in the year 3010, a time of terrible heat, health crises and deep poverty. The actors are wearing what's described as "protective eyewear."

Courtesy of Collectif Périnium

All eyes turned to Mali in the aftermath of the November 20 terrorist attack on a Bamako hotel that left more than 20 people dead.

The Malian capital was hoping to attract attention for a much different reason. On October 31, it welcomed the opening of the African Biennale of Photography, "The Bamako Encounters (Recontres de Bamako)." It's the tenth anniversary of the show, originally scheduled for 2013. Due to the country's unstable political situation and violence, it was postponed for a year. And then another.

Wind, sand and fog have eroded the buildings of the diamond mining town at Elisabeth Bay in Namibia, home to some 1,400 people in the 1920s and '30s. Mining came to a halt in 1948. Courtesy of Helga Kohl and Elisabeth Bay hide caption

toggle caption Courtesy of Helga Kohl and Elisabeth Bay

Wind, sand and fog have eroded the buildings of the diamond mining town at Elisabeth Bay in Namibia, home to some 1,400 people in the 1920s and '30s. Mining came to a halt in 1948.

Courtesy of Helga Kohl and Elisabeth Bay

This wait left a void in the continent's creative scene, says artistic director Bisi Silva, a prominent Nigerian curator. When we spoke with her just before the hotel attack, she was thrilled for the opportunity to highlight the work of established and emerging photographers. For the 2015 Biennale, she had selected a combination of documentary and artistic images related to the theme of "Telling Time." Here's our conversation with her, edited for length and clarity.

Why focus on time?

It goes beyond identity and environment. Time is with us every day. I wanted a theme broad enough for people to narrate their own story, and engage with the events that have been happening over the last two to three years — the threat to territory in 2012, the revolution in Burkina Faso, the devastating effects of Ebola and the devastating effects of Boko Haram. It's a way of looking at the past, engaging with the present and imagining the future.

Do any images particularly stand out for you?

An illegal immigrant from sub-Saharan Africa, living in Algeria in the sub-basement of a 21-story building. The photographer calls his series of immigrant photos "Ca va waka" — a blend of French and English that means "It's going to be okay." Nassim Rouchiche/Courtesy of Nassim Rouchiche hide caption

toggle caption Nassim Rouchiche/Courtesy of Nassim Rouchiche

An illegal immigrant from sub-Saharan Africa, living in Algeria in the sub-basement of a 21-story building. The photographer calls his series of immigrant photos "Ca va waka" — a blend of French and English that means "It's going to be okay."

Nassim Rouchiche/Courtesy of Nassim Rouchiche

We received over 800 applications, and as we looked over them, we saw themes reoccurring and there were juxtapositions to be made. Namibian artist Helga Kohl documented a ghost city — Elisabeth Bay, a diamond mining town that has been abandoned. Nigerian artist Nassim Rouchiche photographed migrants from the South Sahara attempting to get to Europe. These individuals get stuck in Algeria for 10 years. They're present, yet invisible. So this abandoned town with nobody present is juxtaposed with this city that is full and vibrant, but with people who are not seen.

Can you tell me more about "Le Temps Ebola," which shows doctors in exaggerated costumes wielding spray bottles?

The photographer brings a surreal touch to the epidemic that struck West Africa in photos titled "Le Temps Ebola." The suits worn by the people portraying health professionals evoke carnival masks and animal masks. The question the photographer ponders: "Are these figures here to protect the people or to harm them?," reflecting mistrust of medical workers in the early stages of the outbreak. Courtesy of Bakary Emmanuel Daou hide caption

toggle caption Courtesy of Bakary Emmanuel Daou

The photographer brings a surreal touch to the epidemic that struck West Africa in photos titled "Le Temps Ebola." The suits worn by the people portraying health professionals evoke carnival masks and animal masks. The question the photographer ponders: "Are these figures here to protect the people or to harm them?," reflecting mistrust of medical workers in the early stages of the outbreak.

Courtesy of Bakary Emmanuel Daou

Malian photographer Bakary Emmanuel Dauo wanted to highlight how deadly this is in a satiric way. There's a futuristic aspect to it — if we don't take care of Ebola today, this is how it could be. It's not the clichéd images of people dying all over the place. Although these events happened, very few people dealt with the crisis. We have images of the revolution in Burkina Faso, and a series focused on after effects in Mali. But aside from that, the focus for the artists was less on documentary and more on fine art.

What can fine art depict that documentary can't capture?

The different genres are represented with the exhibition. But we give a wide range of possibilities. Even the Malians have moved on, so to speak. They're more focused on reconciliation, and getting back some form of normalcy. Malian artist Aboubacar Traore with his "Inch'Allah" series [showing figures with heads made of black spheres], that was making reference to the impact of religion, and the devastating impacts of this false way of presenting religion. It wasn't a documentary presentation, so it allows this aspect of fabulation.

Is the fact that photography is becoming more democratized changing the field?

"Une vie après la mort" pairs Patrice Lumumba, the first elected prime minister of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, who was assassinated in 1961, with Kayembe Kilobo, a professor in the DRC who is a Lumumba disciple. The idea is to depict how an older Lumumba might have looked as "a tranquil elder," according to the catalogue notes. Courtesy of Georges Senga hide caption

toggle caption Courtesy of Georges Senga

"Une vie après la mort" pairs Patrice Lumumba, the first elected prime minister of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, who was assassinated in 1961, with Kayembe Kilobo, a professor in the DRC who is a Lumumba disciple. The idea is to depict how an older Lumumba might have looked as "a tranquil elder," according to the catalogue notes.

Courtesy of Georges Senga

I hope so. Especially in the Malian context, we have a substantial schools program. We're doing workshops with 20-30 schools and with thousands of people under 18, teaching them that you can narrate your own story. You can be a storyteller using images. More Malians will want to take it up in one way or another. Access is incredibly important. People have access now to cheaper cameras. Everyone can empower themselves in that way.

What can kids learn by being exposed to these images?

One in a series of photos depicting the elaborate headgear of Nigeria. Courtesy of J.D. 'Okhai Ojeikere hide caption

toggle caption Courtesy of J.D. 'Okhai Ojeikere

One in a series of photos depicting the elaborate headgear of Nigeria.

Courtesy of J.D. 'Okhai Ojeikere

I think it's about sensitizing them to images. Looking closer, learning different histories. There's interesting work from Georges Senga on Patrice Lumumba [the first democratically elected leader of the Congo]. That's an introduction to an important personality. This forms a more creative, visual form of education.

How has early reaction been?

For me, what was important was local engagement. Sometimes the locals are forgotten. That's not just Bamako — that's every biennale. How do we give locals a sense of ownership? We're working with 10 photo studios across Bamako [to display photos from their archives], and that is going fantastically well. Many of the owners said, 'The Biennale? What's our business with that?' My colleague had to go back to some of them five times, but they are all so happy. It's really activating the local memory.

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