Projection of the documentary Bidasoa 2018-2023

Where: Martutene prison, Donostia

When: Friday, 22 December, 16:00h

Available as a network: Perfect on the platform

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It's Christmas. Friday after lunch. Let us go through the long halls of Martutene prison. There are few people, as most prisoners are standing. In the center of the building, in the heart of the panoptic architecture, two guards, in the glass cage, taking care of the ground floor and the first. The words "The jailer is one more prisoner" (the jailer is one more prisoner) come to my head when we go up next to him. We've come to the projections room at the end of the prison library. Outside it is cold, inside with heating not so much. About 30 inmates will create a warm atmosphere with the full room. A dozen Basque political prisoners and all other social prisoners.

Before the screening of the documentary Bidasoa 2018-2023 by Fermín Muguruza, but the usual technical incidents: today the speakers do not work (Martutene and the speakers, what ironic). Several prisoners try to help them with the radio cassettes in their cells. After many attempts, this is a prison that will have to be heard from the projector speaker located on the roof in the center of the room. Yeah, before you throw it out, the device is very wrong and you have to put it right. After standing on a chair and playing enthusiastically with a scale, Joanes manages the panorama with mastery. They've turned off some Fermín words and presentation lights.

Petti's song strongly kicks off the movie: “After every war, someone has to clean it, they won’t fix things by themselves...” Then, for an hour, these prisoners who cannot leave Martutene will travel around the Bidasoa River. The silence is total, until the song Haize Eza de Du begins, in which several prisoners have enjoyed singing quietly.

Set by spectacular images recorded with drone in the vicinity of the Bidasoa River and by a nice soundtrack – for me the biggest discovery was the version of the song Lo de Joxe Ripiau, made by Locals Katanga Dub – the film is a very orderly work to denounce migration policies and humanize these nine victims of these racist policies.

These are the two main ideas: firstly, the Bidasoa River has not killed anyone; people are killed by immigration policies. Muguruza has treated this from different angles: The memory of the peoples who have crossed the Bidasoa, the racist policy of the French Government that has closed the border, the work of the Irun Reception Network, the testimony of the photojournalist Gari Garaialde that he is documenting the migration processes, our ignorance of Africa and the racism suffered by the descendants of the migrants here born, the police saturation that moves from Hendaia to Ona.

The second central idea, as I say, those who have died are not numbers. They cannot be. The names were family names and people with dreams. If we become numbers, we have done so, we can swallow anything, as we also see in Palestine. Nine stories reconstructed by animation, one by one, among the aforementioned chapters, put the spectator at his extreme travels from Africa to Europe. We will briefly put ourselves on their skin and empathize with what migrants have to bear, to end up dead between Gipuzkoa and Lapurdi. It is noted that Muguruza wanted to highlight this point and the film is aimed at nine people who have died in our country in the last five years: Tessfit Temzide (21 years, Eritrea), Yaya Karamoko (28 years, Bolikosta), Abdoulaye Kolibaly (18 years, Guinea), Mohamed Kemal (21 years, Algeria), Fayçal Hamadouche (23 years, Aljeria, Burruche, 40 years, Burruachi, Bachi

In the notebook I will point out the names and surnames of these people and the ideas that the interviewees develop in the documentary: "Let's not hide the reality: they jump to the river because they can't pass like me on the bridge on foot", "they hunt migrants and this hits their personal resistance, people get very bad", "we don't have to put the barriers to people, but to the multinationals", "the police never ends", "The blacks have told your people, this is my country responds."

And one day, in a warm atmosphere, the movie's over, and skipping the voice of the front line, a punk of about 50 years firmly breaks the silence. “Very good Fermin, very good!” People have started laughing, as I said, this is!

Later, due to the uniqueness of the place, it has been an interesting conversation. They have talked about racism, borders, police, extreme right..., above all, social prisoners – in the meantime a Basque prisoner has been excused by saying ‘forgive me, bisé a bis, and there is no more importance than that’, and he has been delighted. Prisoners who know the police action well report extravagant anecdotes and sad experiences. One, for example, says that in 2021 she met the person who survived the sad event of the three people who died trapped by the Ziburu train, which was paralyzed, while she was trying to cross the border. Another says that in the place of these people, for those who cross the Mediterranean or go by boat to the Canary Islands, that river is nothing... and they do. The talk has been living in a good environment. Completed one hour. People are happy. They say hello and the prisoners leave the room slowly.

It's 18:30. In the hallways, right now, there are a lot of people. In the large adjoining room, amidst a cloud of cigarette smoke, dozens of prisoners play in sailboats and craps. Next to them are Telefónica's landlines like booths stuck to the wall. There's queue to talk, everyone appreciates the fresh air from the outside. The prisoners have taken a little prison tour of Martutene, and we've finally left, closing behind six metal gates. Fermin and Jone Unanua rush to Pasai Donibane's Juanba Berasategi room. It will be your last presentation.

When we leave jail, the usual thought: we go and the prisoners stay inside. Who knows how long. At least we've had a nice afternoon, and that's not much in that concrete building. Although Pio Baroja said so by the Republic of Bidasoa, we must continue to work towards a republic without flies, without friars or carabineros.

Watch trailer:

Next steps:

17 January: Kanbo, film L'Aiglon

18 January Pamplona, Palacio del Condestable

19 January: Ultzama, library

19 January: Centro Cultural Errota, Abadiño

20 and 21 January: Leitza, Herri Aretoa

21 January: Baztan, in the heart of Dámaso Zabascene de Irurita

27 January: Lezo, Auditorium Gezala

2 February: Vic, Espai ETC

2 February: Legazpi, Sala Latxartegi

25 February: Getaria School Room