On crossing borders, IDP experience, and the power of documentaries

A conversation with Anuna Bukia

Interview by Zhenia Perutska

First of all I would like to say thank you for the amazing job you did on your film. The things you are talking about really resonate with a lot of Ukrainians. The fact that it’s your personal story, and not just some distant event filmed elsewhere, makes it very powerful. 

Thank you so much; that’s very touching. It makes me really happy that the film is still relevant and is being rewatched by viewers. Maybe it resonates with the audience because people are now facing the experiences depicted in “I Swam Enguri”, although I regret that anyone should have to go through all that. Perhaps more people in our region can relate to it now more than ever before, given that almost everyone has been directly affected by war and suffering.  

Every time I returned to the conflict area, I thought I should check that nine-kilometer border, and there came a time when I felt something had changed. They were closing all the other checkpoints, which meant more isolation and greater control by Russia, as well as a wider disparity between the occupied and unoccupied parts of the country. And It actually happened shortly after I finished filming. So I took my final shots in the area at that time.

At first, I was angry at everyone for ignoring so many ongoing problems related to war, IDPs, and conflict areas, not caring enough about human pain and tragedies, and focusing too much on temporary situations and politicians. We had already reached a time when we could better reflect on our past, on war, on conflict, on our existence, on the quality of our lives, and all we were doing was avoiding those things rather than facing them and raising our voices. The anger I felt was accompanied by shock, misunderstanding, wonder, and other emotions, and with these emotions, I believe I began to move toward making some change. 

My body kept revealing secrets; it appears I had a lot to overcome, despite the fact that I was very fortunate to have a family that accepted and survived the war in the most intelligent way possible. We were integrated into the society in which we began to live, rather than being isolated from it and only having contact with survivors of war. My mom has created an environment full of art and educational activity, and we — me and my brothers — have been very busy with different types of creative work. She tried to keep the lifestyle we had in Sokhumi, and to enrich it with some new things.  

I stayed as author for the entire filming process, capturing the lives of others; and, of course, as a part of the community myself, because we shared the pain and the historical background and cultural legacy. I was an insider turned outsider. Initially, the film was about others. I wasn’t filming myself. I recorded some very important moments of my own experience because I was interested in understanding myself after the filming. But in the end, it was obvious that the film was about me and my family — families like ours — and not just about other people. I needed to accept that, which wasn’t easy.

I also think that the fact that I have no feelings of hatred or contempt for the other side in this conflict has compelled me to remain human, and as far as possible a neutral author.  I feel an immense sense of empathy for other victims of war. I can understand them and I was very clear about it to myself that time too.

After the experience of making your film, seeing the final product, and also talking to other directors now, do you believe that documentary film can influence the actual reality of an armed conflict?

That’s a very good question and something I’m also thinking about right now as a visual researcher. To put it succinctly, the answer is “yes,” and more so than any other form of artistic expression. 

As well as watching and following Russia’s wars in the region for many years, I researched the visuals and stories of 19th- and 20th-century wars. I think the ongoing conflict is very different in many ways. First and foremost, it is, in my opinion, a “live” war. In real time, stories are told continuously from everywhere.  Everyone is streaming something in the form of photos, videos, and other visual media. There are many storytellers covering this war: citizens, photographers, independent artists, filmmakers, Internet personalities, and so on. Of course, there are direct influences as well as direct responses.

But I believe every storyteller faces a variety of difficulties. One of the biggest is to not be nationalistic. Secondly, in my opinion, the boundary between one’s emotional state and objective reality can become blurred when you are living under shelling and have the fear of being killed or, more painfully, losing loved ones. And one more thing: perhaps you are being subjected to mild war propaganda that you need now to survive, but will regret later. There are numerous difficulties to overcome.

To return to your original question, in my opinion, no other kind of visual media could have had the same effect on the audience as this film did. To this day, I have the lingering impression that my story was heard and that my experiences were not in vain. 

Are you still in touch with any of the people you filmed? Do you follow what happened to them? Do you hear from them?

As I see it, we made this film together. 

The connectors [people helping others to cross the border illegally – edit.], for instance, still have pretty warm feelings towards the film. We made a small change in our society and they are happy to be part of it.

The family I filmed are very close friends of mine. 

Even though it’s difficult, it’s crucial to me that they have as much stability as possible. The mother and father come from a generation that had a more or less stable life. Their families had access to education, they always had a lot of interesting people over, and they had many different opportunities. But their children are not able to live that way. They continue to fight for a better way of life.

And I can say the same thing about my family. The psychological effects of the war background have the ability to catch you at any time. It is not enough to simply keep your body alive.

In one of your interviews you mentioned the personal psychological challenges everyone faces during an armed conflict. Of course, as someone working on a documentary, you had yours as well. How specific were you about your personal goals back then? Do you feel you’ve made progress towards them, and  do you feel you have solved any of those personal challenges?

In the beginning, the film was about the women crossing the River Enguri and about the brave people dressed in black I had been seeing on the so-called border and on the Enguri bridge for many years. Those who were either underrepresented in the media or represented in the most humiliating way. My goal was to tell their stories, the unseen and unrecognized stories of the war. I didn’t know that I was creating a film about my family and myself too. I didn’t know how huge the process would be for me personally. During the filming process, personal goals began to emerge, one by one, but I was separating them from the actual process, and I didn’t know that something very important was going on with me. I think it was hidden in a very deep layer of my body and brain, and because I declared myself a “strong person’’ who had overcome the trauma and who was talking and thinking more about other victims of the war, I didn’t know that I still carried it, and I never looked deeply enough into myself to understand it. What I was doing at that time and in previous years was an unstoppable march to the fire and now I see that the filmmaking process was the endpoint. It stopped after the release of the film. I had no idea that all my previous actions and decisions would lead to the creation of the film, and the film would be a part of my self-discovery and healing process. On reflection, I can see how important that moment was in forming my current self. 

I also accepted that one goes through different phases and, in time, I would have new questions and contexts, but few answers. Some social situations may trigger something unknown to me that is stored in my mind. It is still war, and you can be defeated at any time, as very powerful people have been. 

As an IDP, and as a person who not only went through the war but also worked on the topic, how do you feel about your life experience? This question is going to sound naive, but if you could somehow magically get rid of this traumatic part of it would you do it?

I’ve been thinking about this question for a long time and still don’t have an answer. Because you are still carrying this experience, you must face it before you can transform it. I was four and a half at the time and I think it’s easier to process the war when you’re that age; it’s more difficult for adults. I’m not sure. What I discovered is that most people prefer not to confront trauma. They would rather deceive themselves.

I’m not sure when it started, but I had this habit of watching and studying myself as an outsider. And this practice also helped me to be more genuine in my emotions and actions. I felt like I needed the raw material in order to better understand my subconscious.