Museum film project gives voice to children of Muslim refugees

The boy, whose mother is from Sudan, speaks shyly into the camera: "We have feelings like you do, and we're not too far away from your color."

The boy's words, part of a simple film about a children's arts program, seem particularly poignant in light of the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11.

The Children's Museum at Seattle Center wanted to make a film about its arts and humanities program serving underprivileged kids. The documentary would be fun for the kids and a good device to raise money. With recent events, it has become an empathetic reminder of the experiences of refugee families living in the U.S., including East African immigrants who are Muslim.

The 7-minute film features kids ages 5 to 14 whose families came to this country seeking refuge from their war-torn homelands.

"I don't know if I've been able to process all of this completely," says Seth Sexton, 23, one of the film's creators. "But I do know that the timing of this film is really important."

It debuts Wednesday at the museum, on the first level of the Center House, and will run on a continuous loop as part of an exhibit featuring the children's art.

Since Sept. 11, children in the art classes have been thinking about more than butterflies, flowers and other things they draw.

"I wish to be in a country with no fighting," 12-year-old Yusef Beshir said last week, one day after the terrorist attacks. He was attending a class at Rainier Vista, the other Southeast Seattle housing project where the program is housed.

"I want to go to college and make the world different," he added.

Beshir, an Oromo, emigrated from Ethiopia in December 1999. The Oromos, the country's largest ethnic group, say they are being persecuted in Ethiopia. He said he witnessed people being killed. He demonstrated how the slayings took place by positioning his thumb and forefinger into the shape of a gun and pointing.

"Exactly like this," said Beshir, who is mastering English. "I don't want people to be killed in my eye. I don't want it. America cannot be like this."

The filming of the children, and the interviews with their parents and relatives, took place before the Sept. 11 attacks. Filmmaker Alicia Berger has employed a montage style of layering sound and image, sometimes in jarring juxtaposition.

The film is intended for an audience of children and adults so the images are gentle, even if some of the messages are blunt. As a parent describes the starvation in refugee camps in Thailand, the gleeful young art students are seen mugging for the camera. At another point in the film, the voice of Beshir's aunt is heard: "When we speak our language, they kill us. We want the world to know."

At Rainier Vista last week, several of the Muslim children, most of whom were born in the U.S., expressed fear that other Americans would blame the terrorist attacks on them because of their religion. Hawa Ali, 9, said one friend's mother advised her not to wear traditional Muslim dress in public because it could make her a target.

"If people think Muslim people did the damage in New York City, then I'm scared that they'll treat me different," said Ali, who wants to be a teacher.

Her friend, 10-year-old Rumana Jilo, said she wanted people to know that "I'm a Muslim and I'm really mad at the terrorists, too."

Sexton is struck by how he has learned so much from the kids he is assigned to teach. One child from Morocco talked candidly about oppressive life in his country but then told Sexton he didn't want his comments on film, fearing retribution. Sexton said a 10-year-old student put last week's terrorist attacks in perspective for him when he said words to the effect: This stuff happens all the time. It just never before has happened to you.

Her film done, Berger can't get certain images out of her mind, like the 12-year-old Oromo who insisted that he be allowed to relate the address of a Web site where people could learn more about the struggle of his peoples.

"It's so sad that these kids don't have their innocence anymore," she said. "I sit here and wonder if they are afraid right now. It bothers me that they are living in this country and (because they are identified as Muslim) they have to fear for their lives."

Stuart Eskenazi can be reached at 206-464-2293 or seskenazi@seattletimes.com.