British-Somali teen Muna is desperate to go on the school trip - to have fun with her mates, escape the monotony of her household and, of course, provide the greatest playlist of all time (!!). But her parents aren't so sure. Tragedy strikes when her grandfather dies back in Somalia, and Muna must navigate a confusing mourning period for someone she never really knew - all while still desperately hoping to persuade her mother to change her mind about the trip. As events collide at the wake, Muna reflects on her and her grandfather’s life, discovering there's more that connects the two of them than she ever realised…

Director Biography - Warda Mohamed

The filmmaker and screenwriter began her film career assisting on the 2019 production of Rocks by Sarah Gavron, where she consulted on elements of Somali representation. Her experimental short Sorry My Somali Is Not Very Good screened at BFI Southbank and at the Aesthetica Short Film Festival. She has also worked as a co-director in the theatre. An alumna of the BFI Network @ LFF talent programme, she participated in the writers’ room for the British TV comedy series We Are Lady Parts by Nida Manzoor. Muna was nominated for Best British Short at both the British Independent Film Awards and the London Critics’ Circle Film Awards and won Best Short Film at the British Short Film Awards.

Director's Statement

MUNA is a delicate exploration of grief across cultures - especially the confusion for someone sitting at the fault-line between two worlds, wrestling with dual consciousness.

The experience of mourning as a person of multi-heritage can be confounding. It’s not uncommon to find yourself grieving a family member who lives thousands of miles away in a motherland you’ve never been to, who is significant but also someone you barely know. After conversations with friends, I realised this experience was not singular; it’s shared across diaspora communities. This jarring disconnect in the grieving process. You might find yourself processing a sense of grief that’s not literal, but more the grief of not being able to have known - and this phenomenon of bereavement is one I have yet to see explored in art.

Although the story is about grief, it foregrounds the radical power of ordinary Gen Z dreams within this traditional Muslim household, and works as a moving and mixed-up exploration of how these two elements of significance in Muna’s life - the trip and the death - clash and coincide. Muna can’t quite process this abstract loss - but the trip, the escape it promises, is so vital to her in this confusing moment.

MUNA also shows us a Black teenage girl simply living her life - with all the everyday inconveniences and adolescent struggle this brings. Likewise, we’re presenting a positive representation of an Islamic household. Muna may squabble with her brother, be frustrated by patriarchal and religious expectations, and feel exasperated by her mother’s decisions, but ultimately it’s a loving home. This isn’t a crisis of upbringing but rather cultural expectations getting in the way of what this teenage girl wants to do.

For too long the representation of Somali people in Western cinema has revolved around stereotypes such as pirates, hijackings and suffering immigrants. I want to tell stories which show all the beauty, richness and duality that being British-Somali has to offer.