chronicles the evolution of construction material used in building Palestinian refugee houses in the Talbieh Refugee Camp in Jordan over the past four decades. By retracing the transformations of refugee homes from tents of canvas to buildings of reinforced concrete, the film looks for visible evidence of displacement. BPFF spoke with Palestinian-Jordanian filmmaker Serene Husni about Zinco, her first film, which makes its USA Premiere at this year’s festival. 
BPFF: What inspired you to make this film? SH: As a Palestinian living in Jordan, I’ve often felt that I was standing on the wrong side of the river. I could always see Palestine behind the sea, or beyond the clouds, but I could only witness it as a distant landscape abstracted of occupation, segregation, or defeat. I wanted to explore the issue of internal displacement–and I’m not speaking legally but existentially–experienced by Palestinians, and a refugee camp was an obvious place to start. In a refugee camp, you feel more Palestinian than you do anywhere else; simply by looking around, you can draw on the collective memory of your people. BPFF: Where did you get the idea? SH: The idea was inspired by landscape or war photographer Simon Norfolk. He photographed refugee camps around the world and observed how the construction material subtly changes from the organic to the inorganic. I wanted to put his theory to the test and to explore through construction forms the tension between the material and the immaterial, reality and hope, exile and return. BPFF: What was the main message you hoped to convey? SH: That Palestinian refugees are refugees, no matter how much time has passed or how their houses look. This Palestinian refugee camp may resemble many neighborhoods in Jordan, but that doesn’t change what it is. I wanted to metaphorically deconstruct the camp, to erase its houses and asphalt covered streets, and to take its inhabitants back home. BPFF: How is the material “zinco” a metaphor for the Palestinian condition in general? SH: While zinco, or corrugated tin, immediately conjures up feelings of transition, or impermanence, there is another side to this material. In the film, one of the participants explains how refugees started building rooms using zinco when it was illegal to do so beyond their legally allotted zones. Refugees grow [in number], but the camp remains small; its borders confined. I wanted to acknowledge the strength of refugees who are creating space and reclaiming urban rights denied to them by the system. BPFF: Why did you pick that particular refugee camp for your film? Did you see it as representative of all camps in a universal way, or special in some particular way that was expressive of the message you wanted to convey? SH: I first visited Al Talbieh, or Zizya, as a volunteer videographer for the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA). It looked as if refugee houses were sinking into the ground. This is because layers of cement were poured over the camp’s floors after refugee housing units were already built. This was done to cover the septic tanks, or holes, that once constituted the camp’s sewage system. Walking in the camp’s narrow alleyways, one can easily peek into any of the low windows. There is no privacy in this small camp. In the winter, the rain pours into the houses through the doors. BPFF: What was the greatest challenge you faced in making this film? SH: I haven’t shown this film yet in Zizya nor to most of the people who appear in the film. I’m afraid of facing the banality of humanity, or that of my quests. I don’t want to portray Palestinian refugees as hopeless victims. I don’t think they are.
–Kate Rouhana for BPFF
screens Sunday, October 19, 2014 at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston at 3 pm as part of a thematic slot called Diaspora Blues. Serene Husni will engage in conversation following the film. View full schedule and buy tickets .