short movie

This Must Be The Place

April 10, 2025Read, Seeanthropology, cinema, Lea Drescher, migration, old age, research, short movie, visual anthropology

Lea Drescher

From 2017-2022, Lea Drescher worked at the Berlin-based film production company mîtosfilm, which produces and distributes Kurdish stories between the Middle East and Germany. She worked as Production Manager on ‘In The Blind Spot’ by Ayşe Polat that premiered at Berlinale 2023 and received the Bronze Award for Best Film at the German Film Awards 2024 and she coordinated the Kurdish Film Festival Berlin for several editions. In 2024, she completed the M.A. program in Visual Anthropology at the Media University in Berlin with ‘This Must Be The Place’, which is her first medium-length documentary film.

**‘This Must be the Place’ – somewhere between imagination and reality**
an anthropological film on the migration of Kyrgyz nurses to Germany

Missed the connecting flight to Bishkek.
I’m annoyed because there’s no internet at the airport and because the journey seems to take forever. I keep reading Chingiz Aitmatov’s book ‘Childhood in Kyrgyzstan’. It’s actually ridiculous to think of my journey as exhausting in relation to the distance I cover in the time and the comfort with which I travel; compared to the days-long marches through the Kyrgyz mountains of little Aitmatov in the book, when he carried banknotes from village to village. He walked for hours, for days, wading through cold waters. (…)
I am looking forward to seeing the mountains in Kyrgyzstan (…) The journey to Bishkek continues tonight at 8 p.m. and until then I am roaming around Istanbul in the sun, trying not to feel stressed. Suddenly the time in Bishkek seems far too short, the project overbearing, and at the same time irrelevant (…) What for? (apart from achieving a degree). Not knowing what’s ahead is giving me bad thoughts right now. Gözleme is ready.
field note, 05.04.2024, İstanbul, bistro

In spring 2024, I travel from Berlin, where I live, to Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan. I am researching the migration of nursing staff from Kyrgyzstan to Germany for my graduation film in Visual Anthropology. In Kyrgyzstan, I want to get to know participants of the EDUVISO program.

The company EDUVISO has been training young people as nurses for the German labour market in cooperation with medical colleges in Kyrgyzstan since 2019. The nurses are placed with employers in Saxony, eastern Germany. Care for the elderly is a particular focus. EDUVISO promotes participation in its program at high schools throughout the country.

So far, around a dozen nurses have been placed in Dresden and the nearby small town of Pirna. Hundreds more young people have joined the program. However, it is still unclear how many of them will actually migrate. It takes an enormous amount of motivation, perseverance and adaptability to go through all the steps as the process of becoming a fully recognized nursing professional in Germany takes many years and includes various exams. Passing the required German exams in particular proves to be a major challenge for many participants.

With the research in Kyrgyzstan, I want to get a closer look at how the young participants imagine their future, what challenges they face when preparing for migration and what drives them to leave their home country to work as a nurse in Germany. What perceptions of Germany do they have from afar?

A year before I leave for Bishkek, I am looking for a topic for my final project when my grandfather dies. For the first time in my life, I say goodbye to someone who is emotionally close to me. Shortly after, my grandmother moves into a retirement home. She can no longer look after herself and the family is scattered across Germany.

I visit her in her new home on a sunny afternoon. She seems in quite good spirits, shows me the sunflowers on the balcony, smiles about the lively life in the neighboring courtyard and tells me about a nurse from Cameroon who takes care of her. She says that many of the nurses working here come from abroad.

A few months later, my grandmother also dies. It seems that the absence of my grandfather, who she spent most of her life with side by side, weakened her body faster.

That is how I begin to research the topic of migration and care. People come to a new country with hopes and plans for their future and here, they care for people who look back on many years behind, and who are now dependent on the support of others.

Current statistics predict a shortage of up to 690,000 care workers in Germany by 2049. Recruiting nurses from abroad is one of the strategies for closing personnel gaps. According to an analysis by the Federal Employment Agency, the proportion of care workers with a foreign nationality almost doubled between 2017 and 2022.

People from economically weaker countries migrate to work in the care sector in economically stronger countries; this is a worldwide phenomenon of capitalism (global care chains). While overall more men cross borders to find work abroad, labor migration in the care sector is predominantly female.

“By ethnoscape, I mean the landscape of people who constitute the shifting world in which we live […] as more people and groups deal with the reality of having to move or the fantasy of wanting to move.”
Arjun Appadurai, Anthropologist, ‘Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy’, 1990: 7

When I learn that EDUVISO participants are being placed in the cities of Dresden and Pirna, I can’t help but instantly think of the increasing shift to the right. In the eastern German states, formerly the GDR, right-wing parties are getting a particularly large number of votes. However, the phenomenon of the increasing shift to the right is by no means limited to those areas. Right-wing and xenophobic attitudes are on the rise in society and politics across Germany, which was particularly visible in the 2025 federal elections.

Because I am concerned about this, but also want to understand the reasons for the increasing dissatisfaction and the associated shift to the right, I travel to Pirna and get into conversation with elderly people on the streets, in senior residences and with locals in a pub in the city center. I am especially interested in their concerns and wishes with regard to the care situation in Germany and the topic of immigration.

Lea: How do you imagine your life in Pirna?
S: A quiet life, not as hectic and rushed as here.
(…) I hope…I mean as you hear (laughs),
it’s really great in Germany, work is
easier there and makes you happy.

recording 08.04.2024, Bishkek

“The nursing home wasn’t as well equipped in GDR times, but it didn’t matter, people had a decent life there. They could help with the dishes in the kitchen,
do something… Nowadays… Do you know how old people are treated?
I said ‘anything but a nursing home’.”

recording, 02.07.2024, Pirna

In the documentary ‘This Must Be The Place’ (45 min), I interweave the perspective of Kyrgyz nurses preparing for migration, the perspective of senior citizens and pub guests from the small town of Pirna and my own perspective as a documentary filmmaker traveling between places.

To approach the complexity around the topic of migration and care work, I engage with a variety of voices and places that I encounter throughout my research journey. Rather than focusing on a single site, as would be the case with conventional fieldwork, I involve multiple sites of observation and participation. (multi-sited ethnography)

I see the film as a mosaic of impressions that poses questions rather than provides answers.

Lea: Where would you like to live when you’re old?

Student 1: In Kyrgyzstan, of course!

Student 2: I can’t say. Time will tell.

Student 3: (grinning) To be honest, in Germany. In some home for the elderly, so you don’t torture your children and grandchildren.
(some laugh)

recording, 28.04.2024, Bishkek, A2 German course

The EDUVISO participants I speak to have been learning German for several years and some have difficulties passing the exams. At the same time, the German language also plays a crucial role for me in the research process. Without the participants’ knowledge of German, verbal communication between us would not be possible for the time being; I speak neither Russian nor Kyrgyz. But I also realize how our verbal exchange is limited by language barriers. Overall, spending time together beyond interview set ups makes a significant contribution to my learning process. We get to know each other while they show me around places in the city, we visit the family in the village, take a trip to the mountains by car or listen to music.

_{When I arrived at the airport in Bishkek last night, T., S. and Z. (three EDUVISO participants) picked me up by car. We drove through the darkness to my apartment and they turned on various music: Kyrgyz music, English music and also the German pop song ‘Die immer lacht’ (translation: ‘The one who always laughs’ by Kerstin Ott.
field note, 07.04.2025, Bishkek}

Whereas the city of Pirna is also new to me, here, I approach people without getting to know each other before, spontaneously, which is possible through a shared language.

The town is situated in an idyllic location on the Elbe river, surrounded by hills. While my gaze kept falling on the mountains, animals and flowers while filming in Kyrgyzstan, I pay more attention to text and symbolism in Pirna, as I speak the language and am familiar with the socio-political context. Election posters and snippets of conversation from people passing by catch my attention.

I walk with G. and S. (*Kyrgyz nurses who just arrived in Pirna some weeks ago) towards the river. A few young people on bicycles pass by. One of the boys starts to sing “Deutschland den Deutschen, Ausländer raus” (“Foreigners out, Germany for the Germans”) to the beat of “L’amour toujours” by Gigi D’Agostino.

field note, 02.06.2024, Pirna

Over the course of six weeks, Bishkek became more familiar to me, and I kept returning to certain places. Especially where there are animals to watch; pigeons bathe in the almost dried-up riverbed, and one afternoon I observe small puppies and their mother in the bushes next to the water. The babies may have been born just a few days ago. Squirrels hop around people in the park.

Somehow, the presence of the animals makes me feel comfortable and relaxed as I try to engage with a new place and new people.

Later, in Pirna, I meet two of the nurses who have just arrived. After an interview, we watch the geese along the river and they remember the geese in Kyrgyzstan. Various people, old and young, seem to enjoy hanging out here among the cackling animals. For a short moment, it feels like a place can be shared by living beings regardless of language.

G: I have both feelings. Worried and happy and a little sad. Because soon I will fly to Germany and yes, I am afraid to start a new life in Germany. But I hope everything will be fine.

recording 08.04.2024, Bishkek

Lea Drescher
@dr.escha

Stories Without Borders: “Traveling Thoughts”

April 10, 2025Seemigration, refugee rights, right oof travel, sajad bayeqra, short movie

Sajad Bayeqra

^{Turkish and English subtitles are available.}

Sajad couldn’t visit Istanbul again because, even though he had documents proving his refugee status in Germany and a valid travel document, the Turkish Consulate did not issue him a visa. Consequently, no Turkish city appears in this film; however, that only prevented Sajad’s physical visit to Turkey—thoughts know no borders, and visas cannot be issued for them. Sajad decided to complete the series in our magazine by writing an essay on his time in Turkey.
Editor’s Note

After 18 hours of walking at night, I arrived in the city of Iğdır, Turkey. I stayed in Iğdır for only a week, but I saw nothing of the city because I was confined to a small, dark room provided by the smuggler. For the first three days, all I wanted to do was sleep, as ever since I had left Kabul, I had spent my time either walking, running, or traveling in the back of pickup trucks.

On the sixth day, the smuggler put us on a bus. It was a brand-new, luxurious bus with clean seats. After such a long journey, the moment I sat on those soft, clean seats, I fell asleep.

After six hours, the assistant driver woke everyone up and told us to get off the bus and eat at a nearby hotel. Having spent a month and a half surviving on bread and yogurt, I was thrilled by the aroma of kebabs coming from the hotel. After enjoying a delicious meal, we got back on the bus. However, this time, they made me sit in the aisle, saying that my turn for a seat had ended. If I wanted to sit properly again, I had to pay 100 lira—but I had already spent all my money on kebabs.

Around 8 PM, we arrived at Esenler Bus Terminal in Istanbul. For the first time, I saw beautiful women with elegant figures, their legs visible beneath short skirts. I had only ever seen such sights on television before.

In the vast city of Istanbul, I had to find a new smuggler to take me to Europe. After some calls to friends in Kabul, I was put in touch with an uncle of one of them, who was a smuggler. I went to his house, where I was once again placed in a small room with ten other Afghan migrants. But this time, I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t tired anymore. It was as if I had never taken a long journey at all. I just wanted to go outside and explore the beautiful city of Istanbul—a city filled with the sound of seagulls and taxi horns, like Beethoven’s Symphony No. 1, but played in the rhythm of seagulls and honking cabs.

The next day, as I prepared to leave the smuggler’s house to explore the city, one of the Afghan boys warned me, “Don’t make that mistake. If the police catch you, they’ll deport you back to Afghanistan.”

Hearing that, fear gripped me. I thought to myself: “You idiot, you didn’t come here for fun and sightseeing. You came to reach Europe.”

Four days later, I got on another smuggler’s bus, heading toward Izmir, where I planned to take a boat to Europe.

I have been a migrant since I was four years old, always afraid of the police and borders. I never had a stable home or school; I was always on the run.

When I finally got my own small room in Berlin in 2019, I spent two years living in constant fear that I would have to leave—that this place wasn’t really mine.

Sajad Bayeqra

a Quarantine Production: Birth

August 5, 2022Seecreative fiction, short movie, su aközlü

Su Aközlü

As human beings, our consciousness has been in constant change since our birth and has never been fixed. Every living thing in nature experiences conscious and cognitive changes depending on internal and external factors and reacts to the outside world accordingly.

Since we live in society, the concept of mask reflects the effects of our individuality on us and on those around us. It has emerged from our consideration of our effects on things. We may not be able to reflect our feelings all the time and act in line with our wishes.

We wear masks when communicating with the outer world. This consciousness is in constant transformation and renewal with several changes in our society and social life. Every change can be understood as being born into a new consciousness. But these births are usually too small for us to notice instantaneously. They grow together over time and form a pattern. When we look at it detailed, we can observe the difference.

Our character, whom we hardly see throughout the film, is overwhelmed by the abstract and concrete masks in society. Although the antivirus mask he wears when he goes out helps him hide some facial expressions, he is quite overwhelmed by not being able to breathe properly. Simultaneously, he wears an abstract mask that is not just about mimics, which he is most overwhelmed by it.

The abstract and concrete masks our character wears overwhelms him. He realizes that the reason for these masks is not to live in nature, but to live in the city. There are no humans in nature, no viruses, no masks to wear. Realizing this, our character experiences a great inner distress and every moment he stays in the city begins to feel like torture to him.

In this part, the crisis has come to an end and the explosion, in other words, the escape has started. Approximately 1-minute story of escape from the city. 200 bpm dark and fast-paced music with a very fast tempo playing in the background.

The stress, anxiety, and all the chaos in our character’s head, -whose escape is over and reaches nature- has come to an end. Unlike other scenes, the tempo of this scene is very calm and peaceful. The audience takes a stroll through nature. Our character, who gets rid of his mask and returns to his essence, gets caught up in the flow for a while and becomes just an observer.

The audience also becomes the witness of this observation.