by SARAH ROWLAND

If truth be told, these big black mamas aren’t really siblings, but don’t let the wordplay on “sistahs” turn you off Sisters in Law. When you see what your girlfriends have to face in this fiercely feminist African documentary, you’ll soon realize the film more than earns its womynly title.

Directors Florence Ayisi and Kim Longinotto follow Cameroon state prosecutor Vera Ngassa and Court-President Beatrice Ntuba as they fight an uphill battle against archaic traditions that are (for the most part) rooted in misogynistic practices. Tackling one case at a time, the two set out to convince Muslim villagers that it is morally repugnant for men to trade their pre-pubescent daughters in for a couple of pigs. Not only that, but gone are the days when it was totally legit to use their wives’ faces as punching bags—in other words the age-old “I had a bad day at work” excuse or the “I wouldn’t have hit her if she hadn’t left the house without my permission” argument will only result in even more verbal lashings.

And when it comes to underage victims, these African Judge Judys show even less mercy toward the defendants. So don’t even try to convince them that 10-year-old girls go around seducing grown men and ripping apart their own vaginal openings simply for the thrill of going to court and crying rape—which was what one unlucky rapist tried to convince Ngassa and Ntuba. Their response? Nine years of hard labour.

Wisely, Ayisi and Longinotto don’t bore us with the day-to-day court proceedings. Instead, they focus on four cases: Manka, a six-year-old orphan who was enslaved by her auntie and beaten repeatedly with a coat hanger; an unnamed fifth grader who is forced to testify not two feet from the man who bound and gagged her before violating her in unfathomable ways; and finally the first two women to ever follow through on spousal abuse charges in Ntuba’s courtroom.

So are the men getting a fair trail? Probably not. But before you have time to sympathize with the accused—most of whom don’t seem to have a court-appointed attorney—the film cuts to the Muslim tribunal system. In this cringe-worthy scene, one of the battered wives, who was there begging for an Allah-sanctioned divorce, endures laughter from an elder as he makes light of her matrimonial torture. One knee slapper went something like, “If you go back to him, he’ll split your face teeheehee.” Good one.

Suffice to say this kind of mentality combined with images such as Manka’s badly scarred body don’t make for light viewing. But the film isn’t nearly as depressing as it could have been. By not using overwhelming stats or maudlin narration, the directors stay true to their subject’s upbeat, talk-to-the-hand approach to ending violence against women. We see how instead of bullying reluctant women to press charges, Ngassa and Ntuba use warm-hearted humour to get their attention and in the process they keep ours.

Sisters in Law opens at Cinéma du Parc Friday, March 31

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