“This movie is about the overlooked”: K’naan Warsame on his first feature film, Mother Mother

Most of us know K’naan Warsame because of "Wavin’ Flag,” his 2009 release that became the most popular song on the planet—charting everywhere from Mexico to Luxembourg, selected as Coca-Cola’s anthem for the 2010 FIFA World Cup and ultimately getting the “We Are the World” treatment to raise funds for victims of the 2010 earthquake in Haiti.

Turns out the Somali-born singer—who settled in Rexdale as a refugee in his teens—is also a massive movie buff who always dreamed of telling stories on the big screen. With his debut, Mother Mother, premiering at TIFF this weekend, that moment has finally arrived. The film, which Warsame also wrote, is about grief, impossible choices and the mysterious wisdom of camels. Here, he explains why it wasn’t easy directing animal cast members and why being in an elevator with Brad Pitt would be no big deal.

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You’re famous for “Wavin’ Flag,” a little mid-aughts anthem that went on to conquer the world. Was filmmaking always part of the plan? Film-loving, definitely. As a kid in Somalia, we mostly had access to Bollywood movies and 1960s Italian cinema. The movies weren’t dubbed, so you had to guess what was being said, what the plot was. I think that informed my storytelling.

So you were watching Fellini when I was watching Weekend at Bernies? No wonder you made such an arresting film. Well, thank you. Though, some of that popular cinema would surface from time to time. I remember watching Indiana Jones and loving it. It’s all great to me. Before the pandemic, I was going to the cinema three or four times a week. I knew I was interested in writing something—either for film or TV. I had a few projects that didn’t come together in the end, so I’m really excited to finally have my debut film.

Mother Mother is an incredible story. Where did it come from? In 2020, my mother called me to say that her sister, my aunt, had terminal cancer. My aunt was like a second mother to me growing up, so I was really upset. My mom explained my aunt’s approach, which was essentially, I’ve lived a good life. What’s the point of prolonging the suffering? She had that stubborn, hard-headed personality. But my mom had the opposite reaction, wanting to take her sister to clinics in Germany or Turkey or India. It was a conflict that they couldn’t resolve. Then, one day, my aunt said, K’naan has always been very fair. Let’s have him make the decision. That’s when I started working on the script for Mother Mother. It’s a movie about excruciating choices.

I don’t want to give anything away, but the story is about a mother in an unthinkable situation. Why use maternal grief as your thematic vehicle? I’ve always struggled with some of the choices my own mother had to make getting us out of Somalia. Very often, when you’re a child, you see yourself as the main character. But, in truth, it’s the parent who is making choices and carrying the burden. I wanted to explore overlooked people. I named Mother Mother’s main character, Qalifo, after my aunt.

The actor who plays Qalifo, Maan Youssouf Ahmed, is spectacular. And she doesn’t seem to have a single IMDB credit. This was her first time ever on screen—zero acting experience. Finding her was big a process. People like to say, “Everything will fall into place.” But, when you’re doing the work, it doesn’t feel that way. I was sleepless for months trying to find an actor who could be nuanced—funny and sober, mean and loving, all of that at the same time. And they had to be fluent in Somali.

A young Meryl Streep, but Somali. Exactly. The casting team was working really hard, and then one day I heard about this woman—who was not an actor but a producer, and who was not interested in moving in front of the camera. But we convinced her to do a screen test, and I knew right away: so much was going on behind her eyes, even when she wasn’t saying anything.

The character Liban is an American boy caught between two worlds, two cultures. Was that your childhood? Every character in the film has some part of me. With Liban, I wanted to convey the feeling of leaving your home country and becoming split. Part of you lives this new life. Another part of you is still, spiritually, living back home. Liban represents the diaspora. He knows that he can’t be in two places. And we definitely had fun with his wardrobe. He wants to be so cool. But he’s not.

Did you feel any pressure depicting your home country? A lot of movies show a place through an outsider’s lens. Movies set in Somalia have always been about pirates in the ocean or shooting down American helicopters. I didn’t want to make that kind of movie. I wanted to make a movie that looked inward, so that Somali people can watch and see themselves for real.

What was the biggest challenge you faced on set? The script took place in these arid landscapes. It hadn’t rained for four years on our location. Then, just as we were arriving—a giant downpour. Of course, local people had been praying for rain, so thank god, but it definitely made things complicated.

I thought you were going to say the hardest part was directing so many camels. Ha! Well, that too. There’s footage of me storming away from a camel enclosure screaming, “That camel is not trained!" My friend was like, “What did you expect? Camels who had worked under Lee Strasberg?"

But you did use the camels to add an emotional layer to the human drama, which is impressive. I was interested in how parallel the human and animal worlds often are. We are constantly engaging with animals: moving them, milking them, slaughtering their calves. Somalis are very close with their camels, so I wanted the story to have an awareness of that.

You grew up in Toronto, but now you’re in New York. Did you move to escape all of the attention after “Wavin’ Flag?" It’s possible that that was a factor, but really I just like New York. I like the walking culture. I like that they don’t tear down every historic building like Toronto does. Everything doesn’t have to be so new and glassy all the time. I’m excited to be back for TIFF, though. I used to go to the festival every year, to watch and to perform. I love fall, I love movies, so it’s a great time to be home.

Are you taken by movie stars? No. It can be weird to see someone you recognize from a film right there in front of you, sure. It’s a dissonance that feels weird. But I’m not going to be dropping stories about some time I was in an elevator with Brad Pitt.

Wait, you were in an elevator with Brad Pitt? No—it’s just an example. If some guy walks onto your elevator, that’s not news.

I’m sure you’ve had some intense fan encounters of your own. After “Wavin’ Flag” became massive, I was playing a show in Toronto. I really needed socks, so I told my friend I’d just quickly hit up the Eaton Centre to get some. He was like, “You’re just going to go in? Are you sure?" When I got there, there were maybe 60 kids on a field trip, and they all started screaming when they saw me. I couldn’t believe it.

Just a man buying socks. What’s the big deal? Right. But that’s a little too philosophical for 16 year olds. They wanted pictures—and of course, I went along with it.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.