In Hamlet in Harar two stories are mixed together. The bloody Italian fascist campaign in Ethiopia, and the story of Hamlet, my grandfather, who emigrated to Harar as a settler. Both of the stories are shrouded in silence. Mixing images from family albums, with photos found in newspapers from the fascist period, I try to bring out of oblivion an uncomfortable history that Italy is trying to remove by omitting its responsibilities.

My stay in Brazil helped me to decrypt memories about the colonial history. A history that, like that of Ethiopia, led to the domination and elimination of cultures and lives. A violence that leaves deep wounds in the colonized, and sometimes is capable of crossing the lives of the colonizers, who realize that in the midst of so much blood there is no conquest, but death. My grandfather, at the age of forty decided to give up his life, ending this history of rape, which does not recognize the other in ourselves.

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Hamlet in Harar is a timid attempt to throw lights into the darks of the colonialism tragedy.