JEDDAH: A trip to Saudi Arabia’s AlUla, a chance encounter with a persistent mosquito on the streets of New York and an enduring love for musicals inspired Saudi filmmaking sisters Dana and Raneem Almohandes to create their animated short film “A Mosquito,” which screened at the recently concluded Red Sea International Film Festival in Jeddah. 

“We were walking in New York, having a good time, and there was this mosquito who kept coming back to me,” explained older sister Raneem. “This is how it all started, with one question: ‘What does this mosquito want?’ We thought, ‘She wants to talk to us, but we’re not giving her the chance.’ So, that’s where the story was born.” 

Set in 1969, “A Mosquito” follows Zozo — a tiny mosquito with big dreams. While her peers are content with ordinary life in the majestic landscapes of AlUla, Zozo dares to dream of becoming a famous singer — heading to Egypt to sing before the legendary Umm Kulthum. 

“A Mosquito” began life as a two-minute short — part of Raneem’s university project. It turned into its fully realized version after they took their idea to the AlUla Creates program, a local initiative that provides funding, mentorship and networking opportunities for Saudi filmmakers and fashion designers. 

“When AlUla invited us to apply, we had this idea already, and we wanted to expand on it, because, you know, university projects are victims of time and resources. We developed the story with the AlUla Creates team,” said Raneem.  

“We went to AlUla earlier, and we captured the aesthetics from there. The frames that you see in the film are identical to the pictures we took during our trip,” added Dana. 

Raneem graduated from New York University in musical theater writing (Dana, the younger of the two, is studying filmmaking at Princess Nourah Bint Abdul Rahman University in Riyadh). “We grew up watching musicals, but we felt like we don’t have any that are in the Saudi dialect, so we wanted to create (them),” said Raneem. “That’s why I studied musical theater writing. 

“We’ve always loved expressing ourselves through art. For example, Dana will do a dance whenever she wants to express how she feels about someone. Like, for my birthday, she would do a choreographed dance. I used to do small videos for our family — sometimes they’re music videos, sometimes short films … this is how we started. And then I started an Instagram page for DIY videos, and we worked together on it. It was one of the first (Instagram accounts) to reach 1 million followers in the Middle East,” said Raneem. “Dana was, like, 10 years old back then.” 

Before they had received any formal training, the duo were chosen as For Change Ambassadors of Saudi Arabia. The screenplay for their first musical feature (“Dandana”) was shortlisted in the second round of Sundance’s Screenwriters Lab 2020. Their first short, “A Human,” was funded by Google and premiered in Riyadh. 

The sisters reiterate that their filmmaking career is closely tied to the history of cinema in the Kingdom. 

“We put ‘A Human’ up on YouTube in parallel with Saudi Arabia opening its cinemas again,” Raneem said. It went on to become one of the first 100 films to be shown in cinemas after they reopened in the country and, according to Raneem, the very first short film. 

In 2022, the pair wrote and directed the musical short “A Swing,” which was selected for the official competition at the Saudi Film Festival and was screened as part of the Kingdom’s participation at Cannes in 2022. 

Despite the eight-year age gap between the two sisters, the duo say they have a seamless working relationship. 

“We sometimes fight, as all sisters do, but we have telepathy most of the time,” said Raneem. “We are in sync in terms of ideas. Filmmaking is all about communication.” 

Working as two young women in the Saudi film industry is, Dana said, “magical.” Raneem agreed.  

“It’s overwhelmingly beautiful, because the support is magnificent,” she said. “Each and every project and idea that we’ve had, we knew for a fact that if we approached the right decision maker, it would happen.” 

KARACHI: In Pakistan’s largest city, cars inch forward in bumper-to-bumper traffic. But some seamlessly carve through the jam: SUVs flanked by Toyota Hilux pickup trucks.
The Hilux has become a symbol of power, affluence and intimidation in a society marked by significant class divisions.
“The vehicle carries an image that suggests anyone escorted by one must be an important figure,” 40-year-old politician Usman Perhyar told AFP.
“It has everything — showiness, added security and enough space for several people to sit in the open cargo bed.”

On Karachi’s chaotic roads, Hiluxes part the traffic, speeding up behind cars and flashing their lights demanding drivers move out of their way.
The Hilux first became popular among feudal elites for its reliability in rural and mountain regions.
But in recent years, the “Dala,” as it is locally known, has soared in popularity as an escort vehicle among newly successful urban business owners.
Guards with faces wrapped in scarves and armed with AK-47s can be packed into the back of the truck, its windows blacked out.
“It is a status symbol. People have one or two pickups behind them,” said Fahad Nazir, a car dealer based in Karachi.

The Hilux debuted in 1968, but the model that became popular in Pakistan was the mid-2000s Hilux Vigo.
It was later upgraded and rebranded as the Revo, with prices ranging from 10 to 15 million rupees (approximately $36,000 to $54,000).
Their prices have remained steady and they retain excellent resale value in a market traditionally dominated by their manufacturer, Toyota.
“Amongst whatever luxury items we have, this is the fastest-selling item,” car seller Nazir told AFP.

Dealers say there was a spike in rentals during February’s national elections.
“I swear to God, you can’t run an election without a Revo,” said Sajjad Ali Soomro, a provincial parliamentarian from Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party.
In the eastern city of Gujrat, politician Ali Warraich — from the ruling Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz party — finds it essential to travel with an escort of two of the trucks.
They allow him to navigate off-road terrain to attend dozens of weddings and funerals a month.
“Politics without this vehicle has become nearly impossible,” he tells AFP. Without one, he argues, potential supporters could question his influence and turn toward competitors.
“As a result, it has become a basic necessity,” he said.

The truck has also become a trademark in the suppression of dissenting voices, activists told AFP, with the word “Dala” serving as a euphemism for military intelligence agencies involved in covert operations.
The unmarked cars with plainclothes men inside were used extensively by authorities rounding up senior PTI leaders and officials in recent crackdowns — reinforcing the vehicle’s notorious reputation.
“Every time I see this vehicle on the road, I go through the same trauma I endured during my custody with agencies,” said one PTI member who was picked up earlier this year.
Former leader Khan was bundled into a black Dala by paramilitary soldiers when he was arrested in May 2023 in the capital Islamabad, a detention he blamed on the powerful military leadership.
He later accused political heavyweight and three-time prime minister Nawaz Sharif of trying to win the election “through Vigo Dala” — a swipe alleging the military was “carrying” his campaign.
Pakistani poet and activist Ahmad Farhad, known for criticizing the military’s involvement in politics, was taken away in a Hilux after a raid on his home in May by what he said were intelligence agencies.
“Sometimes, they park these vehicles around or behind my car, sending a clear message: ‘We are around’,” he told AFP. “A Dala aligns with their business of spreading fear, which they take great satisfaction in.”
In Karachi, a city rife with street crimes, the imposing Dala deters even outlaws.
“A typical mobile snatcher would opt for maybe looting a car as opposed to a truck,” said 35-year-old automobile enthusiast Zohaib Khan.
Increased street crime has led to more security checks by police, further slowing down movement across the city. But Hiluxes are immune.
Police “don’t typically stop me because they feel that I might be someone who might impact them in a bad way or harm them in some way or the other,” Khan said.