By Harajana Umar Ragada
The offer felt like a golden ticket. A celebrated Nigerian celebrity was hosting a festival and needed a spoken word documentary. For a talented artist in Northern Nigeria, this was the sought-after break, a chance to step into a national spotlight reserved for the chosen few. She believed in her craft, and she said yes.
The project was defined: two videos, one in Hausa, one in English, featuring her voice and her performance. She submitted her fees, a fair reflection of her skill. The project manager’s reassurance was smooth, hinging on the host’s lofty reputation. “Trust the process,” she was told. And so, she did.
She requested an advance to book studio time. A partial payment was made to her, but it was insufficient and did not cover Abuja’s professional studio rates. She dipped into her own resources to make it work. When the video shoot approached, another surprise: she was to supply her own costume due to “budget constraints.” Professional to her core, she invested in the perfect attire, believing her dedication would be honoured.
Then, the turnaround. After she sent the final recordings, she was called upon that the celebrity’s sister would headline the Hausa version. Her role was being reduced to just the English piece. She objected firmly; this was not their agreement, and her payment was still pending. After tense negotiations, a new, fragile deal was struck: she would be credited as a collaborator, and nothing would be posted without her approval.
On a sunny afternoon, they summoned her to the Art and Craft Village for the shoot. When she arrived, she found them already filming the sister. When she reminded them of their terms, the promises flowed anew: payment after filming, glowing accolades, and the full weight of the celebrity’s influence to boost her career. Placing her trust in that stature one more time, she completed the work.
What followed was a masterclass in creative exploitation. They chipped away at her agreed rate, pleading budgetary limitations. They sold her on a future of unlocked doors and dazzling opportunities, convincing her to accept far less, to trade monetary value for the currency of exposure and credit. She acquiesced, hoping the recognition would be worth it.
Months slipped by without the remaining payment. After persistent appeals, another fraction of the sum arrived. Weary, she let it go, choosing peace over a protracted fight.
Then the video was live. And as she watched, a cold realisation settled in. Every name was listed in the credits… except hers. Her voice filled the piece, but she had been erased completely. Not a mention, not a link, not a trace. The feeling was a hollow mix of betrayal and devaluation; she had been used and then discarded.
This story is not a solitary lament. It is the shared refrain of countless creatives. Like Abdulmajid Gambo Danbaba, a poet from Katsina, who discovered his deeply personal poem “I am Me,” born of his childhood struggles, and proudly posted it on another man’s Facebook page, claiming it as his own. The confrontation was messy, requiring the threat of legal action to force an apology and a takedown.
These are the everyday hazards in the digital marketplace of ideas, where work is copied, credit is stolen, and promises are broken. So, what can be done?
Navigating the Minefield: Wisdom from the Frontlines
We turned to experts to demystify the path from vulnerability to empowerment.
Dr. Ismail Bala, a renowned poet and critic, frames the issue clearly. He defines creative exploitation as using another’s work without payment or permission, and plagiarism as outright theft of authorship. His advice is twofold: vigilance and formalisation. “Copyright your work,” he urges. “And move beyond handshake deals. Any collaboration needs a legal contract, however simple.”
The consequences, he notes, are both emotional and economic; a loss of confidence and a loss of livelihood. While social media democratizes sharing, it also facilitates this theft. The remedy, he states, is a cultural shift toward fundamental respect, acknowledging sources and compensating creators fairly.
Muhammed Bello Buhari, a digital rights activist, frames this not as a mere commercial issue but as a human right. “Your creativity is your voice. To steal it is to strip you of your agency and dignity,” he explains. International law protects the moral and material interests of creators, but the systems are often skewed toward those with power and lawyers.
He highlights the legal grey zone that creatives must navigate. “The law protects your specific expression, not the general idea. Someone can mimic your style without crossing a legal line, which is why documentation is your greatest weapon.”
Buhari champions the “paper trail.” Your drafts, timestamped files, and email records become irrefutable proof of ownership. “That version history is your shield,” he says.
MB Buhari recommends a practical toolkit for every creator:
1. Document Everything: Create a “receipt culture.” Save early drafts, note creation dates, and follow up verbal agreements with a confirming email or message.
2. Mark Your Territory: Use the copyright symbol (©) on your work. It’s a simple but clear signal of ownership.
3. Have the “Terms” Talk: Before sharing work, state clearly how it can be used. A simple text message can form a basic contract.
4. Leverage Community and Platforms: Use the court of public opinion respectfully but firmly. Know how to issue a DMCA takedown notice on social platforms to remove stolen content.
5. Embrace Simple Contracts: Outline collaboration terms, ownership, and credit in writing. “A contract is a seatbelt for your creativity,” Buhari notes.
6. Seek Strength in Numbers: Join creative associations and leverage pro-bono legal networks. There is power in collective advocacy.
The Northern Star: A Community’s Victory
The most powerful chapter in this story is its conclusion. When the spoken word artist was erased, she did not stay silent. She shared her story. And the Northern creative community erupted. They became her amplifiers, her defenders, and her unyielding support system. Through poems, posts, and shared outrage, they applied a pressure that no individual could. Faced with this unified front, the celebrity apologised.
This is the ultimate blueprint. The fight against exploitation is not a solo journey. It is fought by building a community that values integrity over influence, that champions credit over “exposure,” and that stands as a united front against those who would diminish their peers. It is about transforming individual vulnerability into collective, unshakeable strength.
Harajana Umar Ragada wrote via kharajnah@gmail.com.
