Kannywood

• Company: Mai Kwai Movies
• Director: Abubakar A.S Mai Kwai
• Producer: Abdul Dan Small
• Language: Hausa
• Cast: Ali Nuhu, Aminu Sharif (Momo), Maryam Ceeter, Baballe Hayatu, Hafsat Idris, etc.
• Year: 2018

The question of whether married women should be allowed to work remains contentious in Hausa society. Modern people support the idea, while traditionalists continue to frown upon it. As the debate continues, a Kannywood production company, Mai Kwai Movies, weighs in with their film Dr. Halima.

The story revolves around the eponymous character (played by Maryam Ceeter), a PhD holder whose husband, Yusuf (Ali Nuhu), allows her to work at a construction company. Dr. Halima takes pride in her appearance and enjoys being complimented on her looks, but her husband is a rigid alpha male who dismisses that as frivolous and never cares to praise her. Instead, she receives attention and admiration from her male colleagues, whom she openly welcomes despite being married. As a modern woman, Dr. Halima doesn’t see anything wrong with dressing fashionably and being appreciated by others.

However, jealousy consumes Halima’s husband when he realises she has become the centre of attention at her workplace. He reacts by neglecting her and sleeping separately. Despite her attempts to address the issue, he turns a deaf ear, leading to growing tension and a deterioration in their marriage. Meanwhile, Halima’s colleague, Dags (Aminu Shareef Momoh), who has long harboured feelings for her, gets an opportunity to intrude into her life. He eventually succeeds in his pursuit, taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Thanks to its powerful story, the film generally captivates despite having a limited narrative hook. It succeeds in delivering its central message: that the problem with married women working is mostly not from the work itself, but from the behaviour of the women involved. When a married woman respects herself, she repels temptation, and when she doesn’t, the opposite occurs. We see how Dr. Halima attracts indecent colleagues with her scanty dress, but repels them later when she begins to dress modestly.

The film also underlines the need for effective communication in marriage and the dangers attached to neglectful relationships. We see how cold communication leads Yusuf and Halima to neglect each other and sleep separately for over three months. This emotional distance is what plays a key role in Halima’s decision to commit adultery with her colleague, as shown in the movie.

Additionally, the film introduces a moderate Fatwa that a marriage does not necessarily have to end if a wife has committed adultery. What matters most is sincere repentance and seeking Allah’s forgiveness. Ultimately, Dr. Halima repents without revealing her transgression to her husband, and they continue to live happily ever after.

On the other hand, the film falls slightly short in its technical aspects. Both sound design and editing are poorly handled. The continuity and costume use are also noticeably flawed. For instance, in one sequence, a messenger is seen meeting Dr. Halima on the company premises. However, moments later, the same messenger appears wearing a different outfit when she enters the office.

Regarding the actors, Maryam Ceeter, with her mature presence, is perfectly cast as Dr. Halima. She brings emotional depth, portraying both the confidence and vulnerability of her character. Ali Nuhu excels as Halima’s rigid husband. He gives a realistic performance, with his love for Halima subtly evident even as he distances himself from her. Aminu Momoh fully inhabits his dubious character, as he often does, using his charm and great comic timing.

Other supporting actors, including Baballe Hayatu and Hafsat Idris, are equally well-cast and perform commendably.

Overall, Dr. Halima is a compelling family drama that does full justice to its serious subject matter. While it may not be suitable for children, it is a must-watch for adult audiences. Rating: 3.5/5

Habibu Maaruf Abdu wrote from Kano via habibumaaruf11@gmail.com.

By Muhsin Ibrahim

Talk about Kannywood and, often, some people who are scarcely literate or have little knowledge of film will dismiss the entire industry as a sanctuary for good-for-nothing folks. But that is not always true.

I first met the late Malam Umar Maikudi (also known as Cashman) at the 2019 Kano Indigenous Languages of Africa Film Market and Festival (KILAF) conference. We connected immediately, discussed various issues, and ultimately exchanged phone numbers.

Although Malam was old enough to be my father, we maintained a relatively cordial relationship. He would send me some of his writings, and I would send him mine in return. We also met a few more times during subsequent editions of the KILAF conference. I am sure Alhaji Abdulkarim, the CEO of Moving Image and the organiser of KILAF, will dearly miss Cashman.

He was among the few brilliant individuals blessed with the talent to blend theory and practice seamlessly, and he excelled in both. 

Malam was a lecturer at Nuhu Bamalli Polytechnic, Zaria, and President of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN). 

Malam was a bridge between Kannywood and Nollywood, as he featured in films from both industries. Many Kannywood viewers may not be very familiar with him, though.

Cashman only recently started featuring in more mainstream Kannywood productions, such as Gidan Badamasi and Labarina. As a lawyer in the latter (Labarina), who is expected to code-switch and code-mix, you can tell this actor is definitely educated. He was.

His death is a significant loss to his family, of course, and to the Nigerian entertainment industry. May Allah forgive his shortcomings and grant his loved ones the fortitude to bear the loss, amin.

Muhsin Ibrahim, PhD, is an academic and writes about Nigerian films. He can be contacted via muhsin2008@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

Mallam Umar Maikuɗi (popularly known as Cashman), a lecturer at Nuhu Bamalli Polytechnic, Zaria, and President of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN), has passed away after a prolonged illness. He died this evening at the Ahmadu Bello University Teaching Hospital (ABUTH).

Colleagues, associates, and the entertainment industry mourn his passing, praying for Allah’s forgiveness and for him to be granted Al-Jannah al-Firdaws.

Until his death, Maikuɗi was an active academic and a key figure in Nigeria’s motion picture industry.

Funeral arrangements will be announced by the family.

By Habibu Maaruf Abdu 

The social media in Northern Nigeria was recently abuzz with reports that Kannywood actress Fati Washa allegedly ignored and embarrassed some of her fans. This incident mirrors the infamy of certain Kannywood stars who are generally known for disrespecting their supporters. And that’s truly unfortunate!

Fans are the backbone of every entertainer’s success. Without their support, applause, and attention, there would be no fame, no endorsement deals, and no screen presence. So why do some Kannywood stars treat them with such indifference, even disdain?

Take a look at how global celebrities carry themselves. When Lionel Messi visited a restaurant in Argentina, he didn’t ignore the crowd of fans gathered outside. Despite being with his family, he waved, smiled, and acknowledged their love. 

In Bollywood, big stars like Salman Khan often stop for quick selfies or a simple wave to appreciate their fans. Even Hollywood legends like Keanu Reeves are celebrated not just for their talent but for their humility and approachability.

So, if celebrities from such massive industries, with far greater global fame on a scale Kannywood can only dream of, still find it important to respect their fans, what excuse do the local stars have?

I know for sure that not all Kannywood actors are like that. I met many of the industry’s A-listers, and my interactions with them have been nothing short of respectful. Perhaps it’s because I know how to read the room; when I sense a dismissive attitude, I simply stay away. But I’ve had some memorable encounters worth sharing.

Back in 2012, shortly after graduating from secondary school, a friend of mine wrote a film script. I suggested we visit Shy Plaza in Gadon Kaya, where, at that time, Kannywood filmmakers had a significant presence, to discuss it with a renowned producer. I was familiar with the area, having lived nearby.

We went there full of hope. The producer wasn’t around, so we waited. Then we saw Sadiq Sani Sadiq walk by. We decided not to approach him. But he came over and greeted us. He smiled, shook our hands, and made us feel seen. We were both under 20 at the time, nobodies, really, yet he showed us respect. From that day on, he earned my admiration and loyalty as a fan.

Over the years, my interest in Kannywood deepened. I attended many of their events and premieres. When Filmhouse Cinema opened at ShopRite in Kano, I was a regular attendee. I saw many Kannywood personnel there during movie promotions. Still, I rarely approached anyone—except Falalu Dorayi and Nazifi Asnanic, both of whom responded warmly and even posed for pictures with me.

There was also Aisha Humaira, the recent bride. I once saw her being approached by a young girl at the cinema premises asking for a photo. I was seated nearby when she turned to me and said, “If you don’t mind, please snap us.” I was amazed at her subtle show of humility.

Later, when I gained a bit of recognition as a film reviewer, I made the conscious decision to stop attending premieres, just to avoid being compromised by familiarity with filmmakers. I even turned down invites to special screenings, keeping my professional distance. At festivals and award events, I would often avoid conversations with actors altogether.

But something remarkable happened recently. It was at a UNICEF function, and thanks to our mentor Malam Habibu Aminu Lawan, I attended alongside Amina Bako and other social media influencers. We were seated right next to Kannywood veterans like Rabi’u Rikadawa, Umma Shehu, Umar M. Sharif, and others.

Because of actors’ reputation for snobbery, we decided to “maintain our steeze,” acting like we didn’t care. Interestingly, we ended up sharing laughs and engaging in light-hearted conversations. I even had an insightful discussion with Rikadawa about his acting prowess and the industry at large.

Therefore, based on my experience, I can confidently say that there are truly humble and grounded personalities in Kannywood, especially among the educated and veteran actors. The problem primarily lies with the naive, up-and-coming actors who mistakenly believe that arrogance equates to importance. And sadly, it doesn’t. It only exposes their insecurity.

In conclusion, Kannywood actors need a serious reality check. Fame is fleeting. The same fans you ignore today can forget you tomorrow. You have to respect your fans. They made you who you are.

Habibu Maaruf Abdu wrote from Kano via habibumaaruf11@gmail.com.

By Uzair Adam 

The Kano State Censorship Board has suspended 22 Hausa film series, including Dakin Amarya, Labarina, Gwarwashi, Dadin Kowa, Gidan Sarauta, and Manyan Mata, for allegedly violating the Board’s censorship regulations.

The suspension was announced by the Executive Secretary of the Board, Abba El-Mustapha, following a management meeting and internal consultations. 

According to a statement issued by the Board’s Information Officer, Abdullahi Sani Sulaiman, the action is part of a strategic effort to ensure that all films are subjected to censorship before public release, in line with existing laws.

The Board warned all producers and owners of the affected series to halt further streaming or broadcasting of the content via television or online platforms. 

It directed them to submit their films for censorship approval within one week, starting from Monday, May 19, 2025, or risk facing legal consequences.

Sulaiman further called on television stations and the Nigerian Broadcasting Commission (NBC) to support the Board’s enforcement efforts and help safeguard the integrity of the local film industry.

According to Sulaiman, the affected film series include:

1. Dakin Amarya  

2. Mashahuri  

3. Gidan Sarauta  

4. Wasiyya  

5. Tawakkaltu  

6. Mijina  

7. Wani Zamani  

8. Labarina  

9. Mallaka  

10. Kudin Ruwa  

11. Boka Ko Malam  

12. Wayasan Gobe  

13. Rana Dubu  

14. Manyan Mata  

15. Fatake  

16. Gwarwashi  

17. Jamilun Jiddan  

18. Shahadar Nabila  

19. Dadin Kowa  

20. Tabarmar  

21. Kishiyata

22. Rigar Aro

By Haroon Aremu

Like a sly jester winking at the moon, I was scrolling through social media when I encountered celebrity interviews recounting how they rake in millions within months. This spectacle ignited a contagious fervour among the youth, convincing them that the entertainment industry is the sole avenue to instant riches. 

No one talks about the failures, the countless auditions, or the silent struggles behind the scenes; they only talk about the glamour, the wealth, and the “soft life.”  

Bollywood thrives on strategic government investment, making it a global economic force that boosts employment, tourism, and digital expansion. Unlike Nigeria’s self-funded entertainment sector, India injects billions into its film industry, ensuring sustained growth and international reach.  

Beyond captivating audiences, it turns filming locations into major tourist attractions, employs millions across various roles, and operates as a well-structured economic engine that drives cultural and financial influence.

Bollywood wields significant soft power, shaping international perceptions, fostering trade partnerships, and influencing policy discussions on a global scale. Now, the burning question is If India has done it, why can’t Nigeria?

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and the Nigerian leadership stand on a promising foundation. Nollywood is already the second-largest film industry globally, built almost entirely on private effort. With champions like Kunle Afolayan, Femi Adebayo, Funke Akindele, Toyin Abraham and others reshaping narratives and cashing in on global platforms like Netflix, Prime Video and Box Office. 

It is clear that Nollywood is not just an entertainment industry—it is an untapped goldmine. The cinematic feats of Kemi Adetiba, Mo Abudu, Bolanle Austen-Peters, etc., prove that, with proper government investment, Nollywood could evolve from a privately managed giant into a fully empowered national asset.  

According to research, Nollywood generates over $590 million annually and produces around 2,500 films a year. It has managed to thrive despite a lack of properly structured federal support. 

Imagine if this industry received the same kind of backing Bollywood enjoys. Free from corruption, federal investment could elevate production quality, generate millions of jobs, and turn Nollywood into Nigeria’s foremost non-oil revenue, especially when youth yearn for employment due to unemployment being generic.

Content creation, beyond Nollywood, has emerged as a formidable economic engine in Nigeria, proving that digital storytelling is not just a fleeting trend but a viable sector capable of generating wealth, employment, and global recognition. 

The success of creators like Mr. Macaroni, Taooma, Kiekie, Sabinus, Lasisi Elenu, Cute Abiola, etc., illustrates how social media has democratised entertainment, allowing individuals to carve niches without relying on traditional gatekeepers like film studios or record labels. 

Through comedy skits, social commentary, and brand endorsements, these creators have transformed their craft into multi-million naira enterprises, employing scriptwriters, videographers, editors, and marketers while driving traffic to brands and tourism sites. 

Their work showcases Nigeria’s culture and humour on the global stage, attracting foreign partnerships and sponsorships that would have otherwise been reserved for mainstream Nollywood productions. 

When properly harnessed, digital content creation can become a major economic driver, like Bollywood’s integration of influencers and digital expansion into film, tourism, and commerce. With the right policies—such as tax breaks, structured funding, and intellectual property protection—Nigeria’s content industry could grow into a leading non-oil revenue stream, competing with global giants like India and the United States. 

Despite its promise, the content creation industry in Nigeria still grapples with fundamental challenges that could hinder its full potential. Unlike Bollywood, which benefits from government-backed investment and structured growth strategies, Nigerian content creators operate in a largely informal economy, where access to funding, infrastructure, and legal protections remains inadequate.

Some creators lack financial literacy, face inconsistent brand deals, and operate without a regulatory framework that protects their intellectual property. 

Additionally, the absence of dedicated digital innovation hubs limits their ability to scale, collaborate, or transition from short-form content to full-length productions capable of breaking into mainstream cinema as some have done. 

While some content creators have managed to bridge the gap between skit-making and brand influence, an untapped market for leveraging content creation into mainstream entertainment and tourism remains. 

The government and private investors need to recognise digital storytelling as more than just “youthful amusement” but as a serious industry that, when properly structured, could create thousands of jobs, foster digital entrepreneurship, and export Nigerian creativity worldwide. 

Suppose Nigeria is to harness the creative economy truly. In that case, it must institutionalise financial incentives, support digital film villages, and encourage content creators to transition into high-value productions that can contribute to global streaming platforms, film festivals, and international collaborations.

Only then can the country move beyond isolated success stories to a full-fledged, structured entertainment ecosystem that mirrors Bollywood’s impact on India’s economy.

States like Lagos, Kwara and others have already positioned themselves as film hubs, investing in production studios, enabling policies, and film villages to attract investors. If these state-led initiatives can yield results, what would happen if Nigeria had a full-scale federal-backed Nollywood revolution? 

With well-structured grants, tax breaks, and infrastructure development, Nollywood could rival Hollywood and Bollywood, expanding tech-based employment and transforming Nigeria into Africa’s entertainment capital.  

Yet, a crucial caution must be heeded. Nollywood, like every thriving industry, has its fair share of pitfalls. The rise of viral sensations over genuine talent, the exploitation of controversies for social media relevance, and the blurred line between creativity and chaos all pose risks to the industry’s long-term sustainability. 

Nigeria must ensure that Nollywood does not fall victim to the same cycle of corruption that crippled agriculture and the oil sector.  

The truth remains: talent differs from cruise, and entertainment is bigger than scandal-driven fame. Nollywood has the potential to be a global force, a national pride, and an economic goldmine. 

The question is: Will Nigeria seize this opportunity or let Negligence and corruption again destroy another billion-dollar industry?

Haroon Aremu Abiodun, an author and PRNigeria fellow, wrote via exponentumera@gmail.com.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Nigerian scholar Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu has officially announced the publication of his new book, Hausa Cinema of Northern Nigeria: Cultural Imperialism and Censorship, a landmark work that explores the development, politics, and aesthetics of Hausa-language film across West Africa.

Published by Bloomsbury, the book is the product of over twenty years of research spanning multiple countries and academic disciplines. Rather than focusing solely on the popular commercial industry known as “Kannywood,” Adamu takes a broader approach, examining Hausa cinema in its many forms—including diaspora productions, documentaries, art films, and digital series.

“This is not just about Kannywood,” Adamu explained. “It’s about Hausa cultural expression wherever it exists, rooted in Islamicate values and media flows across the Global South.”

Completed in 2010, the manuscript faced delays and was almost shelved. However, a 2023 conference presentation and a meal hosted by Dr. Muhsin Ibrahim, where Adamu jokingly called the large waina “one terabyte,” in Cologne, Germany, reignited interest, leading to its acceptance and revision. 

The final version, praised by scholars such as Graham Furniss and Brian Larkin, will be released in July 2025.

Though priced at $130, Adamu plans to publish a locally accessible companion book titled Kannywood: A Brief Introduction later this year in Kano. It will be tailored for readers interested in a concise, less theoretical overview.

With this announcement, Hausa cinema gains its most comprehensive and scholarly treatment, firmly placing it in the global conversation about media and culture.

‎By Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari

‎Despite growing awareness, sexual exploitation continues to cast a dark shadow over the entertainment industry in Nigeria and elsewhere. Behind the glitz and glamour, many aspiring talents face coercion, harassment, and abuse in their pursuit of success. Stronger policies, accountability, and systemic change are urgently needed to create a safer industry.

‎Sexual exploitation in entertainment is an open secret that has persisted for decades. It manifests in various forms, from coercion and harassment to outright trafficking. Vulnerable individuals, often young and inexperienced, are preyed upon by those in positions of power. The “sex-for-role” culture, in which opportunities are exchanged for sexual favors, remains alarmingly prevalent. Those who resist or speak out risk being blacklisted, experiencing retaliation, or even being driven out of the industry entirely.

‎The entertainment world thrives on connections, and unfortunately, this has allowed predators to operate with impunity. Victims, fearing career sabotage or public shaming, often remain silent. The imbalance of power between industry gatekeepers and struggling artists makes it even harder to challenge abusive behaviours.

‎The #MeToo movement, which gained global traction in 2017, was a watershed moment. Survivors courageously came forward, exposing influential figures like Harvey Weinstein and forcing the industry to confront its deep-seated issues. This sparked widespread discussions, policy changes, and an increased demand for accountability.‎

Despite the above strides, exploitation remains a pressing issue. While some perpetrators have been held accountable, many still evade justice. Survivors continue to face obstacles in their pursuit of legal recourse, with cases often dismissed or settlements used to silence victims.

‎Ending sexual exploitation in entertainment requires more than just conversations, it demands concrete action:

‎Stronger Legal Frameworks – Governments and industry regulators must enforce stricter policies against workplace harassment and sexual exploitation. Clear legal consequences should deter potential offenders.

‎Whistleblower Protection – Survivors and witnesses should be able to report abuse without fear of retaliation. Anonymous reporting systems and legal safeguards are crucial.

‎Industry Accountability – Entertainment companies must adopt zero-tolerance policies for misconduct, conduct thorough background checks, and establish independent oversight committees to investigate allegations.

‎Empowering Victims – Access to legal aid, mental health support, and career counselling can help survivors rebuild their lives. Platforms that amplify their voices must be encouraged.

‎Changing the Culture – Education on consent, power dynamics, and ethical professional relationships should be integrated into industry training programs. A shift in mindset is necessary to dismantle the normalisation of abuse.

‎ The fight against sexual exploitation in entertainment is far from over. Every stakeholder, from industry executives to audiences, plays a role in demanding transparency, justice, and respect for all talents. Only through sustained pressure and institutional reform can we ensure an industry where success is based on talent, not exploitation.

‎It is not just a matter of morality but of fundamental human rights. The time to act is now.

‎Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari is an intern with PRNigeria. He can be reached via abdulhakeemzakari7@gmail.com.

By Sa’id Sa’ad

“Silence is really golden. For many years, I have respected you as a great actress, but after listening to you speak for once, I lost all respect for you. Silence is, indeed, golden.” 

These were the exact words shared by a fan after watching one of the popular Kannywood actresses’ podcasts.

Recently, a podcast went viral in which four Kannywood actresses sat, warming their chairs, sharing opinions about relationships. While many criticise the podcast, I find myself wondering just how ‘golden silence really is.’

From Talk with Feezy by northern Nigerian artist Feezy to the highly criticised The Social Spotlight by Kannywood actress Nafisa Abdullahi, podcasts are slowly becoming the North’s new thing. Famous faces with thousands of followers are tapping into this audio-visual world and, irrespective of the content, are reaching a wide audience thanks to their massive followings.

Podcasting is the new cool in the North. Content creators, entertainers, film producers, actors, actresses and wannabe influencers are all jumping on this new wave. Everyone’s got something to say. But the unifying factor is they are all saying it in Hausa. This not only makes it content by creators from northern Nigeria but also for northern Nigeria and the broader Hausa-speaking population.

Now, let’s not be mistaken. Podcasting isn’t exactly new. Like most things, it just arrived in the North late. Young audiences are now tuning in, eager to consume original opinions from faces they admire beneath the thousands of Instagram followers. 

But here comes the twist. While popular faces trend with podcasts that often miss the mark, there’s a whole storm of lesser-known creators. Just as hungry. Just as passionate. Diving into podcasting, hoping to go viral. Few get it right. Many get it wrong, and most are just aiming to create controversy. 

It’s great that young creators are speaking up. It’s refreshing to see new northern voices adding their two cents to conversations about relationships, religion, family, entertainment, and society. But even at that, when done poorly, this new podcast culture is more dangerous than beneficial. 

I’m an avid fan of vodcasts, particularly those produced by Nigerians. I also strongly support consuming content from Northern Nigeria. However, just because it’s from the North doesn’t mean our standards should be low. We owe it to ourselves to demand quality.

Upon close observation, it’s clear that many of these podcasts bring ‘more face’ and ‘less value.’ In the first few minutes of an episode, you can already tell the host isn’t fully prepared. They ramble. They say empty phrases. And you’re left wondering: What am I supposed to take away from this? These podcasts often fail to provide value, and let me remind you, that’s the very foundation of podcasting: Value.

It’s a strange thing. Really. The lights are bright, the makeup is on point, and the guests are ready. The studio setup is perfect. Yet, after all that effort, the conversation feels empty. It leaves you craving more, but in a bad way.

This reflects the current trend in both public and private Hausa-speaking media, where a designated show for Kannywood stars is often featured. These shows rarely extend beyond inviting the stars for views and likes, failing to address the critical questions of why these shows exist in the first place.

But this isn’t just happening among famous creators. A new wave of young creators has emerged; unfortunately, many of them, without doing their homework, are merely copying the same format used by the stars, eager to replicate the same model: 

Create podcast → Talk carelessly → Create controversy → Get views and likes.

While this model keeps some people in the limelight, it doesn’t do the North any favours. It’s as if we’re holding a mirror to the region’s weaknesses and saying, ‘Here, look at us, this is what we’ve got.’ It’s reinforcing the negative stereotype that we can’t produce quality. 

Whether we like it or not, the digital presence of these creators who act as our representatives shapes how the world perceives us.

But let’s not ignore the few non-popular creators producing quality content in Hausa for the region. Many of these are tech-driven podcasts that, although still growing, offer substantial value. Unfortunately, these high-quality contributions are often overshadowed by the more glamorous but shallow content produced by popular stars or emergent ones desperate to trend. 

The question we must ask ourselves is: Which popular Hausa-speaking podcast from northern Nigeria truly offers real value to its audience? How much of the value is visible? Is the content truly for the audience or just for the producers? What narratives are being sold, and can we, in terms of quality, truly compete with podcasts from other regions in the country?

Until we get it right and have the right people behind the mics, with the right knowledge and intentions, these creators will continue to podcast about northern Nigeria’s weaknesses for likes. The unfortunate truth is that this will only serve to bury our efforts to challenge negative stereotypes six feet under. 

Ultimately, every creator has the right to produce what they want. In this case, the power is in the hands of the audience. 

You and I decide what should be popular.

Sa’id Sa’ad is a Nigerian writer and journalist currently residing in Germany. He is the author of the podcast-play “Gangare”. He won the Peace Panel Short Story Prize in 2018 and the NFC Essay Prize that same year. He presently works with the German broadcaster Deutsche Welle. 

By Sani Mu’azu

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihir rajiun.

It is with a heavy heart that I mourn the passing of my dear elder colleague, friend, and legendary actor Abdu Kano, famously known as Karkuzu.

I had the privilege of knowing Karkuzu for over 40 years, and I can confidently attest that he was an exceptional talent who left an indelible mark on the Nigerian film industry. His versatility as an actor was unmatched, effortlessly transitioning between comedic and serious roles with ease.

One of my most cherished memories of working with Karkuzu was on the hit Radio Drama, Karambana – a dawo lafiya. Paired alongside the iconic Kasimu Yero and the legendary Hausa Pop Singer Sani Dan Indo, Karkuzu, who played the role of Liba, brought his unique energy to the project, which became an instant sensation among truck drivers and freelance workers. Before then and even after, we worked together on several film projects, including the early version of the movie Amina, where he played the role of Sankira along with Pete Edochie, shot around 1998.

What struck me most about Karkuzu was his resilience and dedication to his craft. Despite facing numerous life challenges, including health issues, he continued to act well into his old age, inspiring countless young actors and actresses along the way.

As we bid farewell to this Nigerian film icon, I pray that Allah SWT grants his soul eternal rest in Jannat Firdausi. May his family, friends, and the entire Nigerian film industry find the strength and fortitude to bear this immense loss. Ameen.

Rest in peace, Mallam Karkuzu. Your legacy will live on through the countless lives you touched and the unforgettable characters you brought to life.