Kannywood

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

SE01EP02: Deep Space: The Apotheosis

Like a bolt of lightning, a key to open the freedom door dropped literally on my lap through the radio. In 1996 the government of Kano (Nigeria), where I live, was battling with Hausa creative fiction and public morals. One after the other, Islamic sheikhs came on the radio and condemned newly emerging Hausa creative fiction writers as being responsible for poor attention span in schools (and subsequent poor grades) and immorality. They did not indicate how many of the novels they had read, though. Their condemnations caught my attention, for it seems there was a reading culture among Hausa youth – something public culture kept lamenting as lacking among youth.   

Reading culture is, of course, an environment where reading is championed, valued, respected, and encouraged. BUT it seems that the reading culture in Kano meant reading school textbooks (if available) and passing examinations. Reading culture? James Hadley Chase, Harold Robbins, Irvin Wallace, Agatha Christie, Denise Robbins, Nick Carter, Joan Collins, Wilbur Smith, et al., anyone? So why not Ado Ahmad, Balaraba Ramat, Ɗan Azumi Baba, Bilkisu Salisu Ahmed Funtuwa? All the objections against Hausa literature were based on the baseless Media Effects Theory, which believes that mass media influences the attitudes and perceptions of audiences.

I, therefore, decided to delve into this ‘problem’ further. It was to be a bridge between cultural studies (popular culture) and education (reading culture).

I eventually traced the production of Hausa novels to the City Business Center in the city of Kano under the proprietorship of Alhaji Abba Lawan Maiunguwa, a childhood friend. This led to Ado Ahmed Gidan Dabino, unarguably the most successful of Hausa novelists, and the forging of a life-long friendship based on respect. I spent about two years in the field, talking, recording, and unarchiving writers, critics and fans of the Hausa creative fiction.

The writers included Ahmad Mahmood Zaharadden Yakasai, Yusuf Muhammad Adamu, Ibrahim Saleh Gumel, Ɗan Azimi Babba Cheɗiyar Ƴan Gurasa, Aminu Abdu Na’inna, Badamasi Shu’aibu Burji, Hamisu Bature, Aminu Hassan Yakasai, Abdullahi Yahaya Mai Zare, Bala Muhammad Makosa, Bashir Sanda Gusau, Bala Anas Babinlata. Female authors of the period included Hauwa Aminu, Talatu Wada, Zuwaira Isa, Safiya A. Tijjani, Binta Bello Ɗanbatta, Binta Maiwada, Jummai Mohammed Argungu Karima Abdu D/Tofa, Bilkisu S. Ahmed, and the most outstanding of them all, Balaraba Ramat Yakubu.

Along the line, I developed the Hausa hooked glottal sound characters (Ƙ, ƙ, Ɗ, ɗ, Ɓ, ɓ) to help in proper Hausa writing on computer word processing programs using Fontographer software. But that is a story for another day. Next, I went to my dad, Muhammadu Uba Adamu (Kantoma), discussed with him my new-found direction and sought his blessings. He readily approved. Not surprising, considering he had always been a radical on his right. Further, my early contact with literature was from his library, as he studied Political History with English Literature as a minor. His approval, and even later, endorsement, gave me courage.

Finally, I summoned enough nerve (remember, it was not my field, and I was aware those ‘in the field’ jealously guard their turf) to write an article and send it to Ibrahim Sheme of the New Nigerian Weekly newspaper. It was titled “Hausa Literature in the 1990s”. It was published in their April 24 and May 1, 1999 issues. It created a tsunami of a reaction.

Unbeknownst to me, the debate about the merits (or lack of) of Hausa creative fiction had run its course in various Hausa language newspapers and magazines. Hawwa Ibrahim Sherif fired the first salvo in an interview with Ibrahim Sheme, published in Nasiha, on September 6 1991 (some eight years before my own article).

Following on from her views (and she was a writer herself), two camps emerged – those who did not see any merit in the novels, and those who believed in them, the latter, perhaps understandably, was made up of mainly authors themselves, such as Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino, Yusuf Adamu, Kabiru Assada, etc. In 1998, Novian Whitsitt, an American student, even submitted a PhD thesis on Hausa creative fiction with a focus on Hajiya Balaraba Ramat Yakubu. His thesis was titled The Literature of Balaraba Ramat Yakubu and the Emerging Genre of Littattafai na Soyayya: A Prognostic of Change for Women in Hausa Society.” It was submitted to the African Studies Program University of Wisconsin-Madison.

You could therefore imagine the fire I came under; An Educationist was venturing into Hausa literary studies. Some accused me of being an ignoramus who knows nothing about Hausa literature (true), and others accused me of encouraging immorality (not true).

To get rid of my accused ignorance, I adopted two methods – both facilitated by my being a true believer in science and its methods. The first was rooted in the ethnology of Hausa cultural production. This approach was based on Victor Turner’s exposition of the ‘anthropology of experience’, itself based on Wilhelm Dilthey’s conception of ‘what has been lived through’. The approach enables the exploration of how people actually experience their culture and how those experiences are expressed in forms as varied as narrative, literary work, theatre, carnival, ritual, reminiscence, and life review. To get a closer look at the cultural production, it was necessary to be embedded in the process.

I started by identifying what was more or less a Bohemian cluster of Hausa fiction writers hanging out at City Business Center, Daneji, Kano city, along Sabon Titi. Then, I embedded myself into their cluster and observed what they were doing – inspiration for their stories, discussing plots for stories, typing, artwork, printing, marketing, etc. This went on for almost five years from 1998. As a result, I gained deep insights into their creativity and concerns. I also read quite a few of the fiction they produced to gain a more immersive experience.

In this process, I did not rely on secondary data but became a primary data gatherer myself. This came in good stead much later when I submitted a paper to a journal based in France. The editor wanted me to provide references for some of the narrative encounters. I pointed out that I was the reference and used Turner’s field study framework as a basis because I was there. The editor accepted, and eventually, the paper was published.

For the second method, I launched myself into a self-study of Critical Theory from the roots: to reflect on and critique society through literature. There were four varieties of such theory: new criticism, poststructuralism, psychoanalytic criticism, and Marxist theory. I delved into the first two, deeming that the other two do not apply to my data. I became a student of Jürgen Habermas and his “Structural Transformation of Public Sphere”, in which I see Islamicateness in expounding the boundaries of the public sphere. Stuart Hall and his critical works in cultural studies provided another roadmap to understanding the reception of media texts. Marshall Hodgson’s essay on the idea of “Islamicate” societies seemed to mesh perfectly well with my own sites of contestation of media production, distribution and consumption. Anthony Giddens and his Structuration provided an excellent introduction to Agency.

I thus refused to cage myself within Nigerian Hausaist (for which I am not one) delineation of Hausa studies into apparently mutually incompatible divisions of Literature (Adabi), Language (Harshe) and Culture (Al’ada). I said ‘apparently mutually incompatible’ because if you are versed or specialized in one, you are not expected to know much about the other. In other words, you should ‘stay behind the yellow line’!

And so, the battlelines were drawn, and for almost five years to 2004, New Nigerian Weekly and Weekly Trust pages were awash with what Ibrahim Sheme referred to as The Great Soyayya Debate. I was in the thick of it. But, since the debates were on pages of newspapers and therefore meant for the general readership, I focused on simply defending the right to write rather than the morals of the contents (for which, in my opinion, show cleanliness) or the grammatical sophistication of the writers. They have a right to write and thus write the rites to right the wrongs they perceive in society – after all, the genre is referred to as ‘adabi’ (reflection).  

Only four people at Bayero University believed in what I was doing. Isma’ila Abubakar Tsiga, Sa’idu Ahmad Babura, Abubakar Adamu Rasheed and Ibrahim Bello-Kano – all from the Department of English and European Languages. Ibrahim Bello-Kano, or IBK as he is popularly referred to, was the Seminar coordinator in the Department of English and European Languages in 2001. He invited me to present a paper at their Departmental Seminar, which I agreed to and presented in January 2001. It was the first academic presentation of my research. I was understandably nervous because I was presenting something on new terrain to people fully trained and versed in it. However, the paper’s title, Tarbiyar Bahaushe, Mutumin Kirki and Hausa Prose Fiction: Towards an Analytical Framework, introduced something to the polemics besides just moral indignation.

However, soon enough, the massive success of Hausa fiction authors (despite scathing criticism from academic and public culture) emboldened them enough to migrate to the emergent Hausa video film industry. If there is one person to be credited with creating the Hausa film industry, it was a writer, the late Aminu Hassan Yakasai. He was both a novelist, a scriptwriter and a Hausa soap opera star. He and his collaborators, such as Bashir Mudi Yakasai and Salisu Galadanci, launched the first Hausa video film, Turmin Danya, in March 1990. This predated Nollywood’s Living in Bondage in 1992. Sunusi Burhan Shehu, a novelist, established a Hausa film magazine, Tauraruwa, and in a regular column in August 1999, created the term “Kanywood” to refer to the Hausa film industry. It is the first reference to a film industry in Africa and predated “Nollywood”, which was coined in 2002 by Norimitsu Onishi in a New York Times report.

In 1999 Sarauniya Films Kano released the catalytic video film that literally shaped the direction of the industry. It was Sangaya. It was, like most Hausa youth literature, mainly a love story. It was not the story that was significant about the film, however, but its soundtrack with catchy song and dance routines backed by synthesized sound samples of traditional Hausa instruments such as kalangu (talking drum), bandiri (frame drum) and sarewa (flute). The effect was electric on a youth audience seeking alternative and globalized—essentially modern—means of being entertained than the traditional music genre, which seemed aimed at either rural audiences or older urbanites. It became an instant hit. Indeed, the success of Sangaya was as momentous in the history of the Hausa video film industry as Living in Bondage was for the southern Nigerian video films. The Hausa video films that subsequently emerged were predominantly based on cloning Bollywood films and production characteristics – love triangles, gender rivalry, and choreographic song and dance routines. At least until 2007, when the system crashed after the leakage of a private steamy sex video of a popular actress. The entire entry was labelled bad, just like the literature industry. A new censorship regime was instituted that made film production difficult.

Internet became widely available late 1990s, and by 2000 it had become affordable. Before that, we had to rely on the National Universities Commission (NUC) switchbacks to access it. So when Nitel started offering it, we jumped on. Yahoo! Groups was launched in early 2001. A series of discussion boards formed the earliest reiteration of social networks, predating Facebook, which was created in 2004 but became available only in 2009 to us. Seizing the opportunity to create lively discussions, I formed three groups on the Yahoo! Groups platform: Finafinan Hausa, Littattafan Hausa, and Mawaƙan Hausa, from August 31 to November 15 2001. Finafinan Hausa was by far the liveliest.

By 2009 when the discussions whittled away, there were almost 25,000 postings on the board. Other boards did not fare too well. Further, between 2000 to 2009, I chaired thirteen Hausa video film award ceremonies, four of which were organized by Yahoo! Groups. The discussion board really popularized many of the Hausa video film stars. The University of Frankfurt in Germany even dedicated a Library Officer to join the groups and harvest all the comments as examples of public discourse on Hausa popular culture.

All these did not prevent me from participating in educational alphabet soup agency activities, so I was still rooted in Education. Criss-crossing the north, training education officials, writing reports no one read, and working out the next activity. Along the process, I became Head of the Department of Education – rather reluctantly, for I was enjoying fieldwork in cultural production and educational alphabet soup interventions (the latter helped to put additional plates on the table!).

In 1993 the late Prof. Mike Egbon of the Department of Mass Communication, Bayero University Kano, visited my office and asked me to help supervise his PhD student who was working on the transfer of communication education curriculum from the US to Nigeria. Between 1991 to 1992, I was a Fulbright Senior Research Scholar at the Center for Studies in Higher Education, University of California, Berkely. My work focused on the transnational transfer of education from the US to Nigeria, resulting in a book published in 1994 in New York. It was titled Living on a Credit Line: Reform and Adaptation in Nigerian University Curricula. It was my work in the US which I had been discussing at various places within the campus that attracted Mike Egbon, and he appointed me as co-supervisor and internal examiner to his student. Mike Egbon, then, was the one who opened the door for me to enter the Mass Communication department.

While all this was happening, a conference on Hausa video films was held in one of the northern Universities. The conference condemned the films, just as earlier on, the writers of Hausa fiction were also condemned. Many of these writers, using the cheap availability of video cameras, had transitioned from Hausa fiction to Hausa films and, in the process, attracted a lot of mainly non-indigenous Hausa into the industry. But because these elements use the Hausa language in their films and rely virtually exclusively on cloning Hindi cinema, all Hausa films were tarred with the same paintbrush. So the focus of the conference held somewhere in the north was to confirm how bad the films were from cultural perspectives.

However, in August 2002, a group of academicians and members of the Hausa entertainment industry in Kano got together to discuss the state of research on Hausa popular culture and media technologies, with particular reference to the Hausa films. It was meant to be a brainstorming session with various inputs from members overshadowed by the then-current crisis in the non-marketability of Hausa films due to condemnations from the public culture. Further, it was noted that there had been no systematic study of the phenomena from academic perspectives, at least by the practitioners themselves. A strong observation at this meeting was the increasing role of media technologies in popular culture and how Hausa urban communities are refining the concept of entertainment among the Hausa.

The group noted, with concern, a lack of local input into the systematized pieces of research showing the relationship between Hausa culture and popular media as a vehicle of cultural preservation and transmission. In this regard, it was noted some of the most significant advances in this area were made by our foreign Hausaist colleagues. All these researchers have published extensively on Hausa culture and language, and their works are heralded as authoritative accounts of Hausa popular media.

Thus, while the group acknowledged the immense contributions made by these foreign researchers, it saw these researches as challenges to stimulating local scholars into exploring other terrains of popular culture among the Hausa. As a result of these observations, the group suggested a series of activities aimed at creating collaborative opportunities for research between local researchers, practitioners of popular culture (literature, music, film, indigenous knowledge etc.) and international partners. A committee was formed to articulate all these into a conference, and I was made the Chairman of the Committee.

Eventually, on 3rd to 5th August 2003, we held the first-ever international conference on Hausa films in Kano, with the theme of Hausa Home Videos: Technology, Economy and Society. It was hugely successful, attracting presentations from US and Germany in addition to both local film practitioners and academicians. I, Yusuf Adamu and Umar Faruk Jibril edited the papers and a book with the same title as the conference was published in Kano in 2004. The resolution of the conference was to establish a Center for Hausa Cultural Studies. This was meant to be a think tank that would hold monthly events to promote Hausa cultural production in the internet age.

Later, tired of the constant criticisms against me from the film industry despite all my efforts (they believed that by focusing on culture, I was disparaging their art), I shifted my ethnographic focus to music, with a particular focus on the Rap genre which was trending at the time. This community of cultural producers – K-Boyz, Kano Riders, Lil’ TeAxy, BMERI, ClassiQ, Dr Pure, G-Fresh, Haddy, K-Arrowz, the late Lil’ Amir, etc. – proved more welcoming than filmmakers.

By 2004 I had attracted the attention of some colleagues overseas, particularly Brian Larkin in the US, Graham Furniss in the UK and Heike Behrend in Germany. I even wrote a visa approval letter for Heike Behrend, then Director, Institute of African Studies, University of Cologne, Germany, to come to Nigeria and conduct fieldwork on Hausa films. Heike Behrend was to later “adopt” me as her son. She is a brilliant ethnologist with a field experience in Kenya and Uganda, as detailed in her excellent book, Incarnation of an Ape. An autobiography of ethnographic research (2020), which itself is a textbook on the anthropology of experience. As she stated in a YouTube introduction to the book, “it was about reversing the perspective and showing how those I meant to ethnograph ethnographed me.”

Thus, when Graham Furniss was asked to nominate participants for a “Seminar on Media in Africa” in Nairobi, Kenya, organized by the International African Institute in August 2004, he nominated my name, and I was accepted. Again, in the same year, he was invited to Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz, Germany (plainly referred to as the University of Mainz) to participate in the 8th International Janheinz Jahn Symposium “Creative Writing in African Languages: Production, Mediation, Reception”. It was to be held at the Centre for Research on African Literatures, Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz, 17-20 November 2004. Graham had too many engagements for the period and suggested to the organizers that I should be invited – something they accepted. I received an invitation to participate in the conference.

At the first event in Nairobi, I met Heike Behrend, who was also invited, and during an off-conference interaction over a cup of expresso (her favourite rendering of coffee!!) I informed her of my coming trip to Mainz for a conference. She immediately extended an invitation for me to come to the University of Cologne on my way to Mainz and present a seminar to doctoral students on any topic I like. This I did on November 15 2004 and presented a paper to the students. It was titled “Enter the Dragon: Sharī’ah, Popular Culture and Film Censorship in northern Nigeria.”

Note, from the poster, that I was still in the Department of Education. When I returned to Nigeria, I met Dr Gausu Ahmad, then Head of the Department of Mass Communication BUK, who insisted on the paper being presented at their own Departmental Seminar. Before that, I was already teaching Advanced Research Methods to postgraduate students and Online Journalism at all levels. Further, I was already working with a doctoral student in the Department. Unknown to me, Dr Gausu had already recommended my employment as a Part-Time lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication. A letter to that effect was eventually sent to me in November 2005. Earlier, the Department had requested my transfer from Education, but the Vice-Chancellor at the time refused.

The visit to Germany in 2004 was the beginning of a series of travels to various universities as a visiting lecturer/professor/guest speaker etc., in media and cultural production. These included the US (University of Florida, Gainesville; Rutgers State University of New Jersey; Barnard College, Columbia University), UK (School of African and Oriental Studies), Switzerland (University of Basel), Germany (Freie University, Berlin; University of Mainz; University of Freiburg; University of Cologne, University of Hamburg; Humboldt University), South Africa (University the Witwatersrand), and Cameroon (University of Yaoundé).

In November 2008, I was once more invited to Germany for an event. After my event at the University of Hamburg, one of the participants, Nina Pawlak from the Department of African Languages and Cultures, University of Warsaw, Poland, approached me and asked if I would like to visit Poland for three months as a Visiting Professor. I delightfully accepted. The funding was to come from the European Union under the program of The Modern University – a comprehensive support program for doctoral students and teaching staff of the University of Warsaw as part of Sub-measure 4.1.1 “Enhancing the educational capacity of a higher education institution” of the Human Capital Operational Programme, of the EU. After all the paperwork was done, I was eventually offered the Visiting Professor position at the Department of African Languages and Cultures, University of Warsaw, Poland, from March 1 to May 31 2012. I taught two courses: Transnationalism and Identity in African Popular Culture and Oral Traditions in Local and Global Contexts.

Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu wrote from the Department of Information and Media Studies, Bayero University Kano, Nigeria. He is, among many other things, the former Vice-Chancellor of the National Open University of Nigeria (NOUN). He can be reached via auadamu@yahoo.com.

By Muhammad Aminu

Directors in Kano-based Hausa film industry popularly known as Kannywood have reacted to the recent directive banning use of police kits in films by the NIgeria’s Inspector General of Police (IGP).

IGP Usman Baba, in a statement issued in Abuja earlier signed by the Police Spokesman, Olumuyiwa Adejobi, announced that filmmakers, comedians and skit makers have been banned from using police uniforms and other skits in their acts without explicit permission from the police as the law entails.

The Statement added that the actors stop portraying the Nigeria Police in badlight or ridiculing it in their activities.

A prominent director in Kannywood, Aminu Saira, told BBC Hausa that they will consider or study the directive if it is in line with the Nigeria’s laws they would comply with it.

Saira further said that if their findings reveal that they are not contravening any law of the land, they will join hands with Nollywood to challenge the directive in a court of law.

He said: “The Police and Filmmakers are all guided by NIgeria’s laws. All people residing in Nigeria must subject themselves to NIgeria’s laws.

“So, if NIgeria’s law prohibits use of police kits in films, we must abide by that, we must respect the law of the land. We have no alternative.

“But if the law doesn’t prohibit it, then we will do everything jointly with Nollywood to seek legal interpretation of the law whether or not police kits can be used.”

According to him, Kannywood has already been seeking permission on police-related scenes in their films from Kano State Commissioner of Police.

He said due to some incidents that happened in the past, they were ordered to seek for permission in any role relating to police in their films.

“Right now, there is a company that was certified by the Police which specializes in processing anything related to police such as guns, uniform etc. that would be used in films. You send the script to them and they will consider it and seek permission from the police,” the director added.

Another director, Aminu Bono, who said that there was little or no consultation from the IGP argued that it is globally not possible to restrict use of uniforms such as lawyers, soldiers or doctors’ by filmmakers because they are simply replicating realities of their respective societies.

He noted that in all their films, they acquire permit from the police.

“We in Kano State, there is a department that takes care of such things under Police Public Relations Officer (PPRO). The Police sometimes visit our shooting locations and guide us on how to do things related to police activities.

“We did films that affect the police directly where we used facilities of Kano Police Command Headquarters. In flms like ‘Kwana Casa’in and ‘Barazana’, we worked closely with the police.

He further revealed that the police have representation in Kano State Films Censorship Board where Kannywood films are sieved prior to their public debut.

He said that the IGP can still review this order with informed discussion with relevant stakeholders.

• Director: Hafizu Bello

• Producer: Abubakar Bashir Mai-Shadda

• Screenplay: Naziru Alkanawiy

• Language: Hausa

• Company: Mai-Shadda Global Resources Limited

• Release Date: 9/7/2022

• Cast: Amal Umar, Nura Hussaini, Adam A. Zango, Sani Danja, Shamsu Dan Iya, Sani Mu’azu, Kanayo O. Kanayo, Sadiya Umar, Abdurrazak Sultan, etc.

You can hardly see a ‘thriller’ or a ‘crime mystery film’ in Kannywood’s archive. Recently, however, the trend has begun to change, as the rare genre is being explored by the veteran director Hafizu Bello. After presenting the murder mystery film HIKIMA in 2021, he came again with another one entitled AISHA. It revolves around the eponymous character, a rape victim who eventually dies, and her parents’ struggle for justice.

Aisha (Amal Umar) is a university student from a low-income family. Her father, Malam Balarabe (Nura Hussaini), tries his best to see her success. However, one fateful day, she is found lying, raped and wounded on campus. The police soon arrive and take her to the hospital. Meanwhile, the university management is more concerned about the school’s reputation. They, therefore, conspire with the police officer in charge of the case, SP Audu Makera (Adam A. Zango) and the doctor (Abba El- Mustapha) to hide the embarrassing incident.

Aisha’s parents are upset and anxious to know the cause of their daughter’s critical condition, but the doctor refuses to tell them. Therefore, her father questions the official report issued after she dies and files a petition to get justice. The audience is then taken to the courtroom, where everything is unmasked at the end.

Typical of mystery films, the plot is uncommonly twisted. Many sequences are cut before they end and later continued as flashbacks, particularly when the suspects are interrogated. There are more flashbacks as the defendants and witnesses talk during the court sessions. But all are flawlessly pieced together. The credit should go to the director, Hafizu Bello, who handles the film with the finesse of a devoted artist. Other crew members also did remarkably well. The cinematography is top-notch, and the locations are beautiful. There is also good use of costumes and props.

The film exposes the grim reality in some higher institutions where the students commit serious misconduct. It can also be a wake-up call for parents to be extra cautious about their female children. We see how Aisha duped her father into believing she would spend her night in the hostel but ended up in her boyfriend’s room, where the tragedy later befalls her. The film also highlights how the elite plot against the masses to protect their selfish interests.

Indeed, Aisha is a decent, well-crafted movie with a strong message and realistic narrative. However, the University setting and courtroom dramas make it somewhat formulaic, resembling the director’s previous film Hikima. It would’ve also been more intriguing if it had begun from the scene where Aisha is shown lying on the ground.

The film has an all-star cast, and the actors fit their respective roles. But some of them, like Yakubu Muhammad and Baballe Hayatu, are wasted as minor characters. The eponymous heroine (Amal Umar), the prime suspect (Shamsu Dan Iya) and the security personnel (Sani Danja and Adam A. Zango) all try to pull off good performances. However, it’s Nura Hussaini that steals every scene he features. The courage and anguish he communicates as Aisha’s hapless father seem extremely real. The lawyers (Sani Mu’azu and Sadiya Umar) and the judge (Kanayo O. Kanayo) also play their part with remarkable capacity.

Although Aisha is not a masterpiece, it’s better than the fluffs Kannywood churn out regularly. I, therefore, strongly recommend it—rating 3.5/5.

Reviewed by:

Habibu Maaruf Abdu

Kano, Nigeria

habibumaaruf11@gmail.com

By Anna Mohr

The movie, There is a way, directed by Falalu A. Dorayi and produced by Abba El-Mustapha, is a simple but effective feel-good movie retelling popular tropes and stories in a predictable but heartwarming way. Following the recipe of Shakespearean dramatics and clichéd Disney movies in the 2000s, such as Cinderella Story or High School Musical, it easily can stand on its own while also covering issues of the Hausa society and giving insights into its culture – an entertaining and so sweet movie you can taste the sugar on your lips.

Isham is a middle-class university student with a pure heart who wants to get his degree through hard work. He falls high over heels for Fadilla, the daughter of a wealthy businessman. The two desperately want to be together but must face several problems threatening to destroy their relationship.

There is a Way was the first Hausa movie I watched, and although the story has already been told a thousand times, I easily became invested with it. Even though I rarely watch romantic movies, I have a soft spot for them. The quality of the film is fitting to the story itself: simple but refreshing. Please, do not expect finesse camerawork or outstanding dialogues – you will surely be disappointed. But the blunt storytelling is made up of dramatics that can easily compete with those of the Bollywood film industry.

The movie itself is certainly no piece of art. It is amateurishly made: the camera is wiggling, and the lighter colours in the scenes are sometimes glaring and unnatural. At the same time, the movie uses effects such as slow-motion, certain scenes are muted to create tension and dramatic music is played in between.

The story itself is predictable as typical for a romantic movie and has similarities to our Western fairy tales and Elizabethan or ancient love stories: Man meets a woman and falls in love at first sight, but their love is doomed, and they have to face challenges before being together. Also, the poor protagonist and his rich-born love interest are no rarity in this genre. Another aspect I recognized in the film is the flat characters: We have a pure-hearted hero who cannot do wrong. But instead, tragedy happens to him, and his pureness is challenged. I found that quite wasted because characters are made to make mistakes. They can only grow when they do wrong and when they fail. There is a sense of relatedness that I miss.

The characters themselves are introduced in simplicity. When Fadilla’s parents appear on screen, they are introduced with “Hello Mum” and “Hello Dad”, which is blunt and unimaginative to share the family ties with the viewer. The dialogues are just as direct. The movie is in English, and there is no dubbing involved, meaning that Hausa people speak a language that is not their own. That includes that the dialogues are often wooden and lacking finesse. “I will tell you the secret of …” is just one example of the movie’s very direct way of communication, and I daresay that it would have been more natural if the characters had spoken in their own language. The English script has some sentences that are generally not used, leading to many exaggerated dialogues. For example, “you harbour a criminal” when Isham is accused of cheating in an exam.

So, why do I like this movie?

Easy: Because it has charm. It is charming how Isham and Fadilla are swooning about each other. How they tell each other Shakespearean confessions of undyeable love as if they just teleported into one of his sonnets; how they are the embodiment of a Greek tragedy, a Hausa variant of Romeo and Juliet; how the world is joined against them, but they are still standing side by side.

Viewing the Hausa society and culture in the movie is also fascinating. When watching it, you may recognize that male and female characters are never touching each other – not mother and son, not father and daughter, nor the lovers. In addition, women are wearing scarves – hijabs – around their heads, so you cannot see their hair.

Another interesting fact is the mention of Allah instead of God, which I needed some time to get used to the first time I watched the movie. Also, certain issues are discussed: For example, the gap between poor and rich, the importance of education and the problem of corruption and blackmailing at university. These aspects convey the information I would not find out otherwise and give more insights than any textbook in school.

To put it all together, the movie is a people pleaser. You can easily be invested in the plot and follow the relationship between Isham and Fadilla, although the story itself is simple and predictable. At the same time, there are interesting aspects of culture and society. So, I recommend watching it!

Anna Mohr studies at the University of Cologne, Germany. She can be reached via amohr9@smail.uni-koeln.de.

By Habibu Maaruf Abdu

On Sunday, July 3, 2022, Kannywood lost a colossus and a rare talent, Nura Mustapha Waye. Thousands of condolences started pouring from all angles as soon as the news of his death broke. Waye was the director of Izzar So and many other series and feature films. His sudden death came as a tremendous shock and left the Kannywood members and millions of their audience with tears in their eyes.

“Waye’s death is a significant loss to Kannywood, for he’s, I believe, the most prolific director today.” So says the Kannywood leading scholar-cum-critic, Dr Muhsin Ibrahim, in his short tribute to the late director.

Nura Waye, or Malam Nura, as he was respectfully called, proved unique among his peers in the Hausa film industry. He neglected its favourite musical love stories to make topical Islamic compliant productions. His dream of educating the audience prompted him to incorporate Qur’anic verses and prophetical sayings into the dialogues of his most of his films.

“In filmmaking, there are messages you could send and get a divine reward from the Almighty Allah… I take film as a medium for propagating a particular policy or ideology. This is what primarily inspired me to venture into it,” he once told VOA Hausa in an interview.

Waye began his Kannywood journey in the late 1990s. He was an actor throughout his first five years in the industry. He, afterwards, switched to director to realize his ambition of making films with a didactic tone. His early films left no mark, and he remained unnoticed for over a decade. Kuru-Kuru (2018) was, perhaps, his first movie to get critical attention.

The movie, which deals with the issue of ‘incest’, revolves around a new bride whose husband finds to be pregnant. After a lengthy investigation, it’s discovered that her uncle is responsible for the pregnancy. The movie received positive reviews and was generally praised for its theme and steady plot. But Waye would never rest there.

He reached the pinnacle of his career in 2020 after creating the YouTube series IZZAR SO. It was a sensational hit, and it went on to become the most-watched Kannywood series on YouTube. Its remarkable success dictated the migration of the Hausa film business to the online platform. Muhsin describes it as a ‘game-changer’ and opines thus:

“There might be a few YouTube series before Izzar So, but many more emerged following its unprecedented success. This has inspired many filmmakers, both struggling and established, to resort to making series, serials and feature films for YouTube.”

For Waye, however, Izzar So was not just a success but a fulfilment. This is because it catapulted him to the top of his career, which was his ultimate goal. “I want Allah to elevate me to its top,” he said when asked about his dream in the filmmaking business.

Nonetheless, Waye’s films are only one aspect of his legacy. He, on another side, had a reputation for being a very gentle, peaceful man. He was also so decent that he hardly features an actress wearing a tight-fitting dress in his movies. These, together with his vivid love for the Prophet (S.A.W), endeared him to the Hausa-Muslim populace despite their hostility towards Kannywood members.

Finally, as a Kannywood movie reviewer, I affirm Nura Mustapha Waye’s rare creativity. I believe he will always be remembered as a socioreligiously-committed filmmaker who led to Kannywood’s migration to online space and, above all, ‘the genius behind Izzar So’.

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

The “Hausa films in English” have, since their debut, been as much praised as they have been criticised. However, while a large section of spectators welcomes the films, many others regard them as a threat to the development of the indigenous language. Others go further to describe them as “non-Kannywood” productions.

However, their initiator and promoter, Malam Kabiru Musa Jammaje, remains undaunted. He is all set to enthral the audience with another Kannywood film in English after the remarkable success of There is a way (2016), This is the way (2017), Light and darkness (2018) and In search of the king (2019).

The soon-to-be-released movie, entitled Nanjala, is the first of its kind in Kannywood. It features the industry’s heavyweights alongside top Nollywood actors like Enyinna Nwigwe, Nancy Isime, Segun Arinze, Sola Sabowale, among others. Moreover, it’s reportedly the most expensive Kannywood movie with a budget worth over N35 million.

The movie was directed by “whizkid” Ali Nuhu, co-produced by Abubakar Bashir Mai-Shadda and titled after its main character, Nanjala. I have only watched its two-minute-long teaser, but I could grasp that the eponymous heroine, Nanjala, is a journalist whose investigative reports would lead to the main conflicts. The film’s themes may include corruption, honesty, women empowerment, the menace of drug abuse, moral decadence, etc. The cinematography is terrific, and the cast seems to give an outstanding performance.

To be right is to describe the film as ‘pan-Nigerian’ due to its production quality, cast, English medium, and the resonance of its message in the country. It’s, of course, promising and will surely appeal to moviegoers from a wide range of backgrounds.

I, therefore, commend the trio of Jammaje, Ali Nuhu and Mai-Shadda for making a Kannywood film with the potential to catapult the overlooked film industry to the international stage. I do hope that it will not disappoint.

Habibu Maaruf Abdu

Kano, Nigeria

habibumaaruf11@gmail.com

27.5.2022

By Lawi Auwal Yusuf

I have been keenly following the recent raging altercation aroused by the hard-hitting comments of Nafisa Abdullahi. Many people have voiced their diverging opinions; some took an affirmative position while others came out against her. However, there is a consensus between the different parties that Almajiris are in a dire condition. Hence, no one would like to see his son in such a critical situation.

Though everybody has the leeway to express his mind, why are we wasting our energies on arguments that will come to nothing? These children are clamouring for justice, not a palaver over their plight. Such wrangle will never let us escape from the shackles of mutual antagonism. I believe that this issue is beyond mere accusation and counter-accusation. On the contrary, we have to go the extra mile. We have to give it our best shot to mark a turning point in this issue. Thus, we must debate matters that will help us clinch a victory over the problem. Put another way, it is more important to shift our attention from pointing accusing fingers at each other and focusing on the solution. This tendency to emphasise the problem rather than the solution is deeply entrenched in society and ravages our daily lives. Instead, it is more logical to put the solution above the issue.

Concentrating more on the problem will put us on a road that goes nowhere. It will keep us going around in circles, remain coasting and yield no helpful result. It will always go against us while our efforts remain in the doldrums. If you think this is the right way to ward off the problem. Indeed, you are living in a dream world. It is time to stop the dispute, draw a line under the issue and face reality, as this intractable desertion is getting out of hand.

Those on the same wavelength with the actress should know that not all the children they see on the street begging are actually Almajiris. Many children from impoverished homes disguise themselves as Almajiris to beg for food or scavenge through garbage, looking for valuable materials to sell for a living.

Furthermore, I want to remind those lilliputians that ridicule the Tsangaya that immensurable successes had been achieved through the system. It was the only institution that catered to the educational needs of our people before the inception of Western education. It was the bedrock of our ancient civilisation that paved the way for modern civilisation. It was the institution upon which the foundation for the development of society rested. It was attended by both the nobles and the commoners.

The Sultans of the Sokoto Caliphate, emirs of its semi-autonomous city-states and other members of the aristocratic class all went to Tsangaya. Also, they received their leadership skills training there and trained other administrators who served in different capacities. Moreover, Tsangaya scholars designed the constitution used to govern such a gigantic empire effectively. In addition to all these, it rolled out the khadis (Shari’a court judges) that administered justice, the Imams that led prayers, and Muftis that issued verdicts to guide authorities and the people on both their spiritual and worldly affairs. They also served then as the think tank.

Similarly, great scholars impart knowledge, herbalists that cure ailments, astrologists that determined praying times, crescent sighting, weather forecasts and navigation routes came from such a school system. On this basis, Northerners were proud boastfully that they were literates with a systematic way of life even before the imperialists invaded the region. So, we must be grateful for that.

On the other hand, those who take an unfavourable position from the Kannywood model should understand that the system now doesn’t go; it has a lot of issues and needs momentous changes. It is not what it used to be before. It has taken a different dimension in the last decades. We can’t keep going like that. The Tsangaya must be radically renewed, and these downtrodden children must be liberated from such bondage. Their future must be secured. They need to be under the vehement supervision of their parents, accompanied by their affection, psychological support and care. They have to enjoy the comfort of their homes and the bond of kinship ties, as we have all enjoyed. They deserve a decent life.

Lastly, politicians that have been dilatory in dealing with this problem and wash their hands on the matter must back away from such attitude. They must show genuine commitment to eradicating this menace. We must help these children to salvage the country because we have no other country than Nigeria. IT’S OURS!

Lawi Auwal Yusuf wrote from Kano, Nigeria, via laymaikanawa@gmail.com.

By Ahmad Deedat Zakari

Arewa movie producers, under the umbrella of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN) and Arewa Filmmakers Association of Nigeria (AFMAN), have urged their members to boycott this year’s Zuma International Film Festival (ZUFF).

The reasons for the decision were stated in an undated open letter addressed to the Minister of Information and Culture, Lai Muhammad and jointly signed by the presidents of MOPPAN and AFMAN, Dr Ahmad Muhammad Sarari and Alhaji Sani Sule Katsina.

According to the two associations, marginalisation and infringement of their fundamental rights are the prevailing reasons that forced them out of participating in the government-sponsored ZUFF Festival. 

“The event was deliberately fixed on ‘Sallah’ day, which, apart from being a festive day for all Muslims in the world, it is also a public holiday meant to honour and celebrate the end of the holy month of ‘Ramadan.’ This singular act precludes all Muslims from participating and benefitting from the festival.”

The release, among other things, concludes that “[W]e doubt if any government agency can organise such national event on Christmas or New-year festive days.”

The coalition also implores the Minister of Information and Culture, Lai Muhammad, to step into the issue and address their grievances.

By Ishaq Habeeb

I’ve met Nafisa twice, first at Zoo Road, Kano, hanging out with a friend who’s in business with many Kannywood industry people. Second, when I escorted a friend who visited Kano, Nigeria, from Niamey, Niger Republic. He had been pen pals with Nafisa for some time. So they agreed to meet whenever she’s in Kano.

After my initial attempts to dodge being part of making this meeting happen, I grudgingly agreed to link them up. But, aside from that, I don’t know Nafisa enough as an actress to know whether I like her or her movies.

I mostly remember her from the one-time popular song, “Bankwana sai watarana“, sang by Nazifi Asnanic. But following this Almajiranci debate, I already like her as an activist and looking forward to liking her as – hopefully – a good actress.

As for Naziru, I’ve met him several times. Besides being best friends with his childhood friend Rabiu Uba, I’ve had business reasons to visit his T/Fulani residence last year with Usman G. Abubakar and spent time with the singer in his living room. That aside, I am no fan of his mostly-political music. Nothing personal, just not my genre.

Now back to the original reason behind this write-up; the Almajiranci debate. My stand; Nafisat Abdullahi is right, so is Naziru Sarkin Waka. For those of us that know people in the Kannywood industry and have lived in Kano (the headquarters of Almajiranci in the world) long enough to see the horror of Almajiranci at its peak, we are in a better position to say they’re both right.

Victims of inadequate parenting primarily dominate both Kannywood and Almajiranci systems. Therefore, inadequate parenting is the monster we need to kill. Given that, bearing more children than one can adequately cater for is hugely responsible for bad parenting. This fact proves Nafisa and Naziru right.

Conclusively, the major problem lies with the people that make it their life’s calling always to attack messengers to discredit a message that often serves the good of all – however factual and tangible the facts in the message may be.

First, it was Digital Imam, speaking truth to Presidency on the escalating level of insecurity. Then Nafisat, for speaking out against Almajiranci, a menace we all agree needs urgent addressing. Then almost concurrently, Naziru, for speaking out against the prevalent immoralities in Kannywood, which is being perpetrated chiefly by victims of inadequate parenting.

Now, one can only pray, as a people, may we learn to hate our problems more than we love judging who’s reminding us of their presence for us to FIX them.

Ishaq Habeeb wrote from Kano via simplyishaqhabeeb@gmail.com.

By Aminu Mohammed

I have observed the raging debate over the Almajiri debacle in the last few days, especially the antagonism against a Kannywood actress Nafisa Abdullahi. The actress voiced out against parents who send their children to urban centres to memorise the Quran under the guise of an Almajiri system.

This issue resonates with me because I was once an “Almajiri”, though in a modernised form of learning. I was a product of Arabic and Islamic education. I am still grateful to my late father for seeing the wisdom in sending me to the College of Islamic Studies Afikpo, a boarding secondary school in Southeastern Nigeria funded by a Saudi Arabia-based International Islamic organisation Rabita Alamul Islam (the Muslim World League). Unlike some of my schoolmates who later studied Islamic studies at Islamic University Madina and Azhar University Cairo, Egypt, I decided to study International Studies at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, against my father’s wish, whose dream was for me to be an Islamic scholar.

I am still at a loss wondering why the actress is being pilloried for telling the truth. If you ask these intellectual lilliputians and Nafisa’s traducers whether they will be comfortable sending their children out to beg on the streets under the guise of Quranic education, they will never say yes.

Before you call me “Karen farautar yahudawa”, an agent of Jews, which our people are fond of calling those who seek societal change and are in tune with modern realities, let me clarify that I did not attend a conventional secondary school. I advocate an integrated education system involving the acquisition of both western and Islamic education. 

I will never advocate against memorising the Quran or acquiring Islamic knowledge because I was a beneficiary of that. At the boarding secondary school in Afikpo, Ebonyi state, we were taught Hadith, Fiqh, Balaga, Tafsir, Tajwid, Saqafa, Sirat, Ulumul Falsaf, Sarf and Nahw, among other subjects, by some Islamic scholars mainly from Pakistan, Egypt and India. I was able to speak Arabic with confidence on completing my secondary education. I even took some Arabic courses as an elective throughout my studies in Zaria. Even here in Germany, I still communicate with my neighbours from the Middle East in Arabic.

I am not worried that this article will generate antagonism in some quarters or be pilloried for triggering anger in some folks. But the truth of the matter is that we cannot continue on this trajectory. This system can no longer continue the way it is; otherwise, we may be heading towards the precipice. 

The word Almajiri is derived from the Arabic word “Almuhajirun”, meaning a person who migrates from his locality to other places in the quest for Islamic knowledge. During the colonial era and a few years after that, the schools were maintained by the state, communities, the parents, ‘Zakkah’, ‘Waqf’ and augmented by the teachers and students through farming.  “Bara”, begging as it is known today, was completely unheard of. 

Mallams and their pupils, in return, provide the community with Islamic education, reading and writing of the Qur’an, in addition, to the development of Ajami, i.e. writing and reading of the Hausa language using Arabic Alphabets.  Based on this system, which is founded upon the teachings of the Qur’an and Hadith, the then Northern Nigeria was broadly educated with a whole way of life, governance, customs, traditional craft, trade and even the mode of dressing.

However, the system was corrupted in the past few decades, with teachers sending the children to beg for food on the streets. Similarly, many irresponsible parents were unwilling to cater to their children. Thus, they send them away to cities to purportedly acquire quranic education.

The current Almajiri system is not only archaic but atavistic. We must tell ourselves the truth that society is drifting. What we are facing today regarding security challenges in the North will be child’s play if our people refuse to change their ways. There is no gainsaying that the future is bleak if what we can boast of is an armada of malnourished and unkempt children who are roaming the streets under the guise of Islamic education. Eventually, the children may not acquire any meaningful skills to become useful members of society. 

I am not a prophet of doom and derive no joy in pessimism. But, I do not see a bright future for a region struggling with a depleted human resource, coupled with millions of underage children clad in tattered clothes with bowls roaming the streets begging for food. I do not foresee any meaningful progress and development in such a society.

I still recall, in 2012, when former President Goodluck Jonathan visited Sokoto to inaugurate the Almajiri Integrated Model School in the Gagi area of the Sokoto metropolis. This boarding school was equipped with modern facilities. As a journalist working with THISDAY Newspaper then, I was there at the commissioning and even interviewed the school’s principal Malam Ubaidullah, a few months after the inauguration. I was excited that there would be a gradual process of taking Almajiris off the streets, as was promised by former Sokoto governor Senator Aliyu Magatakarda Wamakko. However, the euphoria was short-lived as governments in the region neglected the programme while the school buildings rotted away.

I wonder why our people antagonise those who want the system to be reformed or outrightly banned in the North. Are we comfortable seeing underage children roaming the streets under such dehumanising conditions? Have we pondered over the looming famine in the Sahel as forecasted by global development organisations, of which Northern Nigeria is part due to climate change worsened by overpopulation? Are we not witnessing the level of insecurity pervading the region because of societal neglect and marginalisation caused by a rapacious elite?. Do we sit down and pray and wait for a miracle to happen while expecting that our problems will go away?

Already we are battling with banditry in the Northwest due to societal neglect of a segment of the society that we use to mock because of their ignorance. And things will even get worse in future unless drastic action is taken to reform the system to enable children to memorise Quran in a friendly atmosphere devoid of hunger and deprivation. The current Almajiri system is a pathway to perdition.

Parents should stop sending children to cities if they are not ready to cater for them. These children should stay in their localities and learn under a school system presided by their Islamic teacher or Malam. The state governments must engage those Quranic teachers and pay them a stipend. I know this is doable because the government has the means to do that.

Unfortunately, much resource has been wasted on frivolities instead of channelling it towards revitalising the Almajiri system. We must wake up from our slumber and direct our energies toward finding a way to tackle problems in our society. Taking action is the key, and I believe that is the only way we can expect to have stability and peace in the polity.

Aminu Mohammed is at the school of Sustainability, Christian- Albrechts- Universität zu Kiel, Schleswig Holstein, Germany. He can be reached via gravity23n@gmail.com or stu219013@mail.uni-kiel.de.