Kannywood

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

Being a keynote at the Kannywood Foundation film training workshop, on 2nd October 2022, Kano

A Tale of Two Cinemas

In November 2007, I was privileged to participate at the African Film Conference held at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, United States. It was a stellar gathering of what I call the ‘Nollywood Mafia’. The outcome of the conference was reflected in the publishing of selected papers in Viewing African cinema in the twenty-first century: FESCAPO art films and the Nollywood video revolution, published by the Ohio University Press in 2007. At the tail-end of the conference, a session called The SIU Nollywood Project Brainstorming was held on Sunday, 11th November 2007. Containing well-known Nollywood scholars such as Jonathan Haynes and Onookome Okome, as well as Nollywood stars such as Joke Silver, Francis Onwochei and Madu Chikwendu, among others (including those who study Nollywood from the fringes such as Brian Larkin and Birgit Meyer), the session sought to determine funding for research on Nollywood from the US National Endowment for the Humanities. A critical point of discussion during the session was the name ‘Nollywood’.

While discussions were on course for the funding mechanism, there was a feeling from the participants that the term Nollywood should be used to reflect all films from Africa, regardless of region, to create a unified view of African cinema. As the only northern Nigerian with a focus (and paper earlier presented) on Hausa cinema, I objected and spent time arguing why the term Nollywood cannot be used as a blanket term for African cinema. Continentally, films from north Africa from Egypt, Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria and Mauritania are radically different from those produced by Nigerian Nollywood. Similarly, filmmakers from Chad, Burkina Faso, Senegal Cote d’Ivoire are more ethnographic to their cultures, which makes them required viewing for film and cultural studies across the world.

Even back in Nigeria, there is a radical difference between Hausa language cinema and the type of films produced and promoted by Nollywood. Labelling all African films as Nollywood is to cancel the identity of the portrayals of the films by different cultural groupings in the continent and project Nollywood as the only ‘African voice’. I am unsure whether the funding was obtained, but I know that the idea of labelling all African films as ‘Nollywood,’ regardless of cultural point of origin, was dropped.

***

By 2012 the Hausa film industry had literally crashed. The major marketers-cum-producers had all pulled out of the industry. Their shops in the major video markets in Kano were subsequently filled with clothing—particularly blouses and football jerseys; for these make more money than selling films. Others took to selling Smartphone accessories, while others returned to the farm and became serious farmers. The few Hausa megastar actors took to commercial advertising of noodles, milk and other household commodities – often moving from house to house with products’ marketers – relying on their faces and voices (making sure they introduce themselves in all the commercial jingles) to sell to increasingly hungry population caught in the vortex of economic depression. The frequency of releasing films drastically dropped because no one was buying. International Satellite channels like the Indian Zee World, especially their English-dubbed TV series, caught Hausa urban attention more than recycled Hindi film clones that were the hallmarks of Hausa video films. Consequently, many reasons combine to lead to the crash of the Hausa film industry towards the end of 2016. 

Market congestion

The popular cultural industries in Kano were marketed into market hubs. The Bata market at the edge of Sabon Gari controlled the predominantly foreign films and music sales and the main distribution centre to other parts of Nigeria and Africa, where a sizeable market existed in Niger, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Togo, Cameroon, Chad and Congos.

When the Hausa video film arrived in 1990, it found a ready template to attach itself. The other was Kasuwar Ƙofar Wambai, located at the edge of the walls of Kano city and near a cluster of old colonial cinemas. The Wambai market focuses mainly on leather, textile and plastics. However, it was also the hub of audio tape sales – with marketers doing brisk business pirating old EMI, Polydor and HMV tapes of traditional Hausa musicians recorded in the 1960s. Road construction work at Bata in about 2003 created unfavourable conditions for many of the stall owners, and some decided to shift to the Wambai market. By 2005 the video film market had moved entirely to Wambai, which now became the new Bata.

The Wambai market, hitherto occupied by cassette dealers who ignored the Hausa film industry, suddenly became a virgin territory for film marketers and producers, with each opening a stall. In less than five years, it had reached its ascendency and crashed due to the massive congestion of producers and marketers – all selling the same thing. When I visited the market in May 2017, I counted less than ten stalls selling either videos or audio; contrasted to some five years ago when it was bursting at the seams with these products. The stalls have now been taken over by stocks of cheap blouses, football jerseys and cloned Smartphone accessories.

Lack of new or captivating scripts

By 2005 the Hausa video film industry had become fully established, with over 1,600 officially censored releases. With an extremely few exceptions of less than 0.5%, they all revolve around a pastiche of Hindi films in one form or other aimed, as the video filmmakers themselves kept insisting, at urban Hausa children, youth and housewives. Yet, most Hindi films could be classified as musicals, especially due to their reliance on a strong dosage of song and dance sequences blended with a melodramatic storyline, which employs formulaic ingredients such as star-crossed lovers and angry parents, love triangles, corrupt politicians, kidnappers, conniving villains, courtesans with hearts of gold, long-lost relatives and siblings separated by fate, dramatic reversals of fortune, and convenient coincidences.

This stylistic technique provides a vehicle for echoing a fundamental Hausa emotional tapestry in three main creative motifs: auren dole (forced marriage, the love triangle, and the obligatory song and dance sequences—with an average of about six songs in a two-part video. With every producer trying to outwit everyone with more love triangles, song and dance routines, the market became saturated, and audiences got bored – and indicated this by refusing to buy the films.

Monopoly by Megastars

Those actors lucky enough to be accepted early enough in the film industry came to dominate the system. This was actually imposed by the marketers who insisted on a particular actor appearing in a film they would sponsor or market because such actors were more bankable and guaranteed quick sales of their films. With this economic force behind them, such few (perhaps less than five) came to dominate almost every ‘big’ budget Hausa film. By 2017 their stars had started fading; audiences became tired of seeing them in nearly the same film with different names, and marketers dropped them. While still making films, they diversified their faces and voices to commercial advertising for major telephone service providers and essential commodities such as chicken noodles and milk and soup seasoning.

The fading of the fortunes of the megastars became evident with the ascendency and popularity of relatively unknown stars of a TV series, Daɗin Kowa, shown on Arewa24 satellite TV that began on 21st January 2015. Daɗin Kowa (pleasant to everyone) is an imaginary town that serves as a melting pot, housing Nigerians of various ethnicities and religions and yet living peacefully. In 2016 it won Africa Magic Awards over Sarki Jatau, an expensive lavish, traditionally cultural Hausa period drama.

The coming of Arewa24, initially conceived and funded by the United States State Department’s Bureau of Counterterrorism to counteract insurgency in 2014, merely placed another nail in the coffin of the Hausa video film market. Transnational in its outlook, the Arewa24 TV series provide a level of script sophistication unheard of in the Hausa film industry. Other Satellite TV stations, such as StarTimes, and Hausa Channels on Africa Magic DStv, including GoTV, became increasingly affordable. Showing a massive amount of Hausa films, they eclipsed the purchase of CDs and DVDs of Hausa films. Audiences prefer to watch for free than to go through the hassle of purchasing DVDs that often do not work and requiring DVD players, mostly Chinese knock-offs of international brands that often turn out dodgy.

New Media, New Poverty

The Internet provided the biggest blow to the decline of Hausa video films. With telecommunication companies competing for customers and undercutting each other in offering data plans, Hausa youth have more access to social media sites such as Instagram and YouTube. The latter, in particular, provided them with opportunities to upload hundreds of Hausa films for all to see. While this has increased the visibility of Hausa films worldwide, such popularity does not translate to return on investment, as most of the films were illegally uploaded to YouTube.

Another dimension of the new media political economy was the proliferation of Download Centers in northern Nigeria, with the largest groups in Kano. Operators of these Centers rip the CD of DVDs of Hausa films and convert them into 3gp formats and make them available to customers at N50 per film—with discounts given for volume purchase. A 1GB microSD card can pack as many as 20 films. The 3gp format makes it possible for people to watch the films on their Smartphones, which readily and rapidly replaced DVD players, which require a TV and electricity – something not always guaranteed in Nigeria. Often the Downloaders ‘lease’ the films from street vendors – children hawking the CDs and DVDs at traffic lights – for N100 per film, rip them off, and return back to the hawker who simply puts them back into its pristine cellophane wrapper and eventually sells it – thus gaining double profit. Both the various Associations of Hausa filmmakers and the Kano State Government’s Censorship Board had tried to stamp out the Downloaders, but without success, as the latter had become so powerful and organized that they formed various Associations. The punitive steps were usually to arrest them, fine them, and order them to delete the illegal ripped-off films from their computers. These measures proved so ineffective that a deal was worked out in 2017 between the filmmakers and the Downloaders to ‘officially’ lease the films to the Downloaders for a fee in the form of a ‘legal license’. However, these measures did not work because the Downloaders prefer to obtain their films cheaply rather than being registered with the Government as licensing the films. On the other hand, the Kano State Censorship Board simply asks them to register their business and charge them fees, regardless of their downloading bootleg business.

Southern Indian Competition

A final factor in the decline of the Hausa film industry by 2012 was the massive popularity of ‘Indiya-Hausa’ films. These were Telugu and other southern Indian films dubbed into the Hausa language by, first, Algaita Studios in Kano. When the marketers at Wambai market noted the popularity of these dubs, they also moved in and commissioned their own dubbed translations.

The original Telugu films were brought to Kano by an Indian national with full license to translate into local African languages. The first film translated by Algaita Studios was the Bhojpuri film, Hukumat Ki Jung (dir. S.S. Rajamouli, 2008). It was translated as ‘Yaƙi da Rashin Adalci’ (Fighting Injustice). Others that followed included Dabangg (dir. Abhinav Kashyap, 2010), Racha (dir. Sampath Nandi, 2012) and Nayak: The Real Hero (dir. S. Shankar, 2001). In an interactive session in June 2016, Buzo Ɗanfillo, the CEO of Algaita Studios and whose voice is used in the translations, told me that the Algaita Studio had translated 93 films by 2016. They were paid ₦80,000 by the Indian licensee of the films.

The first few films that appeared from the Algaita Studio from 2012 were considered novelties, providing relief from watching complete remakes of Hindi films by Hausa filmmakers or even the originals themselves. What made them more attractive, however, was the translation of the titles of the films in a single powerfully expressed word, or a couple of words, that seems to take a life of their own and communicate either adventure, danger or defiance. For instance, Nayak: The Real Hero (dir. S. Shankar, 2001) was translated as ‘Namijin Duniya’ (lit. Brave); Indirajeet (dir. K.V. Raju, 1991) as ‘Fargaba’ (Fear), and Velayudham (dir. Mohan Raja, 2011) as ‘Mai Adda’ (Machete). Referred to as ‘India-Hausa’ (Hausa versions of Indian films), they quickly became the new form of transcultural expression in the Hausa entertainment industry.

The Indiya-Hausa translations were massively successful and attracted audiences not attuned to Indian films in the first place. This can be deduced from the numerous comments on the Facebook pages of the Algaita Dub Studio (https://www.facebook.com/algaitadub/).

Their success created a public debate, mainly online on social networks, about their cultural impact. In the first instance, there does not seem to be any attempt by the translators to mute some of the bawdier dialogues of the originals – translating the dialogue directly into Hausa. Kannywood filmmakers latch on to this as an indication of cultural impropriety of the translated films. Additionally, the often-romantic scenes revealing inter-gender sexuality were not edited out by the translators since their focus is not the visuals but the voices. This, again, was pointed out by Hausa filmmakers as a direct attack on Hausa cultural sensibilities. Kannywood filmmakers accept that they appropriate Hindi films but argue that they culturally adapt the stories to reflect Muslim Hausa sensibilities.

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 Franziskus Kazimierz (Casmil)

The Al-Mubarak International Film Production LTD movie Mutuwar Aure (Hausa: Death of the Marriage), produced in 2018, tells a story set in a modern-day Hausa community by and large dealing with the common, or perhaps a rather notorious topic of divorce in the Hausa cultural context. Thus, set exclusively within a family context, the film’s plot tells a narrative between a family drama – or what it may be for “Hausa eyes” – and a love-triangle story. It also heavily proselytizes Islam and defends its values and proscriptions – especially prayer – and against sorcery – a generally well-pronounced motive within Northern Nigeria’s Kannywood. It is, arguably, also against the oppression of women being pronounced by critics outside and within the community. 

But beyond the mentioned main themes in the film, Mutuwar Aure develops a pretty interesting plot structure on its own, awaiting the spectators with unexpected turnarounds and slightly mixing genres, thereby making the plot’s twist even more curious.

To give an overview of the film’s plot – which primarily involves but a few characters only, making the film more understandable but maybe giving it too much “soberness”. It will certainly not be a spoiler to cheat about its beginning, when Abbas hands over a divorce letter to his wife, Rahma, containing the emotionally charged words “Náà-sàkee-ki” – I divorce you. By that, Abbas, a young man maybe in his early thirties, cuts one of the three possible ropes (igiyoyi) – with three cut ropes making reunification of the couple almost impossible. The twist of gloom on Abbas’ face makes the story’s plot seem predetermined, making him the “bloody antagonist” within the film – and Rahma, his victim, to be defended.

It is in this pattern the plot seems to be starting, but it is also precisely from this moment on that the story takes the unconventional twists mentioned above. In defence of Rahma, her family – in whose house Abbas is living – with a strong accent on its women seems to be ready to do everything for her – pronouncing it in a very hostile manner. By avoiding showing the strength of reconciliation, Mutuwar Aure heavily resembles Fuska Biyu (dir. Yaseen Auwal, 2018), a well-known Hausa movie containing similar features of adult women’s aggressiveness in order to fight for the interest of their own family. Throwing Abbas’ possessions out of the house, he also has to leave – having tried himself to send Rahma and their children away before. What is unknown to the spectators at this time is that the house where Abbas and Rahma had lived was granted to him by Rahma’s dad out of generosity. Therefore, by working heavily with fading-in back plots and visualized daydreams, the viewers may get the impression of Abbas being more than an antagonist while also being shameless and ungrateful.

Still, the movie contains more secrets to reveal. The more Abbas comes to Rahma, her dad and her family, the more it also becomes clear that there is something more to the divorce. Rahma was rude to him when she suspected that Abbas was having an affair with his secretary, Zainab – in this regard, we can observe a reversed love triangle.  

Thus, shortly before Abbas can marry his secretary, Zainab, they can reunite by the strength of Rahma’s prayers – while Zainab is being rejected for using sorcerers to conquer Abbas’ heart – finally, the superiority of prayer over magic is demonstratively portrayed.

It can, therefore – also looking at the whole film – not be underlined enough in what grade the film proselytizes the traditional Islamic way of life. Rahma and her family, whom some might surely cheer in their fight for women’s rights initially, drop to be full of naivety and false morals, constantly humiliating a righteous man asking for their forgiveness. Rahma’s father finally admits that he had called him names for nothing.

Abbas, on the other side, a poor teacher at primary school who seems to be doing nothing but exploiting Rahma and her family until they don’t seem to be profitable anymore and moralistically reciting the Qur’an, changes to a mistakenly humiliated, righteous character. Rahma, herself, finally asks for his forgiveness.

While dealing with a fascinating plot, the way of making it a film probably could be better. The setting resembles Risala (dir. Abubakar S. Shehu, 2015) – as it is set in a different time – than other films being set in the modern day  – by being quite sterile. There are hardly any scenes beside the Abbas’ house, making it appear like filmed theatre – the exact production environment for many, especially early, Kannywood movies. Though constantly in the background, music doesn’t play any role like in vocal numbers. By the combination of these circumstances, the film looks pretty puristic. It might be, therefore – although there are significant differences, why not (?) – a counterpart of Risala set in modern times portraying Abbas to be an innocent man being persecuted. Interestingly, though – of course – the place where Mutuwar Aure is set in – does contain modern equipment, the modernity is not really to feel, probably by missing liveliness.   Also, in the end – and somehow similarly to Risala – the happiness is again relativized by new – though unreasonable – suspicions of Rahma.

Still, the plot is full of exciting and probably unconventional twists opening a broad horizon for this kind of movie. Though it could have been livelier and more trenchant in its actions, it still has a powerful message and is, by that, fitting to be talked about, if not purely for entertainment.

Casmil wrote from Cologne, Germany, via kafrakize@aol.com.

By Muhammadu Sabiu

The Academy of Motion Pictures, Arts and Sciences’ Nigerian Official Selection Committee (NOSC) stated that no film would be forwarded for the 2023 Oscars.

Nigeria will not be submitting a film to the International Feature Film category of the Oscars for the second consecutive year.

The committee’s chair, Mrs Chineze Anyaene-Abonyi, apologized to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) for not being able to locate a film that satisfied the requirements for the International Feature Film category.

“Although the committee received three epic films following its call for submissions in August, it turned out that none of them will advance to the next stage owing to the voting patterns of members,” she said.

The voting, which took place on the 3rd of September 2022, amongst the 15 members of the committee, had a voting chart of 8, 5, 1, 1, with “No Film is Eligible” taking the lead.

The 15 members of the committee voted on September 3rd, 2022, and the voting chart was 8, 5, 1, 1, with “No Film is Eligible” receiving the most votes.

“Nigerian films had, no doubt, improved significantly as the awareness of the requirements has since grown among filmmakers, and potentially soon, we just might be bringing this award home in succession,” Anyaene-Abonyi also said.

To gain the necessary international exposure and position our films in its acknowledged level of creative debate, she advised filmmakers to become more familiar with Oscar-nominated movies in the International Feature Film (IFF) category.

The movie “The Milkmaid” was submitted in 2020. However, after passing the eligibility test for the first time, the Desmond Ovbiagele-produced film was disqualified because it did not make the category’s initial selection.

The Oscars disqualified Genevieve Nnaji’s “Lionheart” in 2019 for failing to meet the non-English conversation requirement.

By Muhammad Abubakar

Having watched this movie and seeing its lessons, I decided to review it. Doing so will, by God‘s will, will wake up those graduates—who are unknowingly killing, or more correctly, misleading themselves into believing that it’s shameful for graduates to get themselves engaged in a low-income business, let alone being a labourer.

The movie was released in 2018. It‘s directed by a veteran Kannywood director, Yaseen Auwal. The film is about the situation and the kind of life our nowadays students, particularly graduates, live.

Kamalu (Sadiq Sani Sadiq), the son of the lowest-income businessman (Rabi’u Rikadawa), happened to be a close friend to Bashir (Aminu Sharif Momoh), a brother to the husband of Jamila Nagudu. Their respectable, reasonable, deep-thinking friend, Lawal (Baballe Hayatu), always tries his best to advise not only Kamalu and Lawal but anyone too ambitious not to rely on the government job entirely. At least they should find something to do to improve their lives.

However—unfortunately for them, they always don’t see his advice as something important. One fateful day, Kamalu and Bashir came to the cafe where they almost every day buy stuff without payment. They lie to the tea seller (Ahmad Aliyu Tage) that when they become billionaires in the future, they will pay back everything he now gives them and give him more.

Unfortunately, the tea seller, Ahmad Aliyu Tage, rejected their request, complaining that he was tired of their ‘when-we-become-billionaires’. Luckily for them, Lawal came to buy something at the same cafe too. Although they undermined his sense recently, he surprised them by assigning the tea seller, Ahmad Aliyu Tage, to cook one packet of noodles alongside a whole roasted chicken for each of them. Sadly, this has not served them as a lesson.

One thing that inspired me is: Lawan never worried himself about a government job. He, in the end, made it, leaving them still suffering from poverty as usual.

The film is fascinating, indeed. We see how Lawal and Bashir suffer due to their laziness in going and refusing to hustle. As a result, they end up pushing a truck and teaching at primary school. In addition, the movie passes the message that: Whoever is not content with what God gives him will end up missing a lot in life.

The camera work and sound are up to the mark. And the subtitler has perfectly played his role. Even though he mixed with Hausa in some scenes, this is not an issue. Since the message is precisely delivered – this film was purposely made to call on the attention of graduates like Kamalu and Bashir.

It’s a must-watch film.

By Ahmad Deedat Zakari

Former senator representing Kaduna Central Senatorial District, Senator Shehu Sani, has reacted to the leaked nude video of Kannywood actress, Safia Yusuf famously known as Safara’u.

Safara’u granted BBC Pidgin English an interview on Tuesday August 30, 2022, where she narrated her ordeals when her friends leaked her nude video in 2020.

“Dat period when my nude video leak na di most depressing time for my life because I spend three months without nearing di gate of my house, I just dey indoors.

“And by di time I muster energy comot na so pipo just dey abuse me for road in fact e get one particular pesin wey stone me as I dey waka.” Safara’u disclosed to BBC Pidgin English

While commenting on the BBC Pidgin English interview of Safara’u on Facebook, Shehu Sani said he became unconscious when he saw the video.

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.