Nollywood

By Muhsin Ibrahim

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Haroon Aremu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Teco Benson, MFR

One of the most intellectually dishonest and damaging narratives in recent years is the partitioning of Nollywood into “Old” and “New.” It’s a simplistic label that started as a casual argument among a few younger practitioners but has unfortunately crept into academic discourse and mainstream industry conversations. This idea is not only divisive, but deeply offensive to the legacy of the industry and to those who built it from the ground up.

There is no such thing as Old Nollywood or New Nollywood. There is only Nollywood—a continuous, evolving industry built on layers of sweat, sacrifice, creativity, and resilience. What some choose to call “New” is not a replacement of the “Old”; it is a progression made possible because of the foundational work of the pioneers.

What many fail to understand is that our storytelling essence has not changed. The values, themes, cultural textures, and emotional core of Nollywood have remained consistent through the years. What has changed—and continues to change—is technology, and that is not unique to Nollywood; it’s a global phenomenon across all creative industries.

Even during the analogue years of Nollywood’s emergence, there were constant technological shifts. The iconic 1992 film Living in Bondage, which benchmarked the Nollywood movement, was shot on Super VHS. To improve quality, filmmakers soon transitioned to U-matic cameras and their full post-production systems. After that came Betacam, which was adopted for both shooting and editing. Then came MiniDV, followed by DVCAM—a digital video format that coincided with the arrival of non-linear editing.

This shift from linear to non-linear editing was revolutionary. It allowed filmmakers to use computers to seamlessly edit and manipulate captured footage—something unthinkable during the earlier years when it was strictly garbage in, garbage out. In those days, whatever was captured in-camera was exactly what the audience would see. There was no room for error. This forced cinematographers, sound recordists, and directors to train rigorously, work with precision, and strive for excellence at every stage of production.

From DVCAM, the industry moved to HDV (High Definition Video)—the final tape-based format—before embracing tapeless high-definition systems using memory cards. That ushered in a digital revolution, and Nollywood embraced it with open arms. Suddenly, filmmakers had tools to correct errors, grade visuals, enhance sound, and polish rough footage. As a result, even inexperienced filmmakers could produce glossy-looking films. But what this also meant was that those trained in the era of analogue discipline had a stronger professional foundation—having learned to get it right at the point of capture, rather than fixing it in post.

Today, technology continues to evolve—from 2K to 4K, 6K, 8K, 12K, and beyond. Tomorrow will bring even more shifts. But through it all, filmmaking has remained constant. The values, the voice, and the cultural richness of Nollywood have endured.

Another major transformation lies in distribution and audience reach. In the early days, Nollywood was feeding the Nigerian nation alone. Films were sold as physical cassettes and distributed within the country. Ironically, it was pirates—not formal distributors—who duplicated these tapes and spread Nollywood films across Africa, the Caribbean, and among global diaspora communities. This unintended export planted the seeds of the industry’s global influence.

Today, with the internet and streaming platforms, national borders no longer exist in the virtual world. Once a film is uploaded online, it instantly becomes global content. The filmmaker’s audience is no longer a town, a state, or a country—it is the world. And with that expanded reach comes intentionality. Scripts are now written with global standards in mind, stories are told with international audiences considered, and production decisions are made to meet the expectations of a diverse, global viewer base.

These changes are natural. They are part of the organic evolution of any thriving creative ecosystem. It doesn’t make the early days “old” or “outdated.” It doesn’t elevate the present generation above those who came before. If anything, it emphasises the need for continuity, respect, and intergenerational collaboration.

To classify pioneers as “Old Nollywood” is to ignore their innovations and the fierce battles they fought to establish the industry in the first place. It is to forget that there was once a time when there was no Nollywood—only brave individuals daring to tell African stories using whatever tools they could afford. They didn’t wait for validation. They created a movement.

What exists today—the funding, the streaming platforms, the global attention—was made possible because a group of passionate dreamers picked up VHS cameras and believed their stories were worth telling.

This is why the “Old vs. New Nollywood” narrative must be retired. It is reductionist, divisive, and counterproductive. Every generation has its own tools, challenges, and breakthroughs. But the spirit of storytelling, the soul of our culture, and the purpose of our cinema remain the same.

Let’s stop building walls within the house we all call home. Nollywood is one—past, present, and future.

Teco Benson, MFR, is a veteran film director, industry pioneer and cultural commentator.

‎By Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Sani Mu’azu

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihir rajiun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

HardFacts Studios has announced the upcoming premiere of The Bitter Feminist, a docudrama series that addresses the challenges faced by women in Nigeria and sub-Saharan Africa. 

Set to debut at the iRep Festival in Lagos in March 2025, the series, created by Daniel Chukwuemeka and Ijeoma Chinonyerem, centres on Ringret, a young woman from Northern Nigeria who endured rape and forced marriage.

Co-creator Ijeoma Chinonyerem stated, “This project is significant for us. It’s about giving [a] voice to women whose stories often go unheard and challenging narratives perpetuating inequality.”

The five-episode series illustrates the lives of women identifying as feminists, highlighting their resistance to traditional gender roles. Through impactful storytelling and candid interviews, The Bitter Feminist addresses critical issues, including misogyny, child marriage, and consent. 

Directed by Priye Diri and produced by Isaac Newton Akah, the series promises to empower viewers and stimulate meaningful conversations about gender inequality.

By Muhsin Ibrahim

Umar Maikudi, also known as Cashman, was elected as the National President of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN) at an event held in Nasarawa State on 18 January 2025.

As the newly elected National President, Maikudi expressed gratitude and enthusiasm for collaborating with filmmakers and film scholars to explore potential partnerships that could benefit the film industry. 

In a message sent to media houses across Nigeria, the president stated, “Let’s work together to drive growth and development in the sector.”

Maikudi concluded by encouraging others to “feel free to reach out to me to discuss potential collaborations and partnerships.”

Hailing from Kaduna, Maikudi has been a film scholar and actor for many years. He has appeared in several films, including the Netflix series War: Wrath and Revenge, part of the famed Sons of the Caliphate drama.

By Habibu Maaruf Abdu

Nigeria has selected the Kannywood film ‘Mai Martaba’ as its official submission for the Best International Feature Film (IIF) category at the 97th Academy Awards, also known as Oscars.

The 15-member Nigerian Official Selection Committee (NOSC) confirmed in its official statement that the selection was made after a rigorous voting session.

Mai Martaba is a historical epic featuring 500 actors that showcases northern Nigeria’s rich cultural heritage. It tells the story of the succession struggle between competing claimants for the throne of the fictitious Jallaba Kingdom.

Reacting to the selection, the film’s director, Prince Daniel Aboki, expressed his delight, adding, “It is a privilege to represent our country at this prestigious global event.” 

He added, “Mai Martaba is more than just a story; it’s a celebration of our culture, struggles, and triumphs as Nigerians. We’re bringing the voices and stories of our people to the global stage, sharing the heart of Nigeria with the world.” 

The film, which stands as the most expensive Kannywood production, was also selected for the Septimus Awards in Amsterdam before its theatrical release in Nigeria in July 2024.

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS), which organises the Oscars, confers the IFF Award yearly to a feature-length film produced outside the US with at least 50% non-English dialogue.

A shortlist of 15 finalists will be revealed on December 17, 2024, followed by the announcement of the final five nominees on January 17, 2025.

This marks the second time a Hausa film has been selected for the Oscars, following The Milkmaid (directed by Ovbiagele, 2020).

However, unlike The Milkmaid, whose Kannywood identity is disputed, Mai Martaba is a bona fide Kannywood production, proudly representing the Hausa film industry’s cinematic talent.

The 97th Oscars will be held on March 2, 2025, at the Dolby Theatre in Ovation Hollywood, Los Angeles, and will be broadcast live to over 200 territories worldwide.

• Production:    Jammaje production
• Producer:       Abubakar Bashir Maishadda
• Director:        Ali Nuhu
• Cast:               Sani Mu’azu, Ali Nuhu, Nancy Isime, Enyinna Ngwige, Rabi’u Rikadawa, Segun Arzine, Abba Al-Mustapha, Asabe Madak, Abba Zaki.

Nanjala, an eponymous and one of the most expensive movies in the Kannywood industry by Jammaje Production, is a breathtaking movie that explores and thematises patriarchal power, domination and mistreatment towards women gender. Nanjala, a leading character, is victimised by her chauvinistic father, who disbands her for being a female in favour of a male child, Dititi (Abba Zaki). Captain Jimmoh (Rikadawa) becomes her adopted father and helps to actualise her dream of becoming a renowned journalist.

Furthermore, Captain Sembene’s family is set on fire as his beloved son, Ditit, becomes a spoiled child, drug addict, thief and clubgoer. Plus, his other female daughter, Jarry, takes a leave from home for her father’s chauvinistic mistreatment. Falmata, another victim of Captain Sembene’s chauvinism, befriends her biological brother, Ditit, with a view to wed him.

Nanjala becomes a renowned and influential journalist who tirelessly fights and exposes corruption in the government. She encounters obstacles along the way from the authority. She is detained in cells for exposing corruption. Finally, she appears triumphant.

Mistreatment and domination are long-held traditions shown to women by a patriarchal world. Women, as chauvinists maintain, are disaster and second-class citizens who can’t contribute to one iota of life. In those days, women had to cancel their identities to have their voices heard—the same as Nanjala has to take a leave from a patriarchal home to attain her potential. 

Thomas Aquinas (1274) opines, “A woman is really an imperfect man… an incidental being … a botched man’’. Nanjala’s treatment by her father affirms Aquinas’s stance that women are imperfect and a botched to her male brother, Dititi. Plus, according to Baudelaire, “woman is natural, that is abominable’’ Some men consider women disgusting. This perception runs through Nanjala’s father, who finds the female gender abominable – divorcing Falmata’s mother for carrying a female unborn child, making life unbearable to Majuma (Asabe Madaki) and causing a great aspersion on Nanjal and Jarry, whom all are females. They have to leave their homes to feel at home.

The belief that women are nothing but second-class citizens, abominable and sex machines for men to exploit became prevalent during the Victorian period (1837-1901) and also in plenty of their literature. We see the fate of Susan Henchad, who is auctioned in Thomas Hardy’s The Mayor of Caster Bridge (1886), women who are sexually exploited by men at Sixa in Mango Beti’s Poor Christ of Bomba (1956) and Firdaus’s sexual abuse by men in Women at Point Zero (1975). Likewise, patriarchal domination doesn’t put a halt here but tries to silence any emerging powerful female voice. 

Women like Gorge Eliat (1919-1880), Gorge Sand (1904-1876), Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855), etc., succumb to patriarchal pressure and accept defeat to vie with men intellectually and literarily. Comparatively, Nanjala encounters the same treatment, where patriarchs try to silence her intellect and voice. They envy her fame, success, and education. Men are jealous of women’s successes, but Nanjala struggles and succeeds. 

For women to succeed in the patriarchal world, they have to be educated, pushed, and struggled. We see how women break the bonds. Li succeeds in The Stillborn (1984) via struggle and education, as Ada in Second-class Citizens(1974). Also, we see in the Kannywood movies- Hauwa Kulu (2019) where Hauwa (Hasana Muhammad) and Laila (Hadiza Gabon) in Manyan Mata (2023 succeed through education. However, Firdaus in Women at Point Zero (1975) and Nnu Egu in The Joys of Motherhood (1980) fail because they are illiterate or barely educated.

Meanwhile, Simone De Beauvoir (1908-1986) asserts that “males define what it means to be human, including what to be female. Since the female is not male”. Beauvoir maintains, “She becomes another”. Indeed, this derogatory portrayal has been born by females throughout many centuries. In the film, Nanjala’s father has this perception run in his blood. He evidently defines who a human being is to him, his male child, Ditti.  He loathes all his three daughters – Nanjala, Jarry, Falmata and Majuma because they are “others”. Women become secondary or non-existent players. 

Finally, Beauvoir asserts, “Women must break the bonds of their patriarchal society and define themselves if they wish to be a significant human”. This is what Nanjala does, and she becomes a “being” in the patriarchal society. Meanwhile, Kate Millet (1970) says, “A female is born, but a woman is created”. As Nanjala defines herself as a true human being, discarding the notion of femaleness in her, she creates womanness, as Millet (1970) puts it, through hard work, education, struggle, and boldness.

By way of conclusion, Nanjala mirrors patriarchal society and uncovers stereotypical portrayal of women as “others”, Second-Class Citizens, incidental beings, imperfect men, and abominable and other derogatory names forced women to accept by men. The film depicts the power of education and struggles as the only means for women to break the long-held tradition enjoyed by men and bury women’s intellect.

If not for education, Nanjala would have been buried alive like other female characters. The film is a clarion call to women to be educated, to disown being relegated to non-existent players or “others”. Nanjala succeeds and becomes a “human being”, whereas Majuma, Jarry and Falmata become second-class citizens.

Reviewed by Abba Musa Ibrahim. He can be reached via abbamusa6888@gmail.com.