Nollywood

By Prince Daniel Aboki

Every Nigerian has the constitutional right to support any political party or candidate of their choice. That right is guaranteed by the Constitution and should always be respected.

However, an industry cannot thrive when, every election cycle, a few individuals position themselves as speaking on behalf of everyone, mobilising groups to endorse politicians and, in the process, reducing the industry’s engagement with government to the pursuit of personal benefits.

When this becomes the dominant culture, the industry risks not being taken seriously. Government and development partners are beginning to see the industry not as a strategic economic sector but as a collection of individuals seeking patronage every four years. More often than not, the distribution of cash gifts, vehicles, and other favours also creates avoidable divisions within the industry, as practitioners become aligned with competing political interests. Instead of fostering unity around the collective growth of Kannywood, election seasons too often leave the industry fragmented long after the campaigns have ended.

Politicians understand the influence that Kannywood celebrities command, particularly in Kano and across Northern Nigeria. They know these personalities can shape public opinion, mobilise supporters, and amplify campaign messages during elections. That influence is valuable, but it should be used as a bargaining tool to secure lasting benefits for the entire industry—not for personal aggrandisement. Our collective influence should translate into meaningful negotiations for better policies, sustainable funding, stronger institutions, improved infrastructure, and greater opportunities for everyone in Kannywood, rather than short-term personal gains for a few individuals.

Kannywood is far bigger than election campaigns. It is one of Northern Nigeria’s greatest cultural and economic assets. It has the capacity to create thousands of jobs, preserve and promote our culture, strengthen social values, attract tourism, earn foreign exchange, stimulate investment, and project Northern Nigeria to the world.

What makes this even more compelling is that Kannywood has already demonstrated its commercial strength. Some of its producers operate some of the biggest and most successful YouTube channels in Nigeria, attracting millions of views and building significant audiences worldwide. That success should not remain the achievement of a few individuals. It should be consolidated into an industry-wide strategy that creates opportunities for younger filmmakers, actors, writers, directors, editors, cinematographers, musicians, and other creative professionals.

This is the conversation we should be having with those in office and those seeking public office.

Rather than seeking cash gifts, vehicles, or personal favours, we should be demanding policies that strengthen the entire industry: film villages, production funds, affordable financing, stronger copyright protection, modern cinema infrastructure, professional training, international partnerships, tax incentives, and support for participation in global film markets and festivals. That is how enduring creative industries are built.

Over the years, Nollywood has increasingly engaged government and development partners on issues that strengthen the industry’s ecosystem. The conversation has largely centred on policy, investment, institutional support, skills development, financing, and international collaboration. Individual practitioners may support political candidates—as they are entitled to—but the industry’s long-term development has remained a central focus.

This does not mean Nollywood is a perfect congregation. There have also been individuals within Nollywood who have pursued personal interests above the collective interest of the industry. However, when the two industries are compared, Nollywood has, on balance, positioned itself more effectively as a strategic partner in industry development, policy engagement, and institutional growth. Kannywood can do the same.

We must stop approaching politicians with a cap in hand every election season. An industry with this much talent, influence, and economic potential should not present itself as a sector waiting for handouts. It should present itself as a partner in development—one capable of creating jobs, generating revenue, attracting investment, promoting tourism, preserving culture, and contributing meaningfully to the economy of Northern Nigeria.

Politicians will respect Kannywood when Kannywood first respects its own value. This is not a criticism of anyone’s constitutional right to participate in politics or support a candidate. Rather, it is a call for Kannywood to recognise its collective economic power and organise itself as an industry worthy of sustained investment, strategic partnerships, and long-term development.

The question should no longer be, “Who is giving us what?” The question should be, “What policies, investments, and partnerships will transform Kannywood into one of Africa’s most competitive creative industries?”

The future of Kannywood will not be determined by what a handful of individuals receive during an election season. It will be determined by what the entire industry builds together for generations to come.

The choice before us is simple: we can continue chasing political patronage every four years, or we can build an industry that creates wealth, creates jobs, attracts investment, shapes culture, and becomes impossible for governments and the rest of the world to ignore.

Prince Daniel is “A Concerned Citizen” and a filmmaker. He can be reached via blackvillemedia@gmail.com.

By Abdurrazak Mukhtar

The late John Okafor, popularly known as Mr Ibu, spent decades making Nigeria laugh. He gave his best years to Nollywood, entertaining millions across Africa with his unique comic genius and irreplaceable screen presence. He was more than an actor. He was a cultural institution. Yet today, the story surrounding his estate and his family’s welfare is anything but funny. It is a tragedy of greed, betrayal, and inexcusable injustice.

Mr Ibu rose from humble beginnings to become one of the most recognisable faces in Nigerian cinema. His comedy was not merely entertainment. It was a mirror held up to society, reflecting the struggles and absurdities of everyday Nigerian life with warmth and wit. When he fell ill, Nigerians did not hesitate. From all walks of life, fans, colleagues, and well-wishers contributed generously to his medical bills, demonstrating the depth of love this nation had for him. That outpouring of support was a testament to the kind of man he was and the joy he had brought to so many homes.

Reports indicate that Mr Ibu left behind significant assets, including properties in Lagos, Enugu, and Asaba, several cars, and substantial funds. Beyond his personal estate, generous Nigerians donated large sums during his illness to cover his medical treatment. Additional funds were raised at the time of his burial. By all reasonable accounts, there was more than enough to ensure that his widow and young children would be protected and provided for in the years ahead. But that is not what happened.

His son, Somotochukwu, came forward with a deeply troubling allegation. He claimed that his stepmother, Stella, sold a Lagos property for ₦60 million, an Enugu property for approximately ₦17 million, and another in Asaba for ₦11 million, yet he received only ₦40,000, presented not as his rightful share of his father’s estate, but as a personal gift. Furthermore, family members accused one another of embezzling the very donations that kind-hearted Nigerians had sacrificed to give during Mr Ibu’s illness.

The consequences of this alleged mismanagement are not abstract. They are visible and heartbreaking. Mr Ibu’s widow is reportedly fetching water from a well because she cannot afford her rent. Three young children, aged 10, 12, and 14, have been forced to drop out of school. The family’s electricity was disconnected for months, leaving them to depend on neighbours to charge their phones. These are the children of a Nollywood legend, reduced to conditions that no Nigerian child should endure.

This is not a private family matter to be quietly swept aside. It is a public failure with public consequences. The funds donated by ordinary Nigerians for Mr Ibu’s treatment were not gifts to any individual. They were acts of collective love for a man who belonged to the nation. Those who received and managed those funds bear a moral and legal responsibility to account for every naira. Silence in the face of such allegations is not neutrality. It is complicity.

The Actors Guild of Nigeria, Nollywood stakeholders, and relevant authorities must not look away. If funds donated publicly were misappropriated, the law provides remedies, and those remedies must be pursued. Transparency is not optional in matters such as these.

To the family of Mr Ibu, this moment calls for maturity, unity, and honesty. Whatever grievances exist between the widow and the children from other relationships, they must not be settled at the expense of the innocent. Those children did not choose the circumstances of their birth. They did not create the disputes dividing this family. They deserve access to education, shelter, and a dignified life, not as charity, but as their rightful inheritance from a father who worked hard all his life.

It is strongly advised that all parties submit to a transparent, legally supervised process for the distribution of Mr Ibu’s estate. A lawyer or court-appointed administrator should be engaged immediately to protect the interests of all dependents, especially the minor children. Settling this matter in the media through emotional appeals and counter-accusations serves no one, least of all the children.

The story of Mr Ibu’s family is not an isolated one. Too many Nigerian entertainers have died, leaving their families in poverty, not because they did not earn, but because there were no structures in place to protect what they built. The entertainment industry must begin to take the welfare of its members seriously, not only in death but in life. Wills, estate planning, life insurance, and welfare funds are not luxuries. They are necessities that every serious professional body must promote and facilitate.

The Actors Guild of Nigeria and similar bodies should establish a dedicated welfare framework that provides legal and financial guidance to members, ensuring that what happened to Mr Ibu’s family does not become a pattern.

Mr Ibu gave Nigeria laughter when it needed it most. He gave the film industry his talent, his energy, and ultimately his health. In return, the very least Nigeria owed him was the assurance that his children would be cared for and that his legacy would be honoured with integrity.

It is not too late to make it right. Mr Ibu’s children are still young. They still have futures ahead of them. Whoever holds the keys to their father’s estate must open that door with justice, fairness, and the fear of God. Because a man who made millions smile deserves far better than to be remembered as a cautionary tale about family greed.

He deserved better. His children deserve better. And Nigeria must do better.

By Anas Abbas

The Nigerian entertainment industry has been thrown into mourning following the death of renowned actor, dramatist, and academic, Kola Oyewo.

Oyewo, a respected figure in Yoruba theatre and Nollywood, built a career that spanned more than six decades, earning recognition for his contributions to stage productions, film, and arts education. He was widely celebrated for his portrayal of Odewale in Ola Rotimi’s classic play The Gods Are Not to Blame, a role that cemented his place among Nigeria’s most accomplished performers.

Born in Oba-Ile, Osun State, the veteran actor began his professional acting journey in 1964 with the Oyin Adejobi Theatre Group before later working with the University of Ife theatre troupe. Throughout his career, he featured in several notable productions, including Sango, Saworoide, Koseegbe, and Super Story.

Beyond acting, Oyewo distinguished himself as a scholar. He obtained advanced degrees in drama and lectured at several higher institutions, including Obafemi Awolowo University, where he rose through the academic ranks before retirement.

He also served in teaching and leadership roles at other universities, mentoring generations of theatre practitioners and students.

Only months ago, the celebrated thespian marked his 80th birthday and received tributes from prominent Nigerians, including President Bola Tinubu, who described him as a cultural ambassador and a national treasure for his immense contributions to Nigerian storytelling and the preservation of Yoruba cultural heritage.

Tributes have continued to pour in from colleagues, fans, and cultural stakeholders who remember him as a gifted performer, teacher, and custodian of Nigerian theatre traditions.

Details surrounding his death and funeral arrangements were yet to be fully disclosed at the time of filing this report.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

The Nigerian entertainment industry is in deep mourning following the news that beloved Nollywood actor and model, Alexx Ekubo, has passed away at the age of 40.

Reports emerged late Tuesday, May 12, indicating that the star died at a private medical facility in Lagos. While his family has yet to release an official statement regarding the cause of death, sources close to the actor suggest he had been quietly battling a long-term illness.

Ekubo’s passing comes after a prolonged and mysterious absence from the spotlight. Once a fixture of the Lagos social scene and a prolific presence on social media, the actor had not been seen publicly or posted online since late 2024, leading to months of mounting concern from his global fanbase.

Rising to fame as the first runner-up in the 2010 Mr. Nigeria contest, Ekubo transitioned into a powerhouse acting career. Known for his wit and charm, he became a household name through blockbuster hits like Weekend Getaway, Lagos Cougars, and Sugar Rush. Over his decade-long career, he earned numerous accolades, including the Best Supporting Actor trophy at the 2013 Best of Nollywood Awards.

Beyond the screen, Ekubo was a trained lawyer and a traditional chief, holding the title of Ikuku of Amumara Town.

Tributes have already begun pouring in from colleagues and fans, who remember him not just as a talented performer, but as a vibrant “breath of fresh air” in the African film industry.

Taqdeer (Divine Decree), a 2025 Nigerian Islamic film directed by Ruben Reng, is a captivating tale of love, fate, and cultural heritage. Starring Ibrahim, Sakina, Mustapha, and Zainab as leading characters, this film weaves a narrative that explores the intricacies of human relationships against the backdrop of Nigerian and Hausa traditions.

The film’s plot revolves around themes of destiny, faith, and choices, unfolding a story that keeps viewers engaged. The narrative delves into the lives of its characters, exploring their struggles and triumphs in a way that resonates deeply. 

Watching Taqdeer is a visually immersive experience. The cinematography captures the vibrant essence of Abuja, blending traditional and modern elements harmoniously. The film’s use of Hausa language and Islamic cultural references adds authenticity, making the story feel both personal and universal. The performances by the cast are compelling, bringing depth to their characters.

Taqdeer’s formal techniques, such as its cinematography and sound design, effectively enhance the narrative’s emotional impact. The film’s portrayal of Islamic moral themes and traditions provides a rich context for the story, making it relatable and thought-provoking. The blend of music and story-based sound adds to the film’s atmosphere, drawing viewers into the world it creates.

Analytically, while Taqdeer is strong in many areas, certain scenes linger longer than necessary, which can detract from the story’s overall momentum. Nevertheless, these moments are outweighed by the film’s strength, particularly its moral richness.

In conclusion, Taqdeer is worth watching for its engaging narrative, moral richness, and strong performances. It offers a glimpse into Nigerian Muslim culture and explores universal themes of love and fate, making it a compelling watch for audiences interested in diverse storytelling.  

Reviewed by

Rexford Asamoah Adu

radu@smail.uni-koeln.de

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.