In the summer of 2000, I graduated from the University of Ibadan with a BA degree in Communication and Language Arts. My final year thesis was on Nollywood. I was excited about Nigeria’s emerging movie industry. During my research, I annoyed respondents with many probing questions. I interviewed movie practitioners and government representatives, including a senior officer with the Nigerian Copyright Commission. Today I am pleased that much more comprehensive research have been carried out on the film industry. Academic essays and texts on Nollywood are now flourishing. A few weeks ago, I met a PhD student from France. She was in Lagos to collect data on Nollywood.
This month, Nigerian movie practitioners celebrate 20 years of Nollywood. How did Nollywood come from behind to become the world’s second largest producer of films? I was in secondary school when Living in Bondage - a movie touted to have kicked off Nollywood - was produced. The film was in the Igbo language and it wasn’t even subtitled. But everyone was talking about it. Everyone was watching it. I watched it too, though I didn’t understand the language.
Twenty years is a long time. In Nollywood, a lot has happened.
In the beginning, movies were shot, recorded and sold directly on the streets – to vendors and video clubs, bookshops, supermarkets and churches. Today cinemas have sprouted all over Nigeria. Silverbird Cinemas for instance has branches in major cities, including Abuja and Port Harcourt. So do Genesis Cinema and Filmhouse. Nigerian home videos are screened alongside American blockbusters. A few years ago, the idea of screening Nigerian movies in the cinema was inconceivable.
Movie premieres at cinemas are now becoming standard practice in Nollywood. During the Easter holidays, my sister Emem Isong, alongside her friends Monalisa Chinda and In Edo premiered their latest movie – ‘Weekend Gateaway’ in Victoria Island, Lagos. I was there. Friends and colleagues came out in grand style. Monalisa arrived in a limousine. At the red carpet, the stars strutted and posed as a thousand flashlights flushed their faces.
Nollywood fans who cannot go to the cinema can watch their favourite movies on DSTV – the monopolistic multi-channel digital satellite TV service in Africa. DSTV has at least four ‘Africa Magic’ channels devoted to showing Nollywood movies. The stations are not free, but are among the most watched satelite channels on the continent. That is why some practitioners grumble about the paltry royalties they get from Africa Magic. But truth be told: DSTV has done a lot of good for Nollywood. I know movie practitioners who make movies just to sell to Africa Magic. And this year, the AfricaMagic Viewers' Choice Awards took place in Lagos to celebrate actors from all over Africa. I watched the ceremony in the comfort of my living room. In my opinion, it was one of the best award ceremonies ever held in Africa.
Twenty years is a long time.
When Nollywood started, it was made up of mostly Nigerian trained theatre artistes. Over the last few years, many budding artistes have gone abroad to study the art of filmmaking. Some have gone to study at the New York Film Academy. I am on the board of Royal Arts Academy – a film school in Lagos. My sister Uduak Oguamanam who is the academic director of the school tells me they receive countless applications every session. She goes through every single application and is amazed by the determination of the budding actors to broaden their knowledge. Ocassionaly, she gets imperfect applications from people who cannot even spell their names correctly.
Nollywood has not been perfect. I have seen sloppy storylines and mediocre acting. I have seen poor directing and poor production. But I am an optimist. I believe Nollywood will get better. This is an industry that started with nothing. No big investors. No government support.
Twenty years is a long time.
I salute the men and women who remain committed to the industry. Like my sisters Emem and Uduak. I salute the departed who left too soon. Like my friend, brother and mentor Francis Agu.
Twenty years is a long time. Nollywood will get better
Thursday, 4 April 2013
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Roads Ahead
My short story 'Devotion' is published in an anthology of short stories, Roads Ahead edited by Catherine O'Flynn. It is available to buy here.
There's also a review of the book here.
In 1999 a spiky collection of young writing was put together by the Tindal Street imprint, the first on a prize-winning road ahead. Receiving critical acclaim for its energy and variety, and awarded an Arts Council publishing prize, Hard Shoulder kick-started the careers of many young writers, editors and publishers. Ten years on, Tindall Street Press celebrates a decade of publishing – and commitment to the short story and wealth of regional writing talent with Roads Ahead.
There's also a review of the book here.
In 1999 a spiky collection of young writing was put together by the Tindal Street imprint, the first on a prize-winning road ahead. Receiving critical acclaim for its energy and variety, and awarded an Arts Council publishing prize, Hard Shoulder kick-started the careers of many young writers, editors and publishers. Ten years on, Tindall Street Press celebrates a decade of publishing – and commitment to the short story and wealth of regional writing talent with Roads Ahead.
Monday, 21 September 2009
Kachi Ozumba's Shadow of a Smile
Kachi Ozumba's first novel Shadow of a Smile is now out. The story: Torn from his father and a loving sister, the young student Zuba is imprisoned for a crime he has not even thought about committing. His misfortune: to live in a world where corruption is rife and honest and law-abiding people are crushed by the wheels of a blind, unscrupulous bureaucracy. More here.
Uwem Akpan humbled by Oprah pick
Nigerian author Uwem Akpan, who is a Jesuit priest, said he was "humbled" that his debut collection of short stories was chosen by influential U.S. talk show host Oprah Winfrey for her book club. More here.
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Now you can talk!
You are inches away from God is Good Telephone Centre – a rickety structure with rusted metal roofs. The man inside the cubicle is ranting on the mobile phone. You imagine his wife on the other end, defiant, bellowing back. You picture her at her oven hot home, tapping her foot on the floor, waving at the kids, and urging them to be quiet. Noisy motorcycles rattle past. A skinny dog barks. This is Lagos.
In the hotel room, you switch on your television set. The presenter announces that Africa is now the world's fastest-growing cell phone market. The number of mobile users in Africa is growing at double the rate of the rest of the globe. From 1999 through 2004, mobile subscribers in Africa jumped to 76.8 million, from 7.5 million, an average annual increase of 58 percent.
The revelation tickles your ears, takes you by surprise. Your cold fingers clutch the coffee table. You have never thought Africans to be great telephone users. How could these people, with their tribal strives and diseases, afford the luxury of a telephone? They were too poor - living on $2 a day or less, they were supposed to be too poor to justify corporate investments in mobile telecommunications outside the more prosperous continents. The newscaster takes you on a voyage, tells you that when African nations began to privatize their telephone monopolies in the mid-1990's, and competitive operators began to sell air time in smaller, cheaper units, mobile phone use exploded. Demand for air time was so strong in Nigeria that from late 2002 to early 2003 operators there were forced to suspend the sale of SIM cards, while they strengthened their networks.
In the beginning, people in the remote villages were so eager for service that they built ‘treehouses’ to catch signals from distant mobile phone masts. Beads of perspiration appear on your forehead. You and your Western friends would have invoked the laws of health and safety. Risk assessment. Fire drills. Evacuation. Yesterday, you met an old woman unable even to write her last name, telling customers to call her mobile phone if they wanted to buy the akara she sold. Time stood still and framed for you then. You stood and watched the woman, in her pale blue dress.
The sun is setting. The sky wraps around itself a purple hue. It makes you want to weep. You have always known Africans to be ingenious. Look at what they did to the English language. They added a bit of this and that, and came out with the Pidgin language. But you didn’t think that they would carry their ingenuity over to the mobile phones. In order to save calling units, most people in Nigeria resort to a practice called ‘flashing’ which means just to dial a number, let it ring once or twice and then hang up before the person called is able to touch a button. In Kenya, they have introduced a service called M-Pesa. This is simply an extra line on the mobile phone menu that says: "Send Money". With this, people go to an office, transfer funds onto their phone account, and then send them to their friends, or family, or anybody else with a mobile. The receivers then go to an office, show the code on the mobile and some ID, and collect the cash.
Music oozes from the TV. You feel comforted, becalmed by the African beats. Analysts have agreed that the technology revolution has come to African countries via the mobile phone, not the personal computer, as it did in America and Europe. And just as the internet encouraged the creation of some dotcom firms, the mobile phone boom in Africa may create the same sort of businesses, but tailored to local needs.
You become aware of your heart thumping, of the blood thudding in your ears. By the year 2012, around 485-million people in Africa will be mobile phone users. Increasingly mobile phones firms in Africa are encouraging users to venture online via their handsets.
You have always loved literature. In Things Fall Apart, you discovered the rich Igbo culture. South Africans have now launched the first text based entertainment, fiction written specifically for the mobile phone. Novel Idea inspires innovative content creation on the mobile platform. The pilot, which launched on 7 July 2008, is apparently the first time short fiction has been specifically commissioned for delivery via mobile phones in Africa. It has also been a unique way to promote professional South African writers.
The mobile phone revolution tells us of the ability of the silenced to triumph over adversity. It tells us that Africa has not been swallowed by history; Africa too knows how to swallow history!
In the hotel room, you switch on your television set. The presenter announces that Africa is now the world's fastest-growing cell phone market. The number of mobile users in Africa is growing at double the rate of the rest of the globe. From 1999 through 2004, mobile subscribers in Africa jumped to 76.8 million, from 7.5 million, an average annual increase of 58 percent.
The revelation tickles your ears, takes you by surprise. Your cold fingers clutch the coffee table. You have never thought Africans to be great telephone users. How could these people, with their tribal strives and diseases, afford the luxury of a telephone? They were too poor - living on $2 a day or less, they were supposed to be too poor to justify corporate investments in mobile telecommunications outside the more prosperous continents. The newscaster takes you on a voyage, tells you that when African nations began to privatize their telephone monopolies in the mid-1990's, and competitive operators began to sell air time in smaller, cheaper units, mobile phone use exploded. Demand for air time was so strong in Nigeria that from late 2002 to early 2003 operators there were forced to suspend the sale of SIM cards, while they strengthened their networks.
In the beginning, people in the remote villages were so eager for service that they built ‘treehouses’ to catch signals from distant mobile phone masts. Beads of perspiration appear on your forehead. You and your Western friends would have invoked the laws of health and safety. Risk assessment. Fire drills. Evacuation. Yesterday, you met an old woman unable even to write her last name, telling customers to call her mobile phone if they wanted to buy the akara she sold. Time stood still and framed for you then. You stood and watched the woman, in her pale blue dress.
The sun is setting. The sky wraps around itself a purple hue. It makes you want to weep. You have always known Africans to be ingenious. Look at what they did to the English language. They added a bit of this and that, and came out with the Pidgin language. But you didn’t think that they would carry their ingenuity over to the mobile phones. In order to save calling units, most people in Nigeria resort to a practice called ‘flashing’ which means just to dial a number, let it ring once or twice and then hang up before the person called is able to touch a button. In Kenya, they have introduced a service called M-Pesa. This is simply an extra line on the mobile phone menu that says: "Send Money". With this, people go to an office, transfer funds onto their phone account, and then send them to their friends, or family, or anybody else with a mobile. The receivers then go to an office, show the code on the mobile and some ID, and collect the cash.
Music oozes from the TV. You feel comforted, becalmed by the African beats. Analysts have agreed that the technology revolution has come to African countries via the mobile phone, not the personal computer, as it did in America and Europe. And just as the internet encouraged the creation of some dotcom firms, the mobile phone boom in Africa may create the same sort of businesses, but tailored to local needs.
You become aware of your heart thumping, of the blood thudding in your ears. By the year 2012, around 485-million people in Africa will be mobile phone users. Increasingly mobile phones firms in Africa are encouraging users to venture online via their handsets.
You have always loved literature. In Things Fall Apart, you discovered the rich Igbo culture. South Africans have now launched the first text based entertainment, fiction written specifically for the mobile phone. Novel Idea inspires innovative content creation on the mobile platform. The pilot, which launched on 7 July 2008, is apparently the first time short fiction has been specifically commissioned for delivery via mobile phones in Africa. It has also been a unique way to promote professional South African writers.
The mobile phone revolution tells us of the ability of the silenced to triumph over adversity. It tells us that Africa has not been swallowed by history; Africa too knows how to swallow history!
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