African Film : Looking Back and Looking Forward [1 ed.] 9781443857499, 9781443854979

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African Film

African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward

Edited by

Foluke Ogunleye

African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward, Edited by Foluke Ogunleye This book first published 2014 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2014 by Foluke Ogunleye and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-5497-2, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-5497-9

To Segun Ogunleye My husband, best critic and encourager

CONTENTS

Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Foluke Ogunleye Chapter I ...................................................................................................... 5 Ghanaian Cinema: A Historical Appraisal Kwaw Ansah Chapter II ................................................................................................... 13 Nigerian Film: Looking Backward and Looking Forward Afolabi Adesanya Chapter III ................................................................................................. 20 South African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward John R. Botha Chapter IV ................................................................................................. 35 Nollywood: The Audience as Merchandise Hyginus Ekwuazi Chapter V .................................................................................................. 46 Recapturing a Nation’s Fading Memory through Video: An Analysis of ‘Chimurenga’ Videos Tendai Chari Chapter VI ................................................................................................. 66 Filmmaking in Kenya: An Appraisal Foluke Ogunleye Chapter VII ................................................................................................ 69 A Historical Voyage through Kenyan Film Wanjiru Kinyanjui Chapter VIII .............................................................................................. 75 ‘Unpacking the Hotel’: A Study of the Cinematic Politics of Hotel Rwanda Nyasha Mboti

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Chapter IX ................................................................................................. 95 Women in Moroccan Cinema: Between Tradition and Modernity Aziz Chahir Chapter X ................................................................................................ 108 Counter-Hegemony in Ghanaian Video-Film Practice Vitus Nanbigne Chapter XI ............................................................................................... 125 Nigerian Video-Films on History: Love in Vendetta and the 1987 Kano Riots Francoise Ugochukwu Chapter XII .............................................................................................. 136 Women and Politics in Nollywood: A Challenge to Film Producers in the 21st Century Agatha Ukata Chapter XIII ............................................................................................ 156 A Nation’s Present in the Past: Lighting the Blurred Future through Filming Busuyi Mekussi Chapter XIV ............................................................................................ 171 Migrating Nollywood: Melting Borders in Tunde Kelani’s Abeni Jendele Hungbo Chapter XV.............................................................................................. 183 Issues of Picture-Right Ownership in Nigerian Video-Film Julius-Adeoye ‘Rantimi Jays Chapter XVI ............................................................................................ 192 Racism in the Jungle Adventure Film Charles Uji and Oluwaseun Adesina Chapter XVII ........................................................................................... 212 Fashion and Films: The Nigerian Example Toyin Ogundeji

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Chapter XVIII .......................................................................................... 222 Thematic Developments in Nigerian Video-films Kwaghkondo Agber Chapter XIX ............................................................................................ 232 A Historical Overview of the Ugandan Film Industry Dominica Dipio Notes on Contributors.............................................................................. 256 2nd Ife International Film Festival in Pictures ........................................ 260 Index ........................................................................................................ 278

INTRODUCTION FOLUKE OGUNLEYE, PH.D. EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, IFE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL

It gives me great pleasure to present to you this volume, which comprises of peer reviewed articles from the second edition of the Ife International Film Festival. Films are cultural artefacts created by specific cultures, which reflect those cultures, and in turn, affect them. Film is considered to be an important art form, a source of popular entertainment and a powerful method for educating - or indoctrinating - citizens. The visual elements of cinema give motion pictures a universal power of communication (“Film”, 2011). However, making films, reviewing them, studying and theorizing them is hard work, although this might sound incredible because of the glamour inherent in the stars’ lifestyles. Thomas Edison, the great inventor of the electrical age, who helped to refine and develop motion picture cameras, made the famous statement: “Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” This publication acknowledges all those filmmakers and film scholars, who through their productions and theorization, have made a difference to the filmic universe in Africa. Their substantial contribution reflects our world and has the potential to change our lives. The theme chosen for the 2nd Ife International Film Festival, ‘African Film - Looking Back and Looking Forward’, is of particular importance in that it interrogates the past, projects into the future, deals with the nature of the filmmaking profession and also possesses an interdisciplinary character. By understanding history, we can understand why things are the way they are right now. By having an awareness of what had happened in the past and the current situation, we are better placed to understand and influence our future as a people. By looking at what happened in the past, we can understand what we should avoid and what we should aim to improve. According to George Santayana in The Life of Reason, Volume 1(1905), “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”. For Lord Bolingbroke, in his chapter titled “The Dignity and Importance of History”, “History is philosophy teaching by example”; Shakespeare himself wrote that “there is a history in all men’s lives”. Daniel Webster

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Introduction

also opined that history is not only philosophy, teaching by example, but that its true purpose is also to illustrate the general progress of society in knowledge and the arts, and the changes of manners and pursuits of men (Webster, 1852). Each contributor to this volume has achieved a degree of knowledge and has the breadth of experience to provide us with a vision of what is needed for the future. Some have focused on history, others on theory, and some on criticism and how film production can be improved. In all, they reflect the film culture of a continent. In ‘Ghanaian Cinema: A Historical Appraisal’, Kwaw Ansah foregrounds the story of the African film by detailing the history of Ghanaian cinema. He examines the career of the Gold Coast Film Unit and its ‘civilizing’ mission, the importance of the first film school in Ghana and of Kwame Nkrumah’s contributions towards the development of African film. In ‘African Film: Looking Backward and Looking Forward’, Afolabi Adesanya underscores the much needed synergy between the celluloid past and the present video-film while reaching forward to the digital future. He emphasizes the fact that stories and images are among the principal means by which human society has always transmitted its values and beliefs. John R. Botha, in ‘South African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward’, contemplates the nature and history of South Africa’s filmic evolution. Issues discussed in Botha’s chapter include customs, beliefs and ideologies presented as central to filmmaking, and issues of financing. He illustrates his points by providing an exegesis of three South African films and concludes with a prognosis of South Africa’s filmic future. The fulcrum of Hyginus Ekwuazi’s chapter is based on the film audience, as revealed in his title: ‘Nollywood: The Audience as Merchandise’. He argues that entertainment in the Nollywood film is seriously compromised. He reiterates that the challenge for Nigerian filmmakers is to work out a creatively empirical way to package their audience for sale to a sponsor as this will prevent the motion picture industry from relying solely on selling entertainment to the audience. Tendai Chari, in ‘Recapturing a Nation’s Fading Memory through Video: An Analysis of ‘Chimurenga’ Videos’, discusses the rebirth of the video film industry and the use of video in documenting the history of the liberation war in Zimbabwe. He stresses that Chimurenga videos accentuate memory, patriotism, courage and selflessness as priceless virtues needed to overcome colonialism and neo-colonialism.

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Wanjiru Kinyanjui embarks on ‘A Historical Voyage through Kenyan Film’ in her chapter of the same title. She states that Kenya has numerous media institutions training young talents to produce films, but that what is needed is a film school if Kenya is to produce quality movies. In Nyasha Mboti’s ‘Unpacking the Hotel: A Study of the Cinematic Politics of Hotel Rwanda’, we see an interrogation of methods used in film analysis. The author proposes subjecting the image to new analytical perspectives, discussing how ideology insinuates itself in the image. Aziz Chahir’s chapter, based on the filmic image of Moroccan women, is titled: ‘Women in Moroccan Cinema: Between Tradition and Modernity’. Vitus Nanbigne’s ‘Counter-Hegemony in Ghanaian Video-Film Practice’ questions the reasons behind the practice of mostly amateur video-film producers, who seem to have rejected the meta-narratives of anticolonialism. He identifies causative factors such as the lack of formal training in filmmaking and the failure to develop film scripts and evolve complex narratives. Françoise Ugochukwu’s ‘Nigerian Video-Films on History: Love in Vendetta and the 1987 Kano riots’ examines the connection between film and history in the film Love in Vendetta, inspired by the infamous Kano riots of that year. Issues discussed include the place of the film at the intersection between reality and fiction, an unusual treatment of history and the film’s unifying agenda. Through her chapter, ‘Women and Politics in Nollywood: A Challenge to Film Producers in the 21st Century’, Agatha Ukata questions the gendered notions observed in Nollywood films, which usually portray women at the margins of political representation and governance. Busuyi Mekussi focuses on history in his chapter, ‘A Nation’s Present in the Past: Lightening the Blurred Future through Filming’. He posits that the development of films in South Africa has gone beyond the reflection on the past and present to the presaging of the future in order for the country to begin tackling challenges around security, job provision and psycho-social stabilization. ‘Migrating Nollywood: Melting Borders in Tunde Kelani’s Abeni’ is the title of Jendele Hungbo’s chapter. He explores ways in which Tunde Kelani’s film handles the telling effects of colonialism and its creation of artificial borders between communities. Julius-Adeoye Rantimi Jays examines ‘Issues of Picture Right Ownership in Nigerian Video-Film’. He discusses the various types of rights in the motion picture industry and concludes that contract agreements between producer, director and marketer must be specific. ‘Racism in the Jungle Adventure Film’, by Charles Uji and Oluwaseun Adesina, provides a race-based survey of African films. The authors state

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Introduction

that in spite of modernization and legislations, racism still subsists in some films made in the late twentieth century and even in the twenty-first century. The chapter focuses on Jamie Uys’s The Gods Must be Crazy. In ‘Fashion and Films: The Nigerian Example’, Toyin Ogundeji states that film is an art which reflects and affects society. She supports this assertion through a discussion of Nigerian fashion and its adoption in screen costumes as well as the adaptation of film costumes for the domestic fashion scene. Kwaghkondo Agber writes on ‘Thematic Developments in Nigerian Video-films’. He emphasizes the need for a re-orientation of the home video film themes from sex, witchcraft and magic to themes that portray and reflect Nigerian cultures in more positive directions. Dominica Dipio provides a ‘Historical Overview of Ugandan Film Industry’. She identifies factors that have aided the growth of the industry such as the film climate in the region and the enthusiasm this has generated among Ugandans. In summary, this book has achieved one of the goals for setting up the annual Ife International film Festival – “To publish papers presented by filmmakers, theorists, critics, etc. at plenary sessions, special workshops, seminars and panel discussions, thereby contributing to the growing literature on the African film”. This book will provide the opportunity for filmmakers, academics and students to learn about the history, theories, problems and various approaches to production, marketing and a host of other subjects that impinge upon the African film. My thanks and special gratitude go to my academic colleagues, friends and industry professionals for their support in completing this book project. I must mention and acknowledge, in a very special way, the painstaking care taken by my colleague and contributor to this volume, Professor Françoise Ugochukwu, in going through the drafts, proofreading and offering incisive suggestions on the manuscript. I am also indebted to the anonymous peer reviewers who helped with the review of the differnt chapters. Finally, my thanks go the the editors at Cambridge Scholars Publishing for their patience and assistance. The organizers of the Ife International Film Festival hereby acknowledge the support of the Prince Claus Fund for Culture, The Netherlands, for providing the grant to facilitate the organization of the 2009 edition of the festival.

CHAPTER I GHANAIAN CINEMA: A HISTORICAL APPRAISAL* KWAW ANSAH CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER, TV AFRICA, ACCRA, GHANA

The history of Ghanaian cinema is filled with many pleasant memories. Yet it equally faced many challenges, some of which are yet to be overcome. Ghana officially became a British colony in 1844, when a group of chiefs of the then Gold Coast were made to sign a bond with the British Crown. From then on to the declaration of independence on March 6, 1957, the colonial masters had a vested interest in ensuring that the Africans of the Gold Coast saw their role as subjects of the British Crown as crucial. To achieve this, one of the tools they successfully employed was cinema. The Gold Coast Film Unit was created to produce films that conscientized the people of the Gold Coast on issues such as the payment of taxes and levies, while reminding them that they were subjects of the British Crown. In 1937, a British Major, L.A. Notcutt, was commissioned by the Colonial Government to produce series of films to “civilize Africa”. This marked the beginning of the launching of Colonial Film Units in various parts of Africa, including the Gold Coast. The immediate objective, according to the film historian Jean Rouch, was to use films to get Africans to participate in World War Two. Films produced projected how honourable and heroic it was to serve in the colonial fighting force. Cinema screens were awash with films showing brave and victorious warriors being honoured on their return from fighting the enemy on behalf of the British Crown. This campaign was largely successful; it however had an unexpected aftermath. Pre-war promises were not honoured and this sparked an uprising of ex-service men, which in turn led to the speedy march to Ghana’s independence. In 1949, following a report which John Grierson wrote for UNESCO, the Colonial Film Unit initiated a film school in Accra, Gold Coast, called

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the West Africa Film Training School. Grierson noted that films made by L.A. Notcutt, the Bantu Film Experiment and the Colonial Film Unit did not attract African audiences enough because Africans could not identify with them. Grierson believed that the problem of cinema in the Colonies would be resolved, “not by projecting films from the West, but by colonial peoples making films inside the colonies for themselves” (quoted in Van Beaver, p. 16-17). The film school in Accra had an initial intake of six students: three from the Gold Coast, namely Okanta, Fenuku and Aryeetey, and three from Nigeria, namely Fajemisin, Otigba and Alhaji Auna. The British Crown had succeeded immensely in getting many young brave men to enlist into the West African Frontier Force, by enticing them through the power of cinema, making them believe that they would be honoured and rewarded as heroes on their return. After having helped to defeat the Germans, the African soldiers found to their utter disappointment, on their return, that a British corporal would earn far more than an African Lieutenant. As if reneging on the pre-war promises was not enough, the ex-servicemen, who had fought heroically on the side of the allied forces in Burma against the powerful Japanese and in the desert against Rommel’s army, were disappointed to find that only the Europeans were shown in all the post-war documentary films. All the Africans’ heroic deeds, especially those of the West African Frontier Force, were conveniently left out. It was probably a stark reminder to the African soldiers that the war was not their war, and that the only reason they were there was to perform their subservient duty as colonial subjects. The above incidents, as well as general poor conditions of living, led to the famous march of the 28th of February 1948. The march was ruthlessly put down by a British Police Officer, Major Imray, when he ordered fire on the unarmed ex-servicemen, who were merely seeking to present a petition for better living conditions to the Governor at the Christiansburg Castle in Accra. Sergeant Adjetey, Corporal Atipoe and Private Odartey fell in the process (for more on this, see Briggs and Bartlett p.12). These terrible events coincided with the end of the boycott of European goods, which had been successfully organized by Nii Kwabena Bonne III, a powerful chief of Osu Alata, as protest against exorbitant prices and illicit activities of the Syrian and Lebanese merchants who controlled the retail market. Kwame Nkrumah and other members of the United Gold Coast Convention (UGCC), obviously frustrated by the heavy-handed manner in which the demonstrators had been treated by the colonial administration, sent a protest telegram to the colonial office in London. Six of the political agitators including Nkrumah were promptly arrested and put behind bars,

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and later became known as the “Big Six” of Ghana’s politics. This event became a major catalyst for the attainment of Ghana’s independence. During the same period, ex-servicemen from the French colonial territories who had been camped in Senegal faced similar difficulties; when they complained, they were surrounded by French soldiers with tanks and armoured cars and several of them were killed. When Ousmane Sembene made a film based on this event, called Camp de Thiaroye, the film was promptly banned in France, and the usual support the French Government gave to filmmakers in Francophone West Africa was denied him. One may ask whether Sembene crossed the line by using cinema, which in the colonial days was the preserve of the colonial master, to reveal a well-guarded secret. The British had obviously not anticipated that the submissive and obedient Gold Coast Contingent would ever dare demand that promises, made to them through the power of cinema as a reward for the sacrificing of their lives to achieve victory, be fulfilled. Indeed, before Ghana got its independence, the Gold Coast Film Unit had already produced a number of famous short feature films, such as Progress in Kojokrom, Mr. Mensah Builds a House, The Boy Kumasenu and Theresa. This last film was produced to encourage young women to opt for the nursing profession – a campaign which equally proved very successful. Most of the films were used to educate Africans on the need to pay taxes and respond proactively to colonial dictates, even though 60% to 80% of the tax revenue and other natural resources were sent to Britain. The colonial authorities were mindful of the fact that resistance to taxation had already led to the Aba Women’s riots of 1928-1930 in South Eastern Nigeria. In that episode, Igbo women of Aba, who were already unhappy about their husbands and sons’ over-taxation, felt that the head-count of citizens which was taking place was a prelude to the imposition of taxes on women for the first time. Their successful protest forced some local “warrant chiefs” to surrender their caps (the symbol of their power) and take to their heels, while the enumeration exercise was abandoned. To avoid a repeat of such an event in the Gold Coast, a well-dramatized film, featuring local artistes, became a useful tool to gradually persuade and educate the people on the usefulness and necessity of taxation. The Gold Coast Film Unit also produced weekly newsreels of British news as well as news of the various colonial territories. These were shown in the cinema houses, largely with the aim of brainwashing the colonial subjects and reminding them that the Monarch’s authority was supreme. After the war, the themes of the films largely changed to project British etiquette and values, and to denigrate African religions in well-crafted

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stories that created hell for non-adherents to the religion of the colonial masters and heaven for the converts to Christianity. In all these stories, Satan was always visually portrayed as a black person while Christ and the angels were always portrayed as white. The effect of this psychological orientation still lives on today among Christians who believe that God is white, and this, in effect, negatively affects our self-esteem. In all these, the role of cinema has been pivotal. Apart from the above, the people of the Gold Coast also had exposure to films made in Hollywood, Britain and other places in the Western world. Subconsciously, many of such films were to gradually mould our psychological orientation and lead us to see ourselves as servants of the values of our European Masters. In such films, the best roles Africans and people of African descent ever played were those of senseless timid domestic servants, buffoons or cotton pickers. Many generations of African youth found it fashionable to adopt names of characters in Hollywood movies, and some still live with such guy names/nicknames which have no relevance to them. This is how names like Roy Rogers, Humphrey Bogart, Lash Larou, Kisco Kid, Doris Day and Ava Gardener found their way into Ghanaian vocabulary.

Film in Post-Independence Ghana Fortunately for Ghana, she became the first African nation south of the Sahara to gain independence. With her new status as an independent nation, came a youthful and dynamic president, with a lot of ideas and a deeper understanding of emancipation. Having studied in America and Britain, Kwame Nkrumah understood that the audiovisual media had been one of the effective tools employed by the Western world to do psychological damage to the image of Africa and the black race. He was therefore determined to reverse this state of affairs, starting with his speech on the eve of Ghana’s independence, in which he declared in part: “we are going to create our own African personality and identity”. Implied in that statement was a major push to transform Ghana’s film unit into a modern state-of-the-art industrial complex, and that was exactly what Nkrumah did. Within a few months of taking office, he transformed the then Gold Coast Film Unit into a full-fledged Ghana Film Industry Corporation (GFIC). Records show that the government had established a standing order with major film equipment manufacturing companies, to supply the GFIC with every new state-of-the art equipment on the market. He also sent aspiring filmmakers out to Canada, Poland, USA, the UK and France

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to strengthen their skills in the various disciplines, in order to make Ghana self-sufficient in film production. Among the beneficiaries of the training programme was one of Africa’s foremost cinematographers, Dr. Chris Tsui Hesse, who was Director of Photography for the award-winning films Love Brewed in the African Pot and Heritage Africa. GFIC was to concentrate on the industrial production of relevant feature films and documentaries, and provide content for the cinema houses and television programming in Africa to minimize the negative impact of Hollywood and Western values on the continent. The first President of Ghana believed that, in order to build the African personality and identity which he had spoken about in his declaration of independence, film would have a major role to play, just as Hollywood had effectively moulded our minds to become Americans even if we had never been there. Nkrumah thus made sure that every major event on the African continent (the achievement of independence, Organization of African Unity (OAU) activities and other important functions) was captured on film by the GFIC. This made GFIC the biggest source of African archival film material in Africa south of the Sahara, apart from South Africa. Regrettably, February 1966 came and President Kwame Nkrumah was overthrown. Since then, GFIC had never had such an advocate in the corridors of power.

The Changing Fortunes of Ghana’s Film Industry In the 1980s, a group of Ghanaian filmmakers appealed to the government with a proposal to set up a fund which would serve as seed money to encourage people in the film industry. Successive governments, reminded of the proposal, have expressed interest in it, but no further steps have been taken to craft any policy direction to achieve this vision. Unfortunately, in the 1990s, the whole GFIC was sold to Malaysians, who naturally would not be too concerned about Ghana’s archives; most of our African film heritage was thus left outside at the mercy of the weather, and a whole history of films, including their negatives, was destroyed under the ‘watchful’ eyes of the government. Incidental to every coup in Ghana was the sub-culture of curfews which accompanied every coup since 1966. This helped to speed up the near collapse of the film industry in the country, as night life became increasingly difficult and cinema was gradually weakened. In the midst of these challenges, private Ghanaian film production companies emerged. ‘Film Africa’ produced its first feature-length film, Love Brewed in the African Pot, which became an instant box office record breaker. Even

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though the script of the film had been ready before 1980, lack of both resources and policy direction to support the film industry, and unwillingness on the part of the banks to venture into the financing of film in the private sector - which was new in Ghana and considered to be a high risk business - held it up for eight years. Later, other films were produced, such as Heritage Africa, Genesis Chapter X, Sankofa, and, much later, Nkrabea My Destiny, Step Dad, Ghost Tears and His Majesty’s Sergeant. A Hollywood film produced in Ghana called Contact and others were shot with the infrastructural support of the GFIC. During this period, stakeholders in the film industry were excited about the prospect of a new beginning for the Ghanaian Film Industry. Things were beginning to take shape. The cinema houses were regaining patronage, and a new crop of young talented actors and actresses began to emerge on the scene. At the same time, with the advent of video technology with its instant nature and low budget, video film pirates got a step ahead of the local filmmakers, making their work quite challenging. It turned out that pirates were making more profit than video film producers who soon began to incur losses. When the film industry was vibrant, Ghanaian producers offered technical assistance to Nigerian Film makers like Ola Balogun with his Cry Freedom, Eddy Ugbomah and others. But now, arrears of artist fees began to mount and disillusionment set in for young artists and filmmakers who had hoped to earn a reasonable living out of the film industry. It is worth mentioning that, in 1978, the Ghana National Film and Television Institute (NAFTI) was established in Accra, Ghana. It is gratifying also to note that NAFTI, this time, was not set up with the main objective to entice our youth to enlist in the colonial West African Frontier Force but to train Africans to know who they are, where they are coming from and where they are going. It has so far trained filmmakers, not only from Ghana but also from Nigeria, Ethiopia, Botswana, South Africa, Gambia, Sierra Leone, Lesotho and other countries. In the late 1990s, our brothers from Nigeria, armed with video technology, penetrated the Ghanaian market and overran it. While it took the average Ghanaian production company a minimum of six months to one year to produce capital intensive celluloid films, it took our Nigerian counterparts a maximum of six weeks to complete a whole video film, post-production included. This made Ghanaian movies instantly uncompetitive financially because of the sheer cost of production. Many of the Ghanaian filmmakers soon went out of business, while others became agents of Nigerian production companies. Our good artists and technicians began to seek roles in Nigerian-made films, which provided some of them

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with instant success in Ghana. As a result, most of our cinema houses went idle and were taken over by charismatic Churches. While one is happy that the Nigerian film industry has significantly reduced the influence of Hollywood culture on African TV screens, one is also quite concerned with the technical quality of a number of productions, and with storylines which seem to confirm Western stereotypes of Africa. While some Nigerian films have told good and relevant stories, I am equally concerned about the portrayal of almost every successful African entrepreneur as either a corrupt politician or an occultist. Yet there are countless successful hardworking Nigerians making it through honest means. Frankly, that stereotypical portrayal of African success is worrisome. I grew up in the Western part of Ghana, where the people engaged in petty trading which grew into big businesses were often Nigerians. There was a popular saying at the time, that any Ghanaian village which did not have a Lagosian petty trader called Papa or Mame Lasisi was not commercially awake. We called the Lagosians Mame and Papa Alata. I later learnt from a Nigerian High Commissioner that ‘Alata’ in Yoruba means ‘pepper’. This was a pleasant reminder that when Mame or Papa Alata came, they started their business with pepper on a small table, and then added charcoal and later sardine until it grew into a kiosk and eventually into a supermarket. It is therefore no accident that the biggest markets in Ghana are now called Makola Number one and Makola Number two, named after a popular market in Yorubaland (specifically Ibadan) in the Western part of Nigeria. In the midst of all these, all hope is not lost for the movie industry in Ghana. In the last two to three years, a number of new producers have come up with a revived determination to give our Nigerian brothers a good run for their money. It is worth mentioning that a number of them have had very good productions which have been accepted beyond the shores of Ghana. The ones which I can immediately mention are Run Baby Run, Scorned, Life and Living it, Things We do for Love, Home Sweet Home and many other feature-length productions. We still have a long way to go in order to be able to produce six hundred movies per annum as obtains with our competitors in Nigeria. But it is heart-warming to know that these are largely young people who are making this immense effort, which means that we can expect far more inspiring African stories from Ghana and Nigeria. The Ghanaian Film Industry began in pre-independence days, when the colonial authorities saw film as an important tool for the colonial orientation process. It was transformed in the days of Kwame Nkrumah into a tool for creating what the visionary called the “African personality

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and identity” with the establishment of the GFIC. However, the industry took a downward turn due to lack of attention from successive governments after Nkrumah and is now largely in the hands of private producers who do not always appreciate the power of the tool they work with. That notwithstanding, the end of the once vibrant Ghana film Industry is far from sight. ‘Film Africa’, the producers of Love Brewed in the African Pot and Heritage Africa and promoters of Television Africa have put together a well-equipped five-studio complex called ‘Film Africa Studios’, to support the re-emergence of the Ghanaian Film Industry. Even though we might not be able to produce the same number of films as our Nigerian counterparts produce per annum, we are determined to ensure that the stories we bring out are very strong and inspirational. The doors of Ghana’s ‘Film Africa Studios’ are now open to our Nigerian brothers for us all to tell stories together. In conclusion, filmmakers must be cognizant of the very powerful tool at their disposal. The negative image associated with Africa today is largely a creation of the Western audiovisual industry. Fortunately now, technology has put the tool at the disposal of very capable and thoughtful African filmmakers. What we do with this tool is entirely within our control. We could choose to use it to reverse Western stereotypes, which have created an inferiority complex for our continent and its people, but we could also use it to reinforce those negative views. The caution is that, if, for purely commercial reasons, we do not tone down excessive projection of occultism and Juju, the obsession with nudity and the blatant copy of decadent Western values, we may be sowing the seeds of perpetual psychological damage to future generations, something which may not be easy to reverse.

Bibliography Briggs, Philip & Bartlett, Mary-Anne, 2006, Malawi. Malawi: Bradt Travel Guides. Van Bever, L., 1952, Le Cinéma pour Africain, Brussels: G. Van Campenhout.

CHAPTER II NIGERIAN FILM: LOOKING BACKWARD AND LOOKING FORWARD AFOLABI ADESANYA MANAGING DIRECTOR, NIGERIAN FILM CORPORATION

Preamble This chapter is an attempt to focus attention on the need to reappraise the reasons for the disconnect, if any, between the African cinema heritage of Ousmane Sembene, the godfather of the African film industry, Hubert Ogunde, the doyen of the industry, Adeyemi Afolayan, (of blessed memory) and forerunners from Nigeria (Francis Oladele, Ola Balogun, Eddie Ugbomah, Moses Olaiya Adejumo - Baba Sala, Newton Aduaka), Senegal (Moussa Sene Absa), Congo (Balufu Bakupa-Kayinda), Cameroun (Jean Marie Teno), Burkina Faso (Fanta Regina Nacro), South Africa (Ramadan Suleiman), Kenya (Judy Kibinge), Ghana (Veronica Quarshie), Mali (Abderrahmane Sissako) on the one hand, and the current wave of video filmmaking, championed by Nigerians, on the other. According to Olivier Barlet, this last one, which leaves much to be desired, has nevertheless come to be accepted as a model worthy of emulation. On another level, the focus also goes to underscore the much-needed synergy between the celluloid past, the video present and the digital future, though not in any chronological sequence. The structure of this chapter is therefore intended to stimulate both critical analysis and discussion. I would rather move forward by looking back, through an interactive historical journey covering five obvious sub-themes: -

The colonial phase, The postcolonial or post-independence phase, The modern phase,

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The post-modern phase / the future of film on the continent, The policy environment of African film.

But first, what do we understand by African cinema? African cinema started literally and symbolically with Ousmane Sembene. The term is generically employed to describe films produced in sub-Saharan Africa since the independences in the 1960s. It is therefore a conglomeration of national film industries, including film directors living in the Diaspora. Directors invariably represent the soul of the film; it is in that vein that the following quotation becomes apt in showcasing African film. Writing on African film directors, Okoh Aihie says they are A metaphor of strength, a symbol of hope that can’t be dimmed so easily, a pulsating stream of life that is constantly rejuvenated … (with) a desperation to prove something, that African people have something that goes beyond poverty and misery, they always want to speak about the beauty of the continent, exhibited in manifold cultured and splendid natural settings… in spite of the wars and famine … (2004: vi)

Film directors are undoubtedly the owners of the film because the film cannot be complete without them. They call the shots. And in the same vein, film directors are storytellers! It is their responsibility to create a story that others will see as they see it. They must have a deep understanding of the essence of the story, which they have been given the mandate to make into a movie, taking into account the visuality of films. The hallmark of African cinema then is this: stories steeped in African mythology, folklore and ancient beliefs, full of superstition, exotericism, empiricism and sourced from our cultural background. We love stories of conquest and mysticism, uniquely told, aided by aesthetics of beautiful landscapes and scenery, echoing the peculiarity of the African experience, cultural heritage, philosophy and mode of governance, and displaying a different orientation altogether.

African Film: The Colonial/Post-Independence Celluloid Past The film medium, which is the most important invention of the 20th century, became a force and a tool to reckon with, used by all and sundry, especially for political gains. As we commence this historical voyage, it is pertinent to note that film was brought to Africa within the colonial context, at the height of the colonial era. Arriving at an auspicious time, it helped in no small measure to perpetuate colonial ambitions, reducing

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colonial subjects to its scope of reference in politics, culture, economics and social systems. In most colonial societies, especially those farremoved from a national cinema culture, the film image resided outside the province of social reality because colonial cinema impressed “unreal images”. This is one of the deepest lingering legacies of the colonial cinema heritage (Okome (1995: 26-27). Apart from this, the missionaries also craved to create a new religious order for the “natives” through film screenings. Since 1903 when the first film was exhibited in Nigeria and on the continent at large, the response from indigenous populations had understandably been euphoric, as the people loved the magic of the moving image (Okome, 28). Mgbejume (1989) contends that The early films shown [to] the African audiences before locally made films were available were those made in Europe, England and United States. These films were sent by the colonial government “as a benevolent gesture of tutelage to the colonial people”.

However, colonial cinema affected all modes of indigenous cultural production negatively and delayed advancement in film production, distribution and film studies. The film medium nonetheless provided a means through which colonialism articulated the need for the actual dislocation of the inherited system and cultural values of Africa. The context of colonial films was anti-native, glorifying European middle class etiquettes, and the screening procedures were quite often disorientating and patronizing. The post-independence era nonetheless witnessed an outburst of creative energies as the aforementioned pioneers and pathfinders strived, against all odds, to establish an indigenous cinema across the continent, away from the colonial legacy which mainly thrived on the newsreel and documentary genres. Both the “Med Hondo” School and the “Ousmane Sembene” School of African film hold that, to effectively decolonize the Africa film and work out an aesthetic recognizably African (its Hollywood appendages notwithstanding), African filmmaking should be a reaction against Western filmmaking, against the Western stereotype of the black man and his world – a functionalist view of culture which served as the compass for the pioneers to bequeath an enduring legacy to generations yet unborn. Culture is therefore at the heart of the African film. And at the heart of culture is language, be it English, French or Portuguese, which I described elsewhere as “that privileged and fragile vehicle of communication and cultural identity.” Our style and identity separate our films from those

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produced on other continents. Of course, the colonial question contributed a lot to this, coupled with the experience we had in Africa. In spite of this dichotomy, however, creativity was evident in the films produced by pioneers and pathfinders. It is our style and our identity that separate our films from every other type. In summary, the basic aim of the celluloid past was cultural reevaluation and the restitution of African culture from colonial domination and Western propaganda. African filmmakers have produced and continue to produce some of the world’s finest films in response to the aspirations of their people and perhaps in response to what Sembene Ousmane proposed as the perception or role of the African cinema … Becoming the important tool for the fertilization of a new African culture. …the cinema brings together the essences of African traditional culture which are essentially oral. Thus, it has the possibility of being an excellent ferment in the vast political culture which the African masses possess” (Edison, 1979: 93).

Examples of these films abound in the few books and many other scholarly works published on the industry by both foreign and indigenous authors.

The Modern Video Present The “cinematic heritage” inherited from the two phases paraphrased above proved unsustainable in the face of the economics of film production and marketing. From the 1990s, African countries, and especially Nigeria, began to experience dwindling fortunes which eventually led to the demise of the feature film. Although a number of Francophone filmmakers, who looked up to France for film funding, continued to churn out films on celluloid, the story was different in Anglophone countries shooting their own films using their own resources. From reversal stock to the video, the emergence of movies on the continent was only a matter of time, even though, coming more than two decades after the arrival of video in America, it aligned itself to the intention of the manufacturers – to quickly redistribute the image to a larger population. Some of the greatest beneficiaries of this paradigm shift are poorer African countries, and we all must admit that the oil bust of the late seventies and early eighties, the subsequent austerity measures and the structural adjustment programs (SAP) of the nineties dealt a devastating blow to the burgeoning film industry. The gradual rise of poverty limited

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the people’s ability to pay for outdoor entertainment, while the rising profile of insecurity kept people at home. Robbed of the prospect of financial assistance, optimistic Nigerian filmmakers dumped the expensive celluloid medium in favour of a cheaper alternative - video - with disastrous consequences (Ademiju-Bepo and Okpodu, 2006: 23). African films certainly cut across the entire film genre, with stories including witchcraft, romance, some action, horror, comedy, opera, and drama - a carry-over from the postcolonial heritage. Nigeria, known for the ingenuity of her film practitioners, led the way in re-inventing the video format across the continent.

Digitization: The Post-Modern Future of Video Jonathan Haynes noted that History had imposed the clash of the traditional and the modern as an inevitable theme of African cinema as well as literature. The novel and the film as urban modern art forms therefore tend to look back to the village oral literature or orature in a bid to move forward. Today, we live in a global village, where almost all primordial barriers to arts, commerce, communication and human relations have collapsed. Africa seems to be responsive to this call, going by the theme of the National Broadcasting Commission’s 7th Biennial Conference of African Broadcasters, Africast 2008, held in Abuja in October 2008: ‘Digitization and the Challenges of Broadcasting’, which focused attention on the future of filmmaking and broadcasting on the continent. In looking forward, African film should begin to take the issue of digitization seriously. Since we do not yet manufacture any of the equipment we use, we must brace ourselves up for the challenges ahead. As the Honourable Minister of Information and Communications, Prof. Dora Akunyili, said, this will be done “by encouraging world class production and developing ideas to enhance (Nollywood) African films without taking away the cultural appeal that has endeared the industry to the world”.

The Policy Environment of the African Film Let me briefly share a few thoughts on the policy environment of the African film, using Nigeria and one or two other countries as paradigm. Through the colonial, postcolonial and modern phases, key policy goals have included nationalization, increased language filmmaking, investment, empowerment, technological innovation and the competitiveness of the sector. From the Colonial film Units (CFUs) which dotted the continent,

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through the Film Divisions of the independent nations, to the present day Ministries of Information or Culture, Broadcasting or Communications, African film has passed through a series of policy evolutions aimed at strengthening the industry towards achieving the goals and aspirations of its founding fathers. Successive governments in Africa have ensured that a conducive atmosphere is provided and guaranteed for the practice, production, distribution and marketing of films to meet global demand for Africa’s stories. From investment, tax incentives and infrastructural development to research, training, capacity building and professionalism, appropriate legislations are continually put in place to maximize the potentials of the film medium to the advantage of Africa. In the future which begins today, African filmmakers should strive for global best quality and standard – from scripting and directing, through shooting to editing and sound – which will make our films admissible into international film festivals across the continents, and ultimately bring annual harvests of laurels. This is without prejudice to the indigenous viewership, which we must sustain through an edifying content that could be the pride of every African at home and in the diaspora. The government of the day would also support these efforts with the patriotic intention of placing our continent on the world map.

Concluding Remarks Every average African has either gone through the experience of going to the cinema and watching films or watching videos at home. The revival of the cinema theatre culture among Africans is now gaining momentum. This is influenced by the mass appeal enjoyed by our home videos and the desire to go back to the celluloid production. However, the challenge of investment in the sector still stares practitioners in the face daily. But we must hope for a change. The African film industry cannot be relevant until it defines its image without ambiguity. Can donor-funded films still provide a platform for the stories our filmmakers really want to tell? Do the issue-led films of today hark back to the propaganda of the 1960s and 1970s or is there a real need and desire to make this type of film? Filmmakers are warriors and history makers. It is in discovering your own problems, telling your own stories those that are under your nose, that you become a better person. Stories and images are among the means by which human society has always transmitted its values and beliefs, from generation to generation, with

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films driven by stories. It we fail to use them responsibly, creatively and simply, we are likely to cause irreversible damage to the health and vitality of our African societies.

CHAPTER III SOUTH AFRICAN FILM: LOOKING BACK AND LOOKING FORWARD JOHN R. BOTHA NORTH WEST UNIVERSITY, REPUBLIC OF SOUTH AFRICA

Introduction When contemplating the nature and history of a country’s film evolution, the task is made a great deal easier when such developments are characterized primarily by stylistic idiosyncrasies rather than linguistic and racial differences. It is, for example, a matter of simple academic analysis to peruse the early development of film in France, and to describe it in terms of technical achievements and the eventual divergence towards, on the one hand, films of a more narrative and sometimes historical approach, such as the films by Louis Gance, Jean Renoir and Marcel Carné, where the epic and reflective storytelling nature of French film is clearly visible (Peacock: 2001: 555). On the other hand, France’s film history could just as easily be described in relation to the experimental approaches used by Georges Méliès and later René Clair, Fernand Léger, Louis Buñuel and Jean Cocteau (Bordwell, 1997: 18), leading to the French New Wave (Bawden, 1976: 265-266). Germany is immediately identified with Expressionism, Italy with Neo-Realism and so forth (Bordwell & Thompson, 2003: 103-109, 359-366). In a country such as South Africa, it is on the one hand very easy, for anyone looking at it from a primarily political point of view, to establish the main stream of filmic developments, for there can be no doubt that the Golden Era of South African film, between 1960 and 1980 (Botha in De beer, 1998: 192-196) was directly linked to the demand of the apartheid society for primarily Afrikaans language films. English films were however seen as an acceptable alternative, since the largest number of South African filmgoers, whether English or Afrikaans, grew up under the

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shadow of the Hollywood film industry. Black cinematic identities only started emerging after the forties (Maingaurd, 2007: 75). When an academic study of this nature is lodged, it is however also possible to look at the development of film in South Africa with one eye on the emerging tradition of black film production. This is exactly what would make such a study less meaningful, because in effect it would become a mere quantitative study, the likes of which have already been done. This chapter examines what I would call the largest common denominator, namely the fact that all films have a storyline which, to a degree, is not only embedded in the broader cultural customs and attitudes of a country, but is symptomatic of ideas and contents reflecting the attitudes of that country. Such an approach would also fit meaningfully into the theme of the 2nd Ife International Film Festival – to look back and cast the eye forward. It should be possible to evaluate symptomatically where we came from, and to judge how things have been done in the recent past, in order to venture a gaze into the future. By evaluating the way in which we dealt with our customs and beliefs in the past, it should be possible to diagnose aspects of the future, because try as we may, it is impossible to escape the underlying ideologies that characterize our individual countries.

Customs, Beliefs and Ideologies as Central to Filmmaking Customs, beliefs and ideologies have influenced humankind since the beginning of time, and this holds true for all aspects of human society. In the history of film production, these customs, beliefs and ideologies have often been at the root of thematic filmic material, and can only really be seen to be such in retrospect. Thematically speaking, key words such as ideological sacrifice, religious belief and the dominating customs relating to a particular ethnic group, whether white or black, can offer interesting possibilities for discourse, particularly when this discourse is spread over a period of time that bridges from the colonial era to the postcolonial and postmodernist societies which characterize our lives today. Customs and beliefs form the basic characteristics of any and all nations’ identities. Where, as in Africa, political ideologies meet in headon clashes due to the inherent nature of global dynamics, the real battleground between cultures is to be found in those areas of deep emotional commitment defined by the customs and beliefs of both protagonist and antagonist. This is often exploited as thematic material in movies, as in all three movies chosen for this discourse. The above is also especially true for a continent such as Africa, where

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colonial powers used their customs and beliefs over centuries as the prevailing reason(s) to explain their presence in the countries being colonized. The search for knowledge, exploration and discovery as well as the hope to gain fame through the study and publishing of “new” places and “new” species, although in themselves laudable aspirations, were therefore generally of lesser importance on colonizers’ agendas than the search for mineral riches. Even what they considered to be the highly commendable practice of converting ‘heathens’ to their own religious beliefs was in most cases an additional excuse (to the European public) for the colonization. In nearly all the instances of Europeans leaving the shores of England, Belgium, France, Italy, Spain and Portugal, the primary object was the discovery of rich mineral deposits or other natural or cultural resources such as objets d’art, spices, wood, slaves and ivory.

From Sacrifice to Financing This single-minded and often devastating imperialism had only one consideration: the enrichment of the parent country. Consequently, the customs and beliefs of the nations that were being plundered and the sacrifices they were forced to make carried no weight worthy of consideration. It is therefore understandable that even after the pretwentieth century period of initial colonization, when various countries gradually reasserted their own identities, often through sheer force of population numbers, the driving force(s) within governments would continue to produce, in their art and therefore also in their films, those values that seemed to be read as a ‘success’ story and/or received the backing, financial or otherwise, of the ‘parent’ colonizer. In countries previously under French or British colonial jurisdiction, the tendency would thus be to use financing from those very same powers, and to imbed in the films the colonizers’ characteristics, whether in the choice of language (dubbed or actual), dress, stylistic qualities, or more often in the scripts and storylines. Again, the customs and beliefs of the country itself would therefore, often without even realizing it, confirm the very idea that the original colonizers wanted to enhance. A film like Zulu is an excellent example of this attitude. Botha and Van Aswegen (1992: 24) remark that in movies such as Zulu and Dingaka (1964), black South Africans were generally depicted as tradisioneel, primitief en bygelowig (traditional, primitive and superstitious). In due course and as a matter of maturing in a country with its own and unique identity, some directors would consciously make a greater effort to identify the plots of their movies with those characteristics that would

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form the foundations of a unique style, portraying the realities of an ‘indigenous’ message with the conviction necessary for it to stand on its own feet (see Botha and Van Aswegen, 1992: 31). Then, as a country evolves to greater cultural and political maturity, one would hope to see the absorption and synthesis of stylistic qualities to reflect or portray some aspects of a given society, done in such a way that the customs and beliefs of a people can also be recognized in their works of art (such as in film).

Three South African Films In this chapter, I have chosen to focus on three points of departure in South African film, each one highlighting specific aspects of, or approaches to the art of filmmaking, and each of these illustrate aspects of what has been discussed above. For example, Zulu makes painfully explicit the dependence of the filmmakers to financing from abroad, as it embeds, in the very nature of the film, aspects of colonial rule, understating or even ignoring customs and beliefs appropriate to a deeper understanding of the film and the plot, and highlighting the ‘greater’ strength of the ‘parent’ nation. Gradually and with increasing directorial maturity as well as a deeper understanding of the power of film to bridge cultural and racial divides, some films show a transition, with the content and message of the film clearly focusing on the individual characteristics of a nation’s inherent cultures and customs. This evolves even further, to the point where the film as a cultural product is no longer just the domain of the acknowledged academic and film connoisseur, but is released into the public domain, where after all, it must make its home. Here, I would like to highlight this evolution through the directorial approaches evident in the chosen filmic examples by Cy Endfield, Gavin Hood and Gray Hofmeyr (Leon Schuster).

Cy Endfield’s Zulu (runtime: 138 min; country: South Africa) Synopsis: A grand epic and historical portrayal of outnumbered British soldiers fighting Zulu warriors at Rorke’s Drift. Sterling performances by all the actors render this anti-war movie a very credible depiction of this historical battle, and certainly underline Zulu as one of the best movies depicting the colonial heritage of South Africa. Although there are some historical inaccuracies, these are relatively unimportant, and one can agree that the sense of battle exaltation and simultaneous shame that a soldier feels after surviving his first battle has never been more accurately

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Chapter III portrayed. This film is a good pointer towards the quality of films about South Africa and shot in the country in the sixties, albeit with foreign funding. It emphasizes equally well the colonial era, which is part and parcel of South African film history.

In the case of Cy Endfield’s Zulu, we are dealing with a directorial approach not only suited to the epic storytelling of a modernist tradition embedded in the principles of the Western value of sacrifice, but also with a film that offers a typically Western (read “Hollywood”) expectation of what a film has to offer by way of content and message. Martyn Auty writes in Time Out Film Guide (Milne, 1989: 672) that it represents a more honest account of imperialism than its belated follow-up Zulu Dawn, an American film dating from 1979, even though Endfield’s version is equally peppered with artistic license (Popular Myths http://www.rorkes driftvc.com/myths.htm). This film tells in epic wide-screen style the story of the defence of a missionary station by a small group of British soldiers who according to common belief, vanquished thousands of Zulu warriors. The film glitters with patriotic fervour and self-sacrifice on both sides. As a film, it is particularly interesting for the way in which artistic license shapes the treatment of the recurring theme of defence and attack in the face of all odds. While it is true that there were only 139 British soldiers (as opposed to between 4,000 and 5,000 Zulu warriors (http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Rorke’s_Drift), it must also be remembered that the British had the Martini-Henry, possibly the most advanced weapon of its kind at the time of this battle, while the Zulus were armed primarily with their short stabbing assegais or spears and knobkerries, protected only by cow-hide shields. The film, however, portrays the British as the archetypal shining example of courage in the face of enemy hordes and of battle-hardened endurance against all odds, prepared to sacrifice life and limb for greater glory. The historical value of this battle in terms of glorification of the British soldier with reference to the Victoria Cross is later underlined by the following: At Rorke’s Drift, eleven Victoria Crosses were awarded. Seven to the 2nd Battalion, 24th (2nd Warwickshire) Regiment of Foot, one to the Army Medical Department, one to the Royal Engineers, one to the Commissariat and Transport Department and one to the Natal Native Contingent. (http://www.rorkesdriftvc.com/)

The films’ style of wide-screen heroism underlines the colonizer’s exhaustion, perseverance, loyalty and willingness to offer all “for King and Country” - in effect, self-righteously portraying the white soldiers as

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the protagonist and the Zulu impi as the antagonist. One would hardly expect it to be otherwise, given the value of the film as a tool of propaganda for a type of continued colonialism. There is however a trend of thought which believes that the director does succeed to a certain extent to balance the portrayal of the Zulu warriors, acknowledging that they have “a certain honour”: they are not ‘savages’ but seen as equally brave and honourable as the British, with their own code of discipline and ethics (FRU: nd: 52). Thus, from the point of view of the black warrior, one is reminded by Credo Mutwa that the Zulu warriors were not only the bravest soldiers to ever enter the field of war, but that as warriors, they also prided themselves in their defiance even in the face of death. Mutwa underlines the very high onus any Zulu warrior would attach to what may seem an impossible fight, and how sacrifice and death on the battlefield would lead to immortality (Mutwa, 1998: 625). In Zulu, even the choice of actors naturally slants the film towards a patriotic inclination for Britain; the two popular and acclaimed English actors, Jack Hawkins and (in his first screen appearance) a very young Michael Caine, naturally made this a film intended primarily for the “white” audience. One should not forget that the setting was a mission station ostensibly built for the ‘conversion’ of the heathen, which had to be defended at all costs. Color too, has a highly symbolic role in the film, with the typical and well-known red of the British Empire succinctly portrayed and displayed from uniform to flag to blood, all bent on underlining the final sacrifice. It is clear that Zulu, in its own way and for the time and period in which it was made, should be deemed a distinctly commercially and artistically successful movie, even while serving to enhance the colonial parent, England, and the colonial ‘heritage’. It thus emphasizes, from a modernist point of view, the colonial triumph of white over black (as well as the symbolic triumph of white customs and cultural beliefs), of good over evil, and of the West over African primitivism.

Gavin Hood’s A Reasonable Man (runtime: 103 min; country: South Africa) Gavin Hood, in contrast to Cy Endfield who was a ‘producer director’, can be classed as a particularly serious director whose very personal style strives to accommodate a changing society. This position demands from him as director a changed attitude with reference to what is expected of a film looking forward to a period of societal reconstruction. In the context

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of a transition period, this particular film could be regarded as an excellent example of a serious effort to come to an understanding of the multiplicity of cultures that characterizes the South African pictorial and social landscape. In A Reasonable Man, Gavin Hood deals in a much more significant way with the interplay of layered meanings, which again places white and black cultures on a collision course. His subjective and emotionally rich interpretations of how and why viewers should constantly reappraise their own position with regards to the message underlying the central theme, are handled with considerable more finesse than was the case for Zulu. A Reasonable Man tells the moving story of a young herdboy who for the love of his sister defends her safety regardless of his own innate fear of the unknown. This incredibly unique film explores the depth of evil possession and the willingness to sacrifice as it manifests across two cultures. On the one hand, a white lawyer is prepared to go to extremes to defend what he perceives to be the actions of “a reasonable man”; on the other hand, the herdboy refuses to believe he killed anything other than the “tokoloshe”. Set in KwaZulu-Natal in South Africa, the film is based on a true event which took place in 1933, but possibly shows even greater relevance for today’s South Africa. It starts with the interactions of a young South African soldier portrayed in one of those unhappy incidents on the borders of our country during the period often referred to as the “Bush War” when the enemy, ideologically identified by the Powers that Be as “Die Rooi Gevaar” (The Red Danger, being Communism). Young men of barely eighteen were compelled to fight for fatherland and country (even though they did not have the right to vote because they were too young), and be prepared to die in the act (see also Maingard, 2007: 133). In this film, Sean is portrayed as a young soldier who inadvertently and traumatically kills a very innocent victim of war. This episode comes back to haunt him when, later in the film, he undertakes the defence of a young herdboy who has been arrested for the murder of a young child. In its own way, A Reasonable Man is a much more complex movie than Zulu, because it deals with diffuse points of view and allows the viewer to turn the kaleidoscope slowly but surely in order to catch new angles of light on the subjects of death, sacrifice and violent interaction. Yet, in a surprising and often unpredictable way, this film could truly be regarded as one of the really great movies of South African origin. While the film investigates in an intelligent manner the interactive aspects of white and black cultures, it continuously compels viewers to question the religious beliefs or superstitious behaviours (depending on their point of view), or perhaps their own attitudes regarding myth and

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reality, while superimposing and juxtaposing diverging cultures. As such, the film succeeds admirably in balancing the different attitudes or points of view, while becoming a compelling tool in the hands of its director to bridge existing differences, investigate different cultural norms and beliefs, and put the spotlight on the powers of religion and/or superstition. In A Reasonable Man, Sean’s defence centres around the reactions of those faced with the actions of the accused as a “reasonable man within the contexts of his own beliefs”, and the huge dissent with the judge’s understanding of what he considers to be the “only” - and therefore correct - Western interpretation of the law. What is of great importance here is the fact that the slaying is done without any prior malice but with extreme bravery on the part of the herdboy. Mutwa (1998: 688-689) goes to great lengths to explain the practical nature of a herdboy’s approach to matters of survival, which, given his background, makes it so much easier to understand the herdboy’s reactions. In investigating the dynamics of sacrifice, heroism and the actions of A Reasonable Man, the context of fear (also fear of the unknown) is brought into perspective as a necessary adjunct to the particular environment in which the “reasonable man” finds himself, whether in a hut in rural Natal while a witchdoctor is engaged in muti incantations, or whether inside a deserted house on the borders of South Africa fighting a sometimes faceless but armed and dangerous enemy. This film serves to illustrate the way in which segments of the South African society found means and ways to bridge misunderstanding and make, through the medium of film, an effort towards greater understanding of each other’s’ cultures. Hopefully, A Reasonable Man explained to a broader public that white men are not all hell-bent on shooting dead as many ‘enemies’ as they could, and that misunderstanding often leads to abhorrent deeds. In addition, the film makes it clear that what we call religion or superstition often transcends borders of both the imagination and reality and challenges us to always try to act and think as “reasonable men”. In our next film, we are perhaps dealing with anything but a reasonable man, while being presented with a problem before the discussion even starts. Both Mr. Bones (2001) and the sequel, Mr. Bones 2: Back from the past (released late 2008), should be seen as collaborative films. Although both films are directed by Gray Hofmeyr, Leon Schuster’s input by way of scriptwriting, his acting as well as his overall presence both point to such collaboration. The description of Mr. Bones in the catalogue of the Film Resource Unit (nd: 35) is equally applicable to the sequel: “Filled with scatological humour, the film is (still) an affectionate paean to the spirit of Africa.”

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Let us briefly present Gray Hofmeyr: as a writer and director of feature films and television drama, he is generally regarded as being at the top of his profession in South Africa. He has won more awards for direction than any other director in the country, and he holds the distinction of having had more than twenty actors and actresses who won best performance awards under his direction (Wikipedia: Gray Hofmeyr). His debut did include some more serious films, such as The Outcast, Dirty Games and Lambarene, and he has directed numerous television commercials. No less than five of his feature films have been made in conjunction with Leon Schuster.

Gray Hofmeyer’s Mr. Bones (2001) (Runtime: 108 minutes) The hero of this rather unlikely tale is a traditional African diviner, who was adopted by a tribe as a child and raised as one of their own, even though he was white. This in itself is more credible than one may imagine: Mutwa (1998) explains how quite often an outcast, a deformed child, an albino, or perhaps a white child, would be chosen to be trained as a diviner or witch doctor. The elderly king has no male heir, but Bones informs the king that he actually does have a son from a previous extra-marital encounter. Naturally the king then sends the medicine man to fetch this son and prince of the tribal king, who is found at Sun City, taking part in the Million Dollar golf challenge. After kidnapping his suspect and bringing him back to the village, the diviner realizes he has made a small mistake. On top of this is a whole retinue of goons intent on keeping ‘the prince’ in the golf tournament, as well as a supporting cast of wild animals and other unlikely characters. The follow-up to the most successful South African film of all-time, Mr. Bones 2: Back from the Past, is the story of Hekule, the King of Kuvukiland, who is given a gemstone by the dying Kunji Balanadin. The stone is cursed and causes Hekule to become possessed by the spirit of the mischievous Kunji. It is up to Mr. Bones, the royal witch doctor, to cure his King and get rid of this cursed stone by returning the gem to its home in an Indian fishing village. As stated previously, Hofmeyr has directed a number of more serious films. Leon Schuster’s style, on the other hand, has virtually always been that of the tongue-in-cheek use of wit, humour, satire and a candid camera approach that has clearly been a huge success recipe for his films, making him the most financially successful director/actor in South African film history. A December 1, 2008 headline in The Mercury (a leading South

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African newspaper) underlines his latest success, reporting that Schuster’s Bones 2 is a titanic box office hit which had shattered all opening box office records for local films, earning more than R6 million, which made it the most successful South African film opening. I do not wish to discuss the specific storyline and content of Mr. Bones in the same analytical way as with previous films, but focus more specifically on the “alternative” content of the film, the nature of the central leading man, Mr. Bones, in both films. Mr. Bones is a diviner, a traditional healer, a medicine man, a witch doctor, a Sangoma. These terms are used synonymously for a person who “throws the bones” in order to divine spiritual knowledge not given to normal human beings, but while in A Reasonable Man, the Sangoma carries the weight of credence, Mr. Bones, perhaps due to a deeply embedded perception due more to Leon Schuster than to Mr. Bones, is seen from the start as something of an impostor, a charlatan, closer to the court jester of medieval times than to the great medicine man who holds the truth in the palm of his hand. Mr. Bones slips easily into the guise of both fall guy and hero, and, in this dualistic role, succeeds admirably to bridge the gap between cultures. In many scenes in both movies Mr. Bones is actively, and some would even say anarchistically, engaged in lampooning existing perceptions of race, color, creed and stereotypes. Using irony and wit, and often resorting to tried and tested sight gags and downright slapstick, Schuster succeeds where many others have failed. He uses the medium of comedy to cut us all down to size, from politicians to academics, and from the serious film buff to the redneck in any language. He launches his attack on our sensibilities in such a way that we look forward to the next sacrificial holy cow being made ready for slaughter. Does Mr. Bones have anything in common with the other two films chosen for this presentation? It would seem that all three films have at least in common a certain sense of racial polarity, but that this treatment varies greatly from one film to the next. What is abundantly clear is that, in Mr. Bones, the “sacrifice” is primarily that of dignity, albeit done in the higher service of comedic entertainment, and although the antagonists do come short in both of Hofmeyr’s films, it is especially in the figure of Mr. Bones that we recognize something of ourselves in the way he gets embroiled in semi-racial, semi-political innuendos. Mr. Bones represents to my mind a kind of frivolous simulacrum of our own existence, a contagious and tongue-in-cheek look at contemporary society and its ups and downs, and this allows us all, black and white, to look at ourselves from a distance and do so with hilarity.

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Comparative Discussion Films can be used to create either a greater alienation or a greater understanding between cultures. Credo Mutwa (1998: xix) in his seminal work Indaba my Children states that, for one culture to understand another, one should be confronted by the truth(s) pertaining to each culture: a marriage of persons who fear and distrust each other cannot survive, nor can one where the partners hold false ideas about each other. He (Mutwa, 1998: 692) also states that his firm belief that “the reason the Strange Ones (meaning foreigners or White people) have repeatedly made ridiculous mistakes in Africa is [that] the Black man has consistently been too scared, too suspicious or even too reserved, to explain himself clearly”. An aspect worthy of mentioning is the suggestion that there exists within the Hollywood paradigm an adherence to stylistic approaches, which evolves gradually but seems to become embedded in the minds of directors once it achieves the status of a norm, or, as Bordwell (1997: 120) puts it, the tendency to become “a group style”. This seems to be the case for the three films discussed here, with each film representing a next “phase” or “style” of movie-making within the South African context, neatly falling into categories of colonialism, an interim style, and a clearly postcolonial style. This applies also to the themes or key concepts explored in each of the three films. Let us take the idea of ‘evil’ portrayed in the modernist film, Zulu, as the black man hell-bent on murdering the outnumbered whites. White viewers obviously see the Zulu warriors as the very personification of evil: Zulu therefore, as a film intended for the European market, allows Whites to identify with the soldiers and to threateningly and unmistakably see the Impi as the aggressor. After all, they are threatening to destroy all that a good Englishman would stand for: God, King and Country. This clearly represents the white man’s point of view, as was the intention with the film, regardless of an alternative or African interpretation of the facts. In A Reasonable Man, the demarcation becomes obscured. When Sean consults a Sangoma, who ostensibly identifies the evil spirit also in Sean, he is even prepared to go all the way in embracing the Sangoma’s ‘heathen’ beliefs, by actually taking the medicine offered. The Tokoloshe, as the central motif in this film, is the personification of evil, therefore removing from our modernist sensibilities the tangible enemy, the Zulu warrior found in Zulu, and replacing him with an intangible evil spirit. But is it really so intangible? According to the Zulu shaman Credo Mutwa, the Tokoloshe has been known to take on many forms. Apart from the one described above, others

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have portrayed the Tokoloshe as a bear-like humanoid being. In Zulu mythology, Tikoloshe, Tokoloshe or Hili (from the Xhosa word utyreeci ukujamaal) is a dwarf-like, mischievous water spirit. These spirits can become invisible by swallowing a pebble (Wikipedia: Tikoloshe). Credo Mutwa further describes the Tokoloshe as more than a figment of the imagination, and then motivates his point of view by explaining the real origins and existence of this creature (Mutwa, 1998: 604-605; see also www.tokoloshe.tk/ www.vanhunks.com. Whether one believes this or not remains clearly a matter of cultural point of view, as succinctly illustrated in A Reasonable Man. There will always remain a marked difference in the way that viewers of different cultures would ‘read’ the representations of evil in this film as opposed on the one hand to Zulu and on the other to the “reasonable viewer (man)” who again would normally seem to be white. There is therefore something of an anomaly embedded in this film. Would a white viewer eventually accept that Sipho inadvertently killed a human being, thereby agreeing with the judges’ verdict of manslaughter? And would a “reasonable” black viewer, embedded in a black culture stretching over millennia, have had another verdict? A Reasonable Man compels white viewers to take cognizance of tribal customs and tribal beliefs, expecting and enabling them to make room for the cultures and beliefs of a culture embedded in many centuries of primarily oral story-telling. There is little by way of evidence to corroborate the existence of a creature called the Tokoloshe, just as there is little or no understanding amongst most white viewers to even grasp the significant differences between a Sangoma and a witch doctor. A brief comparison of the overall directorial styles of Zulu and A Reasonable Man, with reference to the basic differences between Modernist and Post-Modernist films, reveals clear differences between the two films. In Zulu, the typically hierarchically constructed Western perspective is built with bright lighting, idealistic yet clearly visualized mise en scène in terms of costumes, props, camera movement and editing (classic) and even with regards to songs being sung. There is a militaristic, ordered structure suited to the thematic exposition of the film, and a logical analysis of cause and effect. Zulu very clearly displays the autocratic and elitist values, not only of the British Empire but of colonial rule in its entirety. It is serious, formal and constructed around the simplicity of the central theme of do and die. As far as the commanding officers are concerned, as representing colonial authority, all is read in absolute terms of formal and logical, non-communicative and singularly one-sided acceptance of what is right and wrong. The soldiers (on both sides) are expected to sacrifice

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themselves for the bigger ideology. In A Reasonable Man on the other hand, the lighting is often subdued and even chiaroscuro-like. The storyline follows a non-hierarchical pattern with flashbacks and a dissipated, disseminated thought structure which is not based on logical exposition of facts. The basis of the directorial style is in effect deconstructed and very pragmatic. Spiritual components are representative of opposing thoughts and factions and the whole film depends on a continuous communication between viewer and character. The film reflects deep subjective values and the judge himself is eventually – at least to a certain degree – swayed by the impossibility of reading all the facts in simple black and white terms. What about Mr. Bones? Where does it fit in with regards to the stylistic analysis given above? In the first place, there can be no doubt that Mr. Bones too (1 and 2) fits into the overall categorization of postmodernist film. The editing and overall mise en scène make this abundantly clear. Add to this the tongue-in-cheek use of satire and ability to be playful and ironic, while at the same time deconstructing the opposing societies and their beliefs, ironically toying with a representation of spirituality that defies theoretical or academic argument. Mr. Bones may succeed more eloquently in reaching the masses, and even if it does so with very little regard for finesse, it certainly bridges a cultural divide by communicating in a popular and light-hearted manner with the whole of a nation (as indicated by a very recent rerun of many Schuster’s movies during prime time television).

In Conclusion: and the Future? In studying these three examples, we have shown that the ability of each film as a reflection of directorial style succinctly underlines the way in which films can serve to characterize the underlying customs, beliefs and ideologies of particular moments in the political timeline of a country. There is however a real danger that, should one choose to ignore the vital need to understand the nature of other cultures, any and all messages embedded within films such as A Reasonable Man and Mr. Bones would still only be of brief passing interest, not achieving the expected results. Film festivals play therefore a very important role in bringing such films and such messages into the spotlight, allowing for academic discourse. While it is also true that the films discussed were all intended for the big screen, the possibility of reaching a wider audience through the medium of television must not be ignored.

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This however has also a down side, and the way in which a television culture can dominate the world of film is certainly a source of concern. This problem goes back at least to the forties and fifties in America, where television became, not only a direct competitor for the same markets or audiences, but also a real threat insofar as Hollywood had to come up with solutions to the problem of keeping their audiences. Wide screen, Cinerama gimmicks such as 3D, Earthquake and others contributed to these efforts to regain a public. The negative side of small-screen viewing is compounded also by the desire of filmmakers to be increasingly realistic in their filmic styles. In order to draw modern audiences to the movies, filmmakers present them with films of an increasingly better quality, which nevertheless possess a built-in danger not readily identified by viewers. In order to show more graphic realism, the big screen has to resort to more and more special effects and also the use of computer-generated imagery (CGI). The problem is that the discerning viewer will detect a special effect when it is either badly done or too well done. In the movie The Gladiator for example, the depiction of the main amphitheatre is portrayed as utterly realistic. Viewers know it is probably CGI, and are therefore on the lookout for flaws: the buildings are too clean, the mise en scène feels synthetic, crowd scenes are not convincing. In reality too, most contemporary films need to hide away the moments where the discerning viewer will start noticing the CGI. One way to deal with this is to use a more aggressive editing style, with thousands of jump or bump cuts, overlays and superimposing, to hide all the little visible errors away and speed up the action. This leads to a new problem: the editing style of many contemporary films has simply become too fast. The increasingly greater social role of television muddies the issues even further. Whereas viewers know that the primary purpose of a film is to entertain, more is often expected of TV as a form of mass media. Fourie (1997: 150-151) refers to positivism as an ideological structure, in communication theory, that presupposes that TV should be more functional and behaviourist, to be used in order to analyse society as a system of subsystems of which the media is but one. As such, television is expected to inform and guide public opinion, express different views and criticize. Films can be used to create either greater alienation or greater understanding between cultures. One is immensely grateful for those films which still serve to entertain us on the big screen, and can do so in a meaningful way, at the very least contributing to different cultures coming to a deeper understanding of our different fears, wishes and desires for

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ourselves and our country. Film has the very important role to tell stories, and in so doing gives us opportunities to get to know each other better. This is true on all sides of the divide, and is even true of cultures and nations across borders. When Mutwa (1997: 536) says that story-telling is one of the few outlets of entertainment amongst the Bantu, this also applies to other cultures or nations, and there is certainly no better way to do it than by way of film.

Bibliography Bawden, L. (ed.) 1976, The Oxford Companion to Film. London: Oxford University Press. Bordwell, D., 1997, On the History of Film Style. London: Harvard University Press. Bordwell, D. & Thompson, K., 2003, Film History. An Introduction. Boston: McGraw-Hill. Botha, M. & Van Aswegen, A., 1992, beelde van Suid-Afrika. ‘n Alternatiewe rolprentoplewing. Pretoria: RGN. De Beer, A.S., 1998, Mass Media: Towards the Millennium. The South African Handbook of Mass Communication. Pretoria: Van Schaik. FRU, (nd). Films from South Africa. Johannesburg: Film Resource Unit. Fourie, P.J., 1997, Introduction to Communication: Pretoria: Creda Press. Maingard, J., 2007, South African National Cinema. Oxon: Routledge. Milne, T., 1989, The Time Out Film Guide. London: Penguin. Mutwa, C., 1998, Indaba, my Children. Edinburgh: Payback Press. Peacock, R.B., 2001, The Art of Moviemaking. Script to Screen. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall.

Web Resources “Popular Myths” http://www.rorkesdriftvc.com/myths.htm [Date of use: 22 & 24 December 2008] “Rorke’s Drift” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rorke’s_Drift [Date of use: 24 December 2008] http://www.rorkesdriftvc.com/ [Date of use: 20 December 2008] “Schuster’s Titanic Hit” (December 1, 2008) in The Mercury [Date of use: 22 December 2008] [www.tokoloshe.tk / www.vanhunks.com [Date of use: 16 December 2008] (Tikoloshe http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tikoloshe). From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia [Date of use: 17 December 2008]

CHAPTER IV NOLLYWOOD: THE AUDIENCE AS MERCHANDISE HYGINUS EKWUAZI FORMER MANAGING DIRECTOR, NIGERIAN FILM CORPORATION, JOS/DEPT. OF THEATRE ARTS, UNIVERSITY OF IBADAN

Preamble In foregrounding this chapter, a few prefatory remarks are in order. The audience is supreme in two major regards. The audience determines what gratification to give to the film and the nature of the film to be so used. Whatever the aggregate of gratifications, entertainment is paramount – and it is the audience, NOT the content provider, that does determine the nature of the entertainment (Earley, 1978). Hitchcock is therefore right in his remark: ‘I will go from experimentation to experimentation in my film – if the audience will let me’ (Earley, 1978). Film is one of those commodities that must be consumed immediately (Ekwuazi, 2002). The painter, the sculptor, the musician, the writer could put their work away for a future generation. The filmmaker cannot. The film, once made, must be consumed here and now: the film audience exists in the continuous present tense – like the film image itself. Free TV, through the programs it provides freely to its audience, sells the audience to sponsors. On the other hand, pay TV sells its programs to the audience – and sells the audience to sponsors. Filmmakers are something of a cross between free TV and pay TV, depending, of course, on their sources of funding. Where they are their own sponsor or have to pay back their sponsor, they sell entertainment directly to the audience. However, where the funding is a grant (not to be paid back), filmmakers may/may not sell entertainment to their audience; but sell the audience to the sponsor they must.

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Against the background of the foregoing, in the subsequent sections, I intend to look at: 1. The nature of entertainment in Nollywood 2. The nature of the Nollywood audience 3. How to package the Nollywood audience for a sponsor.

Entertainment à la Nollywood Apart from the western, there is hardly any genre of feature film unavailable in Nollywood. In terms of the varieties of the feature film, and even more so in terms of the sheer volume of production, this industry has been adjudged the third largest in the world. However, even the most ardent supporters of the industry agree that quantity has not matched quality. Yakubu Nasidi prefaces his chapter on ‘Issues on Ethics and Morality in the Nigerian Motion Picture’ (Nasidi, 2007) with the following “24 things we’ve learned from Nollywood”: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Every problem you have is spiritual In every romance movie, someone must die It is possible to hit a person without actually touching them Anyone who gets hit by a car dies immediately Poisoned food always tastes better The best way to make money is by visiting a babalawo/joining a cult/sleeping with rich men. 7. One of a pair of twins (identical or not) is born evil 8. Your suffering only end with death! 9. With a pastor, all things are possible 10. A movie can be titled anything such as: The boy is mine, the girl is yours, the child is theirs; Face me, I face you, Kill me, I kill you; two cockroaches in Africa; Two rats; Spanner; Calculator; Computer; The driver; Igala; Ijele; Olodo; Mumu; Wawa; Igodo; Igudu; Shigidi; Wakadugu. 11. A movie has not been made if at least one actor or actress has not twisted his or her lips to speak wrong phonetics. 12. You are in love. You want to take your girl out, and the best place you take her to is - Mr Biggs or Tantalizers, where you’ll most probably see an ex while feeding each other - The beach, where it is imperative that you ride a donkey and carry her playfully

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- Or the best: take her to buy some new ugly clothes. 13. An Igbo movie has been made if - You visit a Babalawo - A fleet of cars is shown off at regular intervals for a total of half of the movie time. - Kanayo O Kanayo is in the movie. Pete Edochie is there too! - To get rich, it is mandatory you join a cult 14. Gun shots and knock-outs sound the same! 15. Sometimes the title has absolutely nothing to do with the movie, and at other times, once you read the title and the poster, you know it all!!! (The soundtrack gives you a headache too because it just narrates the whole story repeatedly-so much for suspense and intrigue!) 16. A love story has not been produced if it does not have one or two of the following actresses: Stella Damasus, Stephanie Okereke, Genevieve Nnaji, Omotola Jolade, Rita Dominic, Ramsey Noah or Jim Iyke 17. The police are extremely efficient, unlike their counterparts in real life. 18. An actress can wear the same hairdo for more than a year and even longer in flashbacks. 19. It is permissible to wear very dark shades at night! 20. When you are shot in the chest, it really doesn’t matter; your head will be bandaged! Same for your legs! 21. When advertising a movie, you really should shout because… people are deaf? 22. When you are extremely poor, you will still be able to afford very good furniture and TV but you won’t be able to send your kids to school. 23. Most especially in Yoruba movies, your gateman must be inefficient and comical. He must dress like a freak, be rude to all your visitors and never mind his business. 24. My personal favourite - the bad guy always dies or gets caught by none other than the police! Nasidi’s concern is arguably thematic – a good place to start from. If we move from here to aesthetics/production values, a broader picture begins to emerge. For instance, I have noted elsewhere (Ekwuazi, 2007) how, from a host of Nollywood films I was short-listing for some awards, I was able to distil the following codes or ten commandments which seem to be binding on Nollywood directors:

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(1)There is nothing like a redundant action; so always shoot the whole of an action: only an amateur uses part of the action to represent the whole. How else can you tell in 180 minutes a story that can be told in less than 45 minutes? (2) The duration of a shot on the screen is determined by the interest it creates – nothing could be further from the truth. (3) Make your shot sequencing as chaotic as possible; go from one extreme shot to another with abandon. (4) Totally disregard the value of the (re)establishing shot. (5) Always emphasize the two-dimensionality of the screen: avoid shooting at an angle of 450 to your subject. (6) Camera movement should have no bearing on the logic of the story; the more you can use the zoom, the better. (7) The story is the important thing: why bother with the artistic use of sound? (8) The story is the important thing: pay no attention to the structure of the lighting field. (9) Under no circumstances should your mode of transition be determined by your story construction. (10) Suspense being totally unnecessary, reaction close ups or cut-in shots are impediments to any good story. The bottom line in all this is that entertainment in Nollywood films is seriously compromised. In other words, except in the very narrow sense of the production tie-in, Nigerian films cannot be used to sell/package the audience to/for a sponsor. The principal reasons for this include: 1. The industry’s very high rate of debutantism makes for a very limited reservoir of creativity. The effect of this is that the recycling syndrome degenerates into a cliché. 2. Nollywood stories are theme-driven. The theme, we know, does NOT make the artist. The TECHNIQUE is what makes the artist. 3. In matters of creativity, the shift in the paradigms of power thus privileges the executive producer (EP)/marketer over the director. Nollywood’s motto seems to be: The rise and rise of the EP, the fall and fall of the director - with dire consequences on the creative/ entertainment value of the film.

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The Nollywood Audience The Nollywood audience is not one large homogenous bloc. It is, in fact, a composite of at least four blocks: Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo and English. Explicably, these four have vastly differing antecedents, for the Hausa audience has been weaned on the Indian film, the Yoruba on the performances of the Yoruba travelling theatre and the Igbo/English essentially on American films. I should think that my characterization of the films meant for each of these blocks is germane here. The Hausa film I have characterized as ‘The call of the Muezzin’ (Ekwuazi, 2007), the Yoruba as ‘The Universe of the Yoruba mind’ (Ekwuazi, 1998) and the Igbo/English as ‘The Cult of the Individual’ (Ekwuazi, 2000). The reasons for this characterization are obvious and they do comment, abundantly, on the nature of the audience. Interestingly, more and more studies – all, final year and PG projects (2000-8) in the Departments of Theatre Arts and Communication & Language Arts, University of Ibadan - are being done on this audience, and the findings are quite revealing. I will restrict myself here to only a few: · · · · · · · · · ·

75% of the audience fall within the age bracket 15-35. Women and children take up some 81% of this population The more educated (degree equivalent), 35%, tend to watch less – except, where such films are controversial/topical (47%). Over 85% agree that film information is from the younger ones/children – but the decision as to which film to watch comes from the adult – usually the father (figure). 25% watch on TV; 32% buy/borrow from friends; 43% rent. 38% say that if a film is not realistic it doesn’t matter, for it’s just a film. 63% know more about Eps/Marketers than about directors Over 65% are drawn to the films because of the stars 69% would rather see an original American film than the Nollywood version. Over 70% see no reason for the part II of any film because it hardly advances the story (35%) or because the whole story can be contained in Part 1 (65%).

The findings of these studies are quite revealing. But given the everwidening gap between industry and academe, these studies will end up like many others, gathering dust on library shelves.

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At any rate, if these studies do reveal anything, it is that Nollywood content creators know very little of their audience. The Nollywood audience has always been taken for granted. I see two consequences here: 1. Our population base of well over 120 million remains incapable of absorbing more than 60% of any single Nollywood film; 2. Nollywood content creators still find it difficult/impossible to sell the audience to a sponsor.

Selling the Nollywood Audience to a Sponsor My reading of all available studies on the Nollywood audience is that this audience can very conveniently be sold to a sponsor, on condition that content creators apply the right methodology. To my mind, the Sabido methodology (Baker & Sabido, nd), properly adapted, fits the bill. This methodology is an approach to behaviour change communication. It uses serial dramas to sell social change. The serial dramas are woven around engaging characters used as vicarious change models. The methodology is theory-based: its systemic design is grounded on five theories: · · · · ·

Shannon and Weaver’s communication model, which ‘provides a model for the communication process through which distinct sources, messages, receivers and response are linked’. Bently’s dramatic theory, which ‘provides a model for characters, their interrelationships and construction’. Jung’s archetypes and stereotypes, which ‘provide a model for characters that embody universal human psychological and physiological energies’; Bandura’s learning theory, which ‘provides a model in which learning from soap opera characters can take place’; and The concept of the triune brain and the theory of the tone, which ‘provide a model for sending complete messages that communicate with various centres of perception.’ (Baker & Sabido, n.d.)

So, unlike entertainment education, the Sabido methodology is not message-driven; rather, it is social science and audience-driven. In adapting the Sabido methodology, I have had to compact its eight steps into the following six:

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Step 1: Formative Research Anatomy/Demographics of the target audience: their characteristics, needs, preferences, etc. The two primary reasons for anatomizing the audience are: -

‘To develop understandable, high-quality, culturally appropriate characters; and above all, to reproduce the lifestyles of the target audience’ (Baker & Sabido, nd) The orientation of the film/program, i.e., the issues that will be featured are determined by the characteristics of the target audience.

Research methods here include: literature review, media analysis, health behaviour analysis, quantitative research (FGD) and qualitative research (baseline survey).

Step 2: Issues list, Moral Framework and Values Grid These three crucial documents emerge here: · · ·

Issues List, a description of the key issues to be discussed is developed from the formative research. The Moral Framework synthesizes all legal/policy documents relevant to the issues (already listed in the Issues List) The Values Grid uses the Moral Framework to list the positive and negative values to be promoted in the film. It consists of statements like: ‘It is good that …It is bad that …’

The following is the values Grid on Gender and HIV/AIDS (Baker & Sabido, nd). The values grid is used in developing three sets of characters: positive, negative and transitional.

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Gender It is good that individuals are aware It is bad that individuals are not of important gender issues. aware of important gender issues. It is good that parents provide It is bad that parents do not provide education equally to both girls and education equally to both girls and boys. boys. It is good that parents give equal It is bad that parents do not give value to both girl and boy children. equal value to both girl and boy children. It is good that men understand that It is bad that men do not understand women deserve equal job that women deserve equal job opportunities and pay. opportunities and pay. It is good that women have a bigger It is bad that women do not have a role in all aspects of life. bigger role in all aspects of life. It is good that men understand that It is bad that men do not understand females are as intelligent as their that females are as intelligent as male counterparts. their male counterparts. HIV/AIDS It is good that individuals within It is bad that individuals within the the community recognize that community do not recognize that HIV/AIDS exists and is a threat to HIV/AIDS exists and is a threat to the society. the society. It is good that individuals within It is bad that individuals within the the society know that everyone who society do not know that everyone is sexually active stands a risk of who is sexually active stands a risk contracting HIV/AIDS. of contracting HIV/AIDS. It is good that individuals know the It is bad that individuals do not various modes of HIV/AIDS know the various modes of transmission. HIV/AIDS transmission. It is good that individuals go for It is bad that individuals do not go counselling and testing in order to for counselling and testing in order know their HIV/AIDS status. to know their HIV/AIDS status. It is good that people practice safer It is bad that people do not practice sex. safer sex. It is good that people are aware of It is bad that people are not aware the link between STI and of the link between STI and HIV/AIDS. HIV/AIDS.

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It is good that people go for treatment as soon as they get infected with STIs. It is good that people accept and give care to people living with HIV/AIDS. It is good that society accepts and takes care of AIDS orphans. It is good that HIV-positive people do not lose their jobs because of their status. It is good that society understands the basic needs of people living with HIV/AIDS. It is good that HIV-positive pregnant women are provided with anti-retroviral therapy. It is good that people know the HIV-positive mothers can transmit HIV to their children during pregnancy, delivery and breastfeeding. It is good that individuals understand that mosquitoes do not spread HIV/AIDS.

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It is bad that people do not go for treatment as soon as they get infected with STIs. It is bad that people do not accept and give care to people living with HIV/AIDS. It is bad that society does not accept and take care of AIDS orphans. It is bad that HIV-positive people lose their jobs because of their status. It is bad that society does not understand the basic needs of people living with HIV/AIDS. It is bad that HIV-positive pregnant women are not provided with antiretroviral therapy. It is bad that people do not know that HIV-positive mothers can transmit HIV to their children during pregnancy, delivery and breastfeeding. It is bad that individuals do not understand that mosquitoes do not spread HIV/AIDS.

(Baker & Sabido, nd)

Step 3: Writing & Production All the nuances of visual story-telling come into play here. The name of the game is still motion pictures. The characters will move, the camera will move; the characters and the camera will move. Audio and video (including design) will combine to create an impactful visual story in the shortest possible time.

Step 4: Preview The film is exposed to a select audience representative of the target audience. The preview audience, questioned on issues relating to entertainment, main ideas and likes/dislikes, offers suggestions/ recommendations.

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Step 5: Reworking Based on the outcome of step 4, the film is reworked – if need be.

Step 6: Evaluative/Summative Research. This is a kind of post mortem – in the sense that findings are factored into a new work. I have recommended the Sabido methodology for two crucial reasons: 1. The tendency for Nollywood films to be packaged in parts (I, II – even up to IV – as in Mount Zion’s One Careless Night) – making them look similar to a mini-serial. The point is that this allows room enough for transitional characters to develop. 2. By and large, the Nollywood audience has been weaned on TV serials such as Cockcrow at Dawn, Mirror in the Sun, and Magana Jarice. We are, therefore, dealing with an audience already favourably disposed to the serial drama approach that is intrinsic to the Sabido methodology.

Conclusion Some 60% of Nigeria’s 120 million population can be considered as Nollywood’s latent audience. This is a huge marketing advantage – whatever way one may choose to look at it. The challenge for the content provider is to work out a creatively empirical way to package this audience for sale to a sponsor. This is because any motion picture industry that relies solely on selling entertainment to the audience seriously restricts the sources of its production resources. Bibliography Baker, Kriss, & Sabido, Miguel. Ed. Soap Operas for Social Change to Prevent HIV/AIDS: Training Guide for Journalists and Media Personnel. Available at Population Media Centre, Ibadan, (nd). Earley, Stephen, C. Introduction to American Movies: from The Great Train Robbery to Star Wars and beyond. New York & Scarborough, Ontario: A Mentor Book, New American Library, 1978.

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Ekwuazi, Hyginus. “Lights! Camera! Action! The Yoruba Theatre on Screen”. In Nigerian Theatre: Dynamics of a Movement, edited by Adedeji, J. A. & Ekwuazi, H. O. Ibadan: Caltop Publications, 1998. Ekwuazi, Hyginus. “Perspectives on the Nigerian Motion Picture Industry”. In Making the Transition from Video to Celluloid, edited by H. Ekwuazi, J Sokomba & O Mgbejume. Jos: NFI, 2002. Ekwuazi, Hyginus. “The Hausa Video Film: The Call of the Muezzin”. Film International, Vol.5 (2007): 64-69. Ekwuazi, Hyginus. “The Igbo Film: A Glimpse into the Cult of the Individual”. In Nigerian Video Films edited by Jonathan Haynes. Athens: Ohio University Centre for International Studies, 2000. Nasidi, Yakubu . ‘Issues on Ethics and Morality in the Nigerian Motion Picture’; paper presented at the National Seminar on Culture and Economic Impacts of the Movie Industry in Nigeria: the Way Forward; 2nd – 6th April, 2007.

CHAPTER V RECAPTURING A NATION’S FADING MEMORY THROUGH VIDEO: CHIMURENGA VIDEOS AS CONTESTED HISTORICAL TEXTS TENDAI CHARI UNIVERSITY OF VENDA, DEPARTMENT OF MEDIA STUDIES, SOUTH AFRICA

Introduction The video film industry in Zimbabwe has witnessed a rebirth after many years in limbo. In 2001, the government introduced the Broadcasting Services Act 2001, which sets out local content thresholds for all broadcasters. The law stipulates that 40% of the 75% local content must come from independent producers (Broadcasting Services Act, 49). Spurred by this policy and the technological revolution of the 1990s, some video and film production initiatives were started and some existing ones were revived. This chapter particularly focuses on a government-sponsored video production initiative, the Chimurenga Video, spearheaded by the national news agency New Ziana, which produced videos to document the country’s liberation struggle of the 1970s also known as The “Second Chimurenga”. “Chimurenga” is a Shona word which means ‘rebelling’. Shona is the main indigenous language spoken in Zimbabwe. The chapter does not wish to focus on the political economy of this video production unit but rather examine how the videos were used to recapture the fading history of the nation in the context of a debilitating economic crisis and the waning political hegemony of the ruling Zanu PF government. Seven videos were purposively sampled from a possible total of one hundred and five videos produced at the time of the study. As noted by

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Borg and Gall (1996), in purposive sampling, subjects are selected according to the specific characteristics which the researcher ‘cares about and subjects can come from any number of sources’. Those seven videos were selected because of their accessibility and because they were believed to be ‘typical’ of Chimurenga videos and would be able to furnish enough material for the study. A textual analysis of these videos was conducted, paying particular attention to the narrative technique, the characterization, setting, themes and camera angles. Data from textual analysis were organized into thematic frames which run through these videos. The key questions to be addressed were: How did Chimurenga videos represent the history of the liberation struggle? What narrative techniques are employed to do that? In what ways were such representations of national history contested in the public domain?

The Zimbabwean Film Industry: An Overview Film-making in Zimbabwe can be traced back to the colonial period when, in 1939, the British government introduced what was known as the Colonial Film Act, which gave birth to the British Colonial Film Unit (Hungwe 2001, 73). The unit was introduced as a propaganda outfit, chiefly to rally British subjects in its colonies behind the Second World War. When the war ended, film shifted from being used as a propaganda tool to becoming a developmental instrument in the colonies. The activities of the Colonial Film Unit span the period 1948-1963 - the year the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland ended. The colonial regime in Rhodesia used film to maintain the standards and privileges of whites while promoting limited African development. Thus film was used to support the colonialists’ civilizing mission. For instance, educational films were presented in an entertaining way with strong moral messages. Izod (cited by Hungwe, 2001) notes that: ... Film could serve as an antidote to the undesirable activities which are such an easy pitfall for people with spare time on their hands. I am not saying anything new or startling when I say that Europeanization has removed its own culture from the African and given him little in return …This of course is particularly true of the African who is employed in town.

Such films sought to inculcate into the African audience the values of hard work and self-help.

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After 1965, the Rhodesian government began deploying films more for propaganda purposes than for developmental purposes. This was in response to the rapidly collapsing white Rhodesian edifice occasioned by the escalation of guerrilla activities starting with the 1966 Chinhoyi Battle. The idea was to use film to win the hearts and minds of the black population who were supporting guerrillas. Mobile cinema units were deployed, showing films of war zones around the country. After independence, the black majority government showed a lot of interest in film-making and sought to promote the country as a ‘filmmaking centre for Hollywood Studios’. Thus the country became a ‘filmmaking venue’ rather than a production base because of its excellent climate, good terrain, excellent infrastructure and adequate technical support base (Hungwe 2001, 79). Hungwe further notes that the reason for promoting the country as a film-making base was both cultural and economic. For instance, Hollywood was expected to invest money and provide training to people who would become seasoned filmmakers. A number of films were produced during this period. These include Cannon Studios’ King Solomon’s Mines and its sequel Quartermain. A joint venture between the Zimbabwean Government and Universal pictures led to the production of Cry Freedom, an anti-apartheid film. However, the venture failed dismally, resulting in government withdrawing from active participation in the film industry. The void left by the government was filled by independent producers with financial assistance from donors and Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs), particularly those working in the field of human rights, democracy and development. The period between 1980 and 1995 can be referred to as the golden age of the film industry in Zimbabwe because of the mushrooming of independent production companies. Several human rights-based films were produced during this period. These include Olly Maruma’s After the Hunger and Drought (1987), Breaking the Silence by Edwina Spicer, Richard Wicksteed and Mark Kaplan, Corridors of Freedom by Ingrid Sinclair and Simon Bright, Consequences by Olly Maruma, Everyone’s Child by Tsitsi Dangarembwa, Neria by Godwin Mawuru and Flame by Ingrid Sinclair, to mention a few. This glory came to an end in the mid1990s after the introduction of the IMF and World Bank-sponsored Economic Structural Adjustment Program (ESAP) (Chari, forthcoming). The industry experienced further shrinkage in the late 1990s after the withdrawal of donors opposed to the government’s land reform. Nonprofit organizations that had ruled the roost in the 80s and early 90s, such

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as the Media for Development Trust (MFD) started in 1989 by John and Louise Riber and colleagues, equally shrank due to donor fatigue. However, by 2006, there were indications that the industry was recovering, thanks to the 75% local content policy. Of particular interest was the mushrooming of video production initiatives that sought to promote video as a medium of social mobilization. One of these projects was the government-operated New Ziana Electronic Division, which, since 2004 has been producing liberation war documentaries for screening on state television.

New Ziana Electronic Department New Ziana (formerly ZIANA) is a Government-owned News Agency started in 1981. The formation of the News Agency had everything to do with the New World Information Order debate which saw Third World countries seeking to correct the existing imbalances in information flow between the North and the South. In 2001, the Agency was restructured and became a wholly Government-owned limited company with three Strategic Business Units (SBUs), namely: the Community Publishing Unit (CPU), News Agency, and the Electronic Business Unit/Department (Chari et al., 2003). Consistent with the restructuring exercise, the company rebranded and asserted its vision and mission so as to provide up-to-date information to media institutions and at the same time to promote the Zimbabwean national heritage, cultural values, identity and the spirit of Pan-Africanism (Chari et al., 30). The Electronic Department which had hoped to launch radio and television services was not able to do so, due to non-availability of funds. In 2004, the department started producing liberation war documentaries for screening on ZBCTV through a programme called “Chimurenga Files”. These videos chronicled the experiences of survivors of the second Chimurenga War. By 2009, the department had produced over one hundred videos. Apart from the broadcasts, the videos were also sold to individuals on VHS and DVDs. They are also distributed through a government-owned Book Distribution Company with an extensive branch network nationwide.

The Chimurenga Videos: Fading Memory, Contested Historical Narratives and Political Polarization My interest in video as a medium of communication was triggered by various casual conversations with colleagues and debates which were going on in the media after New Ziana started screening Chimurenga videos on national television. Given the bifurcated state of Zimbabwe’s

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body politic, it was not surprising that the Chimurenga videos generated mixed responses from members of the public. While some thought they were useful reservoirs of a nation’s fading history, others simply dismissed them as government propaganda meant to divert the population’s attention from the serious economic challenges the country was facing. Discussions with my Post-Graduate Diploma in Media and Communication Studies class at the University of Zimbabwe, where I was teaching at the time, also revealed that opinion about the social utility of these videos was divided. While some students were hostile to these videos, others defended them, arguing that they were educative and informative. Although I had always known that all texts are ideological and subject to contestations, the polarity of opinions associated with the Chimurenga videos was startling. Political, rather than aesthetic factors, appeared to determine the way audiences decoded the Chimurenga videos. I was, therefore, keen to shed light on the ideological nuances informing the packaging and decoding of Chimurenga videos as visual texts.

Film Production and Consumption: Political, Economic and Cultural Perspectives The study taps into two key theories, namely Marx’s political economy and Antonio Gramsci’s Theory of Hegemony. The political economy theory places emphasis on the need to pay attention on the socio-political and economic contexts in which cultural texts are produced. Kellner (1995, 9) contends that “inserting texts into the system of culture within which they are produced and distributed can help elucidate features and effects of the text that textual analysis alone might miss or downplay”. Rather than antithetical approaches to culture, knowledge of political economy can actually contribute to textual analysis and critique. Kellner further asserts that the system of production often determines the kind of media products that are produced and their structural limits in terms of what cannot be said or shown and the kind of audience effects the text may generate. Thus political economy helps us determine the limits and range of ideological discourses in a cultural text and the possible effects on the audience. Longhurst (1995, 24) notes that “it is important to consider how production takes place”. It is also important to examine not just who produces the texts and the wider economic and institutional contexts for such production, but the actual nature of the processes of production themselves. For Longhurst, what is produced, how it is produced and where it is sold, and the socio-economic and political context of production, are crucial.

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The key tenet of the political economy theory is that the media advance and promote the interests of the economically and powerful social class. Marxists relate ideology to social relations and to the fact that class determines ideology (Fiske, 1990). In other words, cultural products such as film, music, news and advertising are not innocent but pregnant with the ideology of the economically powerful social class. Chandler notes that the classical Marxist position views the media products as disseminating “the ideas and world views of the ruling class, and deny or defuse alternative ideas” (Chandler undated, 4). This view echoes Marx’s famous argument that “the class which has the means of material production at its disposal has control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it” (cited in Curran et al. 1982, 22). Fiske argues that all communication and all meanings have a sociopolitical dimension and that they cannot be understood outside their social context. He contends that “this ideological work always favours the status quo for the classes with power to dominate the production and distribution not only of goods, but also of ideas and meanings” (Fiske 1990, 177). The concept of ideology is elaborated by Antonio Gramsci who introduced the term ‘hegemony’ which views ideology as a struggle (cited in Fiske 1990, 176). Gramsci rejects the Marxian reductionist view which conceives media products as all powerful and omniscient and the audience as passive zombies at the mercy of the media. Gramsci used the term ‘hegemony’ to denote the predominance of one class over others such as bourgeois hegemony. Thus hegemony in this sense does not only project a notion of political and economic control, but also an ability of the ruling class to project its own way of seeing the world so that those who are subordinated to it begin to accept it as “common sense” and “natural” (Chandler, 12). However, unlike Althusser, Gramsci argues that ‘common sense’ is not something which is rigid or immobile but is constantly negotiated. Fiske puts this view aptly when he asserts that: “Consent must be constantly won and re-won, for people’s material social experience constantly reminds them of the disadvantages of subordination and thus poses a threat to the dominant class … Hegemony posits a constant contradiction between ideology and the social experience of the subordinate that makes this interface into an inevitable site of ideological struggle” (cited in Chandler, 12). Gramsci, therefore, views media products as sites for constant struggle, which entails “winning and rewinning of the consent of the majority to the system that subordinates them” (Fiske 1990, 176).

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Thus hegemony has to work very hard because the view of the dominant group constantly contradicts the lived realities of the subordinated groups. This means that any hegemonic victory or consent won by the dominant group is short-lived or temporary because it is continuously being questioned by the subordinated group. The concept of hegemony is central in the analysis of media texts such as film and video because such texts tend to be constructed as entertainment and, therefore, appear neutral or innocent at face value and yet are ideologically loaded. In a context where governments are increasingly showing interest in film as an ideological tool, it only makes sense to take an academic interest in such media.

Synopsis of Selected Chimurenga Videos In the following section, the synopses of Chimurenga videos are given and the main themes discussed. The videos discussed are: Operation Salisbury Part I, Operation Salisbury Part II, Living Memories, Wounds of War, The St Alberts Recruitment Experience, Nhari Rebellion and The Battle of Sinoia. Salisbury, the former capital of Zimbabwe, now Harare, is at the centre of two of the videos under discussion. Operation Salisbury Part I is a documentary on the guerrilla operation mounted by Zanu PF military wing, (Zanla) combatants at the height of the liberation struggle (2nd Chimurenga) in 1978. It gives lurid accounts of how the guerrillas planned and executed an attack on fuel tanks at a petroleum company in the industrial sites in the capital, Salisbury. The video is based on eyewitness accounts of guerrillas and commanders who planned and executed the operation and collaborators who gave various forms of assistance to the guerrillas during their mission. Former guerrilla commander and former army generals Josiah Tungamirai, Vitalis Zvinavashe, ex-guerrilla William Mukumbuzi and collaborators, Mbuya Hwiza and her son Norman, alternatively give vivid accounts of the operation. In the background, file photos of the inferno at BP Shell in the heavy industrial sites, massacres of blacks, Ian Smith, the Prime Minister of Rhodesia and President Robert Mugabe complement the voice of the narrator and the interviewees. Operation Salisbury Part II is a follow up to Operation Salisbury Part 1. The video was prompted by combatants who had participated in the operation and by eyewitnesses, who all felt compelled to give their side of the story concerning the operation. The documentary opens with filefootage of the lowering of the British flag, the Union Jack, and the hoisting of the Zimbabwean flag, signifying the end of one political

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chapter and the beginning of another. The narrator notes that the December 12, 1978 operation opened a new chapter in the guerrilla warfare. There is an extensive use of file footage from the State broadcaster and the National Archives of Zimbabwe, featuring mass murder and brutal killings of civilians by Rhodesian forces. Dead bodies are strewn on the ground, while some are shown being dragged in the mud, thus showing the callousness of the regime and what it cost to remove the colonial yoke. In the background, the soundtrack or signature tune provided by a traditional musical group, Mbira Dzenharira, evokes the symbiotic relationship between the liberation struggle and traditional religion. The video features ex-guerrilla fighter Member Kuvhiringidza (who was the principal witness) standing at the site of the operation with other eyewitnesses who were either war collaborators or simply eyewitnesses to the operation. Cde Member Kuvhiringidza supplies much of the detail relating to the attack of fuel tanks, while collaborators give information on the part they played while Mbare residents relive their memories of the fateful day. The video Living Memories is about the “heroic” exploits of a Zanla guerrilla and section commander, Cde Gabelo, who escapes death by the skin of his teeth after walking into an enemy trap in a deadly ambush by Rhodesian forces. Gabelo recounts how his group was ambushed by Rhodesian forces in Mutoko where he operated, and how he was captured. He is shot several times, his legs being shattered and his body bulletriddled. Gabelo is later taken hostage and sent to a hospital where his legs are amputated by a “sadistic” surgeon who operates on him without administering any anaesthetics and forces him to eat his own flesh. Despite the excruciating pain that Gabelo goes through, he refuses to betray the struggle like some others did. His love for the motherland superseded the fear of death and the prospect of material comfort. Gabelo is later taken to a Harare prison after being sentenced to death by an equally “sadistic” and “racist” judge. After successfully challenging the sentence, he is sentenced to life in prison. How he survives both the ambush and the guillotine of the rapacious, despotic and racist Rhodesian regime is a mystery difficult to unravel. The video combines the first person narrative of the protagonist, Gabelo, in a one-to-one interview with the voice of the narrator who gives background and complementary information. Gabelo’s first person narrative is interspersed with file pictures of Rhodesian soldiers on the prowl. The camera occasionally zooms on Gabelo, zeroing on his bulletscarred body and crutches. Wounds of War dwells on the horrific experiences of various exguerrilla fighters in the battlefront during the Second Chimurenga. It gives

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accounts of the trials and tribulations of ex-guerrillas in the battlefront and war zones around the country. Individual ex-guerrillas chronicle specific and unforgettable escapades against soldiers and recount their predicaments and excruciating experiences. Ex-fighters also show the scars resulting from their involvement in the war. Although these exfighters highlight both the low and high points of the liberation struggle, they tend to major on victories. These are generally one-on-one interviews where the ex-fighters are given ample opportunity, with minimal interruption, to give accounts of their involvement in the war. The narrator complements the protagonist’s narrative by furnishing details relevant to bring the narrative alive for the audience. The St Alberts Recruitment Experience, based on an interview with an ex-guerrilla, George Rutanhire, a former student of the school, chronicles the recruitment mission of Zanla guerrillas in the Northern Province of the country during the 1970s and gives an account of how they executed the recruitment mission at St Alberts Mission in Mt Darwin in the early 1970s. The student gives an account of the recruitment mission as watched from the school site. We are told how Rutanhire’s group fell prey to the machinations of Rhodesian forces after being ambushed on their way to Mozambique The bombing that ensued resulted in hundreds of students, teachers, and nurses being killed. We are also shown Rutanhire visiting communities where he operated, where he meets war collaborators who recognize him in spite of the long time that had passed. Together, they reflect on their past and the difficult times during the war. This occasion helps the audience to also reflect on the horrors of the liberation struggle. The story is largely told from Rutanhire’s perspective and that of war collaborators and is complemented by the narrator. There is, again, extensive use of file footage, showing the chilling atrocities of the Rhodesian Forces. Nhari Rebellion is based on a one-on-one interview with an ex-Zanla guerrilla, Cde Joseph Khumalo, who gives an account of early battles in Mozambique, the recruitment of women guerrillas and an internal rebellion within Zanu (Nhari Rebellion) during the early stages of the guerrilla movement in the 1970s. Cde Khumalo recalls how his group fought long battles with Rhodesian forces after an ambush at their base in Mozambique on the day former Mozambican President Samora Machel visited them. On that fateful day, his group moved from one ambush to another, resulting in the men being initiated into guerrilla war. Cde Khumalo also gives an account of the downside of the liberation struggle when he explains the causes of an internal strike within Zanu, which came to be popularly known as the Nhari Rebellion, and tells how the activities

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of the mutinous duo of Nhari and Mataure resulted in the death of four guerrillas. Cde Nhari also gives an account of the recruitment of the first group of women cadres, marking a new phase in the liberation struggle. The recruitment of female cadres was a major milestone in the liberation struggle, coming as it did after the crushing of the Nhari Rebellion. We are also told about the important role played by the spirit medium, Mbuya Nehanda during her mission to Mozambique, and the key role played by female combatants during the liberation struggle. The Battle of Sinoia features several former guerrilla recruitment officers and war collaborators. The video chronicles events before and after the first battle of the Second Chimurenga, the battle of Sinoia, on 28 April 1966. The storyline combines perspectives of people who were either directly involved in the planning and execution of the battle and of other eyewitnesses from the area. Details on the battle, how long it took, the horrific bombing, the guerrillas’ ultimate defeat and death, are given by one of the liberation struggle recruitment officers. Further insights into the strategies used by the guerrilla movement during the liberation struggle are also given, together with detailed accounts of the kinds of mass mobilization tactics and sabotage used during the war of liberation. We are also given an insight into tactics used by the colonial government to win the hearts and minds of the masses. Every speaker casts aspersions on the efficacy of the propaganda techniques of the colonial regime, but heaps praises on the mass mobilization techniques used by the guerrilla movements. This video is a salute to the seven gallant fighters who perished at the battle of Chinhoyi on April 28 1966, and provides perspectives on the liberation war which enhance credibility and authenticity.

Recapturing Fading Memory through Video: Contested Versions of History The production of the Chimurenga videos was part of a State-led cultural revolution meant to underpin an economic revolution epitomized by the fast-track land reform program christened “The Third Chimurenga” which had begun in 2000. The official narrative constructs land reform as the “ultimate phase of liberation of the black majority”, the first phase having been marked by the First Chimurenga of 1896-7 and the Second Chimurenga which occurred between 1966 and 1980. It was argued that the first phase of liberation only ushered in political independence, which in essence was hollow in the absence of any substantive economic liberation.

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Thus Chimurenga videos invoke the heroic past of the black majority in order to mobilize the masses to support the “all important economic liberation”. In a sense, Chimurenga videos are an avenue meant to champion the master narrative, which was already being questioned by an oppositional counter-narrative which viewed the official narrative as exclusive and, therefore, flawed. Chimurenga videos were an attempt to funnel the collective memory of the nation by documenting events of the liberation struggle. The main message was to exhort the people not to forget the “party that had liberated them” and the price they had paid to gain independence. The message “Lest We Forget” is thus central in these videos. People are exhorted not to forget the horrors of the liberation struggle, the suffering they incurred at the hands of the racist white Rhodesian government and the sacrifices made by liberation veterans towards their liberation. In order to drive this message home, the videos make extensive use of archival material, in order to revive people’s memories of colonial injustices. In Operation Salisbury I and II, extensive archival footage of scenes of mass killings of blacks in Mozambique by the Rhodesian government graphically illustrates the callousness of the white government, while reinforcing the view that the leopard does not change its spots. The sombre voice of the narrator, who himself was a war veteran, evokes emotions of anger. The main message is that the road to independence was littered with thorns and that the country’s independence did not come on a silver platter. Living Memories, The St Alberts Recruitment Experience, and Wounds of War all document the heroic feats of liberation fighters and accentuate bravery and selflessness as virtues. The official narrative represented in these videos is both a master-narrative and a counter-narrative in the sense that it seeks to respond to the criticism by opposition political parties and other groups who felt excluded by the master narrative. Since the year 2000, when Zanu PF suffered its first electoral defeat, it started operating in a reactive mode and the Chimurenga videos could be viewed as one of several ideological tools designed to help it retain power, with the 75% local content policy introduced in 2001, the Oral History Project, and the Chimurenga videos as responses to the growing disenchantment by the population due to economic difficulties occasioned by the failure of neoliberal economic policies. Chimurenga videos are an attempt to rearticulate history at a time when the official history is increasingly under scrutiny. While the real impact of these videos has not been fully investigated, some critics have dismissed them as “cheap” government propaganda meant to divert people’s

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attention from economic hardships. There are suggestions that the subject matter of these videos is too familiar and bears a striking resemblance to the ruling party election campaign rhetoric which evokes the liberation war sentiment in order to whip up the electorate’s emotions. As a result, the Chimurenga video project suffered the fate of every government project of the recent past, whereby the government’s communication efforts have been confronted with cynicism and distrust, mainly by the urban electorate, which has been overwhelmingly voting for the opposition. It could be argued that, as much as Chimurenga videos are an attempt to re-articulate the country’s history, they also reflect contours of current divisions in the Zimbabwean society. Although they are mainly about the past, they are very much shaped by the present context in which they are produced. This shows that memory and history as reconstructions of past events are subjective and amenable to appropriation and misappropriation, depending on the context in which they are reproduced (Baines, 5). According to Baines, memory is in a permanent flux and is open to the dialectic of remembering and forgetting (Baines, 6). Baines notes that “memory is not built incrementally but is continually crafted and re-crafted as material from the past is re-encountered and reinterpreted. The dominant memory emerges after a struggle between conflicting interpretations of historical events and serves to validate and legitimate the status quo. The past becomes an excuse for the present. Accordingly historical memories are constantly refashioned to suit present purposes” (Baines, 6). Like all other texts, the Chimurenga videos are selections from a glorious and heavily politicized history of the nation, and the narration of that history has been influenced by the political and economic events of the time when they were produced.

Patriotism and the Liberation Struggle A staple theme of Chimurenga videos is the notion of patriotism, the idea that one should love one’s country and be loyal towards it. Exliberation war fighters who feature in Chimurenga videos are presented as selfless people who love their country more than anything else and were prepared to pay with their lives. They are presented as highly politically conscious people who fully appreciate the colonial injustices that blacks were subjected to, and who were solely motivated by the desire to liberate their people from colonial bondage. Ex-liberation fighters are constructed as ‘larger than life’ people who put their nation first before personal material comforts. The decision to join the liberation struggle is the clearest demonstration of patriotism. The emphasis is more on individual than on

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collective sacrifice. Individuals are thus given enough time to expound on their heroic exploits, trials and tribulations and other achievements. Ex-guerrillas like McNorton Nhamo in Operation Salisbury, Cde Gabelo in Living Memories, George Rutanhire in St Alberts Recruitment and Cde Joseph Khumalo in Nhari Rebellion personify patriotism. In Living Memories, we are told that “Cde Gabelo’s love for his motherland superseded the fear of death, thus accentuating not just his patriotism but also his great courage. It should not be difficult to understand why these videos accentuated patriotism as a priceless virtue. At the time they were produced, the Zanu PF’s hegemony was being threatened by the emergence of the opposition Movement for Democratic Change, which the ruling party characterized as a “puppet of the West”. The opposition leadership was also accused of lacking adequate liberation credentials. The message in these videos resonated with prevailing thinking in the ruling government that the liberation war ethos should guide all decisions and actions in political matters. That thinking was best encapsulated in a chapter that appeared in the state daily newspaper The Herald of 16 February 2002, which stated that: Zimbabwe is the product of a bitter and protracted armed struggle. The armed struggle should serve as the guiding spirit through the presidential elections and even beyond. The right to choose a president of one’s choice should not be considered as the mere exercise of a democratic right. It is the advancement of a historical mission of liberating Zimbabwe from the clutches of neo-colonialism … (cited in Ranger 2003, 4)

There is merit in arguing that the failure of the reconciliation policy, which had been declared at independence in 1980, followed by events after the February 2000 referendum whereby whites openly showed their support for the opposition, motivated the ruling party to draw upon its revolutionary history. Zanu PF embraced the liberation struggle history because the MDC, which was backed by Western countries, was perceived as determined to banish that from the country’s memory by insinuating that such history was irrelevant in the “age of globalization”. Patriotic discourse was therefore seen as a way of countering neo-colonialism. The souring of diplomatic relations between the Zimbabwean government and Western countries, leading to the imposition of sanctions on Zimbabwe, was perceived by Zanu PF as a threat to state sovereignty. When human beings or States see danger, they are reminded of their harsh past and naturally bound to invoke old memories and achievements. Critics of patriotic history, however, argue that through Chimurenga videos, Zanu PF is trying to refashion history for political expedience and

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that such history is ‘narrow’, alienating and deeply flawed (Ranger, 2003). According to a letter published in a private-owned weekly newspaper, Every day, one hears in the state-controlled media about distortions of the history of this country…We are frequently nauseated by endless propaganda about how freedom-fighters always won battles against Rhodesian forces and how lots of helicopters and planes were downed during such engagements. A lot of young men and women sacrificed their lives for this country but that is no reason to lie that an outright military victory was achieved on the battlefield in 1979 [when] not even a single settlement, including those at the borders had fallen to the liberation forces [and] white farmers were able to continue farming even in the remotest hot-spots … War is a serious affair with a high price to pay. Real heroes do not lie and trivialize the pain of war (Cited in Ranger 2003, 19).

The fact that the version of patriotism represented in Chimurenga videos generated mixed responses from different quarters shows that all film genres, not least the documentary film, are amenable to diverse interpretations and that there is therefore no guarantee that preferred readings or official definitions of events will be taken as they are.

Courage and Selflessness Chimurenga videos celebrate courage as a virtue and thus foreground heroic deeds of exemplary cadres who weathered the storms. The preferred interpretation is that independence and the peace that the nation enjoys are the result of sacrifices by individuals who refused to sell out their motherland “for thirty pieces of silver”. In Chimurenga videos, we have characters who personify courage because they go through the most excruciating experiences at the hands of the colonial regime and yet refuse to sell out. In Living Memories we relive Cde Gabelo’s horrifying experience when he fell prey to Rhodesian forces in the bush. He is severely tortured, has his legs amputated with a hacksaw. Cde Gabelo suffers a broken ankle, bodily injuries, sleeps overnight in a mortuary and narrowly escapes a death sentence. In the midst of all these adversities, Cde Gabelo does not sell out or give in to the machinations of the colonial forces. The camera zooms on Cde Gabelo’s bullet-scarred body and his amputated legs in order to evoke the sympathy of the audience. The Battle of Sinoia also accentuates the extraordinary courage of the seven guerrillas who fought the first battle that marked the beginning of the armed struggle in 1966. The eyewitness accounts given by several guerrilla recruitment officers and war collaborators emphasize the courageous behaviour of these guerrillas. Although they eventually fell to

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the Rhodesian forces after running out of ammunition, they had fought courageously and died honourably. By accentuating courage, Chimurenga videos seek to remind the public that fighting the colonial regime required selfless men and women. It could also have been a way of reminding the population that the “Third Chimurenga” (land reform), which the nation had embarked on needed courageous people. Courage in this case meant much more than the ability to take up arms but to stand resolute for what is just, whatever the adversities. By foregrounding the heroic deeds of individuals at the expense of the broad masses who rendered support to the liberation struggle in various forms, these videos are pushing the masses to the margins of the liberation war history. Although Chimurenga videos appear to be situated in the black film aesthetic because of their rootedness in the suffering and struggles of black people, their emphasis on individuals is rather problematic. Cheria notes that in authentic African films, The individual is always pushed into the background and the hero… never occupies the foreground. The principal character in African films is always the group, the collectivity, and that is the essential thing (cited in Armes and Malkmus. (1991, 210)

It is possible that these videos could be interpreted as deficient in their representation of the liberation war history. While this view has merits, it would be simplistic to argue that the masses in Chimurenga videos are in the margins. The videos labour to show that the liberation struggle involved the pooling of efforts of different people, including war collaborators (Chimbidos and Mujibhas) and the masses. Thus in Operation Salisbury I and II, war collaborators such as Mbuya Hwiza (Grandmother Hwiza) Norman Hwiza, and Ruparanganda are said to have played a pivotal role in the liberation struggle by sheltering the guerrillas and providing intelligence information. This shows that solidarity and unity of purpose among the people played an important role in the liberation effort.

Betrayal: The Enemy Within Although the majority of characters in these videos are people of extraordinary courage and love for their country, there were some who were not equal to the task of liberating the country. These decided to submit to the machinations of the colonial regime and sold their country in return for a “mess of pottage”. Although such people are in the minority, they are there

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to distinguish real patriots from sell-outs. They are also featured in the videos to show that any revolution is bound to have renegades who join forces with the enemy for selfish gains. These people are normally viewed as worse than the enemy because they fight from within. A case in point is in Operation Salisbury II where we are shown a file photograph of a black former Rhodesian mercenary (known as ‘Auxiliary’) who confesses to killing guerrillas for money. The narrator tells us that “while the majority of Zimbabweans supported the liberation struggle, there were some elements who, for the love of money, betrayed their brothers and sisters”. The camera zooms on the former Rhodesian mercenary who remarks: ‘If you killed one rebel, you were paid $50 on top of your salary. If you killed two, it was $100, and therefore money-wise, it was very beautiful’. The video Nhari Rebellion dwells on the temporary setback suffered by the liberation movement in the early 1970s when some key members of the ZANU PF wing (Zanla), Nhari and Mataure, rebelled against the movement. The mutiny by these two members shows that the liberation movement was beset by numerous challenges, which threatened to derail it. It also demonstrates the internal contradictions of the struggle revealed by the revolt from within. Such revolts could be viewed as a serious form of betrayal. Also, in The St Alberts Recruitment Exercise, there is a reference to a legendary sell-out in the liberation struggle, one Nyathi, a former student of St Alberts Mission in the Northern Province of Mashonaland West. Nyathi is reported to have surrendered himself to Rhodesian soldiers, resulting in the massacre of civilians and guerrillas at the Nyadzonia Camp in Mozambique in 1976 (Friedrieks, 1990). Nyathi has become part of Zimbabwean history and mythology on sell-outs. It is instructive to note that during the Third Chimurenga, the discourse of “betrayal” and “sell-outs” became even more tendentious, particularly within the grand narrative associated with land and agrarian reform. Within the context of Third Chimurenga, the word “sell-outs” was synonymous with the opposition MDC because of the massive support it drew from white commercial farmers whose land was being taken and from Western countries, particularly Britain, who were perceived as fighting on behalf of their “kith and kin”. The absence of a “coherent land policy” by the opposition also meant failure by the party to develop a counter-narrative. Ranger argues that this made it “easy for Zanu PF to depict the MDC as globalized and a-historical” (Ranger 2003, 21). Simply dismissing these videos as cheap government propaganda as the opposition and government critics do, without convincing argument, is not quite justified.

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Chimurenga Videos: Contested official History? Chimurenga videos seek to project a positive history of the nation by appealing to the revolutionary past of the people, while at the same time keeping silent on the present and the future. The past is presented as having no link with the present, but very little is said about the nation’s current condition. Tomaselli (1996, 46) notes that in a documentary, what is said is as important as what is not: “…Structured absences (as indices) are as much part of the plane of content as what is present in the plane of signification (the denotative)”. In Chimurenga videos, the situation in contemporary Zimbabwe constitutes the ‘unknown texts’ which are secondarily manifested through indices. Thus the actual condition of existence of the citizens might prompt them to question why they are being shown these videos now and not twenty years ago. As a result of the fact that what is shown conflicts with the lived material reality of the people, they may also question whether the suffering shown in the videos was worth it. This shows that these videos as texts are capable of inviting not only negotiated interpretations, but oppositional readings as well. Tomaselli argues that: People tend to make sense of their worlds in terms of common patterns of thought - ways of talking - and material structures like the economy, education, politics, class - which pre-exist them, and into which they are born. (Tomasseli, 47-48)

It is however worth noting that as much as they are ideological, Chimurenga videos seek to construct the history of the nation in a certain way, and that such constructions are subject to contestation, particularly in the context of prevailing socio-economic and political crises. Hence in Operation Salisbury I, Ambuya Hwiza (Grandmother Hwiza), a former collaborator, laments her poverty, in spite of her contribution in the war. Her son Norman, also a former collaborator, who was injured in the war, is still unemployed in spite of his good education. In The St Alberts Recruitment Exercise, Amai Siwela (Mrs Siwela), also a former war collaborator, complains that her family has not yet benefited from government programs, many years after independence. It is worth noting that although these sentiments show a sign of disillusionment with independence, these people are not bitter, neither are they necessarily against the status-quo, for they wish that the government could still do something. Although there are signs of dissent, the discourse of dissent is regulated, in the sense that a framework is provided for people to talk

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about what is wrong in contemporary Zimbabwe. Documentary films such as Chimurenga videos thus have a way of masking their producers’ ideological intentions by providing opportunities for people to talk about their conditions in a “realistic” way.

Concluding Remarks This chapter has discussed the use of video in documenting the liberation war history in Zimbabwe. It was noted that Chimurenga videos accentuate memory, patriotism, courage, and selflessness as priceless virtues needed to overcome colonialism and neo-colonialism. They invoke the liberation war sentiment in order to win the hearts and minds of the populace in the context of growing disillusionment occasioned by economic challenges and the emergence of a strong opposition political party. The videos employ different narrative techniques such as eyewitness accounts, testimonials, archival footage and multiple narrators as well as musical sound tracks, in order to enhance the effectiveness of the story. It is also noted that the socio-political and economic conditions in the country, such as perceived threats of neo-colonialism, influenced, to a great extent, the manner in which these videos represent the history of the liberation struggle. Although these videos make an attempt to push a certain ideological line, there is no guarantee that the ideology they present is necessarily the ideology received, since their messages and their producers’ motives are both subject to contestation. As much as cultural texts claim to represent reality objectively, they are not value-free ideological ‘straightjackets’ whose meanings are taken for granted.

Bibliography Armes, Roy, and Malkumus, Lizbeth. Arab African Film Making. London, Zed Books, 1991. Baines, Gary. “The Politics of Public History in Post Apartheid South Africa” Website: http://academic.sun.ac.za/history/news/baines. Broadcasting Services Act (2001), Chapter 2.06, Harare, Government Printers. Chandler, Daniel. “Marxist Media Theory”. Website: http://www.aber.ac.uk/media/documents/marxism/marxism.html (Accessed December 12, 2008). Chari, J. Tendai, Bvuma Thomas, Maputseni Clever. Media and Communication in Zimbabwe and Africa. Harare, Zimbabwe Open University, 2003.

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Chari, Tendai. “The Impact of Seventy-Five Percent Local Content on Video Film in Zimbabwe”. In The Video Film in Africa: An Art and Socio-Political Treatise, edited by Foluke Ogunleye. Dakar: CODESRIA. Curran, James, Gurevitch, Michael and Woolacott, Janet. Eds. Culture, Society and the Media. London: Methuen, 1982. Fiske, John. Introduction to Communication Studies, London, Routledge, 1990. Frederikse, Julie. None but Ourselves: Mass Media in the Making of Zimbabwe. Harare, OTANZI/ANVIL Press, 1990. Gall, D. Meredith, Borg, R. Walter, and Gall, P. Joyce. Educational Research: An Introduction. Longman, New York, 1996. Hall, Stuart. ‘Encoding/Decoding’ in Hall Stuart et al Culture, Media and Language: Working papers in Cultural Studies, 1972-79. London, Hutchinson, 1980. Hungwe, N. Kedmon. “Narrative and Ideology: Fifty Years of Filmmaking In Zimbabwe”. In Orality and Cultural Identities in Zimbabwe, Vambe T. Maurice (ed.), 73 – 85. Gweru: Mambo Press, 2001. Jensen, Marianne and Jenset, Marit. Video Production in Zimbabwe’ Media Culture and Development II (ed.) Drag Maranne, Oslo, Department of Media and Communication, University of Oslo, 1993: 37 – 121 Kellner, Douglas. ‘Cultural Studies, Multiculturalism and Media Culture’ in Gender, Race and Class in the Media, edited by Gail, Dines et al. London, Sage Publications, 1995. Longhurst, Brian. Popular Music and Society. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1995. McQuail, Denis. Mass Communication Theory: An Introduction, London, Sage Publications, 1994. Ranger, Terrance. “Historiography, Patriotic History and the History of the Nation: The Struggle over the Past in Zimbabwe”, 2003: http://www.ocms.ac.uk/docs/ranger/Nationalism/Histriography. Tomasselli, G. Keyan. Appropriating Images: The Semiotic of Visual Representation. Hojbjerg: Intervention Press, 1996.

Filmography Oppression Salisbury Part I. Director: Everisto “Grey” Mwatse, Executive Producer, Happison Muchechetere, DVD, and VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana.

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Operation Salisbury Part II. Director: Happison Muchechetere, DVD, VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana. Living Memories. Director” Happison Muchechetere, DVD, VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana. The St Alberts Recruitment Exercise. Director: Felix Samuriwo, Executive Producer: Happison Muchechetere, DVD, and VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana. The Nhari Rebellion. Executive Producer: Happison Muchechetere, DVD, VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana. The Battle of Sinioa. Executive Producer: Happison Muchechetere, DVD, VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana. Wounds of War. Executive Producer: Happison Muchechetere, DVD, VHS, 2004. Harare, New Ziana.

CHAPTER VI FILMMAKING IN KENYA: AN APPRAISAL FOLUKE OGUNLEYE DEPARTMENT OF DRAMATIC ARTS OBAFEMI AWOLOWO UNIVERSITY, ILE-IFE, NIGERIA

Historical Background While assessing the Kenyan film industry at its centenary in 2009, Simiyu Barasa looked back and forward and declared: While the dizzying heights of Hollywood and Bollywood have not been reached by Kenyan filmmakers, the journey looks bright and exciting. This excitement has taken one hundred years to grow, since the first images of the country were captured on tape in 1909 by Cherry Keaton, a wildlife photographer who filmed the American President Theodore Roosevelt when he came on a wildlife safari in Kenya in 1909. The resultant film, ‘Theo in Africa’ was screened in 1910 (Barasa, 2011).

The period referred to above, marked the era of foreigner-made films, which exploited the picturesque terrains of Kenya. This era gave birth to “films like Mogambo, The Snows of Kilimanjaro, Trader Horn and others which showcased the conflict of Europeans battling with dangerous elements of nature and a new culture in Africa” (Barasa, 2011). According to www.filmbirth.com, the late African-American filmmaker Gordon Parks, who died in Kenya in the early 1970s, expressed the belief that Kenya had all the ingredients to become the African Hollywood. With the advent of independence, Kenyans also became active players in the film profession. It has been observed that Freedom came with not only political self-rule, but also the advent of Africanization even in the arts, where film training started. The Kenya

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Institute of Mass Communication was inaugurated to train Africans in filmmaking, and, more so, to replace the Europeans who had been working as the national broadcasters in Kenya Broadcasting Corporation (Barasa, 2011).

According to www.filmbirth.com, not much has been happening on the Kenyan film scene since independence. According to statistics, Kenya produces an average of ‘one feature film every four years’: if this is true, then the rate is very low indeed. The same website identifies four major reasons for the handicap suffered by the film industry: 1) Finance: Film production is an expensive venture and no local investors have shown any interest in it. 2) Post-production: Though filming equipment is generally available, Kenya does not have a film-processing laboratory. The 16mm facility that exists at the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication has collapsed due to lack of spare parts and maintenance. 3) Lack of an enabling government film production policy. 4) Piracy: Kenya is a world black spot as far as piracy is concerned and, in the past decades, this has hindered the Kenyan filmmakers’ efforts to break into the African cinematography market, currently dominated by American and French feature films.

The factors listed above do not provide a happy prognosis for the Kenyan film industry. To worsen the situation, it has been reported that the number of filmgoers continues to dwindle, and “Nairobi cinema, which boasts of the largest screen in East Africa, attracts only 30 percent to its 825-seater theatre while the 480-seat Casino gets less than 60 viewers per day” (www.filmbirth.com). A ray of hope can, however, be seen on Kenya’s filmic horizon with various film festivals blossoming in the country. “Since 1998, the annual African Cinema Week is seen as a giant step taken by Nairobi towards establishing itself as a market for African films. It has also brought to the fore the hidden audiovisual potential the East African country possesses as films come from unexpected quarters” (www.filmbirth.com), and the Kenya International Film Festival (KIFF) is in its seventh year. For the 2011 edition, out of over 600 entries received from 57 countries, 360 films and documentaries were screened in six theatres spread across the country (AllAfricanCinema 2012). Kenya International Film Festival seeks to turn around the fortunes of Kenyan films for the better, as revealed by the acting chairman of the KIFF Trust, Michael Otieno:

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Bibliography AllAfricanCinema, “The Kenya International Film Festival 2012: Film Festival, News” Website: http://allafricancinema.com/the-kenya-international-film-festival-2012/ Bakupa-Kanyinda, Balufu. “An Historical Exception”, in FEPACI (eds.), Africa and the Centenary of Cinema. Dakar: Presence Africaine, 1995. Barasa, Simiyu, “A Brief History of Film in Kenya”. Wednesday, October 5, 2011. Website: http://filmkenya.blogspot.com/2011/10/brief-historyof-film-in-kenya.html Economic Contribution of Film and Television Industry in Kenya. Baseline Survey Report Prepared for Kenya Film Commission. Nairobi, Kenya: Strategic Public Relations and Research Limited, 2010. Edwards, Justin, R. Building a Self-Sustaining, Indigenous Film Industry in Kenya. Kenya: World Story Organization, 2008. Filmbirth.com. “History of Cinema in KENYA”, 2012. Website: http://www.filmbirth.com/kenya.html

CHAPTER VII A HISTORICAL VOYAGE THROUGH KENYAN FILM WANJIRU KINYANJUI DEPARTMENT OF FILM TECHNOLOGY SCHOOL OF VISUAL AND PERFORMING ARTS KENYATTA UNIVERSITY, KENYA

Introduction Immediately after independence, the Ministry of Broadcasting and Information was an integral part of television programme services on the State-owned Voice of Kenya Television and Radio. In 1972, it set up a Documentary Film Production unit to support the development and to project a positive image of Kenya. In 1975, the Kenya Newsreel replaced the “British Pictorial” that was shown between the National Anthem and the main feature film in Kenyan cinema halls. The 10-minute newsreels had either a political or a development agenda and were shot on 35 mm. In 1976, the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication (KIMC), financed by the Friedrich Ebert Foundation of Germany, started to train professionals in all aspects of filmmaking. The KIMC was even equipped with a lab for developing 16mm films. In 1981, the Film Production Department of the Ministry was established. The Ministry automatically absorbed graduates of KIMC and their job was to make documentaries along government lines. The Department made films on international relations, industry, commerce, social issues, science and technology, gender issues and other topics related to development and politics. These were all, of course, seen through government eyes and basically of a didactic or propagandistic nature. It was clear at this point that the ministry, whose priority was to teach and influence the people, did not cater for feature filmmaking in the creative sense of the word. Some titles illustrate the nature of these films: Family Planning, Bata

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Shoe Production in Kenya, Rift Valley Province, President Mubarak’s State Visit to Kenya, H.E. President Moi’s Visit to Somalia, The Kenya Trade Fair, New York, Wife Beating and, recently, Heritage of Splendour (Lamu). It is obvious that these films had no entertainment value and were largely educative and informative. Many films supported tourism development efforts by featuring tourist attractions, and a mobile van took the relevant films to the rural folk. Kenyan films, whether fictitious or not, are still classified as documentaries, and no one expects Kenyans to make movies that can entertain, as entertainment has remained the preserve of Hollywood and Bollywood - a few Hollywood blockbusters, Westerns and Indian romance movies offer the only entertainment in Kenyan cinemas.

Kenyan History on Film The British have been actively documenting Kenyan history, and the Ministry archives include 16mm copies of films that deal with Kenyan history. In 1965, the BBC produced a documentary, The End of an Empire whose director, Brian Lapping, concentrated on showing how 30,000 British settlers managed, by sheer brute force, to subdue 5 million Africans by killing off a whole village population, carting away their cows and goats. They then proceeded to remove the Gikuyu from their land (the so-called White Highlands), forcing them into reserved areas. Gikuyu rebellion was met with extreme measures: all young Gikuyu men were stashed away in concentration camps; their wives were removed from their farms, settled in village camps and forced to dig deep trenches around the village. Spikes were then fitted in the ditches to cut off the forest-based freedom fighters, who had been relying on food supplies from the women. Life for most Gikuyu became a real nightmare and those left behind feared for their survival. The documentary makes use of a commentary, interviews with both British colonists and Africans who were spokespeople in the struggle for independence. For the younger generation, this film is a revelation of a history that no one talked about; for the older generation, it is still too traumatizing to be discussed, as it had been stashed away since independence. Indeed, the first president had banned any talk of the struggle for independence! For decades, it was a taboo to even mention the Mau-Mau. The BBC used film footage made by the colonial government and still photographs to bring the darkest history of Kenya to life. Film students found this documentary more fascinating than The Burning Spear (about Kenyatta) because it tried to analyse the two extreme positions: that of Africans (especially that of the Gikuyu) and that of Whites.

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White Man’s Country, made in 1969, also by the British, narrates the history of the British occupation, thereby going further into colonial history. In 1890, Nairobi had become a camp for traders and railway workers building the Kenya-Uganda railway for the British. The British saw that the land was fit for their occupation and proceeded to advertise for Brits to come and settle in Kenya. The traders, who joined the Imperial British East Africa Company in 1879 became agents of colonization. From 1902 onwards, they massacred whole villages and took all the cattle and goats in random raids all over the country. After the First World War, Kenyan Africans forced to fight the Germans in Tanzania came back to find out that their fellow white soldiers had been given their land! This was the beginning of rebellion and resistance. When hut taxes and passes were introduced, it became clear that the Africans had lost out to their guests, the Britons. Waiyaki wa Hinga, who gave them permission to trade with the Gikuyu and went into a blood brotherhood with the white man, realized he had been thoroughly hoodwinked. This documentary, narrated in Kiswahili, is a witness to the brutality of the white man’s subjugation of Kenyans. The two archived 16mm films, produced by professionals who researched the subject as well as they could, using footage from colonial times, are only now becoming accessible to researchers and can contribute to the debate about the past, in terms of content at least. The archive department is planning to copy them onto tapes and DVDs so that they can be lent out to the public. Many other films currently stored abroad (in Europe and England) will hopefully be brought back to the Ministry. The first president’s motto, “forgive and forget”, was followed to the letter, which explains that the above documentaries have never been shown to Kenyans. The past two governments discouraged anyone from digging into the past. Literary giants of Kenya, who insisted on unearthing the past, were persecuted and had to go into exile. It is, therefore, appropriate to say that filmmakers who grew up in this atmosphere and were trained by the government had no incentive to make films reflecting th th the political upheavals that rocked Kenya in the early 19 and 20 centuries. Even today, writers and filmmakers avoid political themes. The film censorship board, an arm of the Ministry, read scripts and approved or rejected them. Any critical political content, especially if it concerned independence, current governance or African religions, was deemed suspicious. After Ngugi and others were jailed in the 1970s, theatre reverted to harmless love comedies written by the British! The requirement for all productions to pay for a film license to the Ministry

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never took local independent filmmaking into consideration (as it did not exist). It was made so as to ensure revenue from foreign film productions that would shoot for weeks and spend a lot of money in the country. As a rule, each film production had to have an officer from the Ministry on the set, a kind of government detective who got a daily allowance from the producer and made sure that this producer stuck to the agreed rules. Local filmmakers without budgets but determined to make films, such as the late Sao Gamba, the first Kenyan to be professionally trained at the film school in Lodz, Poland, were left to their own devices. After graduation, Sao Gamba joined the ranks of government film officials and made a documentary on the President, titled The Burning Spear (1978). Students who saw this film in 2008 commented that it was, indeed, a government production which praised the father of the nation and avoided criticizing the regime’s ups and downs. The new generation cannot fathom how creativity was actually suppressed by previous regimes! Afterwards, Sao made his first Kenyan feature film, Color Mask, in collaboration with the Kenya Film Corporation. The film is about a (black) Kenyan who comes back home with a white European woman. This remained the only full-length feature film Sao made in Kenya before he gave up trying to make films and became a secluded artist. Regrettably for the development of film in that country, the late Jam Karanja, another Lodz graduate, never got to make a film in Kenya either. As for the KIMC-trained Anne Mungai’s film, Saikati, produced by KIMC and shot on 16mm (1993), it is about a Masai girl who flees from traditionally-sanctioned early marriage but falls prey to the corruption in the city - a message film in line with gender issues, The present DFFB (Berlin- trained writer’s film, The Battle of the Sacred Tree (1995) took a humorous but critical look at the collision between traditional and modern religions. The author was afraid it might rub some the wrong way. But when it was shown, no one seemed annoyed: there was an unexpected, surprising acceptance of her critical stance. Mungai went on to produce Saikati Enkaabani, a kind of sequel to her first movie. Nick Hughes’s 100 Days, a film on the Rwandan genocide, was equally shot on 16 mm. It did not touch on Kenyan issues, but set precedents for politically motivated films in Kenya. These four films marked the end of the expensive celluloid era in Kenya. Even the Ministry had stopped making the Kenya Newsreel on 35mm when video cameras arrived. All subsequent films were shot on video.

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Message Films, Documentaries and Comedies Several productions have been financed by NGOs, meaning that they are ‘message’ films serving a didactic purpose. Films on gender violence, health, female children and HIV/AIDS form the bulk of films made in Kenya. Their filmmakers have switched to docu-dramas, which offer some entertainment. The recent years saw the production of creative documentaries which include Mo and Me, a film on Mohammed Amin by his son Salim Amin, and another by Priya Ramrakha, Final Cut. Both films were made by Asian Kenyans and both are about famous Asian Kenyan photographers. African Kenyans themselves have not ventured into creative documentaries, possibly because they lack capital input and professionalism. Kenyans might not have access to funding for such films, but we think that the main reason is the fear of being caught up in the politics of historical or political characters. Some historical, political and social subjects necessitate a critical look at our regimes, an area that, up to the year 2002, has been considered a taboo. After such a long suppression of creativity, the reporting style with a running commentary and cover shots has been dominating the scene. There are also TV comedies, which again do not dwell on politics or history but are based on everyday issues, turning them into slapstick. The government-owned Voice of Kenya (now Kenya Broadcasting Corporation) television kept making very low budget in-house local comedies (Mzee Pembe and Mama Toffee, Vioja Mahakamani, Tausi and Plot 10) on a weekly basis, but this did not translate into independent filmmaking. Today, other broadcasters have begun to churn out numerous soaps, modelled on the Mexican soaps which dominate Kenyan television. These soaps and comedies lack depth and are enjoyed more by little children. Unfortunately, the numerous foreign soaps on television have influenced new filmmakers who have no cinematic training. New films today have more in common with soaps than with cinematic art: interiors dominate, with cover shots of the building to show where the characters are; dialogue overshadows action and visual interpretation, and drags on and on; many of the films rely on flashbacks that are not necessarily indispensable. The advent of cheaper digital technology in 2003 demystified filmmaking, making it accessible to many who would like to try out their skills and talents, and one could find stand-up comedians taping their shows and selling them on VCD in the area of Nairobi nicknamed River Road. From 2004-2006, many amateur producers and comedians, made quick bucks with a maximum budget of $US1, 000, but the market died

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down, probably due to the quality of the videos and the repetition of comic local themes. Filmmakers later took up these tactics of production and distribution and are now producing more films than ever, even though they seldom break even. A good example is the film Mau Mau, Reke Tumanwo by Kibaara (from the Ministry). Its theme, the struggle for independence, demands epic treatment. In Mau Mau, the rebels are a gang of about 20 people who are up against a white colonialist. The technical aspects are quite in order, but a film dealing with a struggle that affected all the Kenyan peoples in various degrees cannot be simplified to that of a few individuals. As shown above, the two documentaries by the British do better justice to the subject. All the same, it is a step forward which proves that we can now make films about our past without finding ourselves on the wrong side of the law. Kenya, today, has numerous media institutions training young talents in film production, but what is needed is a film school if Kenya is to produce quality movies. Kenyatta University has pioneered such a department of Film Technology in the School of Visual and Performing Arts.

CHAPTER VIII ‘UNPACKING THE HOTEL’: A STUDY OF THE CINEMATIC POLITICS OF HOTEL RWANDA NYASHA MBOTI CENTRE FOR COMMUNICATION, MEDIA AND SOCIETY UNIVERSITY OF KWAZULU-NATAL

Introduction Hotel Rwanda expresses a set of visual and narrative paradoxes. This chapter questions the specific terms used in structuring the film and proposes subjecting the image to new analytical perspectives. Underpinning the proposition is the notion that film is not a site of truth. Instead, film discourse must be constantly called into question. One is obliged to discuss how ideology insinuates itself in the image. Hotel Rwanda is a 2004 Lions Gate-United Artists film directed by Terry George set during the 1994 Rwandan genocide. The film, based on a ‘true’ story, was shot in South Africa, with some second unit filming in Kigali. Its story orbits around Paul Rusesabagina, the hotel manager at the centre of the saga, played by Don Cheadle. Based on Paul Rusesabagina’s autobiography, An Ordinary Man (2006), it is equally inspired by the ‘Noah’s Ark’ theme - some stranded people find safe haven with a messianic figure. Paul notes that something has gone amiss when militias, all dressed in colourful ‘Hutu Power’ regalia, line up and make noise on the Kigali streets. Later, he watches as brand new machetes crash out of a box belonging to the hotel supplier, George Rutaganda (Hakeem Kae-Kazim). Rutaganda is described in the draft script as looking ‘like an African mafia boss’ (Pearson & George: 3) and typecast as a criminal. The machete discovery causes him some initial embarrassment. However, he warms up and begins to brag that he had ordered the weapons from China at a

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bargain, that they cost ten cents each and that he plans to make a profit from them. The box of hidden machetes is interesting, as the machete, waved so that it shines and glistens in the sun, is the mutinous horde’s weapon of choice in some movies about Africa and remains well-liked even when there are guns to choose from. In ‘Blood Diamond’ (Zwick, 2006), for instance, Solomon Vandy (Djimon Hounsou) is at ease with his cutlass, a colt-45 in reverse. Whereas John Wayne, Glen Ford and Clint Eastwood would use the colt-45 to restore order and win the West, the machete, considered as a barbaric weapon, disturbs the audience’s emotions and causes interminable havoc. It shocks. At one point, Paul recommends that it is better for Tatiana (Sophie Okonedo) to jump with the children from the hotel roof, rather than die by machete. Guns, by contrast, especially in the hands of white luminaries, are clinical. They deliver a detached, messfree death. The machete’s use as a prop fits well with the theme of Africa as a setting of violent atavistic death. The machete has yet another meaning. It is a contact kind of weapon – like an assegai. For one to use a machete, one would have to be closed up. In contrast, a gun kills from a distance. From a kinesics and proxemics point of view, the machete is not a weapon for cowards. It is not for the squeamish. By comparison, a gun would seem a pusillanimous weapon. In Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, Okonkwo’s machete serves him well in war. His gun, on the other hand, misfires and leads to an accident and humiliating exile. The symbolism of the machete is not innately besmirched. Instead, the machete can be re-appropriated as a purposeful weapon. People can even protect themselves with it. The degrading of the symbolism of the machete has more to do with a stereotype - it is seen as African. In Gladiator, Maximus’ cutlass is not described in terms of barbarism. Instead, it is a superb weapon because it is Roman. His skill with the blade is worthy of marvel too. It is not abject or frenzied. The gulf between a savage machete and a glorious sword is therefore more ideological than real. On another level, the clandestine boxes of machetes relate to the unseen migration of harmful ideologies into daily language. These boxes are carried forward as regular containers of Carlsberg and Grolsch beer, whereas they are stuffed with death. Certain discourses, therefore, readily disguise themselves to look innocent, and this is how they slip through. As such, ideology is a wolf in sheepskin, a Trojan horse: it wears a veil. In Hotel Rwanda, significations like ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’ sound natural and innocent enough, yet they are poisonous. The terms are used to parcel Rwandan people in boxes tagged ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’. Once people are

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tagged, it becomes easier to commit atrocities. The spilling out of hundreds of machetes from the boxes is rich with symbolism: it suggests that the Hutu-Tutsi alibi is about to unravel, the camouflage to be made known. However, this symbolism quickly gathers dust. Local radio has been carrying messages of ‘Hutu Power’. There is agitation on the streets. Isolated beatings start. A few anxious neighbours seek refuge at Paul’s home. At first, he is reluctant to offer help, as he is more concerned about the safety of his family. At one point, he watches motionlessly as a neighbour is dragged into the street and assaulted by armed men. Gradually, however, he accepts responsibility to offer his neighbours and friends temporary sanctuary. As more serious disorder engulfs the streets, Paul evacuates the refugees to the Hotel. Gripped by fear and excitement, hotel staff has stopped work. Some, like Gregoire, have already allocated themselves the best rooms. Gregoire is a very notable character. He is Hutu, and treacherous. He is cast as a snake in the grass. Paul is bothered by the dire situation at the hotel. He contacts his Swiss bosses and gets an auspicious fax, appointing him acting general manager. He then uses his new-found status to convince the staff to keep working. More apprehensive refugees arrive at the hotel. Europeans plan to leave. Kigali is wrapped in the fear of genocide. Bedlam pauses only a few paces off-screen. Paul’s test is to run business as usual. The Mille Collines is a five-star hotel. It has to be run as such. The problem is the crush of refugees checking in. Paul has to manage the hotel and its panic-stricken ‘clients’ without attracting undue suspicion. He has to see off suggestions that he is harbouring ‘cockroaches’- the pejorative in use for ‘Tutsi’. Meanwhile, stores and money are running out. Staff needs to be kept in step. Army and militias have got to be bribed. His task is to buy time and safety. For this purpose, he uses francs, beer, chocolates, blackmail and threats. It seems a matter of time before the militia breach the hotel, with Paul and his refugees virtually besieged. The hotel is a symbol, an oasis of calm in the midst of turbulence. The central appeal of Hotel Rwanda is its symbolism. The assumption is that Rwanda is a generalized nightmare: its psyche is crumbling, chaos governs. Yet in the midst of mass despair, there is a small site in a corner of Kigali which holds out, at least for a while: the Hotel Mille Collines, a tiny, dogged utopia floating in a dystopian sea. It is bound to bob up and down imperfectly in the maelstrom. Yet, as long as it floats, the symbolism rivets. The story of the hotel that holds out against upheaval jolts the imagination because it contrasts two staggering symbolisms: the

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symbolism of genocide, incredible darkness and unbridled chaos, and that of the minuscule light that surprises everyone by not going out in the storm of terror and panic. The film is the beacon in the storm. It satisfies the human impulse for protection and refuge against forces of evil. The feat is more mind-blowing because a ‘Hutu’, who was expected to use the machete against them rather than save them, seems to have saved a bunch of ‘Tutsis’. The symbolism attracted by Hotel Rwanda is broad, and fascinates because it splits into sets of twos. It opposes hope to hopelessness, death to life, chaos to order, good to evil, bravery to cowardice, fear to security, panic to composure, war to peace, reason to uncontrolled passions, hate to love, sacrifice to selfishness, darkness to light, savagery to civilization and tolerance to intolerance. It opposes Hutu to Tutsi, European to African, the human to the inhuman, R.P.F inkotanyi to Hutu interahamwe and Hutu Power to Tutsi Power. It opposes rich to poor, powerful to powerless. fivestar hotel to refugee camp, those on the outside to those inside, the trapped and holed up to the freed, those on the list to those not on it, As such, the hotel is not an innocent hotel at all. The hotel, a site of struggle, drags about a lot of ideological baggage. It is a site of the ‘struggle for the sign’ (A term in Tomaselli, 1996: 44). In the post-9/11 world, the symbol of the hotel picks up even more extra meanings. America was besieged by ‘terrorists’. The bastion of progress was threatened by a terrible ‘Arab’ horde. It needed to stand strong. Steering the besieged ship was George W. Bush. The citadel had to stand. According to official American history, the house stood, the immediate danger passed, and the cowardly horde was beaten back. In fact, the great protector Moses (George Bush) went after them, all the way back to the desert whence they had come. A number of parallels could be drawn between the narratives of 9/11 and Hotel Rwanda. The film, which came three years after 9/11, was bound to pick up such connotations, and the process did not even have to be intentional. Interestingly, Rusesabagina was awarded the Presidential medal by Bush. One should, however, be careful not to overdraw the association. The hotel is a fortress. Its walls function to protect. People are cut off from the world. All they have is the hotel. The families are crazy with fear. However, they are also hopeful and thankful to be alive. The hotel ties them to one another. At least, the hotel enables the audience to see how hope springs eternal. First, the convoy of buses leaves without them. Then, others are left out of the U.N list of evacuees. Those who are evacuated are ambushed by militias, and are lucky to be forced back alive. Then the hotel is attacked and breached twice. In this entire trauma, the refuge-

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seekers are just worse for wear, while the Hotel Mille Collines is a kind of Noah’s Ark. Walls, however, also censor. Once safe inside the hotel, the people begin to feel trapped. They want to leave. This feeling is worsened by trespassing militias. Thus, when the convoy of buses comes, the people cannot hide their joy at the prospects of leaving the hotel, and cheer. When the buses leave without them, however, they are extraordinarily disappointed. Their consolation is that they can get back into the hotel. Later, when Colonel Oliver comes with a select list of people to be evacuated to the airport, he has to literally push the throng from around him. ‘Back! Everyone back’, he snarls. ‘Back please. Stay back’. The people have to be herded back into the hotel against their will. Yet, again, when the army wants everyone out of the hotel, it takes a desperate phone call to European capitals to keep the despairing people in the hotel. There is a sense of both protection and entrapment at the Hotel. The genocide is a state of emergency, when all freedoms are suspended. Thus, the refugees are not staying at the hotel at their own will, but by default. It is not the hotel people really need, but proper homes and some sense of personal freedom. Hotels are institutions where rich people spend their money. So, a central irony in the story is the conversion of a five-star hotel into a temporary refugee centre where Rusesabagina goes about policing the space. Intentionally or not, Paul keeps the place under the surveillance of his ‘house-manager’s’ gaze. He is keen to stress that the Mille Collines is still a five-star hotel. Upholding the strict ‘five-star’ regimen is a way of constantly reminding some of the refugees of their not belonging. This is a subtle form of control. He is doing it as much for the refugees’ own sake as for the Swiss elite who own the hotel. As such, Paul not only preserves people’s lives but acts as a sentry watching over the torch of private capital. The Mille Collines is, thus, a compelling symbol. From one angle, it represents the spontaneous breakdown of institutional norms. The hoi polloi can now check into the hotel formerly reserved for the upper crust of the society. The genocide has led to a transgression into formerly prohibited spaces. A new mentality is likely to be born – such as the one born out of the chaos of the French Revolution. However, that new mentality is also highly unlikely. Paul’s presence, pacing the panopticon and enforcing boundaries, is a deterrent. For the refugees, the Mille Collines can never represent a genuine refuge, as its rituals are foreign to most of them. Places like the Mille Collines are snobbish symbols of inequality and, once the emergency is

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over, the hotel would go back to serving the rich. Such inequality, ironically, is one of the causes of genocidal conflict. Rusesabagina is key to the whole equation: he breaks his back for the hotel and even bribes suppliers and smuggles lobsters for the sake of his customers. Why does he work so hard? Is the Mille Collines not a mere hotel? As overseer, he is the public face and authority of the hotel and his authority makes him a potential, a sub-oppressor. The paradox of freedom and entrapment at the hotel gets very interesting. It has become a palpable confusion. In one scene, Paul argues with Xavier, Colonel Oliver (Nick Nolte) and a Tutsi woman: Tutsi Woman: How would we escape? Colonel Oliver: By convoy. Xavier: This time the Militia will kill us. Paul: They will surely kill us here. It’s over here. We have to take the chance. Tutsi Woman: No, we’ll be chopped on the street. Paul: We’ll be chopped here.

Thus, the hotel oscillates from being a place of protection to being a prison. In the end, they all have to leave the hotel. Getting ‘out of here’ has become imperative. A life of holding out and counting the days becomes oppressive. The hotel must be studied as a symbol that has both positive and problematic connotations. The hotel is a specific spatial fact. It is important to find out how this space is mapped visually. The camera’s movement in and around the hotel is of chief interest. The hotel creates its own visual-narrative discourse. Paul Rusesabagina is the key man in all the goings-on in and around the hotel. A lot hinges on him. He keeps the hotel running. Without him, everything would probably fall to pieces. By design, he is the centre. In fact, Paul is the hotel: he projects his persona on the hotel, the hotel becomes him and he becomes the hotel. The building itself is just a collection of rooms and corridors: its soul is Paul, whose efforts enable the building to remain habitable. Like the Church that cannot stand without Christ, the hotel cannot stand without Paul. When an RPG rocket hits the storeroom, it is Paul – in both a symbolic and literal sense – who is attacked. Smoke billows through the corridors and causes despair and confusion. The camera races after Paul as he takes four stairs at a time. The idea is to let the audience feel his pain just like in the Garden of Gethsemane. If the building is hit, it is Paul who is hit. The corridors are, in some sense, elements of Paul’s psyche. The analysis above is only logical if we look at Paul as Christ. He is a

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messianic figure. Not only is the light always in his face, but he also lets his wife and family go while he stays for the sake of the rest of the refugees. In one scene, he cleverly fiddles with the computerized guest list, hoodwinking the army captain. Later, he just deletes the register and orders that the numbers on the doors be removed. This is the reverse of the biblical account of the marking of the door-posts at Passover. When he stands despairingly in the driving rain, or when he throws away his tie in frustration, one feels that the hotel is also about to go down in despair. But when he decides to get up and move on, we feel that the hotel is saved. Christ suffers with and for the people and saves them. Hotel Rwanda echoes Stephen Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (1993). Both films are tales of ethically-stricken protagonists who negotiate with ‘evil’ in order to save a hapless group of people. In both films, it would have been easier for the central characters to shrug their shoulders and look the other way. Both defy this expectation and their defiance generates a lot of tension because, in both films, the protagonists belong to the group of oppressors. A Hutu saves Tutsis, and a Nazi saves Jews. Both men risk being ‘found out’ and getting punished. There are several other points of similarity between the two movies. Both are historical dramas on the theme of genocide. Rusesabagina’s hotel roughly corresponds to Schindler’s factory. Furthermore, the two films have ‘lists’ of victims whom the protagonists deliver from demise. In the martial character of General Augustine Bizimungu (Fana Mokoena), one sees shades of S.S man, Amon Goth. The evil nature of the genocidaires is another point of similarity. Hotel Rwanda, however, is not Africa’s Schindler’s List. The interstices of Rwandan history are too distinct from the trajectory of Hitler’s ‘Final Solution’. See, for instance, Mahmood Mamdani’s When Victims Become Killers (2001) and various accounts by Rene Lemarchand and Catherine and David Newbury. The picture one gets from the work of these scholars and historians is that one can only generalize Rwanda’s history at one’s peril. There is also nothing in Spielberg’s film to suggest that the holocaust occurred because of the old bogey of tribalism. Appreciation of important questions surrounding the contested nature of the discourse about Rwanda’s genocide is essential. Of interest are the ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’ significations, and the nature of the African postcolony. A consideration of these factors will help add coherence to the script of the film. In real life, Paul Rusesabagina was born to a Hutu father and a Tutsi mother. In Rwanda’s patrilineal tradition, he is thus officially a Hutu. The fact remains, however, that his is a hybrid identity. In the film, when asked

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at the bar, he conveniently designates himself as a Hutu. Terry George appears to milk this fact, with Paul unambiguously cast as a Hutu. We will need to take note of such active visual ‘removal’ in our later criticism of the concept of overprovision. More tension is likely to be generated by Paul being cast as ‘essentially’ Hutu, and not a mere compromising ‘ethnic’ blend. This strategy works, and audiences are drawn more to Paul because he has, at his own risk, bridged a ‘tribal’ chasm. Such a plot is closer to the ‘Nazi saves Jew’, ‘dog saves cat’, or ‘cat saves mouse’ stories. Any story of a vegetarian lion that grazes alongside herbivores will always be interesting to hear about and guaranteed to grab attention. In Hotel Rwanda, the filmmaker fully utilizes the essential formula of splitting and distancing two sides, and this prompts us back to the Manichean splitting of the world happening at the hotel. Making Paul belong to one side, rather than stay as a compromise, helps drive the story forward and creates story appeal. It is an old narrative trick- straightforward conflict between two opposing sides, with A pitted against B - in other words - Us/Them. In such a scenario, there is no confusion about what each side stands for. However, in critical light, the move is also flawed, totalizing Rwandans and reinforcing a stereotype: either you are Hutu or you are Tutsi. There can be no possibility of passage between the two: the stereotype, necessary for story ends, is reformed. Barthes (1977) has handily argued that a stereotype is at the bottom ‘a form of opportunism’ (Barthes: 199). The plugging of gaps and fissures - for the purpose of moving a plot forward – is ideologically selfish, as it ruins a nuanced understanding of how Banyarwandans relate to each other. It is a move that, on examination, manipulates tepid colonial classifications. It is worth noting that one of colonialism distinctive features is an ability to seal its subjects in airtight categories. Officially, there is no negotiation. The film has not shown much eagerness to question the state of affairs. In fact, it has found the status quo useful for visual and narrative purposes. Its visual-narrative fiction is fabricated upon an ideological fiction, so to speak. Such license to reinforce distortions raises problems for analysis. More than one layer of fabrication is one too many. Such license also poses questions about the filmmaker’s standpoint. In Hotel Rwanda, it brings us face to face with one of the film’s key questions: who is Hutu, and who is Tutsi? In one of the opening scenes in the hotel lobby, Paul talks to two journalists, one Rwandan and the other, a white man, Jack Daglish (Joaquin Phoenix). They discuss the question of the Tutsi-Hutu division.

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The discussion is interesting. The Rwandan journalist, Benedict, explains how politicians have manipulated divisions in Rwanda. This early critical discussion, one feels, is a sincere attempt to contextualize the unfolding genocidal tensions. Context, or the big picture, is a kind of obligatory ‘starter-pack’ for representation. Daglish, perhaps because he is a foreigner, is interested in knowing who is who in the bar. In response to his questioning, the camera leisurely pans to some young ladies relaxing in the bar. The ladies take turns to say, ‘I am Hutu’, and ‘I am Tutsi’. Paul himself, wiping some glasses, chirps ‘I’m Hutu’. The point is that, away from the manipulations of politicians, Tutsi and Hutu fraternize without problems. The hotel lobby, one feels, is once again going through a process of removal. It is being differentiated with the extremist chaos about to unfold outside. The bar is being marked as a plural space. It is placed far from the madding crowd of extremists. This conclusion appears consistent at first. Yet, it is misleading. The harmony is false. The lobby is as polarized as the streets. Why, for instance, is there no hint of strain as - one after the other - the patrons chorus ‘I am Hutu’ and ‘I am Tutsi’? All the speakers seem in no doubt that the signification of ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’ goes without saying. No one, it must be said, has bothered to define Tutsi or Hutu. For instance, it would be critical to know on what basis one emerges as Hutu or Tutsi. How does a Hutu breathe? How does a Tutsi walk, laugh or pee? In Hotel Rwanda, people do not talk ‘on’ the issue of Hutu and Tutsi. Instead, they talk ‘around’ it. The many nagging questions are minimized by a subtle process of common sense, with the camera being the biggest culprit, ‘listening’ to these exchanges through smooth pans and contemplative visual framings. As such, it encourages the prevailing discourse. More than just encouraging it, the camera ‘manufactures’ consent around such discourse. Context is suitably excised from the question of the ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’- in fact, the issue is neither represented as a question nor as a problem or a source of on-going debate. It is done up as matter-of-fact. In the movie, the debate on the problem of being ‘Hutu’ or ‘Tutsi’ is snubbed. The question, however, is critical if one is to construct the ‘big picture’ in Rwanda, a postcolony, as identities in a postcolony are not straightforward. The Hutu-Tutsi signification is an oversimplification which adds little or nothing to the understanding of Rwanda. The history of Rwanda itself does not begin or end in 1994; rather, it has been shaped over several centuries and is inextricably linked to the politics of the Great Lakes region whose history includes Burundi, Uganda, Tanzania and Eastern D.R.C. There were other genocidal conflicts in the region apart

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from the one in 1994. In 1972, there were mass killings of the Hutu by the Tutsi army in Burundi, with over 500, 000 dead. In 1993, Hutu killed many Tutsi. These two events in neighbouring Burundi were recognized as genocide in the final reports of the International Commission of Inquiry for Burundi presented to the United Nations Security Council (Wikipedia). Mamdani (2001) has studied the historical state of affairs in Rwanda, focusing on specific institutional histories, and found answers to the genocide at three sites. The first is the nature of political identities generated during colonialism. ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’, he argues, are political identities - creations of specific political institutions and processes; there is little evidence to suggest that they are ethnic or even class identities. The second theme relates to the failures of the nationalist revolution of the early 1960s to transcend these identities; politicians from both ‘sides’, rigged and essentialised identities to keep themselves in power. The last site is the regional demographic and political currents that reach beyond Rwanda (Joeden-Forgey: 8). Mamdani considers the intricate relationship of citizen and subject, both in the colony and postcolony. He sees genocide as part of longer-term historical cycles of violence. Rwanda is mired in violent hegemonic struggles. Mamdani recounts how ‘moderates’ and ‘accommodationists’ were wiped out in the postcolonial state of Rwanda. The politics of exclusion took hold (Mamdani, 2001: 126) and ideologies of exclusion in Rwanda were mythologized and manipulated partly to keep the population in constant fear of each other. This fear of both ‘Hutu Power’ and ‘Tutsi Power’ was conveniently fanned in 1994. The problem also had a regional dimension, linked to events in Burundi and Uganda (Mamdani: 191). Mamdani offers a poignant caveat: if identities in Rwanda and the region are kept in their corseted state, a grim repeat of 1994 is not unthinkable. The so-called Hamitic hypothesis, which sought to link the Tutsis with the biblical Ham, is a single-minded charade. Genetic studies on the Ychromosome have shown the Tutsi to be one hundred percent indigenous African (80% e3a, 4% e3, 1% e3b and 15%B), with little to no East African genetic influence. In effect, the so-called Tutsis are most genetically similar to ‘Hutus’. There is no discrete Tutsi or Hutu blood. In fact, before the Belgian colonial administration fixed ‘ethnic’ categories in the 1930s, one could be Tutsi one day, Hutu the next, and back to Tutsi again. The Hutu-Tutsi classification is a ‘typical process of the naturalization of the cultural’ (Barthes, 1977: 26). Hotel Rwanda falls short when it comes to constructing a sense of context. There is no framework for grasping the story’s overall ‘context of situation’. Instead, audiences are encouraged to see the ‘truth’ on surfaces.

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What is shown - since you see it - must be what there is. But is this so? We would be taking the film for granted if we forget that its discourse has been selected for us in advance. Certain vantage points have been excised and others promoted in their place. In this sense, Hollywood is the contemporary legatee of the Renaissance-framed canvas which only allowed the world to be seen from a pre-chosen, fixed point. The structured absences of Hotel Rwanda seem to extend from the concept that Africa has no history. Rwanda is reduced to a surface: what you see is all there is, there is no depth. As Hotel Rwanda lurches forward, questions return to haunt the text. Is Bizimungu’s compulsive thirst for Scotch, for instance, – ‘Ishca Baha’ as he likes to call it - a result of his being Hutu? Is Gregoire’s importunate treachery characteristic of Hutus? Are the madcaps on the streets looting because of their ‘tribe’? Is Tutsi synonymous with victim? Is being Hutu or Tutsi a political aspiration? Is it one’s economic means? Is it a spiritual unity? Is it a self? Is it one’s DNA? Is it an expectation, a shared value, or a morality? Is it organic? Is it a consciousness, an ideal, idea, vision or destiny? These questions are subtly bracketed out. The camera itself is impatient to plunge into the genocide proper, rather than attend to a bunch of thorny questions. In fact, the camera of Hotel Rwanda seems more at home photographing scenes like the one when the van lurches over a carpet of bodies in the river fog. The tiniest shake and crunch is painstakingly recorded for our benefit. Not once in Hotel Rwanda is Tutsi or Hutu defined. In the hotel bar sequence, the audience is silently persuaded to waiver its right of appeal. The camera, in its role as arbiter of meaning, imposes the Hutu-Tutsi masquerade on the audience. It shows us people who are already Hutu and Tutsi. It is as if these identities merely drop from the sky, or just sprout from the floor. In this short scene, the signification is naturalized, corseted and hardened. It seems as if the audience is being told: if you do not know that there are Hutus and Tutsis, you must have been hibernating. This, taken-for-granted is dodgy. The patrons in the hotel bar uphold the same opportunistic polarities that divide Rwanda. In fact, the shocking thing about the patrons’ selfdesignation is that it does not shock. The tribal leitmotif, repeated as habit, protects from shock. However, had Terry George not succumbed to opportunism, his film might have constituted a poignant critique. That is, breaking with the normative security of ‘how-things-are’ would have opened more visual doors and suggested fresher discursive possibilities. Instead, he exempts, forgives and acquits the great problem. Opportunism means that one has, for instance, conveniently packaged

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the Hutu-Tutsi story as a tale of unleashed age-old atavism. This kind of story sells. However, it also effectively disarticulates what it shows. The audience is asked to take up a specific attitude towards the genocide. Consequently, Hotel Rwanda makes a false start. Terry George fails to penetrate the Hutu-Tutsi smokescreen. It is a hegemonic alibi, a classifying and controlling signification and it is tolerated. The film reproduces ‘ethnicity’ as if it were self-evident. No visual proof is deemed necessary to show how a Hutu or Tutsi emerges. It is enough that one is Hutu or Tutsi. It is forgotten that Hutu and Tutsi are merely convenient substitutes for generalizing the diverse and multifarious nature of the Rwandan postcolony. The two forms are sets of prescriptions, and ideologies of closure by design, which flatten and dis-able by their sheer normative weight. One of Hotel Rwanda’s first problems is that it begins by trapping Rwandans inside a priori categories. It is as if Hutu-ness and Tutsi-ness were verifiable, as if one could have a Hutu or Tutsi unconscious ego. Hence, we are left watching subjects who for the most part have no subjectivity. All articulations of identity are now in the narrow terms of Hutu and Tutsi. Agency is crippled, dissent is out of the question. This is repressive discourse. Notably, agency is left for a chosen few, Paul Rusesabagina, for instance. The story takes place in a ‘tribalized’ visual space. The state of affairs in Rwanda is reduced to two despotic categories: Hutu and Tutsi. The uncritical use of Hutu and Tutsi as categories is an attempt to limit debate in fact, these words are deployed as a form of control. First, the human being is neatly erased. What is left is then suitably shackled to ‘tribe.’ Hutu and Tutsi are, therefore, given. They are so watertight that there is no contradiction and no exchange between them. It is as if mentioning ‘Hutu’ or ‘Tutsi’ is stating a fact. There is visual claustrophobia in Hotel Rwanda. The world is in partitions: one is ‘Hutu’, the other, ‘Tutsi’. The separations are airtight. Sealing humanity away like that, is to sanction schism and discord. It is an endorsement of genocide. The only way out left is killing the opponent. The film utilizes the same tribal ‘overload’ that makes genocide possible. Neither the characters nor the viewers of the film are allowed to shift for themselves when they encounter conceptual difficulties, because the issue has already been framed and made immutable. In this film, genocide has an ethnicity: it is Hutu. The camera works tautologically - in fact, tautology is a specific technique. The camera constructs for us a Hutu who is Hutu. In other words, it spares us the trouble of questioning the meaning of Hutu, if there is any. The camera’s

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means of constructing a Hutu is to show us an abject mob. Here, an arbitrary representation is pushed forward and induced into the visual domain. The archetypal Hutu is explained by ‘Hutu Power’: wildly coloured shirts and machetes flashing in the sun. Hutu power is fanaticism, Hutus are fanatics and fanatics are Hutus. In fact, this is particularly compelling visual syllogism, building from general statement to particular premise to conclusion, all by tautology. Nevertheless, the syllogism builds a singular visual fallacy. The fact that Hutus are fanatics makes Paul Rusesabagina stand out. “You are a very good man, Paul Rusesabagina”, says Tatiana, planting a kiss on his mouth. He is a Hutu who, somehow, is not a fanatic. It is as if one came across a cow that speaks perfect English or reads the evening newspaper. Paul is raised from the atavistic dust. He is raised by institutions. He is a token. In general, the Hutu is cast not so much as a human being as merely a type. This type, given a machete to work with, slides into its element. Thus, keeping with the technique of visual tautology, the Hutu is merely a Hutu. He lacks a face, a profile and a motive. He just explodes. The Hutu who does not have a context is a fetish. He shouts, loots, drinks, waves, dances, chases and kills because he is a Hutu. In short, he is a tautology. The tautology is a negation. A negation is a form of cancellation. It makes null. The Hutu’s humanity is put on hold. If he were human, perhaps he would be deserving of sympathy. Instead, he is merely a special type of psychopath. Collectively, Hutus represent the Hobbesian mob: they are the antithesis of the ‘noble’ Tutsi. Machetes fulfil the expectation of being Hutu, the archetypal face of genocide. As such, he does not deserve either sympathy, empathy or critical examination. The problem in Hotel Rwanda is overprovision: there is overprovision of Hutu-ness and Tutsi-ness. It is as if Rwanda has remained fixed in time or space, and this turns the movie into a spoof or self-parody. Overprovision is like overfeeding a baby, it ends up cloying sick. In terms of film or television, overprovision happens when directors and producers are anxious to put across a message with minimum confusion and debate. They load the image with pre-chosen markers, indicators, cues and designated pathways, with meaning deliberately kept on the surface. In an overprovided text, depth brings confusion. As such, it is avoided. The image is stripped down to its barest meanings. There ought not to be any major contradiction. In the end, the image is so nude that it is only a surface, a spectacle. Carried to extremes, overprovision washes out the image. The overfed baby has made the short journey from eating to become healthy, to finally being flatulent and sick. Overprovision negates

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itself. The opposite of overprovision is under-provision, when audiences are left to work out their own meanings. Audiences used to being overprovided with unambiguous meanings are not comfortable with underprovision. They find such films confusing. The opposite is also true. Overprovided texts are ‘self-evident’, underprovided ones are not. An illustration of overprovision is entertainment wrestling. It is ‘action packed’. As such, all its points are on the surface. Because it is mostly spectacle, there is no great need for reading between the lines. In fact, one who watches wrestling for poignant meanings will likely miss the ‘pure action’. Pure action is the point. The narrative is basic and repetitive. A is evil, B is good. A hates B. The feeling is mutual. They fight. A wins, thus evil wins. If B wins, the forces of good win. A draw means the battle will be continued later. And so on and so forth. The character called Undertaker acts the graveyard part, Doink clowns around, and the Bogey Man is supposed to be scary. All have particularized signature moves for dispatching opponents. Introductory music lets you know who is entering. They all enact customary gestures and stunt on entrance. The idea is to leave as little to the imagination as possible. Hotel Rwanda overprovides. The movie pushes significations to the surface in order to provide an unambiguous backdrop for the hotel drama. The majority of the characters are paper cut-outs. Hutus on the streets act their part, obstructing traffic, getting drunk, robbing and lopping off heads and ears. Bizimungu, Rutaganda and Gregoire, for instance, are hateful types. By contrast, the R.P.F inkotanyi are described in the script as “Pursuing, careful, professional” (Pearson & George: 115). Notably, the throng of Hutu refugees is mocked as one observes that they flee in the reverse direction. They are upside-down. The script tells us that “No longer a mob, (they are) now a crush of refugees” (Pearson & George: 114). Yet, they suffered from the genocide and its aftermath as much as the Tutsis. Why, for instance, does there seem to be more concern for the twelve dead lobsters than for the Hutu refugees? The movie overprovides because it does not allow audiences to make up their minds about characterization - it characterizes on their behalf. This leads to visual overfeed. They become like the poor flatulent baby. In other words, the Hutu-Tutsi signification is forced down the audience’s throat. Hotel Rwanda, in uncritically using these problematic significations, fails to look or think ahead. Terry George fails to propose new significations or integrate a critique of institutions in Rwanda. Instead, he sets up the Hutu-Tutsi signification as a super-fact. The Hutu-Tutsi signification submerges individuals. As a label, its immense power is to attract attention. But as a way of life, it explains

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nothing. ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’ are mystifications – soaked with determinism. They are concepts for manufacturing consent on behalf of exploitive institutions. The film fails to flush out the institutions behind the concepts, the wolves in sheepskin. Institutions force a convenient forgetting of complex ‘truths’. In their place is substituted a system of negations. History is reduced to a question: which side are you on? In fact, generalization of the Hutu-Tutsi signification turns any study of Rwanda into a robotics. People, willed by ‘tribal’ affiliation, are no longer free agents but humanoids. It is ridiculous to allege that people kill because of their ‘tribe’. People act for a reason. Tutsi and Hutu are not reasons. The act of killing, like the act of not killing, is a clear choice. One must find specific causes. It is not enough to suggest that Hutus kill Tutsis simply because the latter are ‘cockroaches’. This is false. Philo (1999) has correctly pointed out that each conflict in Africa emerges from a particular history (Philo, 1999: 227). The origins of the Hutu-Tutsi construct must be called into question. What is missing is an account of complex power interests at work. One must refigure the conception of Hutu and Tutsi. This is necessary if the signification is not to remain oppressive. There is need to dissect the alphabet of power inscribed behind the construct. The question is: Who benefits from this blocking and refrigeration of relations? There is hegemony at work in Rwanda. Hegemony stages things. It stages relationships and passes them off as natural. It also functions best when no one questions its logic. As such, it is a cover-up. The Hutu-Tutsi signification is one such cover-up, an alibi for those who govern. It is a leitmotif habituating people to certain ways of looking at the world. Its purpose is to mask the hands fiddling with the levers of power. The networks of institutions running things in Rwanda disarticulate their own citizens. This happens for purposes of extending surveillance and control. However, one cannot see the institution at work because it is not a physical object. It is not something one can arrest and throw in jail. The process, like all hegemonic processes, works invisibly. It is a wolf in sheepskin. There is a big wolf in the ‘Hutu-Tutsi’ sheepskin. The script is based on a ‘true story’. What is a ‘true’ story, anyway, and who is doing the basing? ‘Hutu’ and ‘Tutsi’ are, in fact, very important terms. They are critical because they represent the last stage of ideology. This last stage erupts in violence. What seems like visual education about the genocide is more or less visual coercion. There is a subtle form of conceptual repression in the frame of the film because imagination is restricted. Everything is bound in the calculus of violence. Hollywood films about Africa normally tend not

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to be about ‘dreams’. The archetypal ‘dream factory’ does not fit with ease in the African mise-en-scene. To some extent, Hollywood cinema about Africa is a cinema of nightmares. Films such as Black Hawk Dawn, The Interpreter, Blood Diamond, Last King of Scotland, and Lord of War seem to bear this out. In these films, Africa is a stylized mise-en-scene of disaster, a mere death-zone. Hotel Rwanda is different. It seems to have more potential for nuance. For instance, Paul’s dilemma is partly the dilemma of negotiating survival in the postcolony. Mbembe (2001) maps the space of the postcolony, noting that the postcolony is a violent place. The postcolonial state is reformed as a technology of domination. Methods of government rest on manipulation, indiscriminate violence and high-level corruption (p.86). Oppressor and oppressed have both become abstracted and amorphous and seem to occupy the same space. As notions of law and order collapse in the postcolony, says Mbembe, there is a proliferation of internal borders. These schisms give rise to exclusionary practices which in turn lead to pogroms, even genocide (p.87). When Bizimungu shouts at Paul that “Rwandan francs are only good now for wiping your arse”, he is expressing the economic, as well as, psychic inflation common in the postcolony. “You are on your own now”, he adds. The postcolony can be an immensely lonely place. One is often on his or her own even whilst crushed in the midst of crowds. When Paul runs out of bribes, he feels rather ‘left alone’. Mbembe notes that the postcolonial relationship is not primarily a relationship of resistance or of collaboration. It can be best characterized as convivial (p.104). In the film, Paul is convivial with the powers that be – at least to a point. He has a network of associates like Bizimungu and Rutaganda. The hands of these men are not clean. In fact, the men are a cluster of crooks. But he does business with them all the same. Bribes pass this way and that. Paul’s devious friends are partly responsible for saving lives at the hotel. Rutaganda sells him a quantity of stores - beans and rice - and Bizimungu offers limited protection. However, these same men could easily turn around and murder him along with everyone at the Mille Collines. In fact, they almost do. Such are the intermeshed relations in the postcolony. In fact, there is not a lot of time or space in which to moralize. The whole thing is a brutal, underground economy. Alfred Ndahiro (Paul Kagame’s Communications Advisor) and Privat Rutazibwa have co-authored a book titled Hotel Rwanda – or the Tutsi Genocide as seen by Hollywood (2008). The authors make several attacks on Paul Rusesabagina. They accuse him of mixing with killers. They also

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claim that certain ‘true’ things which happened at the hotel are never shown in the film. Using interviews of people who were at the hotel during the genocide, they attempt to ‘prove’ that Paul is not a hero but a scoundrel. The Prime Minister, Mr. Bernard Makuza, thanked the authors for ‘using their intellectual capacity to tell the international community the real truth’. Makuza notes that all Rusesabagina’s deeds were not of humanitarian but economic nature. In other words, Paul is a fraud – a Hutu pirate. The book fails to note two critical points. The first is that the medium of film never actually shows the truth. Both the makers of Hotel Rwanda and its detractors are wrong in arguing over the truth content of the film. Films do not contain the truth. They contain cinema. Films are symbolic creations. Both camps are looking from the wrong end of the telescope. In fact, Ndahiro, Rutazibwa and Makuza should be encouraged to bring together all the interviews in the book, and use these for a script. They should then try to make a more ‘truthful’ Hotel Rwanda. This movie would make interesting viewing! Secondly, Ndahiro and Rutazibwa naively seek for a world of heroes and villains, and of the good and the bad. Rwanda is not such a place. Its history is too complex to be reduced to binaries. Moreover, innocent and pure people have never really existed. Paul, true to the life of the postcolony, manipulates situations to suit himself. In doing so, he also helps others. At least, this is the film version. The attempt to reduce Paul to a villain is as naïve as the accounts that seek to make him a hero. He is neither. He is just a postcolonial subject, negotiating survival in a situation where spaces have been redrawn and temporalities intermeshed. By far, Hotel Rwanda’s most nuanced – and emotionally-heightened – sequence is when the buses come to get the Europeans. This scene dramatizes – through poignant visual and musical effect – the sick logic for placing humans on a scale of values. In this scene, whites are shown as having more human value. The soundtrack builds to a crescendo, expressing the fever-pitch excitement of the refugees. However, the sound plunges to an abrupt silence as the crowd realizes that there are not enough buses. Only Europeans and select Africans can leave. All this happens in driving rain. The rain washes away hope. But it also brings forth new resolve in the refugees. It takes with it the whites, leaving the Africans to decide what to do with their lives. It is both abandonment and a new start. In the buses sequence, two things worthy of note occur. The first is the arrival of a group of French nuns with a crush of Rwandan children in tow. Since the order is that only white people are to be rescued, the French soldiers begin to separate and drag the nuns into the buses. Several nuns weep hysterically, trying to pull some Rwandan children with them. This

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is very touching. But it is also ironical. To tie nuns to children is to create an amusing paradox. Nuns are women who turn their backs on sexual reproduction. The hysteria around the children, therefore, is bound to be droll. A more important point, however, concerns the colonial work of the Catholic Church. The Church, along with the Belgian administration, was behind the colonial record-keeping in the 1930s that fixed Hutus and Tutsis into airtight ethnic partitions. Ethnic partitioning destroys interaction and leads to confusion and violence. The 1934 Rwandan census was the culmination of the Church’s work of institutionalizing ‘ethnicities’. Each person was issued an identity card classifying them as Hutu, Tutsi or Twa (Twa constitute 1% of Rwandans). To be sure, it was not these particular French nuns who were behind the record-keeping. The census happened sixty years before. However, the Catholic Church is one of the institutions responsible for poisoning the Hutu-Tutsi signification. As such, the Church has a lot to answer for, concerning the violent cycles in postcolonial Rwanda. Furthermore, in the 1994 Civil War, Rwandan Catholic priests were convicted of genocide. Churches in Nyamata, Ntarama and Nyange, for instance, were sites of massacres. The second point worthy of note in the buses sequence is the behaviour of Colonel Oliver. After learning from the Italian and French troops that only Europeans are to get on the buses, he pulls off his beret and throws it on the ground. He is livid. He gestures angrily at the French and Italian officers. He walks off, returns briefly to retrieve his beret, and finally storms into the lobby. Paul follows him to the bar. He asks him what drink he would have. ‘Anything Strong’, says the Colonel. He gets his strong drink. He also starts using strong words. These are words such as ‘fuck’, ‘bullshit’ and nigger. The Colonel’s discourse is quite interesting. He alleges that Paul would own the Mille Collines, if only he was not a black person. “You are fucking black!” says Colonel Oliver. “You are not even a nigger, you’re African.” He pauses. After the pause, during which he downs his strong drink, the Colonel adds: “They are not staying to stop this thing. They are gonna be flying right out of here with their people ... They are only taking whites.” His mood is combustible. Something seems to have got him in a rage. The general statement about Africans not even being ‘niggers’ is worth a second look. It is a rant at Europe and America’s racism. It suggests that the United Nations that the Colonel represents are only united in shame. He is so angry that he swears. Swearing is a mark of his profound dismay. This emotion is fine. It would be interesting, however, to know what Colonel Oliver implies by ‘nigger’. The meaning of a phrase such as

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‘fucking black’ also needs to be made clear. When he says ‘their people’, what does he mean? He says that the French and Italians are not staying ‘to stop this thing’. What thing? If he is referring to genocide, it would be useful to also compare if the ‘Jewish Holocaust’ could be referred to in such vague terms as ‘this thing’. Colonel Oliver makes the genocide sound like a misunderstanding between drunken neighbours. It is not clear if this is intentional. By using words like ‘fuck’, ‘bullshit’ and ‘nigger’, the Colonel shows that he is not amused. He has no time to sound polite. He tells it like it is. He is a friend of Africans. However, his rant is also suspicious. When did he start having these bold feelings against whites? Against whom is his anger really directed? Who exactly is a racist? And who is not? Suppose ‘they’ had hung around to stop ‘this thing’, would that have been a sign of non-racism? In actual fact, in the 1960s in Congo, there was a much bigger U.N presence. However, it failed to prevent either Lumumba’s or Dag Hammarskjöld’s murder, or to stop the subsequent descent into chaos. In fact, the world body was heavily implicated in the fiasco. The Colonel’s dilemma sounds false. His anger is opportunistic. It is also self-righteous. Repressive discourse, says Barthes (1977), is the discourse of goodconscience, liberal discourse’ (Barthes, 1977: p. 209). The predicament of Terry George’s camera is how not to see Rwanda from a privileged centre. The Hollywood camera has no ontology for doing so. This is evidenced in the unquestioning acceptance of the HutuTutsi signification. Seeing from the privileged centre is a Renaissance heritage. It is typical of the ‘gaze’ of the Hollywood lens. This gaze fails to see that it is neither pity nor judgment that the Rwandans need. The problem with this lens is that it fails to see the margins. Interestingly, it is at the margins that ordinary Africans have been situated, if not dumped, by modern history and institutional processes of power. It is where they subsist and work from. To see them at all, one needs to have a far more sensitive lens than one which operates only through series of visual negations and tautologies. The Hollywood camera is not flexible enough to turn its ‘neck’ to see alternative accounts. In fact, the centre of the Hollywood lens is representative of a totalizing, panoptic vision of the world. When Hollywood gazes at Africa, it has difficulty focusing. It keeps seeing militias swarming at enervated victims. Or it sees food shortages and hopping wildlife. It appears the Hollywood’s gaze legitimates stereotypes precisely because it knows no other way of approaching the multiple realities of the world that is not Europe or America. It is a dilemma of ontology. When the famous Cuvier dissected Saartjie Baartman, for example, his

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conclusions could only confirm Europe’s chauvinistic views. This is an authority for looking beyond the text. It is sanctioned by the existing structural worldview. Nuanced, informed uses of the camera are not a common element of Hollywood’s gaze. When it gazes at Africa, it sees something that exists through a process of not existing: a persistent absence and a negation. Or it sees an importunate obstacle: a world that cannot be transformed. Hollywood’s starting point appears to be the world ‘as it is’, not as it is not. This is the source of its conceptual limitation. There is no possibility of a sustained questioning of the status quo.

Filmography Black Hawk Down, Blood Diamond (Edward Zwick 2006). Gladiator Hotel Rwanda (Terry George, 2004). Last King of Scotland (Kevin Macdonald, 2006). Lord of War, Interpreter, The, Schindler’s List (Stephen Spielberg, 1993).

Bibliography Mamdani, Mahmood, 2001, When Victims become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and Genocide in Rwanda. Princeton Univ. Press, 2001. Pearson, Keir & George, Terry, “Hotel Rwanda Draft Script”. Rusesabagina, Paul & Zoellner, Tom, 2006, An Ordinary Man. USA: Penguin Group. von Joeden-Forgey, Elisa, “A review of Mamdani’s book, When Victims become Killers’ http://press.princeton.edu/titles/7027.html http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwanda http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burundi_genocide http://www.everyculture.com/ www.hrw.org/reports/1999/rwanda/#P207_86794 www.hrw.org/reports/1999/rwanda/#P212_90751 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hutu_Power http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwanda http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tutsi http://www.newtimes.co.rw/index.php?issue=13470&article=4910 http://press.princeton.edu/titles/7027.html http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwanda Genocide

CHAPTER IX WOMEN IN MOROCCAN CINEMA: BETWEEN TRADITION AND MODERNITY AZIZ CHAHIR DEPARTMENT OF POLITICAL SCIENCES UNIVERSITY OF HASSAN II CASABLANCA – MOROCCO

Introduction This chapter was based on two dozen films dealing with Moroccan women in relation to important philosophical, sociological and political matters such as identity, values, tradition, modernity, democracy and religion. The status of women has been a recurring theme in Moroccan cinema since the mid-seventies. The filmmakers’ commitment to defend the rights of women comes mainly from a desire to assert a political identity imbued with values of democracy and modernity. The treatment of female characters in Moroccan cinema has become an ideological battleground between ‘modernists’ and ‘conservative’ actors defending different cultural and religious models. With the rise of Islamism and communautarism, the ‘modernists’ have experienced difficulties using female characters in films to destroy taboos in patriarchal and macho society. Most filmmakers have addressed this subject more or less directly through works of fiction or semi-documentary films. We can count at least thirty feature films whose topics relate specifically to women. In spite of the fact that these films are not all of equal artistic value and are not of the same sociological and aesthetic standard, some of them like Mohamed Abderrahmane Tazi’s Seeking a Husband for My Wife (1994) and Saâd Chraibi’s film, Women and Women (1998) have been commercially successful and are well received by critics, for example At first glance, it seems that Moroccan filmmakers prefer to treat the subject of women through the presence of major female characters in their

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films. What are the reasons for such an artistic choice? It is probably a way to represent social reality, using film to deal with a social theme or a firm and resolute commitment to initiate cultural change in society through the extension of the theme of women in Moroccan cinema. It could also be a way of defending universal values of modernity in a traditional conservative society which continues to claim cultural and religious puritanism (Islam, Arabism or Amazighism). The relationship between tradition and modernity has also found a place in this debate since the 1970s. At the time, intellectuals were influenced by a leftist ideology that advocated that women be regarded as equal to men. Among these intellectuals were filmmakers and militants convinced that art and culture possess the ability to start a real change policy that politics and officials were sometimes unable to generate. Several filmmakers considered here, such as Moumen Smihi who had an ethnographic training in France, have a university degree in social sciences and humanities.

Arts, Cultures and Ideologies The film could be a tool of societal transformation. In Morocco, some filmmakers have chosen to initiate a modernist project highlighting the role of the female character in all social strata. The militant attitude and commitment of filmmakers, Moroccan leftist adherents, for the most part, is reflected in their art. Club and moviegoers, mostly intellectuals, have encouraged the emergence of a film criticism culture led by a ‘new wave’ of young filmmakers. Their focus on societal change towards modernity seemed to dwell mainly on the freedom of enslaved women from the grip of a patriarchal and conservative society. Cultural renaissance was conceived as a weapon against the ideological hegemony of tradition and religion which, according to these modernist filmmakers, conveys values of slavery and discrimination against women in particular. The voice of women in Moroccan cinema was also the voice of artists’ eager recourse to modernity, with filmmakers defending values like freedom, social justice and progress. This was a rather ambitious goal in a society where macho pathos seemed to dominate artistic representations and social behaviour especially in an environment bedevilled by poverty and illiteracy. Since the mid-1970s, the Moroccan woman has emerged as the symbol of a film genre that rejects the dominance of traditional values. Women’s activism has become more visible, as proved by the number of films screening women. The voice and image of the female is used to denounce social and cultural archaisms (forced marriage, polygamy, sexual and

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economic exploitation, social discrimination, etc.). In this quest for an identity freed from the legacy of tradition and customs, female characters are used in Moroccan cinema to sensitize the society on the seriousness of the situation of women and protest against women’s discrimination at political, social, economic and cultural levels. Current Moroccan filmography attests to a cultural activism using female characters to defend the values of modernity and progress. The woman thus becomes the symbol of intellectuals and artists’ struggle against traditional Arab-Muslim societies. It would be interesting to describe this process of change initiated by the artists, which involves the use of the female character as an ideological marker of a modernist identity. From the foregoing, we can ask the following questions: what are the elements used by the advocates of a modern cinema to counter the hegemony of the domination of the “pathos” in Moroccan society? What are the manifestations of the desire of some Moroccan filmmakers to propagate the values of modernity and change in the treatment of women? What is the impact of the presence of female characters in Moroccan films on social representations and perceptions? In other words, to what extent does the emergence of women in Moroccan cinema contribute to societal transformations especially in the Moroccan value system? Has the portrayal of female characters contributed to a transformation of the role of women as central players in the emergence of a democratic society? Has the new emphasis on the filmic female character helped to change traditional and religious values which dominate Moroccan society? Despite the complexity of these issues, we will attempt, in this chapter, a sociological study of the Moroccan filmography which deals specifically with women. Our goal is not to carry out a comprehensive description of the issues raised by filmmakers. Rather, our approach is to identify the key concepts that are shown in Moroccan films whose characters are mainly women. These concepts represent the matrix which the filmmakers use to discuss, consciously or unconsciously, the societal value systems. Our underlying assumption is that cultural productions, films in this case, could encourage the emergence of political ideologies that may convey ideas likely to effect a societal change. In our case, it would be a transition to a democratic society, more open to the values of modernity and progress and less hung on traditional values and religious principles. In this chapter, we will try to deal with several points. First, we will throw some light on the attempt by Moroccan filmmakers to make the female a symbol of a double process - democratization and modernization. Then, we will examine the gender approach adopted by the Moroccan

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cinema, and the position of the woman in the society, as well as the discrimination and social injustice which women are subjected to in some Moroccan films. The article also focuses on the importance of the family in the transmission of values, the Moroccan woman’s values in particular. The treatment of women’s issues in relation to sex and religion is also highlighted. Finally, the article concludes on the impact of the female figure on the Moroccan cinema and the filmmakers’ ability to encourage a culture of modernist ideology

The “Gender Approach” in the Moroccan Cinema In Moroccan cinema, women have always been subjected to a special treatment reflecting an immanent “gender segregation”. In a patriarchal society, the phallocratic model reduces women to liabilities. This is reflected in many films which present Moroccan females suffering from systematic discrimination from men and sometimes even from other women. The new Moroccan cinema seems to adopt a gender approach, which calls, inter alia, for equality of rights for women. This approach is practiced by filmmakers who argue in favour of women’s liberation in an environment marked by the dominance of traditional values. This includes films identifying with a modern world where women are not reduced to a mere object of desire or devoted to their husband and his family to the exclusion of all other interests. This image is undoubtedly the evidence of a modernist ideology.

Women between the Community and Society Ferdinand Tönnies makes a distinction between community and society. The first is related to tradition, blood ties and prescribed statutes while the second is a sign of modernity since it is based on the rule of law, individual’s interests and acquired status (Tönnies, 1887, PUF, 1944). Popular culture is one of the themes of choice in Moroccan cinema. In 1975, Moumen Smihi was one of the first Moroccan filmmakers to have interrogated the status of women in traditional society. In his first feature film, Chergui Violent or Silence (1975), he highlighted the status of women weighed down by magical and sacred practices in a patriarchal society. The film was an indictment of the treatment meted out to women, particularly against polygamy in traditional communities. Using an ethnographic approach, the film was able to throw light on the entrenchment of a culture in the collective memory with all its implications and its impacts on the lives of Moroccan women (housewives and working women).

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To obtain her freedom, the woman should be absolutely free from the weight of traditions, customs and superstitious beliefs. Filmmakers call upon women to imbibe a ‘civic culture’ based on gender equality, a questioning attitude, individual empowerment, rational choice, citizenship - in short, everything pertaining to democratic values, to promote the emergence of a modern society. The influence of popular culture on the Moroccan society has been discussed in several films celebrating female characters. One of these is Seeking The Husband of my Wife (1994) by Mohamed Abderrahmane Tazi. Despite its commercial success, the film deals with a social theme and tells the story of traditional, men-dominated women. The film also shows a certain sisterhood under the influence of patriarchal values through oral history, using the vehicle of comedy from the popular Moroccan culture (rites of celebration, marriage, jokes and tricks of women, etc.).

Family and Social Integration Moroccan cinema has sought to bring to light the roots of traditional values in Moroccan society. Several filmmakers have stressed the importance of the family as a vehicle for social integration, in particular, through the dissemination of standards and traditional values. Here, we take the founding concept from the work of Durkheim namely, social integration. For the founding father of sociology, the family plays a central role in social cohesion through the transmission of values and standards to avoid anomy. The female character is often filmed in a conservative environment where the father, mother or brother, are trying to inculcate social norms that keep women in a position of submission. In several feature films, the conservative characters are trying to justify this attitude by harping on the importance of the family in maintaining social cohesion. The patriarchal school explains the inferior status of women by invoking the need to maintain the solidarity of the married couple and the stability of the family at the expense of the woman’s personal development and advancement. This vision is considered as “backward” by several Moroccan filmmakers who defend a model of social integration based on freedom of women and their individual empowerment within the family as well as in the professional world. To facilitate the transmission of modern values, families should teach their children, girls and boys, the principles of equality and mutual respect in order to promote the emergence of a balanced society. Some movies are trying to clarify the ambiguous

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relationship between tradition and modernity. One of these movies is Ahmed Maânouni’s, Alyam Alyam [Days, Days] (1978). Alyam Alyam presents a female character, the archetypal model of a traditional woman, steeped in tribal values. This female character tries to prevent her son from leaving home because he is responsible for the family legacy. This is also true of Mohamed Abderrahmane Tazi’s Badis (1988). The film describes the situation of women in a patriarchal and tribal society marked, in particular, by the feelings of oppression in marriage and family. The film is a rallying cry for the liberation of women. The scene of the stoning of women in the river remains a strong and striking scene reflecting the discrimination that has been the traditional portion of women in the society. According to the filmmakers of the ‘new wave’, traditional values should not remain dominant in social representations because they are likely to delay the community’s transition process towards a democratic and modern society.

Discrimination against Women and Social Injustice Moroccan cinema was intended to reflect social reality with its portrayal of misery and injustice especially against women. Thus, many filmmakers have devoted special attention to women, denouncing social discriminations which they are subjected to in the family, at work, and sometimes even among fellow women. The female character becomes a symbol of struggle against injustice inflicted upon women in all social strata. In a conservative and oppressed society, the film is, indeed, a form of artistic expression that allows artists to denounce social discrimination. This is a theme dear to Marxist philosophy, which advocates socialism inherent in progress and modernity. One of the films dealing with social discrimination affecting women is Jilali Ferhati’s Reed Dolls (1981), based on everyday life of the ordinary women and which shows the economic and sexual exploitations of women. It reveals how women are recruited for domestic work and human trafficking. Several other Moroccan films show the blatant injustice which mainly affects women. Moroccan cinema is also an indirect way to make social demands, starting with the denunciation of women’s marginalization. Many feature films illustrate the class struggle which was the dream of Moroccan intellectuals and filmmakers at the time the Marxist-Leninist ideology was popular. With the evolution of society and the emergence of new values, committed filmmakers continue to use female characters to denounce conservatism and defend the freedom of women and of democratic values

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that promote individual empowerment and human rights. These filmmakers include Mohamed Tazi for his film, Lala Chafia [The Lady of Healing] (1982). The film tackles the lives of women, detailing their involvement in strenuous and monotonous work and enslaving customs, and their unattainable dreams. The film tells the story of a rural woman who decides to leave the family home to live in the city, attracted by its modernity. The film describes the rural environment with its traditional values, customs and rituals (forced marriage, widowhood practices, representation and beliefs related to the cult of saints, magical practices etc.). Another film belonging to the same genre is Saâd Chraïbi’s Women and Women (1998). The screenplay was written by a woman (Fatima Boukili, a human rights activist) who tries to describe the women’s struggle for freedom. The film tells the story of four Moroccan women, friends from youth, who meet after years of separation. They fight to establish themselves and occupy a worthy place in society, each in her own way, each with her temperament. Hakim Noury’s Stolen Children (1993) also falls within this category. The film deals with the problem of domestic servants in a traditional society. Socialist-inspired, the film tries to show in a new light the fate of working women who are sometimes victims of discrimination and exploitation in a society saturated by traditional values. These women desire freedom but fail to achieve the financial independence which is the key to total independence. These filmmakers focus on female characters who aspire to financial and social independence through work. We can see here a typology of female characters: working women, teacher or journalist holding positions of responsibility. Through these female characters, the filmmakers of the ‘new wave’ are trying to protect a cultural model of rationality based on the promotion of women’s rights and break from an outdated model that submits women to traditional values and patriarchal domination.

Women, Power and Authority Moroccan cinema intends to restore women’s authority in the society through the enhancement of their status. The question of power is raised consistently, especially in the feature films where women play the main role, trying to cope with a patriarchal family or to establish themselves by confronting an authoritarian father or brother. This struggle by women through the filmic image reflects a competition for power within their society. The camera tries to reproduce, artistically, the strength of the woman,

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her capacity for endurance, her intelligence and determination to take part in the development of society. These filmmakers denounce the devaluation of women, which deprives the society of a social capital that could contribute to its prosperity. The presence of women in Moroccan cinema translates into the fact that in the real world, women desire to survive in the world of work, seeking autonomy, rebelling against male domination, trying to liberate themselves, take control and full ownership of their bodies and become assertive despite social restrictions. The female character becomes an effective way to convey a societal model that promotes a balance between the powers of women and men. In so doing, the Moroccan society could benefit from a plea to foster the idea of equality and respect for law. The main objective of the filmmakers is to promote modernity, hoping that Moroccan families can join a democratization process that allows women to gain power. In other words, women should have access more easily to positions of responsibility and be able to make decisions in different areas (marital, family, social and professional).

Female Body, Sex and Religion The insistence of many filmmakers on female subjects emanates mainly from a desire to claim freedom for women, their body, desires and passions. This goes against a conservative society where traditional values consider women as an object of desire, intended primarily to meet the needs of human flesh and perform household chores. The question of the female body and its sexual liberation has been addressed by several Moroccan filmmakers. Through these films, they tried to celebrate the female body in both its beauty and ugliness. What counts above all is to be able to empower women and for society to recognize their basic right over their own body. The aim is to show, on the big screen, all the fascinating details surrounding the female body especially in the erotic and mysterious quests for love and passion. This, according to filmmakers of the ‘new wave’, is an indication of modern freedom, something opposed by traditional societies where conservative families try to keep the woman as a prisoner of beliefs, a viewpoint encouraged by a particular interpretation of religion. Several Moroccan filmmakers have tried to break taboos and focus their attention on women’s bodies through erotic scenes, and sometimes, sexual ones. The filmmakers’ vision is the woman’s freedom of thought expressed through the freedom of her body. An example of such films is Fatima Jabliya Ouazzani’s In my Father’s House (1998). The

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film deals with the status of women as individuals and examines ancestral values that prevent their empowerment and freedom under the constraints of slavery, servitude and discrimination. The film reveals the importance of traditional values like virginity and marriage for women in a patriarchal society. Some films like Mohamed Abouloukar’s Hadda (1999) (in Arabic, Hadda is an old name for Moroccan women) have focused on the social, economic and sexual exploitation of women. The film tells the story of a woman stuck in a patriarchal society, with a scenario of rape and rites of fertility. Abdelmejid Rchich’s Story of a Rose (1999) provides a similar example. The film deals with the status of women in their relationship with men and offers a reflection on love, affection, freedom and desire in a traditional society. More recently, Narjiss Najar’s blockbuster, Dry Eyes (2003), deals with women’s prostitution in rural areas. This subject has remained a taboo in the Moroccan society, despite the existence of a significant number of prostitutes. The impact of the film is even more important when we learn that the filmmaker has chosen the rural areas, where traditional values are dominant, to locate her film which received several international awards. However, social and religious considerations prevent some filmmakers from explicitly addressing certain themes regarding women. Popular culture assumes that the exhibition of the body and of sexual acts in public, even in movies, is against accepted moral and social ethics. Religion helps to strengthen social responsibility to the extent that the female body is presented, not as an object of desire, but as a source of temptation and sin. From a strictly religious point of view, filming a sexual act is considered illegal and incurs punishment according to the precepts of Islamic law (Charia). In other words, sexuality in cinema is forbidden and against the religion. Some filmmakers try to go against this logic, considering the female body as the ultimate manifestation of beauty and love. In some movies, modernist filmmakers address the problem of the body, particularly in relation to prostitution, sexual frustration, infidelity and adultery. The aim of the ‘new wave’ Moroccan cinema is to spread a humanist cultural model in which women claim their freedom, not only on the screen, but also in reality and everyday life. But the rise of Islamic movements does not allow these filmmakers who present themselves as modernists, to speak freely, as they run the risk of being banned by religious organizations and marginalized by the society. The proponents of political Islam believe that Western ideology, which defends the nakedness of women, in particular, leads to decay and immorality. This explains the

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insistence of Islamist leaders that the woman wears a veil to hide her body as did the women of the Muslim prophets. In 2003, the Islamic Party of Justice and Development (PJD) publicly called for the banning of Nabil Ayouch’s A Minute of Sun Less (2003). The event created a political and media scandal that led to the banning of the film in Moroccan cinemas. The Islamists criticized many scenes in the film as “obscene”. The sequences that came under severe criticism are three in number. In the first scene, the two protagonists, Kamal and Naïma, frolic naked on a bed, the man lying on his stomach and the woman straddling him. In the second scene, both characters are again naked. This time, Naïma introduces her finger into the man’s anus, using it as a dildo. In the third and final stage in question, the two protagonists are having sex while wrapped in a blanket (A Minute of Sun Less by Nabil Ayouch, 2003). The filmmaker calls for gender equality and encourages women to take power by breaking the chains of slavery and sexual frustration. The filmmaker also calls the woman to fully assume her status and femininity by claiming her right to love, pleasure and enjoyment. The issue of the female body and its relationship to religion and morality has, a few years ago, been taken up by two women filmmakers. As earlier mentioned, in 2003, Narjiss Najjar made a film that generated much controversy. The film, titled Dry eyes, deals with prostitution in the rural areas. In 2006, another filmmaker, Leïla El Marrakchi produced a film titled Marrock. It was a daring film despite its poor artistic quality, especially in its acting. The filmmaker has attempted to describe the life of the youthful bourgeois which precipitates a clash between tradition and modernity, thereby exacerbating social tension. The film is a reflection of the emancipation of Moroccan girls and the family influence. In the film, the filmmaker deals with the very important issue of religious tolerance. Marrock is also centred on the issue of love. It features Jewish-Muslim love in a very dramatic way. The film has been criticized by the PJD as “an offense against religion and morality.” Islamist deputies have also called for banning the film in cinemas, but the authorities have shown restraint and refused censoring it. Basically, it seems clear that the new wave cinema was inspired by the female fight against the conservatism of the Moroccan society. Filmmakers committed to Western culture have increased the number of films through which they try to celebrate women’s bodies, desires and even sexual frustrations in a society where religious beliefs and the weight of traditional values are still prevalent. Despite this, one can conclude that conservatives, including Islamists, continue to advocate for traditional values rooted in popular culture in order to resist new filmmakers. Despite

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the fact that the Conservatives do not have their own style of filmmaking, they do not hesitate to mobilize the masses to counter the rise of modernist filmmakers, some of which are close to the adherents of leftist parties. In addition, the Conservatives are supported in their action by people in disadvantaged areas marked by the hegemony of religious values and traditional ways of life.

Female Identity between Islam and Secularism The issue of women in Moroccan cinema reveals an ideological struggle between supporters of tradition and modernity advocates. Through the `seventh art`, modernists and traditionalists engage in a struggle to assert a particular cultural identity. The first mark their commitment to the principles of progress and freedom while the latter appear committed to a social conservatism often inherent in religious particularism. This cultural competition goes back to the late 1980s through Farida Belyazid, born in 1948 in Tangier. She studied in Paris and has made Women’s wiles and Casablanca (2002). Her film, Gate of Heaven (1988), highlights the importance of religious values in the identity of Moroccans. The film captures the renaissance of religion through the story of a modern woman. The attraction is the sacred awakening of a deep religiousness in the protagonist. The ritual of her father’s funeral reveals her social conditioning and beliefs, especially the importance of childhood in the resurgence of religious feelings. The emphasis on religion in Moroccan cinema is evidenced through the female characters in search of identity and whose personality is often torn between tradition and modernity, between progress and freedom on one hand and solidarity and community on the other, between religion and secularism, the West and Islam, universalism and particularism. Films such as Abdelhay Iraki’s Mona Saber (2002) try to treat women with respect as they search for an identity. The film deals with the question of women’s identity of a woman and their thirst for freedom. This is also true of Hassan Benjelloun’s Trial of a Woman (2002), an indictment of discrimination, violence and divorce. The quest for identity of FrancoMoroccan women is caught between traditional and modern values. The film also deals with the legal and political situation of Moroccan women. Currently, the female character in Moroccan cinema seems to be the weapon in the symbolic fight by any modernist filmmaker that attempts to counter the hegemony of the conservative current committed to Islamic values and traditions. This war of cultures is not limited to the cinema, but is also reflected in the ideological field. Indeed, it must be remembered

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that the Moroccan political system is a divine monarchy based on religious legitimacy. Therefore, the monarch is often embarrassed to take a position between tradition and modernity. To break the impasse, it appears that a synthesis of these cultures or ideological currents (modernist, conservative, liberal) exists within the society. Indeed, when the Islamists protest against the immoral nature of a film, the central government is often forced to make concessions to conservatives. On many occasions, the authorities had banned the screening of films which show scenes of sex, describing them as “antireligious”. Currently, the authorities may seem to be more conciliatory with modernists, but they do not hesitate to use censorship to ban films that show scenes of a sexual nature. Despite some resistance, Moroccan cinema seems determined to push modernist values through the involvement of women in an ideological battle against long-held conservative values. One may ask whether it is possible for new filmmakers to achieve a cultural and artistic “revolution” likely to break a traditional model so entrenched in a popular culture and rooted in religious beliefs. In view of the proliferation of Islamist movements and the strong islamization of Moroccan society, reflected in the spread of the number of veiled women, is it possible to achieve a “secular culture” through cinema? Is it possible to witness the emergence of a cinema supported and energized by women and likely to fit in a modern democratic project, as advocated by the King of Morocco himself? Everyone is entitled to make his or her film in an attempt to develop its characters and its heroes and present it to the public. Yet, the fact is that modernists control the cinema and try to break taboos and advocate freedom of women. .

Bibliography Ferdinand Tönnies, 1887, Community and Society. PUF, 1944. Orlando, Valérie K. , 2009, Francophone Voices of the "New" Morocco in Film and Print: (Re)presenting a Society in Transition. New York: Palgrave Macmillan Orlando, Valérie K. , 2011, Screening Morocco: Contemporary Film in a Changing Society. Ohio: Ohio University Press.

Selected Filmography A Minute of Sun Less, Nabil Ayouch’s (2003) Alyam Alyam by Ahmed El Maânouni, music by the legendary music group of “Nass El Ghiwane” (1978)

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Badis, Mohamed Abderrahmane Tazi (1988) Catalog presentation of films. Documents from the Moroccan Cinematographic Centre (CCM) Chergui or The Violent Silence by Moumen Smihi (1975) Door to the sky by Farida Belyazid (1988) Dry Eyes, Narjiss Najjar (2003) Hadda by Mohamed Abouloukar (1984). The film won many awards at the second edition of the film festival Morocco (Casablanca 1982) In my Father’s house by Fatima Jebli Ouazzani (1998) Lalla Chafia Mohamed Tazi (1982) (not to be confused with Mohamed Abderrahmane Tazi) Marrock, Leïla El Marrakechi (2006) Mona Saber by Abdelhaï Laraki (2002) Reed Dolls Jilala Ferhati (1981) Seeking of my wife’s husband by Abderrahmane Tazi (1993) The Story of a Rose by Abdelmejid Rchich (1999) Trial of a woman by Hassan Benjelloun (2002) Women and Women by Saâd Chraïbi (1998)

CHAPTER X COUNTER-HEGEMONY IN GHANAIAN VIDEO-FILM PRACTICE VITUS NANBIGNE WOYOME FOUNDATION FOR AFRICA, ACCRA, GHANA

Introduction Apart from the earliest introduction of cinema to native Ghanaian audiences by Christian Missionaries, film production and spectatorship in Ghana have experienced three major shifts. The first was the colonial period during which cinema had an overtly political, social and didactic function that was geared towards serving the enterprise of colonialism. The second was the independence/introspective phase during which cinema was not only an instrument for anti-colonial propaganda but also a mirror for self-examination. The third phase is definitely the video-film era in which we are experiencing new methods of mediating identities and new forms of visual representation. This chapter is interested in identifying the reasons behind the counterhegemonic practice of mostly amateur video-film producers, who seemed to have rejected the meta-narratives of anti-colonialism. The chapter is written in three main sections following the three phases of cinema mentioned above. The first part examines colonial cinema, particularly, its propagandist role and condescending and negative portrayal of Africans. The argument here is that colonial cinema was used in the service of foreign interests. This is intended to underscore the background of the anti-colonial film practice that characterized indigenous Ghanaian cinema once independence was achieved. Under the keen eyes of Nkrumah, Ghana’s first indigenous Head of State, cinema joined other media to reverse what Nkrumah thought had been the denigration of the African personality. Cinema was supposed to uplift the personality of the Blackman, unite the nation and show the way forward to independent socio-economic development. This,

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therefore, produced the meta-narratives of anti-colonialism, the climax of which was certainly the production of Heritage...Africa in 1988. However, the demise of celluloid film production created a huge vacuum which was filled by the production of cheap videos. Video-films, as they are well-known, started a narrative practice that ran counter to the ideological manifestations of many well-known Ghanaian films. Why did video-films appear to be opposed to an established form of cinematic story-telling? Why did there appear to be a conflict between trained filmmakers and the untrained video-film producers, particularly over ideological, narrative and technical issues? The third part of the chapter seeks to answer these questions.

Colonial Cinema Early cinema in Africa complemented the visual representations of the continent through early photography. Elements of Africa were photographically recorded by European explorers, ostensibly to serve as documentary evidence of the continent and its people, socially, culturally and historically. Such photography, and later films, served both the missionary interests and colonial agenda. The images, particularly those on motion pictures, told the colonial story from the colonizers’ point of view and were interpreted mainly in Europe as evidence of the eurocentric pre-conceptions of Africa’s presumed political, social and cultural inadequacies, and therefore, as justification for the colonial and missionary presence on the continent. Tomaselli (1988) has argued that the power of cinema was explored by the colonizers in Africa to maintain political and economic influences over the colonized. According to him, [h]istory is distorted and a Western view of Africa continues to be transmitted back to the colonized. Apart from the obvious monetary returns for the production companies themselves, the values Western cinema imparts and the ideologies it legitimates are beneficial for Western cultural, financial, and political hegemony (Tomaselli, 1988, 53).

According to Harding (2003), ‘these images were now inserted into the narratives imagined by the colonizers’ cultural ambassadors, primarily to illustrate the putative superiority of incomers to the indigenous people, thus, justifying the various invasive enterprises’ (Harding, 2003, 70). Two notable examples of such films are Sanders of the River by Alexander Korda and King Solomon’s Mines by Robert Stevenson. In pursuit of the justification to colonize Africa, cinema was introduced

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in most parts of the continent as a colonial enterprise and put to the service of the colonial exploitative agenda (Ukadike, 1994). Cinema supported the military and political invasion of most parts of the continent by the colonial empires. The film camera became part of the technology that colonizers employed in the exploration and expropriation of large parts of the continent. Ironically, cinema during the colonial period was also significant for the development of indigenous cinema in Ghana because the various political and cultural concerns that were addressed by colonial filmmaking later provided the impetus for a counter cinema produced by Ghanaian filmmakers, similar to those of other African nations. For example, the entire agency of colonialism was based on disrespect for Africans. As Manthia Diawara (1992) has argued, the ostensible moral justification for colonialism was based on the assumption that the British had a duty to colonize and civilize Africans. They used many methods, including cinema, to support such assumptions and to consolidate their power over indigenous people. According to Diawara, the British assumed that Africans were dimwitted and could not understand complex narratives, even though at the same time, they feared that Africans could easily appreciate the persuasive power of cinema in a harmful way. All films shown to Africans were, therefore, re-cut and simplified, ostensibly to allow for easy comprehension. This attitude was intended to establish a dichotomy between the colonizer and the colonized. Edward Said (1995) has also observed similar attitudes by the British towards Egypt as a justification for the colonization of that country. Such condescending attitudes towards Africans were based on the epistemic claim to unsurpassed knowledge of Africans by the colonizers, and supported by their propaganda machinery which included cinema. The consequence of this claim for Africans, according to Said, was to have “their land occupied, their internal affairs rigidly controlled, their blood and treasure put at the disposal of one or another Western power” (ibid, 36). These projects led to the imposition of alien religions on Africans, the imposition of British educational systems and culture, and the establishment of mono-crop economies, the harvests of which were channelled directly to the benefit of industrialization in Western countries. Mudimbe (1994) has also pointed out the dominance of Africa by foreign powers through a claim to unsurpassable knowledge about Africa, and therefore, a superiority of existence and a moral obligation to embark on a civilizing mission. The Idea of Africa delves into a wide range of sources that Mudimbe synthesizes in a unique exploration of the origins

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and development of the negative European conception of Africa. From Greco-Roman histories, a Romano-Christian and Missionary decree, to 20th Century art, Mudimbe interrogates European ideas of Africa by their assumption of authoritative knowledge of the continent and its people. That Africans were considered a-historical, savage and unintelligent and needing salvation (aka, civilization) European style, emerged from these so-called authoritative literature and art. In their introductory remarks, Ashcroft et al (1997) note that the business of ‘knowing’ other people had for long been the most formidable ally of economic and political control and imperial dominance and also became the mode by which the colonized were persuaded to know themselves as subordinates to Europe. They argue that “[a] consequence of this process of knowing became the export to the colonies of European language, literature and learning as part of a civilizing mission which involved the suppression of a vast wealth of indigenous cultures beneath the weight of imperial control” (Ashcroft et al, 1997, 1). Cinema joined the imported European language, literature and learning, in a grand colonial narrative, to determine the presumed knowledge of Africans and entrench the privileged position of the European colonizer. The colonial period saw the production of films about Africa by foreigners and the importation into Africa of many other films that sought to degrade the personality of African people. Examples of such films include Congorila, King Solomon’s Mines, and Tarzan of the Apes. As Shohat and Stam (1994) have argued, the story of colonialism was told from the colonizer’s perspective through a combination of cinema and narrative. Examples of such films include Le Musulman rigolo (The Funny Muslim) which mocks the Muslim Arab religious and culinary habits, Ali bouffe à l’huile (Ali Eats with Oil), the adventure tales of Tarzan, and the 1980s version of King Solomon’s Mines which depicts a Westerner in a huge cooking pot surrounded by African cannibals. Shohat and Stam argue that: …dominant cinema has spoken for the ‘winners’ of history in films which idealized the colonial enterprise as a philanthropic ‘civilizing mission’ motivated by a desire to push back the frontiers of ignorance, disease, and tyranny. Programmatically, negative portrayals helped rationalize the human cost of the imperial enterprise (Shohat and Stam, 1994:109).

At the same time, the colonizer applied censorship laws that prevented the risk of their own portrayal to the native African in uncomplimentary visual representations. For this reason, the re-cut films that were shown to African audiences were devoid of scenes that were likely ‘to ridicule or

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criticize unfairly’ British ways of life, or scenes that portrayed “White men in a state of degradation amidst native surroundings, or using violence towards the natives, especially Chinese, negroes and Indians,” or scenes that showed “equivocal situations between men of one race and girls of another race” (Shohat and Stam, 112). According to Shohat and Stam, the censorship codes sought to prevent “the portrayal of the white man and woman…in a way that might degrade him or her in the eyes of the native, nor will they permit anything in films tending to incite the natives against the governing race” (Shohat and Stam, 112). On the other hand, they prevented as much as possible, indigenous film production. In Ghana, the colonial uses of cinema transformed from military propaganda during the Second World War to cultural and social propaganda after the war. The post-1945 period of colonialism was an era of colonial consolidation through various means including the use of cinema to promote British culture, politics and economics. Most of the films produced during this period were documentaries on the British colonial policies, and some dramatized lessons on national civic duties, agricultural techniques, the promotion of vocations such as nursing, and the promotion of British commercial products such as the transistor radio. Films that were imported into the country were largely grade ‘B’ movies and slapstick comedies. The so-called complex films were only shown in theatres where the privileged minority (mostly expatriates plus a few elite Africans) saw them. Africans were not unaware of their relegation in the arbitrary European creation of a hierarchical human order and the condescending colonial attitude towards them, particularly as it was told in the grand narrative of colonialism. The return of African soldiers from WWII and the rise of African nationalism exposed both the excesses and shortcomings of the colonial system, challenged the story of Africa as told by the colonizers, whilst calls for indigenous African governance, coupled with the desire to renew and re-define the African personality, necessitated the creation of complementary visual and literary representations of Black people. Therefore, when Ghana’s Kwame Nkrumah became the Leader of Government Business in 1951 and Prime Minister in 1952, his interests in the use of the media including cinema, to pursue his Pan-Africanist ideological goals, which included the project of promoting a unique and positive African personality, motivated the production of films that were devoid of the racial stereotypical denigration of Black people. At this point, the so-called epistemic claim to knowledge of the Africans by Europeans was challenged and undermined, particularly when,

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against all odds and contrary to colonial expectations, Nkrumah and his Convention People’s Party (CPP) won landslide victories in popular elections that would lead to Ghanaian independence. This process allowed for the indigenous control of the media and the arts, and therefore, the opportunity to reverse the Eurocentric perceptions and stereotypical representations of Africans. Similar to what happened in other African nations, early Ghanaian filmmaking sought to re-interpret both history and contemporary society, albeit without being overtly political and confrontational. Films such as The Boy Kumasenu and Mr. Mensah Builds a House explored the problem of rural to urban migration and the social challenges of national development respectively. It is interesting to observe that these two films were made whilst Ghana was still largely under the colonial rule and directed by Sean Graham, an expatriate. Graham left Ghana in 1957 after directing Freedom for Ghana, a documentary that celebrates Ghana’s achievement of independence. The films produced between 1952 and 1957, therefore served as important transitional films that would usher in indigenous Ghanaian directorial work.

Independence, Indigenization, Introspection If colonialism in Africa was the manifestation of the Eurocentric epistemic claim to the knowledge of Africans, whose existence was subordinated to that of the Western World, then independence for African nations was an indictment of that epistemology. The European episteme produced what Said (1995) referred to as an existential creation of the imaginative fantasy of the West. On the other hand, independence offered the opportunity for Africans to re-define themselves in contrast to that Eurocentric fantasy and to the negative and stereotypical European perceptions. Independence encouraged the search for new knowledge, knowledge that was expected to empower Africans to be managers of their own affairs, knowledge that was to make Africans proud of themselves and to have an equitable share in the glorious history of the civilized World. At least, the disciples of Negritude, Pan-Africanism and Black Consciousness have variously advocated for the celebration of ‘Africanness’ in a proud and unique way. In the newly independent countries of Africa, the creation and distribution of knowledge was the responsibility of the mass media, with cinema playing a significant role. It was for purposes of creating and distributing indigenous knowledge and a conscious uplifting of the African

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personality that film production, marketing and distribution were nationalized and indigenized in Ghana. At various international meetings, Nkrumah proudly displayed his all-African film crews, and distributed the resulting documentaries and newsreels across many African countries as a demonstration of the capabilities of the Blackman. Chris Hesse, a veteran cinematographer, who travelled with Nkrumah on every foreign trip to film his meetings and diplomatic activities, attests to the ambitions of Nkrumah to show off the qualities of the Ghanaian film crews. Indigenization also meant that local stories were expected to be told on the screen and interpreted within local contexts. It is no surprise then that Ghana’s first feature-length film, No Tears for Ananse, directed by Sam Aryetey, a pioneer Ghanaian film director, was an adaptation of a local traditional folktale. Egbert Adjesu’s I Told You So explored the structure of traditional storytelling and the aesthetics of the concert party theatre for its formal quality. The film was shot in a local Ghanaian dialect with typical rural and suburban settings and featured one of Ghana’s best known comedians of the time, Bob Cole. Bernard Adidja continued with the indigenization of Ghanaian cinema with Do Your Own Thing, which examined the local music scene in Ghana by following the exploits of a young girl who has musical ambitions. Many educational short features about local government, farming, health and national revenue collection, were dramatized within local indigenous contexts, using the life experiences of the people. Certainly, the aftermath of colonialism provided substance for the politically insatiable filmmakers of Africa. Of particular importance were filmmakers who made films about the liberation struggles (Cry Freedom [Nigeria/Ghana]; The Battle of Algiers; Sarrouinia,), the ambivalent concepts of identity in postcolonial Africa (Love Brewed in the African Pot; Heritage... Africa), the economic struggles that continue to plague the people (Kukurantumi- Road to Accra; Le Mandat), and the general political and cultural complexities that are daily experiences (Dede; Baby Thief; Zan Boko). In response to the colonial tendencies of erroneous and condescending representations, African cinema emerged as a functional art, replicating the social, cultural and political role that was and is expected of the arts in traditional African societies. African filmmakers of the early period of independence saw their task as social raconteurs, who should hold up a mirror to reflect the concerns of contemporary African societies, particularly with regards to the consolidation of political independence and the stability of African cultural institutions in the face of European political and cultural hegemony. As Ukadike has observed, “[t]he most

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apparent use of the motion picture from the 1960s through the 1980s was to induce an awareness of African consciousness” (Ukadike, 2000, 245). Consciously or unconsciously, the ideological manifestation of African cinema has revolved around the re-interpretation of African history and strive for a renewed identity (Pieces of Identity; Sankofa; Crossroads of People, Crossroads of Trade and Keita - The Heritage of the Griot), the support for African nationalism and the fight against tyranny (Guimba The Tyrant; Sia - The Dream of the Python), and the introspective representations of the multifaceted challenges that face independent African states (Xala; Zan Boko; Touki Bouki). The need for such agenda for many African filmmakers was arguably in response to the stereotypical colonialist representation of Africans and their traditions as uncivilized, grotesque and exotic. The images that African filmmakers produced were, therefore, intended to represent what they considered to be African realities within an African context. As Akudinobi (1997) has argued, [t]he project of the early African film makers, therefore, was not just to destabilize colonial logic, but to unmask, also, the constructedness of a spurious African reality (which is passed off as the norm), and then to instigate a shift in the way Africa is conceived in the Western popular imagination (Akudinobi, 1997, 92).

Whether such projects were successful or not, is open to debate, because the subjective nature of filmmaking subverts any claim to the representation of a pristine African reality as against European lies. After all, whose truth is the real truth? But this was not a question that was of concern to African filmmakers as they set about to create their own representations of the continent’s social, political and cultural history. Arguably, this may have prompted the emergence of the meta-narrative of independence which was imbued with political rhetoric, cultural value and social signification. African cinema was given an important role in the consolidation of independence, and movements such as Pan-Africanism and the Federation of African Cineastes (FEPACI) recommended and supported the social advocacy of African filmmaking. In Ghana, as mentioned earlier, similar post-independence feature film projects did take place, albeit not with the same political poignancy as was seen in other African countries such as Senegal, except of course for two outstanding films: Love Brewed in the African Pot and Heritage..., Africa, which were unapologetic about their condemnation of colonialism and the promotion of African values. The majority of politically conscious films produced in Ghana by the then Ghana Film Industry Corporation were

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documentaries and newsreels about Ghana’s government, Nkrumah’s travels and speeches, and independence-related activities in other African countries. Showing these films was usually an evening programme of political and nationalist indoctrination. A normal evening programme will start with the national anthem played over the loud-speaker and everyone was expected to be on their feet. Then, a speech by Nkrumah, a short documentary of one of his travels, or a newsreel about some development projects would be played before the main feature was screened. This was intended to push through Nkrumah’s projects of unifying the Ghanaian nation, of unifying Africa and of instilling in people a sense of pride and dignity as Africans. This was the story of independence that informed early Ghanaian cinema, characterized by the rigid adherence to certain seamless aesthetic values of cinematography. These included the expectation that every shot had to be taken from a tripod; that films were to follow a well-written and well-rehearsed script; that actors were expected to follow the script religiously; and that there was to be a moral lesson in each film narrative. However, the project of cultural re-discovery and the revival of the African personality may be at risk of subversion by the emergence of a new form of cinematic expression and representation. The video phenomenon, as it has been popularly referred to, emerged during the late 1980s and grew in the 1990s and 2000s. The products of this new cinematic form, called video-films, are characterized by a counterhegemonic freewheeling practice that has produced a plethora of visual representations, some of which have been rejected by some Ghanaians for their uncomplimentary portrayal of African traditions.

The Video Phenomenon The video phenomenon is the third major phase of cinema in Ghana and is characterized by a complex hybrid public space within which new forms of identities are mediated and new complex artistic forms of expression operate. This phase is very difficult to define because there are various ideologies and narrative styles at work, all at once. Artistic production during this phase has witnessed a great deal of freedom of expression but has also been described variously as creative, syncretic and free-wheeling. Whilst advocates of the video phenomenon are pleased that video-films filled the vacuum created by the lack of Ghanaian film productions, and that the video producers did not shy away from exploring the boundaries of human perceptions of reality, critics posit that the cinematic representations

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offered by video-films tended to reinforce colonial stereotypes about who the Africans were. Even though there are several exceptional video-films which examined everyday family challenges in Ghanaian society, and that video-films evolved a unique approach to narrative and interesting experimentations with visual effects, a close textual reading of most videofilms, particularly, those of the ‘occult genre’ often left many discerning viewers wondering if Ghanaian cinema was developing in the right direction. Both Kwaw Ansah (Ghana’s best known film director) and Chris Hesse (Ghana’s best known cinematographer and a former Manager of the GFIC) have, on different occasions, expressed concern about the cultural, historical and psychological impacts of some video-films on Ghana’s socio-economic development. At a forum to discuss a proposed film policy for Ghana in 2004, attendees deplored the superstitious tendencies of the occult genre and particularly the influx of Nigerian video-films into Ghana, which were replete with gory scenes of evil mysticism, scenes that were said to glamourize crime and violence and promote the acquisition of wealth through foul means. At the same time, many media commentators, on both television and radio, talked about a social crisis in Ghana, and therefore, it was thought that these video-films, particularly, of the occult genre, were reinforcing the very superstitious and retrogressive tendencies that had caused a breakdown in the social order. During the 1980s, Ghana was under military rule. The economy experienced a record negative growth. Many people lost their jobs. There was a sharp rise in crime and delinquency. There was a string of mysterious occurrences that resulted in mass hysteria and paranoia, the lynching of people believed to possess evil powers and the suspected ritual murder of many women especially in the capital, Accra. There also emerged an equal rise in the number of religious groups who offered a variety of interpretations of what Ghana was going through. Whilst no critical study was offered to explain the social crises, the new churches that suddenly inundated the country would have everyone believe that the nation had been hijacked and held to ransom by Satan and his evil angels. Only a total surrender to God through a CharismaticPentecostal theology could save the nation and bring prosperity and enormous wealth to anyone who truly believed. Whilst this theology allowed the churches to exploit their members, and therefore, made the founders very wealthy, most people sank deeper into poverty and there was a noticeable rise in crime, prostitution and youth delinquency. Therefore, between 1993 and 2000, while video-films were increasing in number and popularity, and while the occult genre that supported the

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‘prosperity gospel’ was drawing eager audiences, there also emerged differences between formally trained filmmakers and the mostly amateur video-film producers. At first, these differences centred mainly on the technical quality of the video-films, the quality of acting and the simplicity or predictability of the narratives. But soon, particularly as the occult genre grew popular, ideological concerns regarding the interpretation of the video texts took centre-stage. Whilst professionally trained filmmakers advocated for a more useful employment of the accessible video technology to ‘free’ Ghanaians from their perceived superstitious entrapment and confront the physical realities of their well-being, the video-film producers rejected these criticisms as mere expressions of envy. These rejections were, sometimes, supported by academic researchers who thought that the trained filmmakers were elitist and failed to understand the everyday experiences of the people whose socalled realities were being depicted in the video-films, albeit in fantastic and surreal representations (for example, see the writings of Birgit Meyer on Ghanaian video-films.) Interestingly, these differences actually fuelled the counter-hegemonic practice in which the self-taught video-filmmakers largely shunned the involvement of trained film technicians and directors, rejected the latter’s ideological quest, and sought a kind of neo-realist practice which did not pay attention to the basic rules of cinematography nor were they concerned with the so-called quest for African cultural reformation or nationalist authenticity. Most video-film producers lacked formal training in filmmaking and cared little about taking time to develop film scripts and evolve complex narratives. They rather thrived on very simplistic story sketches, improvisation by actors and the use of very basic equipment, sometimes comprising a simple VHS camera and a spotlight, with neither external microphone nor additional lighting. They persisted in these techniques for many years even if in opposition to the cinematic conventions that trained filmmakers sought to promote as the dominant mode of film practice in the country. It was many years before video-film production companies like Hacky Films and H.M. Productions engaged the services of trained scriptwriters and directors. Meanwhile, trained film producers/directors attempted to enter the video market to ply their trade as critical movie-makers. For some, the purpose of adopting video (rather than insisting on celluloid) was to try and turn Ghanaian cinema in a more social-realist direction and allow it to play its role in social advocacy. In spite of their enthusiasm, they achieved only limited success. Sgt Abebrese by Ivan Quashiegah was not successful

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in spite of all the professionally trained crew that he employed. Several video-films produced by GAMA Films (which evolved from GFIC), such as Accra Killings, were economic failures. It would appear that trained filmmakers did not understand the new terrain of video-film marketing and distribution, and relied only on the traditional theatrical distribution system, which had collapsed. However, there were films that benefited from the professional expertise of trained filmmakers and were extremely successful by virtue of the narratives and how these credibly reflected, in social-realist terms, the daily lives of people. Kwaw Ansah’s Harvest at 17 probably set the pace and indicated that professionally produced video-films could be financially rewarding if they met larger audience expectations. This video was the highest grossing video in its time. Ashong Katai directed Baby Thief for the GFIC. This very successful video examined some of the cultural challenges of traditional African societies which sometimes spur people into certain excessive and negative behaviours. Following this initial success, the GFIC released some of its old films on video. Tom Reibero’s Dede, a black-and-white film which was originally shot on 16mm, was then released on video. Fortunately, during filming, a video camera was set up to record alongside the 16mm camera. The video version was very successful whilst the 16mm version has never been released. The GFIC also released Schemers which was moderately successful. In fact, the GFIC achieved so much success with video-films that the dwindling fortunes of the corporation and its financial insolvency stood a good chance of being turned around. Several other professionally trained filmmakers also turned to video to practice their professions. Bampoe Addo’s intellectual, stylized, and beautifully photographed Mataa - Our Missing Children was highly acclaimed; although it did not meet the financial expectations. His more populist and youthful video, Abrantee, was however a huge success. Kofi Yirenkyi’s video-films - Kanana and A Heart of Gold - were very popular and successful. Similarly, video-films directed by Veronica Quarshie such as A Call at Midnight, Breaking from the Past and A Stab in the Dark were financially rewarding and won several local awards. Kenny McCauley’s post-modernist Heart Strings, which parodies the Hollywood movie Fatal Attraction, was also moderately successful. King Ampaw finished his humorous No Time to Die in 2007, shot on digital video with an international crew and an all Ghanaian cast. Film enthusiasts are still eagerly awaiting its public and commercial release. In spite of these successes, the self-trained producers/directors outnumbered the trained ones and flooded the market with their peculiar

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practice, aiming at a specific category of viewers, particularly those who faithfully believed in the prosperity gospel and accepted the physical manifestations of the powers of evil and good in a manner demonstrated by the videos of the occult genre. In fact, some trained filmmakers soon saw a commercial window in the occult genre and imbibed the ideologies and aesthetics of the genre in order to make money. For example, Dugbertey Nano, a NAFTI trained filmmaker, produced and directed Expectations I & II and utilized the Pentecostal narrative style propagated by self-trained video-filmmakers. In spite of the relative high technical quality of this video-film, (he engaged a pool of NAFTI-trained technicians), the narrative pandered to the popular notions of both the prosperity gospel and the occult genre. In Expectations, the people of an African village are expecting a woman to give birth to a male child who will one day be the Chief and occupy the vacant stool. Unfortunately, the witches of the village make it impossible for the woman to have a child. Through the intervention of a powerful Charismatic-Pentecostal Pastor, she gives birth to a boy, but the witches poison and kill the boy. The woman is then accused of killing her own son and jailed. She goes through many difficulties and it is only through the Pastor’s prayerful intervention that the witches are defeated and the troubles of the woman and the village are resolved. Some viewers I spoke to thought that this kind of storytelling was a recycling of colonial perceptions of Africans and their traditions. Many felt that the video re-enforced the European stereotypical view that Africans can only develop in a civilised manner with European style interventions. One viewer wondered why a typically traditional African problem could not be solved through time-tested African traditions but has to be solved by a Eurocentric Christian Pastor. Another viewer thought that the portrayal of the witches was a reflection of the evil elements in African societies, but the film created the impression that Africa’s underdevelopment is the fault of witches. Films such as Time and Babina seem to suggest that man’s difficulties can be solved easily by relying on some occult, supernatural powers. The impression is often given that in order to be wealthy, one needs not do any work but rather consult some supernatural occult and wealth will flow in abundance without regard to the ultimate consequences. However, because of the economic and social context within which video-films emerged and thrived, it was possible to satisfy the fantasies of many ordinary people, who desperately needed to escape their poor conditions of living. Such films only offered them a temporary reprieve from their economic woes. Most of the untrained filmmakers only

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exploited the religious gullibility and general spiritual paranoia of the period to rake in their profits. Apart from making quick profits, why else would a Muslim video producer, Hammond Mensah of H.M. Productions, finance and market videos about powerful Pentecostal Pastors driving away evil spirits, demons or witches? The Pentecostal aesthetics that video-films promoted were also counter to the meta-narratives of postcolonial cinema as seen in films like Heritage...Africa. To be sure, untrained video-film producers may not have understood the complex contemporary postcolonial circumstances within which they were telling their stories, or maybe they did not care about such so-called intellectual or elitist considerations. They simply sought to exploit the easy accessibility of the video technology and the religious euphoria of the period to make profits. It was a period when the daily travails of families seemed to defy material explanations and mostly Pentecostal Pastors offered spiritual solutions by suggesting that it was the devil that was busy at work. Video-films that reflected these beliefs would certainly resonate with those who accepted such teachings. Considering that over sixty percent of Ghana’s population are Christiansi, and that the Pentecostal-Charismatic followers were the most vocal, it was only a matter of course that these video-films enjoyed euphoric receptions. Unfortunately, towards the end of the 1990s, such euphoria died down as audiences began to be more awake to their physical realities and read such video-films differently. Ghanaian video-films were now viewed with suspicion and the long queues that characterised the exhibition venues at the emergence of video-films dwindled. Whilst the dichotomy of good and evil is not new to African storytelling, and certainly not new to African film audiences, the suggestion by most of the videos of the occult genre that all evil is African and all good is foreign, usually European-Christians, has been a matter of concern to many discerning viewers, and soon enough many other ordinary Ghanaians became a lot more critical with and circumspect about what they paid to view. By the close of the 1990s, it was no longer profitable to show video-films in theatres, including the ramshackle videoscreening centres that dotted the cities and villages of Ghana. Video-film producers had to adopt new marketing technique for their products, and this gave birth to another form of cinema that has run counter to the former dominant theatrical methods of marketing films. As film theatres were no longer profitable avenues for film distribution and marketing, video-filmmakers resorted to street sales. Many self-styled video distributors emerged and set up small tables or stands on pedestrian walks of major streets, or video stalls in markets. This technique was not

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possible with celluloid, and was certainly not explored when older films were transferred to digital formats. None of the films of Kwaw Ansah, king Ampaw or the GFIC were in any video shops. With the invasion of the Ghanaian market by the Nigerian video-films and new marketing techniques, Ghanaian video-film producers were compelled to adapt to the competition and device new ways to sell their products. Television did not offer a lucrative avenue as most video producers, who could not recoup their investments in the open markets, were compelled to pawn away their videos to television stations. With no formal avenues of film marketing, producers hit the streets again with an unorthodox but innovative way of selling videos. As soon as a video was finished, the producers would run a couple of television advertisements and then sell their wares on the street in an itinerant fashion. Usually, they would hire a truck, mount loudspeakers on it, and then play loud music whilst the truck moves at a very slow pace. A group of boys would then follow the truck, holding copies of the video and try to convince passers-by and motorists stuck in traffic to buy copies.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have tried to explain why the emergence of videofilms took a counter-hegemonic stance, particularly why there was a conflict between trained filmmakers and untrained video-film producers on matters of ideology and narrative techniques. The question that I have often heard people ask regarding the logic of film production in Ghana, is whether the struggle to liberate the masses ideologically was not yet over. This is not easy to answer, because whilst some viewers of video-films believe that the mental liberation which Nkrumah advocated had been achieved and that people now only need to make informed choices to consolidate that freedom, others think that people still need ideological guidance because of the contemporary postcolonial situation. As part of my conclusion, I shall note that the experimental stage of video-films is over because untrained producers have become aware of the need to satisfy the demand for quality by the audience. The influx of Nigerian video-films, mostly considered to be of a higher technical quality and with better acting, has compelled Ghanaian producers to link-up with professional filmmakers and technicians. This process started with several collaborations between Ghanaian and Nigerian teams, and now Ghanaian producers engage Nigerian writers and directors. Video-films such as Beyonce and The Agony of the Christ are just two examples of many such collaborations.

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Trained and independent Ghanaian producers have not given up, in spite of the overwhelming presence of Nigerian products. For example, Shirley Frimpong Manso, a NAFTI graduate, has made two video-films in less than two years - Life and Living it and Scorned. Both videos, beautifully photographed and rhythmically edited, exhibit a high sense of cinematic comprehension. In spite of a few lapses (from my point of view), these videos demonstrate that the script has to be carefully developed, the cast equally carefully selected and the filming process professionally observed. The language in these videos is certainly of a higher class than the ordinary everyday speech that we see in most videofilms. However, this only shows the level of professionalism in the work. It is professionalism that is poised to replace the counter-hegemonic and amateurish practice of early video-film producers and which may also replace the occult genre and Pentecostal narrative styles with a return to social advocacy and useful entertainment.

Bibliography Akudinobi, Jude G. “Survival Instincts: Resistance, Accommodation and Contemporary African Cinema.” Social Identities 3.1 (1997): 91 - 121. Ashcroft, Bill, Garath Griffith & Helen Tiffin. “General Introduction.” The Postcolonial Studies Reader. Ed. Ashcroft, Bill, Garath Griffith & Helen Tiffin. Routledge, 1997. 1 - 4. Diawara, Manthia. African Cinema - Politics and Culture. Indiana University Press, 1992. Frances, Harding. “Africa and the Moving Image: Television, Film and Video.” Journal of African Cultural Studies 16.1 (2003): 69 - 84. Meyer, Birgit. “‘Popular Ghanaian Cinema and ‘African Heritage’” Africa Today 46.2 (n.d.): 93 - 114. —. “‘Praise the Lord’: Popular cinema and pentecostalite style in Ghana’s new public sphere.” American Ethnologist 31.1 (2004): 92 - 110. —. “Visions of Blood, Sex and Money: Fantasy Spaces in Popular Ghanaian Cinema.” Paper presented to the Conference “Fantasy Spaces: The Power of Images in a Globalizing World” of the WOTRO-Research Programme Globalization and the Construction of Communal Identities, 16 (2003): 15 - 41. Mudimbe, V. Y. The Idea of Africa. Indiana University Press, 1994. Ogunleye, Foluke. “Video Film in Ghana: An Overview” in Foluke Ogunleye (ed.) African Video Film Today. Manzini, Swaziland: Academic Publishers, pp. 1-22, 2003. Said, Edward W. Orientalism - Western Conceptions of the Orient.

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Penguin Books, 1995. Shohat, Ella and Robert Stam. Unthinking Eurocentrism Multiculturalism and the Media. Routledge, 1994. Tomaselli, Keyan. The Cinema of Apartheid - Race and Class in South African Film. Smyrna Press/Lake View Press Book, 1988. Ukadike, Frank N. Black African Cinema. University of California Press, 1994. —. “Images of the ‘Reel’ Thing: African Video-Films and the Emergence of a New Cultural Art.” Social Identities 6.3 (2000): 243 - 261.

CHAPTER XI NIGERIAN VIDEO-FILMS ON HISTORY: LOVE IN VENDETTA AND THE 1987 KANO RIOTS FRANCOISE UGOCHUKWU OPEN UNIVERSITY, UK

Introduction This chapter considers a Nigerian video-film, Love in Vendetta, featuring Zach Orji and inspired by the 1987 Kano riots. This was one of the many incidents of violent clashes between Christians and Muslims in the 1980s, which resulted in thousands of deaths, injuries and arrests. This Nigerian parallel of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet presents two lovers: an Igbo man and a Hausa girl, who plan their marriage in the midst of strong family opposition on both sides. They later discover that their parents’ attitude is the result of deep scars left by the 1987 Kano Riots and bloodshed. Love eventually prevails, sending a message of hope to the whole country and heralding a time when ethnic and religious differences would be part of the nation’s rich cultural heritage.

Mid-Way between Reality and Fiction This is the very plausible story of two young people in love, just back from abroad with all it takes to start a successful life back home, who try to translate their dreams and plans into reality but soon realize that these do not match their families’ expectations. They then try persuading their fathers, in vain, and discover, in the process, that the two families’ close friendship of old has been destroyed by a dramatic event linked to the past. Bent on building their lives on their dream, they are left to struggle. They resort to desperate solutions as they are also unable to get employed in spite of their credentials and certificates as their parents’ partners feel

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reluctant to help. Finally, in the nick of time, a few helpful intermediaries intervene, offer much needed support to the couple and help the two families to come together again. The root cause of the families’ feud is eventually found and dealt with. A baby arrives and all ends well for both parents and children. This 1996 video film places the young couple centre stage and offers viewers a few occasions to share their moments alone in the taxi which brings them back from the airport, discussing their first impressions of Lagos. In their parents’ home, they share their hope of family acceptance and fear of a possible last minute glitch and, on the phone, encourage each other. In a friend’s place, they also enjoy a short moment of tender intimacy. They already form a close-knit unit, which will only be strengthened by the obstacles they will meet on the way. Their being thrown from affluence into acute poverty and unemployment, their having to live in a cramped, bare room after basking in luxury, their losing their last hard-earned money at the hands of armed robbers – nothing will discourage them. Foreign viewers might regard this couple as a lone, independent entity. Yet for those awaiting their return home, Uche (Zack Orji) and girlfriend Zaynab (Kate Henshaw) are rather individual members sent on a communal agenda and now expected to fit back into the family programme. The film painstakingly follows genuine efforts made by all parties to fit the puzzle together again, and presents a corporate story in which individuals are not free to think or operate on their own. There is no place for the individual in such a setting. As noted by Malkmus (1991: 210-212), “the space, set and group structure of African film narrative operate at a collective level” and “the protagonist is necessarily defined by his or her relationship to the community”. Uche and Zaynab’s postgraduate studies were primarily designed to equip them to fit into their parents’ plan. While Zaynab’s father starts planning to seal his business partnership through the marriage of his daughter with his friend’s son Idris, just back from Germany, Uche’s chat with his Dad reveals that his degrees in Business Administration and International Relations were clearly intended to enable him gradually take over his father’s business. Even though the couple’s experience abroad, which brought them together, has equally given them a new westerninspired agenda – Uche has already ‘proposed’ and got an encouraging response from Zaynab, their return definitely marks their coming back into the fold, their reintegration into their family and cultural circles for good. On reaching home, the two present their parents with their plans to marry and initially receive a lukewarm response that introduces viewers to

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the film’s historical agenda. Zaynab’s father is mostly concerned with the fact that Uche is “a kaffir, an infidel” whose relationship with his daughter will damage his reputation as the Dan Kano, and an Igbo whose culture he considers to be very different from his own. Uche’s mother is worried that her Hausa daughter-in-law may not welcome her on visits. This part of the film also introduces viewers to the two families’ home: the Dan Kano, a quiet and mature leader and his two subdued and romantic wives who readily support Zaynab’s dreams; and the Ikemefunas, a couple sharing equal influence on each other. The film equally reveals both men as caring but authoritative fathers, and their two houses as very similar, projecting both breadwinners as successful, affluent businessmen. In a bid to persuade their parents and advance their cause, Uche and Zaynab share their views on life and try to persuade their parents. They consider themselves well prepared for a life together. Uche grew up in Kano where his parents had settled like many other Igbo businessmen, schools there, got friends there, knows the Hausa better than his own people and even speaks some Hausa. As for Zaynab, she too has Igbo friends, knows some Igbo, and Uche considers her as “completely detribalised”. For her, neither tribe nor religion matter: unity can only be preached through love, exemplified through intermarriage. The Dan Kano listens to his daughter and reassures her that he does not believe in tribal or religious discrimination either – an important side of his personality which will be confirmed later on. He only worries that she may not cope with “the ups and downs” of such a marriage. In the end, Alhaji Suleiman accepts to receive Uche and hints to his Hausa business partner, who tells him about the son’s interest in Zaynab, that such a marriage would please him greatly, but that “children of nowadays have a mind of their own” and that he just waits for his daughter to bring the man of her choice. At that point, the message of the film is that the children’s agenda must meet with the parents’ good will to be crowned with success, but nothing seems to threaten the young couple’s plans. The later decision of the two fathers to disown their rebellious children has therefore devastating effects on their daily lives and immediate future. As the story unfolds, with their future and that of their unborn child now at risk, Uche and Zaynab find themselves torn between two families at war with each other. The families’ feud, accidently brought to the fore by the unexpected meeting and subsequent engagement of their two children abroad, will have an enormous impact on Uche and Zaynab, their lives and dreams of a shared future.

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The Shadow of the Past Uche brings Zaynab home to his parents and introduces her to them. They make her feel welcome and seem happy with Uche’s choice of bride. The couple then travel together to Kano to meet Zaynab’s parents, who equally welcome Uche. While Zaynab and her father’s wives chat happily upstairs, Alhaji Suleiman engages his prospective son-in-law in a broad exchange. They talk about the past. Suleiman explains that he built his house in 1978 when he was in government as Secretary of State. Uche on his part informs Suleiman that he is the only son of his parents, having lost his sister during the 1987 Kano riots, while he was in the US. The mention of this detail, whose importance he could not have gauged as someone who has been out of the country for quite a while, will cost him dearly. Suleiman expresses his condolences and asks about Uche’s father. At this point, the situation suddenly takes a turn for the worse. As soon as Uche mentions his father’s name, Alhaji Suleiman starts lamenting in Arabic and tells Uche: “it is not possible. No, no. Nothing personal. I like you but I will not give my consent to your marriage. You may leave now”. He orders the family driver to take Uche back to town. Uche returns home in a fury, discloses the name and title of Zaynab’s father to his Dad and asks him about the reason behind Salesman’s refusal. His father then exclaims: “That idiot! Wholehearted fool! I will never forget or forgive that man!” before adding that he knows Zaynab’s father’s identity and that he would have behaved the same way. The two lovers are now faced with their fathers’ refusal and denied any explanation. Viewers, on their part, have been given a clue, right at the beginning of the film and in a very unconventional way. Immediately after the title appears on the screen, and before the presentation of the cast, history fills the screen with images - the silent, anonymous filming of streets littered with maimed and disfigured corpses, charred remains, burning churches and other buildings, thick plumes of smoke in the air, dilapidated structures, people packing their belongings into lorries, soldiers walking about, women running. Producers of war films have sometimes been accused of “assembling useful film footage to make a point without unduly concerning themselves about the real origin of that footage” (Isenberg 1981: 27). In the case in point, it is obvious that the short video footage is the work of an amateur, most probably one of the civilians caught in the riot. Its anonymity and the absence of a definite location turn to be an advantage as the footage can then be used as representative of all such incidents. This real life document, titled: ‘Kano Nigeria Religious Riots, 1987’, is accompanied by a double subtitling in English and French

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whose complete text follows: What started as a little fracas has degenerated into utter breakdown of law and order. People allow their animal urge get the better of them. They burn, loot, maim and kill. Innocent people lose their lives, are maimed forever, physically and emotionally. They lose their beloved ones and properties that have taken a lifetime to acquire. Custodians of the law watch from vantage positions, pretending they are not watching, with hands tied. But as the inferno dies, and the gory carnage abates, leaving behind charred remains and ashes that are blown about as if nothing had happened, this day and the event that came with it are etched indelibly into the minds of people. People can forgive but may not forget. Only time and love can heal. In fact, love conquers even in vendetta.

Once this prologue is done with, the film will neither make any reference to it, nor explain the reason behind this unexpected footage. For quite some time, in the film, both fathers remain buried in their grief, refusing to talk about the events that shattered their lives and tore so deep into their souls that they could not even share their pains with their wives, as evidenced in the latter’s inability to enlighten their children on the matter. Meanwhile, Uche, going over his chat with Alhaji Suleiman, eventually figures out that his father holds this man responsible for his sister’s death in Kano; but it will take more than the young couple’s plea to change the situation. Alhaji Suleiman has put Uche into police custody for harassing his daughter. Bailed out by his barrister friend who encourages him, saying he went through the same difficulties when courting his wife, Uche now disguises himself as a mallam selling baskets, goes into Zaynab’s house and both elope. At that point, Uche’s father has disowned him, and Zaynab’s father does the same. They then go and marry in court, accompanied by a few friends, and start life together in Lagos, quietly relieved. Two months later, they are still looking for jobs and Zaynab is pregnant. Having lost the only money they had left at the hands of armed robbers, they go to their old family doctor to request for an abortion. The old doctor talks them out of it and offers Zaynab free antenatal care and delivery. He subsequently tries in vain to reconcile the two fathers on the occasion of the hospital’s anniversary. After the baby girl’s birth, the two mothers are called to visit and start chatting. At Zaynab’s request, Uche’s mother finally clarifies the reason for the feud between the two families. While Uche and Zaynab were in the US, in 1987, the Ikemefunas lived in Kano, where they rented one of Alhaji Suleiman’s apartments. The two couples were good friends, and the two men did business together. Then riots started. She continues: “When the riot broke out, some religious militants came and told us that Alhaji

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Suleiman had told us to pack out of his house. We pleaded to no avail. By this time, the streets were burning. But they kicked us into it. We were not all lucky. So your sister Chichi and our houseboy, they both died in the riot. Since, my husband has not been able to forgive Alhaji Suleiman.” Zaynab’s mother shakes her head: “this is misinformation … The militants came and asked my husband to eject you from the house. He refused. They beat him to unconsciousness. They nearly killed him. When my husband came back from his unconsciousness, he looked for you but could not see you anywhere. He did not eat for two days because he felt so bad.” Uche then laments: “what a waste!”

An Unusual Treatment of History At this point, it becomes evident that there is more to the film than a love story. Love in Vendetta, a collage of real footage and fictional story, is indeed one of the very few Nigerian video-films directly inspired by the ethnic-religious riots that have been plaguing the country since 1945. To understand the purpose of the film, one must first consider film history worldwide, which offers many examples of cinematic treatment of conflicts, prompted by the search for fresh insights into their causes and impacts on ordinary civilian lives. Nigeria’s troubled history has been plagued and crippled by violent confrontations involving Muslims and Christians, usually sparked by seemingly insignificant local incidents or even, at times, by reports from faraway places like Denmark or Israel. These then spread rapidly to neighbouring towns and villages and end up engulfing the whole region, resulting in important losses of both lives and properties. Between 1945 and 1967, a number of such riots occurred in northern Nigeria, affecting Kano, Jos and several other northern cities and claiming more than 50,000 lives. Such killings eventually led, in 1966-67, to an Eastward mass exodus of Igbo people from all corners of the Federation, which eventually brought about a three-year Civil War. Since 1970, confrontations have once more become a recurrent feature, affecting the whole north and spreading to the Plateau area – internal Muslim in-fighting such as the Maitatsine riots that claimed nearly 9,000 lives between December 1980 and 1984 (Harnischfeger 2008: 74), but more often clashes between Muslims and Christians, that re-ignite every so often. Usually, these hardly get aired on local radios, and only get known outside the federation when they are triggered by outside incidents like the Danish cartoons of the Prophet. Such pieces of Nigerian history have long remained buried. The screening of such stories by the video film industry, targeting local

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audiences, can thus be viewed as an acknowledgement of the devastating effect of these confrontations, and, in the perceived absence of forthcoming offers of solutions, as a will to explore collective memories of past violence with what can be considered to be a broad political agenda: an audiovisual contribution to the understanding of a recurring phenomenon, with the hope that this may lead to a better societal management of cultural diversity. As one experienced documentary director puts it: I want to put my viewers in touch with historical reality. I want, using a certain artistry, to convey important ideas to people who know little of the subject. I want to encourage the viewers to ask questions after the viewing. I want to tell a good story that will engage both the head and the intelligence, and the heart and the emotion. I want to put viewers in touch with the past in a way that academics can’t do. I want to help them keep memories alive. And I want to recall a forgotten history or an overlooked piece of history that seems to me important (Rosenthal 2005, quoted in Rosenstone 2006: 87).

Scripted in English, this film is primarily destined for an urban audience who may have heard about the riots but is most likely to know very little about their local impact. The French subtitles target a West African audience from neighbouring countries like Benin, Niger, Chad and Cameroun who is even less likely to be familiar with these events. Ethnoreligious clashes have often been hushed and most video-films have shied away from putting them on screen, for fear of causing even more violence. Orji’s film offers viewers a unique occasion to relive the past and “watch history unfold before our eyes” (Rosenstone 2006: 11). Since Love in Vendetta, confrontations have continued unabated, with a difference: they are now reported on the Internet, with websites like YouTube joining the audiovisual concert. In 2000, for example, such a confrontation took place in Kaduna after Sharia was introduced, involving Christians and Muslims and claiming more than 2,000 lives. In 2002, new killings took place in the north, spreading southwards to Jos and Makurdi following a controversial statement from a journalist at the occasion of a beauty contest. Religious violence erupted in Kaduna State after an article published on 16th November, 2002 in the newspaper, This Day hinted that the Prophet would have gladly married one of the Miss World competitors, due to take place in Abuja on the 7th December of that year (UN 28 nov. 2002; Barnabas Fund 25 nov. 2002; BBC 24 nov. 2002; MET 22 nov. 2002). Between May and April 2003, new clashes between Muslims and Christians claimed more than 6,000 lives in Plateau and Kano States. Everywhere, these confrontations leave the same carnage, the same

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devastation reported by Love in Vendetta: razed villages, schools and churches burnt down, streets littered with maimed and dismembered bodies, terrorised refugees fleeing south – here again, nothing new since 1997. On 18th May, 2004, Obasanjo, then Nigeria’s Head of States, acknowledged for the first time, in a TV conference, that Muslim-Christian riots now threatened the whole country’s civil peace. In February 2006, after the publication, in Denmark, of cartoons deemed hostile to the Prophet, Reuters reported new killings in several Northern States, followed by bloody reprisals in several Igbo States. This violence made news in the US and several European countries. 2007 and 2008 saw new waves of killings. Nigeria is renowned for its historians, and many books have been published on the troubled history of the country. Films, it must be said, do not replace books; but given the difficulties surrounding book production and circulation in countries like Nigeria, “it is possible that such history on the screen is the history of the future” (Rosenstone 2006: 132). Films like Love in Vendetta take viewers through a different experience. They increase the impact of history on their audience through the blurring of boundaries between fiction and reality and propose personalised accounts which help viewers both get a better understanding of history and adhere more readily to the values upheld by the film as they share the protagonists’ emotions and identify with them. Rosenstone once asked (2006:163): “what do we want from the past? Why do we want to know it?” Love in Vendetta goes back to the roots of ethnic and religious violence in a fictionalised, personalised way, showing the problems to be the results of a wrong reading/interpretation of the past.

A Unifying Agenda Love in Vendetta is both traditional and modern, and makes use of facts and stereotypes to push its agenda. The plausibility of the scenes in Kano, which tend to present a traditional view of Hausa life - polygamy, customary gender separation, men drinking brukutu (a chocolate-coloured, faintly sour fermented drink made from sorghum) on mats and interspersing their talks with ejaculatory prayers in Arabic - while Igbo are shown bragging about their flashy cars, brings the story closer to real life. The reference to the Kano riots, killings and other relevant details, the mention of a bilingual community and friendly ties between Hausa and the immigrants, and the setting of Ikemefuna’s business in that northern city where “many Igbo and Yoruba […] established themselves in their new homeland as traders and craftsmen” (Harnischfeger 2008: 66), all reinforce the historical agenda of the film.

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As noted by Wilke (1997: 181), “if these videos address a cosmopolitan ‘modern’ urban subject, then Muslim Hausa are the internal order against which that modernity is imagined. Hausa cosmopolitanism, focused as it is on dynamics in the Muslim world more than in the West, is readily stigmatised as ‘backward’, ‘traditional’ and ‘ignorant’ in Southern Nigerian stereotypes.” Although these stereotypes initially appear in the Ikemefunas’ attitude, the portrait of Alhaji Suleiman would help viewers distance themselves from such prejudices. The Hausa elder is far more composed than his Igbo counterpart, and consistently presented as very moderate and accommodating. The story told by his wife will confirm his fidelity to his friend in the face of danger, and his commitment to his daughter’s happiness. The Hausa women presented in the film: Zaynab’s friend Hadiza - who plots with her and harbours Uche with her husband’s support – and the Alhaji’s wives who readily accept Uche, are all very positive characters. The “distinctive African relationship between individual and group” (Malkmus 1991: 210) also forms an important part of the film, with Uche and Zaynab refusing to identify with their ethnic groups while remaining committed to their parents. The move from ethnic groups to intercultural couples is presented as a solution to the nation’s woes. Yet, history has been written by groups, and neither individuals nor couples can, on their own, erase the scars. They still need the groups’ change of heart and blessing on their way. This film, though mostly Igbo in cast, definitely addresses the “pan-Nigerian, English-speaking urban subject” mentioned by Larkin (2003: 180). At a structural level, the scenario combines historical flashbacks and fictional elements to project a Nigerian agenda, unifying north and south as it brings together themes usually found in Hausa movies - those of love, “especially the tensions between arranged and love marriages” (Larkin 2003: 184) – and those of Igbo films – the high premium placed on graduate education abroad, the keenness on business ventures and the street violence. A crucial element of this agenda is the young couple’s Western education and long sojourn in the US, coming after the cross-cultural experience provided by a childhood in a multilingual, multicultural setting. The dilemma they face, to abort the child they love or keep her against all odds, is more than a detail in the story. The unborn child represents the nation’s future, the new breed in the making, the fruit of a relationship that transcends faith and ethnic identity, who will be raised to feel at home anywhere in the federation. This kind of future can only be delivered by those who, like the medical doctor, have invested in it and are prepared to sacrifice to it. The treatment of space is an integral part of this agenda,

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shuttling viewers between Kano, the East and Lagos, with both families – Igbo and Hausa - eventually coming together on to a neutral platform and getting reconciled in Lagos, on Yoruba soil, providing an interesting metaphor of Nigerian unity. The film tracks the protagonists’ difficult trajectories (delayed flights, traffic jams, journeys affected by armed gangs’ activities) used as symbols of their struggle to extract themselves from ethnic and religious boundaries. The white-haired medical doctor married to a Yoruba embodies both traditional wisdom and modernity. Open-minded, forward-looking, he belongs to a new breed of Nigerians, sharing with the young Igbo barrister practising in Kano, who married a Hausa girl, and with the young couple at the centre of the story, a new outlook on life.

Conclusion After the mothers get involved in an accident on their way to market, the two men are finally brought back together to Ituah hospital, in Apapa, Lagos, where they reconcile, share their past experience for the first time and discover that they had falsely accused each other. Uche will have the last word: for him, “the problem of the country is not in tribe or religion or culture but that of a disgruntled few who can only achieve their aims in chaotic divided time. We cannot go any further if we do not learn to forgive and forget.” One may disagree with such a view, but at least, Love in Vendetta boldly brings the question to the fore and proves Barrot right: “the Nigerian video production […] represents one of the most impressive manifestations of African freedom of speech […]. Fiction allows one to tell truths which a journalist would have found very difficult to express” (2005: 52).

Bibliography Barrot P. 2005, Nollywood. Le phénomène vidéo au Nigeria, Paris, L’Harmattan. Corner J. 1999, “British TV Dramadocumentary: Origins and Development”, in Alan Rosenthal (Ed), Why Docudrama? FactFiction on Film and TV, Carbondale, Southern Illinois University Press pp. 35-46. Harnischfeger J. 2008, Democratization and Islamic Law. The Sharia Conflict in Nigeria, Frankfurt, Campus Verlag. Hughes-Warrington M., 2007, History Goes to the Movies. Studying History on Film, London, Routledge.

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Isenberg, M., 1981, War on Film. The American Cinema and World War I 1914-1941, London, Associated University presses. Larkin B., 2003, “Itineraries of Indian Cinema: African Videos, Bollywood and Global Media”, in Ella Shoat and Robert Stam (eds), Multiculturalism, Postcoloniality and Transnational Media, New Brunswick, Rutgers University press pp.170-192 Malkmus L. & Armes R., 1991, Arab and African Film-Making, London, Zed Books. Rosenstone R., 2006, History as Film, Film as History, Harlow, Pearson Education Ltd. Rosenthal A., 2005, The Problems and Challenges of the History Documentary, Keynote address, Annual film & Literature Conference on Transnational Film & Literature: Cultural Production & the claims of history, Florida State University, 28th January Rosenthal A. (Ed), 1999, Why Docudrama? Fact-Fiction on Film and TV, Carbondale, Southern Illinois University Press. Shoat E. & Stam R., (Eds), 2003, Multiculturalism, Postcoloniality and Transnational Media, New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press. Tomaselli, K., 1989, The Cinema of Apartheid. Race and Class in South African Film, London, Routledge. Wilke M., 1997, Projecting the Past. Ancient Rome, Cinema and History, London, Routledge.

Filmography Love in vendetta (1996), a Zack Orji film, featuring Zack Orji, Kate Henshaw, Justus Esiri and Victor Decker. Producer: Zack Orji, Director: Chico Ejiro. Contech Ventures Ltd, 114mn Songs in the film: 1. ‘Love in vendetta’ (Mike Nliam) 2. ‘Everything will only get better’ (Zack Orji)

CHAPTER XII WOMEN AND POLITICS IN NOLLYWOOD: A CHALLENGE TO FILM PRODUCERS ST IN THE 21 CENTURY AGATHA UKATA AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF NIGERIA

“Leadership can come from unpredictable places” (Angela Davis: August 30, 2007)

Introduction This chapter interrogates the gendered notions in Nollywood films which portray women mostly within the margins of political representation and governance. Arguably a product of the gendered notions of the suitable roles for women within the larger Nigerian society, Nollywood films have tended to reserve prominent leadership or governance roles for male actors while female actors tend to be portrayed within the margins of those films as money conscious, dubious, sex perverts and politically inconsequential. To this effect, women are portrayed or represented as a generic group whose cultural role specificity and the male filmmakers’ bias have conditioned to be within the margins as far as political leadership matters are concerned. The chapter critically examines such exclusion and the negative implications that it bears on women within the political scene in Africa. It further suggests a possible departure from such marginalized political leadership-type positioning of women by taking an in-depth look at the portrayal of heroines in two Nigerian video-films namely, The Tyrant 1&2 (2003/04), and Masterstroke 1&2 (2004). The portrayal of the heroines in these two films represents a fundamental departure from the norm and is worthy of emulation by other filmmakers. The chapter further argues that storylines and character representation of women should deviate from

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those which make them to shy away from leadership roles. The issue of rulership and discourses around the subject of gender and the political space has become very popular in the narratives of postcolonial Africa. This can be seen in Wole Soyinka’s position in Season of Anomy (1988); Ngugi wa Thiongo’s in Devil on the Cross (1987); Ayi Kwei Armah’s in The Beautiful Ones are Not yet Born (1969); Sembene Ousmane’s in Xala (1974); and Chinua Achebe’s in No Longer at Ease (1963), A Man of the People (1967), The Trouble with Nigeria (1983), and Anthills of the Savannah (1987). For instance, Achebe in his ground-breaking work, The Trouble with Nigeria (1983:1), highlights the problem of lack of good leadership as the main problem that has held Nigeria back and, by extension, also held back many other African countries since their independence. Similarly, feminine discourses around the subject of rulership have continued to border on women relegation to the background in leadership positions in Nigeria in particular and Africa in general. Thus, feminist discourses have continued to examine how women are represented along stereotypical lines in artistic works. This adds value to Carole Boyce Davies’ (1990:15) explanation that “a positive image is one that is true with African historical realities and does not stereotype or limit women into postures of dependence or submergence. Instead it searches for more accurate portrayals and ones which suggest the possibility of transcendence.” To that effect, women in video-films should be represented in ways which bear out Davies’ position of what positive image of African women constitute. We argue in this chapter that women should be given equal opportunity alongside men in leadership roles in filmic representations, given the fact that Nigerian video-films have gained widespread reception and can be used as an avenue to create a positive awareness about various notions surrounding women relegation in political leadership. This position will also help in bringing more solutions to the diverse rulership problems in Africa. Such a position, for instance, depicts the present representations of women in Nigerian video-films with political undertones. The video-films have continued to depict women along stereotypes which reduce them to a mere sex negotiating agency or present them as political blackmailers. Such depiction agencies dehumanize women as greedy and incapable of contributing to the society’s rulership problems. Furthermore, the only leverage that most Nigerian political video-films accord women is that of being wives to those in power (First Lady Office). This trend confirms the culturally defined roles which the society has ascribed to leadership positions with specificity of roles for both men and women within the

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society. These roles have in turn created a hegemonic positional relationship between males and females in terms of what the different sexes should engage in within the society. This, however, has made certain jobs like leadership to be hitherto categorized as male prerogative. The trend in turn, explains the way women have been relegated to the background in leadership positions within the continent. Such role divides exemplify the threats of a rival thug gang, on Simba Richards, the heroine of one of the video-films of our discourse in this chapter Masterstroke (2004), directed by Lancelot Odua Imuasuen. In the video-film, her opponent thugs sent a warning message through her father and step-mother, to remind her that her traditional role as a woman belongs to the kitchen and not to the political arena. It will be argued that such culturally identified roles of women have been privileged through a Bible-based patriarchal ideology which seek to condition women as weaker sex (1Peter3:7), thereby silencing them to the margins as voiceless “other.” At the same time, such ideology privileges the man and father figure over the woman and mother figure. This position within recorded human history of the Nigeria filmic space has arguably generated a lot of discourses around the topical issue of women’s right to governance. However, various studies have delved into different regions and geographical enclaves in precolonial Africa to unearth how women played key roles in traditional kingship institutions. This state of affairs at a time when women held prominent political positions is in stark contrast to what obtains now in postcolonial Africa. For instance, according to Kamene Okonjo (1983:211-21), Queen Amina of Zaria succeeded her father to the throne “in the fifteenth century” when he died. Her thirty-four year reign and the way she distinguished herself as a ruler still stand today as an example of an African woman who rose to a position of leadership as a monarch and successfully governed her subjects. It is also an example of how women contributed meaningfully to the expansion and preservation of the territories bequeathed to them both literally and metaphorically. Okonjo further discusses the traditional political roles of women in the Yoruba and Edo Kingdoms before the coming of the British. In the case of the Yoruba Kingdom, they had women with titles such as Iya Oba (the king’s official mother) and Iya Kere who enjoyed the greatest power and authority in the palace, given their role as custodians of secret items and kingship official paraphernalia. These included the “royal insignia” without which the king could not make a public appearance. They were also responsible for crowning the king during coronation ceremonies. In a way, their role dramatized the principle of check and balances within this

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traditional kingship institution since their position was indispensable especially in determining where the king went. Furthermore, their ability to provide checks for the society is illustrated in the fact that they could deliberately refuse the king the use of his official garments whenever they were not satisfied with his leadership, thereby making him to always live up to his kingly duties. Okonjo notes in general that precolonial Yoruba women established “very effective political pressure groups”, used to persuade the political leadership to attend to issues that bordered on women and “deal with broader political issues” (215). This was also the case with Igbo women, even though their kingship institution was not a centralized one like the others above. The strength of their power later on culminated in the famous Aba Women Riots or Women War. It has been argued that the positional shift described above has its roots in the colonial ideas of most of African colonizers and their new forms of civilizations. Some of these forms of civilizations are hinged on Christianity and Islam, two religions whose God-head is male, which leads them to privilege patriarchal ideologies. According to Marie Richmond-Abbott (1983:20), “ideology that justified a lower position for women was developed and enforced by religions that worshiped male deities. They developed philosophies that defined women as inferior or evil and justified their isolation from the everyday affairs… In practice, this meant that women were put in a world apart.” This affirms Zulu Sofola’s summation that colonialism was responsible for the “de-womanhood of African womanhood” through what she refers to as “colonial brainwashing” (quoted in Ukadike 1996:197). It also supports Bolanle Awe’s position as paraphrased in Andrea Cornwell (2005:11) that “ruling women enjoyed considerable prestige and power: the erosion of their prerogative and positions, particularly under the imposition of colonial rule, has been documented in societies spanning the continent as a whole.” This colonial construction of relegating women to a subordinate position in relation to men has, in postcolonial times, conditioned how African women are depicted when it comes to leadership in both artistic works and in real life situations. In real life situations, the leadership role of women has arguably deviated from the precolonial traditional construct highlighted above in which women were accorded ample opportunities to occupy leadership positions. In the colonial and postcolonial eras, women have been adjudged to not be suitable for leadership positions. Rather, men have been privileged and seen to be better suited for leadership. This has, in turn, resulted in the male dominance of the political space. This view is further highlighted by Jeff Hearn (1987:115) who points out that

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“political performance has been the most obvious way for men to show masculinity and “machismo.” Perhaps, if women were given equal opportunity with men in leadership spheres as had been done in the precolonial traditional African societies, they could contribute their quota alongside men in transforming the leadership terrain with arguably better success than the present maledominated political structure, characterized by serious contradictions warranting, for instance, the designation of Nigeria as “crippled giant” with a record of “the world’s most indebted and fifteen poorest countries” (Eghosa Osaghae 1998:15). The situation in Nigeria, as in other African states, emanated from “mismanagement of the national economy”, power instability, corruption, embezzlement of public funds, among other reasons. Such topical issues of concern facilitate our understanding of the two video-films under review in this chapter namely, The Tyrant 1&2 (2003/4), directed by McCollins Chidebe, and Masterstroke (2004), directed by Lancelot Odua Imuasuen. The two video-films not only bring to focus the intricacies inherent in African rulership but also demonstrate women’s contribution on the national and state political scenes. This would appear to echo Angela Davies’ position that leadership can be attained from unexpected places.

Women and the National Political Scene in The Tyrant The Tyrant celebrates the contributions of women in national political scene through the heroine Jenny Moremi, the Woman Rights Activist. The video-film depicts her dual roles in bringing about sanity to her country, which hitherto had been under the military rule. The camera shoots on her at different scenes in the early narrative of the video-film and portrays her supportive and advisory role, like that of another female character in the narrative, Mrs. Ogazie, to her husband Barrister Nelson Moremi. For example, she makes him understand the compromising nature of the law courts in military governments. This realization helps him to save himself from relying on the law courts for strength in his battle to force General Amino to hand over to a democratically elected government. Secondly, she facilitates the eventual overthrow of Amino’s government through her liaison with the United Nations (UN) who facilitated her bid. Her resolve to stand in the gap created by her husband’s incarceration is facilitated by her discussion with her husband’s associates, Alex and his wife, as she notifies them of her resolve to continue the fight from where her husband stopped before his arrest: “I have come to take over from where he stopped… Amino has not seen the power of a woman who has

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lost everything. First, it was my son and now my husband…I will make foreign contacts and we are going to systematically jack him away from that seat. You know that I am a lawyer and have my contacts” (The Tyrant). The camera shows through the scenes that follow shortly after her declaration that she is serious about matching her words with actions. After uttering those words, she immediately swings into action to write a compelling letter to General Amino, urging him to release her husband. This action marks the beginning of her activism to ensure both the release of her husband and the redemption of her country from the clutches of General Amino’s tyranny. Furthermore, her action contradicts her husband’s earlier insinuations when she had tried to get him to discontinue the fight with Amino shortly after the death of their first son, Sunny. She subsequently decided to relocate from the house for fear of becoming General Amino’s next victim. It was at that point that the camera had recorded Barrister Moremi as he tauntingly reminded her that: “women are known to have abandoned their husbands when the going gets tough” (The Tyrant). But, ironically, Jenny proves herself the heroine and feminist voice that expresses the African feminist view that African women do not abandon their husbands. Thus, Jenny Moremi becomes the unmistakable voice of redemption. This is chronicled in her discourse with General Amino when the latter summons her to the presidential villa in a bid to buy her over to his side and discouraging her from attacking his government: “I want to make you an offer to run the Ministry of Women Affairs” (The Tyrant). She unequivocally bares her mind in response to his offer: Let my people go, let the conscience of the people go. Where is my husband? Do you really think that you can get away with all this atrocity? …Now let me tell you, some day and some day soon, you too would be history. You have not seen anything yet, you have not seen the power of a woman unless you release my husband now… Sir I stand by the dictates of my conscience, I stand by the truth, I stand by justice for the masses, I will fight you. I will fight you with everything I’ve got and I will not apologize, I stand by the dictates of my conscience (The Tyrant).

What engendered this first encounter with Amino was the fact that she had just mobilized the women of the country to go on strike to protest the tyrannical regime of General Amino. Although the details of the strike action are provided as an out-of-camera scene, they are visually re-enacted through the detailed description provided by one of the women soldiers. She narrates every bit of the strength and impact of the strike action to Amino. Moreover, the out-of-camera scene feeds us with additional information, creating an emotive mental visual picture of Jenny’s

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popularity and the acceptance of her “operation save the nation” role among the people in general and especially among the women. Furthermore, it also builds upon the general theme of women’s contribution to the national political scene. Apart from the above, it also speaks about the aesthetic creativity of The Tyrant producers’ sense of visual economy that allows for issues to build upon existing ones by way of auditory facility which in turn eschews the visual composition of the action proper. The success of the entire strike action highlights the supportive spirit of the women to respond to the cause of womanhood. Such a spirit of unity among women echoes that of the Aba Women Riots or Women war earlier alluded to above. The strike depicts the success of Jenny’s initial action in her “operation save the nation” fight to put an end to General Amino’s administration. Among them is the impoverishment of the masses through myopic economic policies, in addition to how “he mindlessly and unremorsefully kills people.” Her struggle soon metamorphoses into an international struggle, as she travels to meet with the United Nations Organization (UNO) and inform them of the suffering of her country’s citizenry: Your Excellencies, Sirs, the situation in my country is the worst that has been seen over the years. I have come to report to you the deprivation that has been faced by the citizens of my country because of the extreme measures that has been taken by the current administration to make sure that no one speaks up. There is starvation, no one can eat. Babies are dying, the doctors have been killed, and importation of vital goods has been stopped (The Tyrant).

She informs them of the situation in order to solicit the help of the UN, who, based upon the report, swings into action immediately. The videofilm narrative depicts the visuals of a two-man UN delegation to Amino whose assignment is tagged “Peace Keeping Mission,” being subjected to different kinds of punishments and manhandling at Amino’s orders. To inform the UN headquarters that his insults and self-exaltation know no bounds, he sends them pictures of the inhuman treatment meted out on the delegates. A reading of Amino’s action depicts his gullibility and inference of his self-sufficiency and might: “I am the strongest and greatest leader in Africa and you must bow before me” (The Tyrant), which reveal that he believes to be above the UN’s control. The success of Jenny’s mission to the UN further validates her response to her husband when she notes that “women know how and when to fight and when to quit. They do not put everyone in danger” (The Tyrant). Jenny Moremi proves her worth, illustrating her earlier statement of

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having the right connections and education (as a lawyer) that would put things into place when she continues from where her husband stopped. Her ability to negotiate the military space as a woman because of her education and connections draws a parallel with the scenes depicting the girls around General Amino. It debunks the very notion or sentiment that education has no bearing on women’s ability to negotiate their positions in a society governed by male military rulers. Her earlier advisory role to her husband Nelson foreshadows her later determination and ability to spearhead the “Operation Save the Nation” campaign. Thus, her representation as she steps into her husband’s shoes speaks to Arnheim’s “prophetic vision” which reflects on the past in anticipation of the future. This reinforces Jenny’s sense of “prophetic vision” when one remembers her threat to General Amino when he informs her that her husband is history: “you too will become history soon.” In effect, the scene of General Amino’s exit literally ends both his tyrannical regime and his military rule. This situation would appear to echo what one of the UN representatives said earlier - that the UN, through its agency, would “…also try to stop military rule in the whole of Africa.” As the prophet of a new era, Jenny becomes the rallying point for democratic governance, which sees her husband coming to power as interim president. Her positional shift is in line with Gunther Kress and Theo Van Leeuwen’s (1996:40) stand that “as modes of representation are made and remade, they contribute to the making and remaking of human societies and of the subjectivities of their members.” Given the change in the mode of representation from the military space to the civilian space, it becomes important to also highlight the dynamics often associated with negotiating the modes of women representation in democratic governments.

Women and the Dynamics of Civil Rule Given the extent to which Jenny is at the forefront of the struggle that ushers in the new civilian interim government, it could be argued that she deserves nothing less than to be the head of the interim government. However, this compromise which sees Jenny’s husband taking over as interim President may indict women’s agitation to become valid within the political arena and points to Paschal Newbourne Mwale’s (2002:131) view that “Feminists complain bitterly that the dominant perspectives are exclusive of women because they are ideological and hence false, since they are interested and distorted. Feminists are not content with their inclusion in or numerical addition to universal humanity as read in liberal or Marxist theories.” Jenny’s male complementary role provides a point of

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departure from Western feminist views that amplify the equality of both sexes and disavow any form of female subjectivity negotiated in favour of the male through marriage. To this end, such feminist departure exhibited by Jenny speaks about the African feminist concept and portrays Jenny’s position as that which represents “a complementary relationship between both sexes where female individualism and character are given ample opportunity for life and expression” (Helen Chukwuma: 1994). The women power negotiation parameter in The Tyrant contrasts sharply with the character of Maryam in both Queen of Aso Rock 1&2 (2005) and its sequel, The Fall of the Queen of Aso Rock (2005), both directed by Adim William. In the video-films, Maryam, the heroine, plays a key-role in installing Gambari Dasuki as the next vice-president to succeed the late former vice-president. The position is not easy to get but in the ensuing fight for the position by other political power brokers like Idris Garuba, a distinguished serving senator of the Federal Republic, Maryam assures Gambari: “I will make you the vice president … You would be sworn in Gambari, don’t worry” (Queen of Aso Rock). One would imagine that Maryam, who has such confidence in herself as wielding great power, should use her abilities to get herself to the position of vice-president rather than using it to facilitate Gambari’s rise to that position. Her skill in negotiating, through the circles of power, contrasts with that of Jenny in The Tyrant. Unlike Maryam, Jenny has a genuine potential as a leader who can bring people together to fight for a common cause. She, therefore, represents a better case for women with leadership qualities, which contradicts Maryam’s as well as Lady Gold’s in Political Control 1,2 & 3 (2005) also directed by Adim Williams. Lady Gold, like Maryam, is skilful at investigating and digging up men’s ugly and unsavoury past, which can then be used against them. Thus, armed with such revelations, her aides - usually men – control, together with her, the selection process of who eventually becomes elected or appointed to positions. Maryam and Lady Gold control and negotiate their political power in effect through blackmail, which explains Taiwo Oloruntoba-Oju (2006:19)’s summation that Queen of Aso Rock “makes a gendered statement by exposing - through woman - the corruption of men in the corridors of power.” This negotiating power ability, as screened by most Nollywood political video-films, is used for personal gains. For instance, Maryam’s interest is to be able to wield enough power in the society to become Gambari’s second wife and the number two lady in the country, as she sends assassins after his wife. Lady Gold who, like Jenny Moremi is a married woman with children, debases her womanhood by indulging in

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frivolous money-making ventures which depict her as a greedy person, out to make as much money for herself as possible. Here, the basic contrast between Lady Gold and Jenny is that while their quest for power is mainly for self-aggrandizement, Jenny’s is to liberate her entire country through “operation save the country” and not for personal dividends. The personal gains which Nollywood video-films continually attribute to women devalue them as greedy and money conscious at the expense of a better choice of political career. The portrayal of Maryam and Lady Gold’s characters in these video-films further explains the depiction of some of the female characters such as Queen, Alisha, Eve and Bella in Girls Cot 1, 2&3 (2006) directed by Afam Okereke. The girls deceive politicians into relationships in which each of their victims’ romantic affairs with them is recorded in video tapes in order to be later used to extort money from them. They always succeed in extorting money, because they are dealing with political aspirants who would not like such negative information about them to get to their opponents; they thus are left with no other choice but to pay the many millions of naira ransom demanded of them by the girls. Such depiction reaffirms Foucault’s (1980:116) contentions of power mechanisms that articulate “…the modes of objectification which transform human beings into subjects.” An overall searchlight on Nollywood’s portrayal of these examples of women power negotiations brings to light Sarifa Moola’s (2006:129) viewpoint that “women’s lack of power and efforts to represent themselves and their needs in negotiations poses significant challenges for their role in peace-building.” Thus, apart from Jenny, the other women discussed above, including General Amino’s “girls” earlier highlighted above, validate Moola’s insight about the political exclusion of women as she succinctly affirms that “[t]hey are often excluded from higher echelons of power and formal discussions, and when women are present, they are given less seats at the negotiating table, and their positions, if they are ever articulated, are inadequately addressed” (128). This explains why Maryam, Lady Gold and Queen (the leader of Girls Cot) cannot really match the leadership pedigree of Jenny Moremi. This premise enunciates how the three former women are actually reduced to wanted women at the end of their respective video-films and are then arrested for breaking the law. Since Jenny Moremi represents the complementary African feminist view, she pursues more of the goals that she sets out to achieve on bringing order and sanity to the polity. She also refuses to compromise along the way. Her task is enormous and gives cogency to Jane Marquette

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and Sharon Kolchak’s (1998:4) contentions that “because transition politics are periods of crisis and thus of intense politicization, they bring new ideas and institutions into political life.” To buttress the above position, the video-film narrative recorded scenes that depict Jenny’s symbolic role to put an end to the overspending habit of most government officials and their wives. It highlights the views of Alex’s wife who tells her husband after he is given a ministerial position in the interim government: “I need to change my clothes to reflect our new status” (The Tyrant). Like Mrs. Alex, the Kawaka State governor’s wife arranges for a shoe shiner and hair dresser, among other helpers, to attend to Jenny during her visit to the state. The way office holders and their wives view public funds further agrees with Eghosa Osage view (1998:22) that: ... The failure of most citizens to realize that government revenue and public funds are collectively owned, and that all citizens have contributed to it by one way or another, largely explains the virtual absence of demands for accountability in the political culture of public finance. It also explains why plunderers of the government treasury are excused on the grounds that they have only ‘taken their share of the national cake’.

But Jenny in her revolutionary zeal to change the society from this mentality makes the wife of the governor of Kakawa State to know that such paraphernalia of power are unnecessary and amount to sabotage of the nation’s economy. The exemplary leadership qualities of Jenny make Alex to advise his wife against living in the mentality of the former regime. He facilitates her understanding that the present government, unlike the previous, is sensitive to the concerns of the masses and cannot follow the former trend in terms of mismanaging public funds. Such commitment is exemplified in Jenny who earlier tells her husband that she does not need an entourage to go on the journey to commission projects executed by the Kakawa State governor’s wife. Thus, she serves as a role model to women in authority to be modest and prudent in their spending of state funds. Her role echoes Barrie Axford’s (2001:4) reiteration of his earlier (2000) view that “the charge carried by new forms of electronic mediation is to problematize what constitutes a political sphere or a cultural order and who are to be allotted roles as legitimate and competent actors within them.” The video-film sound track serves as a meta-narrative in the video-film and helps to create both temporary and permanent shifts within the power structures. Thus, the music builds upon the themes, characterization and aesthetics that govern the video-film narrative. This echoes the permanent

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song during the interim government which derives its wordings from the Bible: “when the righteous rule, the people rejoice. But when the wicked rule, the people suffer.” The song creates a binary which negotiates the man’s inhumanity to man syndrome of military rulership versus the humane face of civilian rule, with the character of Jenny enshrined with more moral currency as a lifter of the oppressed. Her political role within the African feminist ideology brings to view another dimension of women’s positive representation in political sphere through the role of Simba Richards in the second video-film of our discourse.

Ideology, Gender and the Politics of Space in Masterstroke 1&2 Looking at the issue of gender and political space in Masterstroke calls to mind the role divides that abound within the larger society. These divides further constitute the social constructions of roles that privilege the way gender informs job relationships between men and women in most societies. This leads eventually to an inequality syndrome in role allocations which feminists are concerned with and which explains how inequalities have been sustained especially through text. It brings to bear Barry Brummett’s (2006:171) view that “the critical approach that draws attention to these kinds of inequalities between men and women is often called liberal feminism…. And the liberal feminists today are concerned with involving more women in the already empowered echelons of business and government.” It further agrees with Brummett’s highlight of how “some rhetoric critics” have tried to gain insight into the ways in which inequalities have been produced and sustained through patriarchal systems. The video filmmakers of Masterstroke, throughout the film narrative, depict Simba, the heroine, along the liberal feminist point of view. One example of this is the discussion between the hero Donald Adams and his political rival and heroine Simba Richards on political engagement, which exemplifies the inert desire of Simba to participate in the State House of Assembly primaries. The video-film opens with the negotiating discourse between both contestants and their fathers. This segment sheds more light on our understanding of how self-determination matters in building and sustaining one’s life goals. In the discussion between Donald Adams and his father, Senator Adams, for instance, Donald Adams is seen displaying his disinterest in running for political office while his father strongly encourages him to do so: Donald: Must I follow your footsteps, Dad?

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Clearly, Senator Adams is interested in having his son follow the same path as he has done. By contrast, Simba Richards is the one interested in entering politics while her father is not sure that it is the right thing to do, given that she is a woman: Simba: I’m ready now for politics. Justice Richards (her father): It will not favour you, you’re a woman. Simba: I have a will, I intend to make it as possible as I can…do you promise me that I get your total support on this? (Masterstroke)

The above discourse represents the overall political ambition of the heroine to compete for the State House seat and the reaction which she gets from her father. It immediately provides us with the contestants’ innate desires. For instance, Simba asserts that she has “a will”. The confidence which Simba displays in the above discourse further builds upon her strength in not allowing what the social stratification of women within the filmic space stipulates of women, as conveyed in her father’s statement above: “It will not favour you, you are a woman.” Such a will calls up David I. Kertzer’s (1988:180) revelation that “people’s emotional involvement in political rites is certainly a key source of their power.” This invariably chronicles Simba’s strength in a society where women are made to know that politics is not for them. The risks of vulnerability to unnecessary attacks by male political opponents are high, not least because male counterparts see such women as venturing into the male prerogative and space. Thus, Simba’s entry into politics provides a re-negotiation of such assumptions of politics being men’s privilege. She, like women in the precolonial indigenous society, understands the fact that politics ideally should be open to both sexes. In a way, her viewpoint is similar to that of Niara Sudarkasa who “suggests that a formulation which makes an a priori judgment that any participation of women in the public sphere represents entry into the world of men simply begs the question. She further echoes her (1976) statement in view of how precolonial West Africa negotiated the “public space” which, according to her, “was not conceptualized as ‘the world of men.’ Rather, the public domain was one in which both sexes were recognized as having important roles to play” (28). To shed more light on the political space christened a male prerogative, the video-film builds on other aspects such as women’s relegated roles only in the kitchen. Masterstroke, while building on this theme of women’s role as being only in the kitchen, further portrays Simba as one

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who cannot be moved by such reminders: “tell her that women belong to the kitchen and not political arena.” Such warning would appear to have a bearing on how political space is viewed in real life. For instance, one of the early women politicians Keita Diawara, according to Denzer (2005: 221), is always reminded by her husband, Dr Daouda Diawara who articulates his view as follows “You observe [what is going on]. You should be busy in the kitchen with your colleagues from Segu preparing food…Already you represent us in the office and you also vote. That already is a great contribution. Avoid, in particular, talking politics.” Simba, like Keita, would not budge to such dissuasions; she rather continues in her contest for the State House seat, doing everything within her ability to secure her ticket to the position. Such deterministic spirit informs that of Keita who has to work even in the face of tremendous oppositions from traditional rulers such as that of Fado who orders her to get out of his village. Furthermore, he challenges her guts, saying: “it must be that you are not only daring but full of effrontery to try to measure up to men in accepting a man’s place…I am not going to accept being controlled by a woman! Never” (Denzer, Ibid: 221). Arguably, women, just like Jenny Moremi in The Tyrant, acknowledge the roles ascribed by patriarchy. For she declares, somewhat in jest: “let me go to my office, I mean the kitchen”. Be that as it may, they are still aware of the fact that they also belong to the public space just as Jenny would rightly attest, “you have not seen the power of a woman” (The Tyrant). Her words are similar to those of Simba who says: “You all know the power we possess as women.” Her affirmation depicts that women of this video-film have transcended the patriarchal ideologies that relegate women to the background. This is exemplified in Simba’s verbal interaction, when, instead of accepting the relegation of women to the kitchen, she discloses to the Sisters for Emancipation [this is Simba’s committee of devoted friends, who have come together to front the cause of Simba’s political aspiration] that “someone told me that this is not a game for women but I’m not gonna take that.” She goes on to remind the Sisters for Emancipation that she is soliciting their support to win elections. At this point, the camera gives a long staying shot on them to establish their gathering and sitting arrangement. The camera, through the shot, depicts them as women with a sense of unity as they sit round one table. The camera records each of their contributions to the overall discourse through a more explicit close camera shot, portraying the speakers and the impact of their statements to the broad objectives of the association. For instance, one of them asks Simba what office she is seeking and when she

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answers that it is the State House of Assembly, she is not satisfied and further probes: “why not House of Representatives?” (Masterstroke). To her, Simba’s credentials and their collective support are more than the State House of Assembly which is why such efforts should target a higher position such as the House of Representatives. However, Simba’s political growth is given a positive statement to depict the journey motif that the House of Assembly would provide her as highlighted through the views of one of the sisters’ retorts: “why not climb the rope gradually and get there?” The statement makes a larger appeal which goes beyond the video-film narrative to address the way and manner in which women should overthrow the patriarchal ideologies that have conditioned them to marginal roles. It reaffirms women’s conscientious view of their marginality while making a case for women to be encouraged like Simba to aspire for political positions. Furthermore, they must not consider themselves limited to local or state levels alone but could start from lower positions and gradually climb to national level. Such views relate to Iris Marion Young’s (2000:6) position on debates about inclusions stemming from perceived exclusions from “basic political rights, from opportunities to participate, from hegemonic terms of debate. Some of the most powerful social movements of this century have mobilized around demands for oppressed and marginalized people to be included as full and equal citizens in their politics.” Young’s revelation sheds more light on the Sisters’ antiphon: “Sisters for Emancipation! Total Emancipation” (Masterstroke). The phrase not only depicts their total support and goodwill for Simba’s victory in the elections to the State House but speaks about the concept of equal opportunity for the hitherto marginalized which Young alludes to above. To validate women’s power in achieving their goals, the Sisters each take on one of Simba’s political opponents who are all men; they devise various means in order to get information from them. The information is to help them understand these opponents’ strengths and weaknesses in order to mobilize support for Simba. The sequencing of these scenes highlights James Schamus’ (2007:53) valorising of a form of editing widely “pioneered by D.W. Griffith, who helped to revolutionize narrative film language through the development of parallel editing, the shifting back and forth between alternating spaces and scenes that unfold at the same time.” This explains the way the scenes on the investigation of the opponents are carried out by the Sisters, thus culminating in the various reports on their targets. The Sisters for Emancipation further open up larger discourses around women political movements and feminist concerns. This position

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articulates that of Aili Mari Tripp (2003:239) who traces such women affinity to previous associations with groups both in the social and religious spheres “Women in many countries frequently had longer experiences than men in creating and sustaining associations, having been involved in church-related activities, savings clubs, income-generating groups, self-help associations,… Thus, they often found it easier to take advantages of new political spaces afforded by liberalizing regimes.” It should be noted that Simba’s major opponent, Donald Adams, has two friends, just like the women who help Simba. These two friends also help him to map out various strategies to ensure his victory. However, unlike the tremendous following which Simba enjoys among women, Donald has only these two friends, Ralph and Pete, working for his success. But the irony of his affiliation with them is that he cannot even trust them well in the same way that Simba’s friends have been trusted. For instance, this lack of trust is exemplified by what Donald tells Ralph when he needs him to go to Abuja to unearth any legal matters his father may have had in Justice Richard’s court during the period when Justice Richard, Simba’s father, was a Supreme Court judge. He sends Ralph on this mission because of suspicion that his father, who initially persuades him to contest the elections, has been behaving in a strange way ever since he found out that Donald’s strongest opponent was the retired judge’s daughter, Simba. Donald’s warning to Ralph builds upon this lack of trust for his friends. He warns Ralph not to let anyone else, not even Pete, know anything about his mission and warns him that failure to heed his warning will be met with punishment. This situation further debunks the bias associated with women unable to keep secrets. Thus, the Sisters for Emancipation have proven that women can keep secrets. This point is facilitated through the secrecy in which all the Sisters, including Jean, whose life is threatened by Donald, try to keep their mission out of their targets. This speaks about the fact that women are capable of keeping secrets and building networks/female agency to negotiate their political emancipation. Thus, Masterstroke serves to enlighten women on the political strength which they can garner if they team up to support the cause of women’s political emancipation. The female networking agency also contests men’s position that women should not be allowed into party decision-making bodies for fear that they would divulge secrets, since culturally, women are believed to be unable to keep secrets. The ability of the Sisters for Emancipation to keep secrets in order to ensure Simba’s success further supports Chichi Aniagolu Okoye’s (2006) debunking of male filmmakers’ portrayal of women as each other’s enemies. Such male bias in the media explains Denis Mcquail’s definition

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of bias as quoted in Pamela J. Shoemaker and Stephen D. Reese (1996:42) that it is “a consistent tendency to depart from the straight path of objective truth by deviating either to the left or right.” Consequent upon such definition of bias, the duo has remarked that “most analyses of political content in media have questioned the extent of political bias that exists, that is, specifically partisan, ideological bias.” It is such bias that highlights women’s inability to keep secrets as a political strategy to exclude them from core decision making abilities in partisan politics. Such bias is responsible for most Nigerian video-films with political undertones often portraying women within a sex negotiating power agency and not in active political roles in the same way Simba is represented in Masterstroke. To this, Oloruntoba-Oju (2006:7) observes “a deliberate and growing tendency to orchestrate female sexuality in particular as a site for power negotiations, to correlate sexual agency with power or dominance….” The ability of Masterstroke to open up other discourses around the representations of women in politics outside the most cherished point of representing women mostly along the sexual agency in politics like Glamour Girls 1&2 (1994), Executive Mess 1&2 (2005), High Street Girls (2002) or Queen of Aso Rock 1&2 (2005) among others has given Masterstroke a feminist undertone. However, male filmmakers can drop such bias which Shoemaker and Reese talk about above, and represent women in political films in the way Masterstroke has represented the heroine and the Sisters for Emancipation. This is contrary to Zulfah Otto Sallies’ (2006:153) point that “most African films portray women as the object of desire, with a few exceptions where women are shown as strong thinkers.” Masterstroke’s ability to depict Simba as a strong thinker opens up further discourse on how women should negotiate the political terrain.

Conclusion This chapter has discussed the contributions of two video-films to feminist political agitations. It has shown that films can serve as a powerful tool to reshape and reform the society. It enunciated that with characters like Jenny Moremi of The Tyrant, and Simba Richards of Masterstroke, feminine discourses in films will take a new turn for good. It portrayed how the two video-films depict the efforts of male filmmakers at creating political heroines with good attributes that serve as role models of what women’s image should be. Thus, it calls for Nollywood filmmakers to desist from portraying negative female characters whose impact on other women will make them ashamed of being women rather than seeing

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the need to contribute their quota in solving the general leadership problems that have bedevilled Africa and Nigeria in particular. Finally, the chapter implies that, with concerted efforts on the part of the filmmakers to create a sense of determination as is depicted through the heroines, women would be able to liberate themselves politically. This, therefore, serves as a challenge to filmmakers in the twenty-first century to depict women well politically.

Videography Girls Cot. Dir. Afam Okereke. Lagos: Simony Productions, 2006. Perf. Genevieve Nnaji, Rita Dominic, Ini Edo, Uche Jumbo, Tony Goodman Masterstroke. Dir. Lancelot Odua Imasuen. Lagos: Reemmy J 2004. Perf. Omotola Jalade Ekeinde, Bob Manuel Udokwu, Justice Esiri, Shan George, Alex Usifo. Political Control. Dir. Adim Williams. Lagos: Louis Merchandise, 2005. Perf. Ini Edo, Liz Benson, Rich Oganiru, Elvis Chuks. Queen of Aso Rock. Dir. Adim Williams. Lagos: Louis Merchandise, 2005. Perf. Omotola Jalade Ekeinde, Rich Oganiru, Nora Roberts, Enebeli Elebuwa. The Fall of the Queen of Aso Rock. . Adim Williams. Lagos: Louis Merchandise, 2005. Perf. Omotola Jalade Ekeinde, Rich Oganiru, Nora Roberts, Enebeli Elebuwa. The Tyrant Dir. McCollins Chidebe. Lagos: A Chimezie Oguzie Productions, 2003/04. Per. Pete Edochie, Justice Esiri, Onyeka Onwenu.

Bibliography Aniagolu-Okoye, Chichi. “Representation of Women in the Nigerian Film Industry.” 10 July 2006. http://www.thenewsng.com/modules/news/article.php?storyid=1317 Brummett, Barry. 2006. Rhetoric in Popular Culture. Thousand Oaks: SAGE Publications. Cornwall, Andrea. 2005. “Introduction: Perspectives on Gender in Africa.” In Readings in Gender in Africa. Ed. Andera Cornwall. London: James Currey Ltd. Davies, Boyce Carole. 1990. “Introduction: Feminist consciousness and Africa Literary Criticism.” In Ngambika. Studies of Women in Africa Literature. (Eds.) Carole Boyce Davies and Ann Adams Graves. Trenton: African World Press.

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Davis, Angela. “Women and Political Leadership.” Public Lecture University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg: 30th August 2007. Denzer, Laray. 2005. “Gender and Decolonization: A Study of Three Women in West African Public Life.” In Gender in Africa. Ed. Andrea Cornwall. London: James Currey. Foucault, Michael. 1980. Power/ Knowledge, ed. Colin Gordon, New York: Pantheon. El Saadawi, Nawal. 1988. Memoirs of a Woman Doctor. London: Saqi Books. Hearn, Jeff. 198 7.The Gender of Oppression: Men, Masculinity and the critique of Marxism, Sussex: Wheat sheaf. Jacquette, Jane S. and Wolchik, Sharon L. 1998. Women and Democracy: Latin America and Central and Eastern Europe. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Kertzer, David I. 1988. Ritual, Politics, and Power. New York: VailBallou Press, Kress, Gunther and Leeuwen, Theo Van. 1996. Reading Images: The Grammar of Visual Design. London: Routledge. Moola, Sarifa.” (2006), Women and Peace-building: the Case of Mabedlane Women.” Agenda 69, 124-133. Mwale, Pascal Newbourne. (2002). “Where is the Foundation of Africa Gender? The Case of Malawi.” Nordic Journal of African Studies 11.1, 114-137. Ogunleye, Foluke. 2004. “21st Century Image of Women: A Womanist Reading of Two Nigerian Plays” in South African Theatre Journal, Vol. 18, University of Stellenbosch, South Africa, pp. 112-134. Ogunleye, Foluke. 1999. “Towards the Dissolution of the Female Stereotype In and Through the Nigerian Video Film: A “Challenge for the New Millennium”, in Nigerian Theatre Journal, Vol. 5, No. 1, pp. 9-17. Oloruntoba-Oju Taiwo. 2006. “Dede n de Ku iku n de Dede: Fe/male Sexuality and Dominance in Nigerian Video-films (Nollywood).” Stichproben. Wiena Zeitschrift fur Kritische Afrikastuddien Nr.11/2006,6.Jg. Richmond-Abbott, Marie. 1983. Masculine and Feminine: Sex Roles over the Life Cycle. New York: Random House. Schamus, James. (Fall 2007).”Next Year in Munich: Zionism, Masculinity, and Diaspora in Spielberg’s Epic.” Representations 100, 53-71. Shoemaker, J. Pamela and Reesse, Stephen. 1996. Mediating the Message: Theories of Influences on Mass Media Content. New York: Longman Publishers.

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Stratton, Florence. 1994. Contemporary African Literature and the Politics of Gender. London: Routledge. Sudarkasa, Niara. 2005. “The ‘Status of Women’ in Indigenous African Societies.” In Readings in Gender in Africa. Ed. Andera Cornwall. London: James Currey. Tripp, Aili Mari. (2003). “Women in Movement: Transformations in African Political Landscapes.” International Feminist Journal of Politics 5.2, 233-255. Uchendu, Egodi. (2007): “Masculinity and Nigerian Youths. Nordic Journal of Africa Studies. 16. 2, 279-297. Ukadike, Nwachukwu Frank, 1996. “Reclaiming Images of Women in Africa and the Black in Diaspora.” In Experiences of Cinema. Ed. Imruh Bakari and Mbye Cham. London: British Film Institute. Young, Iris Marion. 2000. Inclusion and Democracy. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

CHAPTER XIII A NATION’S PRESENT IN THE PAST: LIGHTING THE BLURRED FUTURE THROUGH FILMING BUSUYI MEKUSSI ADEKUNLE AJASIN UNIVERSITY, AKUNGBA AKOKO, ONDO STATE, NIGERIA

Introduction The past, to most, if not all, postcolonial States, is mostly perceived as the fulcrum on which present and future efforts are situated. This is done as a result of both the conflated condition such a past promises and the attempts to wriggle out of such deadlocks. The South African nation had the dubious ‘privilege’ of double colonialism, which has contributed tremendously to its present rich diversity. The colonisers were first British and later people of Dutch ancestry, who fought a war to assume leadership and control of the land. While the first did not sustain their hold, the latter adopted a settler mode leading to their attaining political and economic powers. The major phenomenon that defines the government of the Afrikaners, as they were later known, is the introduction of the apartheid rule by the National Party. Amidst this richness, the South African nation has consistently, after the negotiation of a democratic political dispensation, seen the need to significantly and effectively recognise the indispensability of the past, however harrowing it might be, in order to be able to harness existing opportunities to build a better tomorrow. Needless to say that this noble initiative is a great departure from the relegation to oblivion that most nations ascribe to their past. This is more so when the past, in its wholeness, cannot be considered to be good enough for remembrance. South Africa has particularly achieved a demystification of this past through the memorialisation achieved in the constitution of the Truth and

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Reconciliation Commission (TRC). The TRC was always an instrument deployed after a long range of human rights abuse and annihilation; it could be judicial or restorative. Apart from the larger stride towards securing a compromise for the evolving of a democratic nation with the agents of the apartheid order/state, the South African TRC was meant to aid the processes of confessions and testimonies of both past oppressors and oppressed. While the victimisers were expected to confess their nefarious past actions, the victimised were required to testify to how they suffered one form of victimisation or the other. The two sides to the TRC were dually linked to the general expectation of preventing a regression to such an undesirable past. The interest of South Africa to build a memorial of the past is therefore aimed at precipitating an air of transparency that would help foster an understanding of the ameliorating measures that would inevitably be put in place to alter the different landmarks of past economic, social and political repression and dispossession. The suspicion is that the State wants to build memorials that would only cater for their desired hegemonic ends. In this regard, the State teleguides the recollecting process to inscribe only aspects of the past that are considered good for it while those seen as ‘counterproductive’ are repressed. It is, therefore, a good development that South Africa recommended a document on all aspects of the past, as much as this could be achieved. For instance, the need for the retention of the past is reiterated when it is recommended that ‘we must faithfully record the pain of the past so that a unified nation can call upon that past as a galvanizing force in the large tasks of reconciliation’ (Asmal et al 1996: 6). Starting with the notion that the TRC allows the vocalisation of past repressed testimonies of the oppressed, it has, however, been cautioned that: As we negotiate the difficult task of normalizing freedom, it will be important for us to realize that a political accommodation such as we have achieved does not imply that all the moral, intellectual, and philosophical questions have been solved. To stop at that point is to risk repeating the apartheid mistake of making politics everything (Ndebele 1998: 25).

Going by the successes recorded by the Tutu-led commission as contained in its reports, it could be argued that the TRC has helped in building an archive from which the past is stored and could be recalled to negotiate the present and the future. The concept of memory can be considered as hugely profound in its ontological pragmatics, with certain segments reflecting some polemics as well. Amongst the several manners by which memory could be defined, it

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can simply be designated as ‘an interdependent process of remembering and forgetting’ (Amadiume and An-Na’im 2000: 5). Analogously, starting from the proposition by Paul Ricœur that memory is the equivalence of the actual event; we are reminded of the limitations inherent in recording and documenting events using human memory. The reality that what memory offers is merely equivalent in nature portends that it is just a pretence or a simulacrum. Apart from the limitation at the level of recording, that of recollection or remembering is fundamental. Retrieval and recall processes in memory are as imperfect as the process of recording. This can be as a result of deliberate repression of certain aspects of the past which are considered unpleasant or painful, and of biological tampering of the memory configuration. Such lapses, therefore, reduce the products of memory to a point of imperfection at which it must be taken critically. However imperfect this might be, a greater part of the past that South Africa set out to capture was made possible by the TRC, especially if we believe that “memory serves to preserve intimations of the infinite possibilities of such regressions of the human mind and the dangers they spell for the harmonization goals of our world” (Soyinka 2000: 23). Subsequently, efforts shall be made to evaluate the implicative propensity of the past on the future of the nation and people of South Africa, even as the country takes notable strides towards the future. The volatility precipitated by the Apartheid State engendered a unique literature which was almost reduced to an instrument of struggle. Even though this might be right at the point of contextual engagements with issues which were meant to conscientise and mobilise the South African people and inform external readers of what was going on within the mapped wars of apartheid, it might not be true if viewed against the backdrop of social responsibility that a school of thought ascribes to writers. By so doing, a coalescing network is secured in the fact that in “African literature, […] issues of representation, staging, image, and narrative remain no less central than they do for cinema” (Harrow 2000: 7). It has further been submitted that at a point, theatre “turned, rather, to the bold purpose of developing political awareness towards ultimate liberation” (Horn 1999: 76b). These notwithstanding, forms of literature like poetry and drama were subjected to grievous acerbity as a result of their characteristic tendencies which negated the Racial Segregation Act that was core to the implementation of the apartheid rule. Apart from the fact that audiences were racially compartmentalised, participation in poetry readings and selection of casts for stage performances were racially gagged. For instance, on the issue of compartmentalisation, looking at what is called

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“social relations…and enforced class structure”, Tomaselli submits that “under the 1963 Act, a differential censorship based on race became commonplace and appeals had to be made directly to the Minister of the Interior”. However, the racially driven censorship was aborted in 1974, but “retained the right to restrict films “to persons in a specific category…or a specific place” (1989: 16). This development had significant impacts on playwrights like Athol Fugard who tried very hard to break apartheid racial barriers. This subsequently influenced his thematic preoccupations and the size of his casts. Expectedly, the cinematic life of the nation, which also requires physical human contact, would have suffered various levels of interference. For instance, “while torture, exile, interrogation, confiscation, and sometimes, destruction of material are unlikely in South Africa, some erring film makers have been arrested, intimidated and had their films intercepted by state security agents” (Tomaselli 1989: 19). But for all the challenges posed to this form of artistic production, cinema offered a rewarding respite for people enveloped in the apartheid’s ‘climate of fear’. This was compounded by the physical brutality deployed by apartheid agents to prevent mobility and physicality which had the capacity to ignite and foster insurgences. The film tradition is playing a good part in the larger project of rebuilding the South African nation, most especially by traveling through the tortuous path of the violations of the past, the tendencies of their consequences, the symptomatic relation of the past with the present, and the revelation of the unknown psyche of a socially constructed outcast and misfit. In spite of the differences recorded at the level of specificity of forms and aesthetics, post-apartheid literature does not just interact with the different ‘Nows’ and ‘Thens’, but with the “enactments of quite different South Africans had in common the attempts to re-present and re-member the past in the present, and so, to offer a subjunctive enactment of a desirable future” (Kruger 1999: 10). Essentially, cinema has been variously engaged by different scholars. While some investigate its tendencies for industrial purposes, some others examine its parameters for national cultural inscriptions. This is corroborated by the notion that the two distinctive understandings of cinema are its perception “as an industry and a cluster of cultural strategies” (Vitali and Willemen 2006: 2). Looking at it in a very simple manner, film teaches history in lightning (Griffith cited in Wyke 2006: 61). Wyke (ibid) has earlier submitted that: Film is a medium that initially located itself as an extension of nineteenthcentury representational forms. The new technology of the moving image could be seen as a further development of nineteenth-century technical

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Chapter XIII progression through engraving, lithography and photography towards ever more refined ‘realistic’ representations, whether of the present or of the future.

The above is specific about the idea of realistic portrayal and accompanying encapsulation that is enhanced by the intimate degree of collaboration achieved in film as against the indication of numbness that limitedly characterizes other forms of vivid representations before it. Interrogating the confluence between what is termed ‘individual national cinema’, Vitali and Willemen hold that apart from giving “emphasis to the specificity of the historical dynamics that must necessarily shape individual national cinemas”, efforts must be made “above all, to call attention to the notion of history, the historiographic model” (2006: 9). Apart from the possibility of biography or/and autobiography documentaries, which strive at exactness, the engagements cinemas make with history are not usually devoid of mediation. Therefore, “films can be seen not to ‘reflect’, but to ‘stage’ the historical conditions that constitute ‘the national’ and, in the process, to ‘mediate’ the socioeconomic dynamics that shape cinematic production…” (Vitali and Willemen ibid: 8). However, even though it is the case that “cinema could supply a new mode of historiography of lasting value for the immediacy with which it reconstructed the past and for the intimacy with the past which it gave to its enthusiastic spectators”, such claim of accuracy and truthfulness is punctured by the fact that the processes of aesthetisisation achieved through “set designs, costumes and props” (Wyke 2006: 62) add to it a colouration of fiction. Although history is so central to the trajectory being navigated in this chapter, no attempt is made to reduce the two films being interrogated to the level of “mechanical mimicking of pure appearances” but an imbibing of the modernity prognosis of “the demystificatory attitudes towards illusion and ideology” which require us “to deal phenomenologically with the world as it appears to our senses” (Iampolski 2006: 73). No doubt, the preceding prognosis hints on the idea and possibility of familiarity on the part of the audience who might, in all intent and purpose, be in tune with the socio-historical contexts reflected in certain film texts. It is, therefore, plausible to agree with the fact that “like any other cultural product, films (whether political or not) are shaped by the social and historical constellations within which, and for which, they are made” (Ko 2006: 129). This explains, therefore, the engagements that films originating from the continent of Africa have made with the various experiences of the people, which are mostly colonial, subterfuge/resistant, and significantly culturally and historically counter-hegemonic. The foregoing underpins

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the deployment of films, just like other forms of artistic material, by Western agencies to stereotypically popularise the “uncivilized, childish” or cruel natives (Pfaff 2004: 1). Pfaff (ibid) has earlier noted that “cinema is one of Africa’s newest and least known art forms”. Even though the existence of cinema in the northern and southern African hemispheres dates back to a century, Pfaff further states that “the use of film as a means of expression and communication by Sub-Saharan Black Africans is a more recent phenomenon”. Despite the early evolution of cinema in South Africa, cinema during the apartheid period catered more for White audiences in spite of its prolific nature (Cancel, 2004: 16). The damaging configurations of the African continent are also achieved in the novel, where, for instance, Joyce Cary’s Mister Johnson provokes Chinua Achebe’s great narrative of Things Fall Apart to be designated ‘anthropological’. It is instructive to reiterate the view of the Senegalese film maker recognized as one of the great forerunners of African films, Ousmane Sembene, cited in Pfaff (ibid), who posits that: Before we started to make films, Europeans had shot films about the African continent. Most of the Africans we saw in those films were unable to set one foot in front of another by themselves. African landscapes were used as settings. Those films were based on European stories.

The temptation is there for such a great exploit to be dismissed as merely reactionary, but this is far from that, as the centrality of contextual relevance cannot be disregarded. It has been particularly difficult to apply the different attempts made to categorise recognisable approaches in the study of cinema, to the case of South African films, going by the uniqueness of this particular experience. However, judging by the propositions made by scholars such as Férid Boughedir and Manthia Diawara, cited in Francoise Pfaff (2004: 2-3), it might be right to hold that South African films follow a socio-political trajectory to awaken the people “to react against oppressive institutional and governmental forces and class-based exploitation of the masses”, and to give attention to “current sociocultural issues”. In a collection of works done on African films, Robert Cancel is said to have studied “documentaries and feature films” made in and outside South Africa, which projected the details of the oppressive apartheid regime to audiences in a place like America, while Mbye Cham discusses contemporary African films that revise and rewrite the African past from a subject standpoint and “render that past relevant and productive for the present and the future” (Pfaff 2004: 8). Even though Maingard (2007: 4) posits that “the first screening of moving images in South Africa was on 11th May, 1896 at the Empire

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Theatre in Johannesburg”, she however adds that the making of such moving images was achieved in 1898 and 1899 “when Edgar Hyman (brother Sydney) captured a variety of South African scenes on films including President Paul Kruger stepping into his carriage on the way to the Volksraad (Parliament) in Pretoria”. However, possibly as a result of emphasizing some details over others, Martin Botha and Adri van Aswegen (1992: 9) trace the inception of “the mainstream film industry in South Africa”, which they describe as “one of the oldest in the world’, which ‘does not rank among the best”, to 1910. In spite of this early inception of the film in South Africa, it was restrictively deployed to reflect the life of the people, black and white, most especially the glamorisation of the apartheid rule to foreign viewers. This is as an attempt to portray the apartheid government in ‘positive terms’ by the South African Information Service who inundated the U.S audiences with “documentaries or feature films depicting the other side of the apartheid equation” (Cancel (2004: 15). This equation includes the flaunting of the Bantustan Education which was seen as part of the larger idea of allowing every racial group in apartheid South Africa to develop in its own way. However, this form of education was meant to disadvantage blacks under the separate development mechanism. Cancel refers to this as the country’s attempt to find “ways to handle the complexity of containing ‘several nations within our borders’” (21). Cancel, however, notes that “by the early 1970s, a series of documentaries depicting the monstrous nature of apartheid began to trickle down to American university campuses, activist community groups, and a handful of public theatres and television stations”. Notable events such as the Sharpeville and Soweto uprisings, and subsequent pogroms, later marked a watershed development in the cinema industry, with the gory realities of them captured in films inscribing the violations going on locally to the international community more than before. This beaming illumination of the repressed era was also countered by the apartheid state by coming up with documentaries that query the assertions of early anti-apartheid documentaries (Cancel 2004: 20). The 1980s saw the production of films based on the literary works of writers like Nadine Gordimer, although such was not absolutely strange before then. The later 1980s, however, witnessed a more turbulent confrontation between the apartheid state and the militant wing of ANC, Umkhonto we Sizwe, leading to the writing of books by White South Africans which later formed the interest of Western filmmakers and resulted in the production of A Dry White Season (1989) and Cry Freedom (1987) (Cancel 2004: 25). Going by the reconstruction of the historical trajectory of South Africa

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attempted in the foregoing, it is understandable that South African films, just like other literary art works, would “reflect and highlight elements of South African sociocultural history of the apartheid era”, often times in conjunction with other related literary material which also make a “solid contextualization of those periods…unique and alternate shameful and inspiring chapter in African history” (Cancel 2004: 29). The peculiar existence of cinema in South Africa, compared to other parts of the continent, as mentioned beforehand led to an early exportation to other parts of the world, most especially the United States of America. The involvement of people from the U.S in the production of documentaries, too, would have been a good source of technical reinforcement to later texts. And as demonstrated in the review of the preapartheid activities and the resistance against it in South Africa, it is arguable that film, in Africa, is first and foremost, “a way of defining, and interpreting African experiences with those forces that have shaped their past and that continue to shape and influence the present”, thereby fulfilling some artistic, cultural, intellectual and political commitments noted with other literary forms (Cham 2004: 48). Further to the above, as most films in some countries on the continent of Africa began what Ali Mazrui, cited in Cham (2004: 50), calls “romantic gloriana”, cinema in South Africa has distinctly noted the complex diversity therein and provides the nuances and “sites for experiencing, understanding, and appreciating such diversity and complexity” (Cham ibid: 48). It is in the light of this that the two South Africans films examined in this chapter are produced against the background of fulfilling the requirement that “the film should, as a cultural artefact, reflect, interpret, and evaluate the values and culture of the time as well as the society in which and from which the film evolves” (Botha and Aswegen 1992: 2). The film Tsotsi depicts the life of a young Tsotsi that is also called David (Presley Chweneyagae), who furrows the hard and sinuous paths of the different types of life that exist in the city and the township, respectively. Ulf Hannerz (1999: 168b) holds that “Tsotsis was a corruption of ‘Zoot suits’, as worn by American delinquent youths in a slightly earlier period, and the urban dialect associated with these criminals”. Gavin Hood (2006), the writer and director of the film Tsotsi, simply describes the word ‘tsotsi’ as “a nickname meaning thug”. In another vein, Cancel (2004: 31) describes the tsotsi as “a local township term that became a generic label of young men…in gangs and who were associated with criminal acts such as robbery, assault, and murder; they were something like ‘gangsters’ or ‘juvenile delinquents’”. Through the

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cinematic technique of flashback, we are made to see how a disorientation at the home front between his parents drives him to the street where he grows up to enlist in a criminal group that put the streets of Johannesburg under a great stress and tension. A significant turning point emerges in the life of this Tsotsi when he discovers and takes home a baby in the back seat of the car he steals from the owner, Pumla (Nambitha Mpulwana), at gun-point. Amidst the hunting for the child by the police and the good advice offered by Miriam (Terry Pheto) in an attempt to get a foster mother to breastfeed and nurse the baby, the young Tsotsi returns the child to the parents, Pumla (Nambitha Mpulwana) and John (Rapulana Seipheimo), who have doubly tasted the bitterness of the gangsters’ activities. The film ends with the process of negotiation and compromise as the Tsotsi’s future hangs in the balance of justice and law and order, as epitomized by the white Zulu-speaking policeman (Ian Roberts). Zulu Love Letter, produced by Jacques Bidou and Bhekizizwe Peterson, is a multifaceted narrative spawned around the central character of Thandeka (Pamela Nomvete) who, in company of her photographer colleague, witnesses the brutal murder or, for the imperative of compliance with political jingoism, assassination of a young activist, Dineo. Apart from the construction of Thandeka at the official level of interaction, several slippages are made to reveal the shakiness that characterizes her marriage at the home front. Of particular importance is her imprisonment while she is pregnant, which results in the baby, Simangaliso (Mpumi Malatsi), being born deaf and mute. Thandeka forms an alliance with the deranged mother of Dineo, Me’Tau, to first seek justice, but later, a proper burial for the late journalist. The effect of the brutalisation of the State is also felt by Thandeka who loses her estranged husband, Moolla (Kurt Egelhof), to police high-handedness. Along this trajectory of metaphorism and unpacking, the film weaves the past with the present in a sleekly but tortuous manner, indicating an exchange of love between the various actors that represent the divides: the living and the dead, the bereaved and the killer, the concocted present with the annihilated past. However, within this simulation of love is a pervading echo of unresolved details. An acknowledgement must be made, at this point, of the incisive effort of Jacqueline Maingard (2007) to interrogate Zulu Love Letter and Tsotsi, among many others. However, while Maingard seems to recognise the sequence between the past, the present and the future, she simply offers a hint of the implications these interactions tend to have, most especially, on the future, when viewed against the backdrop of memory and its manifestations. For instance, the “film asks questions of …complex web

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of histories that is powerfully interwoven with the present…through the lives of its characters” (Maingard 2007: 169). As a result, this chapter will further Maingard’s argument (ibid: 169) that “with apartheid’s atrocities and brutalities unresolved in the hearts and souls of the nation’s people, there cannot be reparation and the future cannot be free”, as efforts are also made to interrogate the two films in a more explicit manner. The reconciliation process initiated after the apartheid rule is no doubt an attempt to prevent the slippages of the past from spilling to the present. However purposeful this appears to be, it does appear that there is no way such could be guaranteed absolutely, because it looks pretentious and could be taken as a mere hegemonic attempt at memorialising and repressing at the same time. In fact, there is no way the engagement with the present realities in South Africa could be done in an absolute disregard of the past. This is more situated within the binary of the superior and the subaltern constructed using the framework of apartheid. In the movie, David is introduced through the use of flashback as a victim of domestic violence and brutalised by his father. This starts the process of his truancy. The interpolation between this period and the maturity of David as a vagabond underscores the possible innocuous connection between the past and the future. Therefore, apart from racially ascribing the disorientation in the family of David to the popular disruptive tendencies of apartheid, the central place of sex and other social orientations could not be disregarded. From the wandering on the street and the hibernation in the water pipes in company of a few other children, David explores the positionality of the space between the city and the township not only to carve out a social space for himself but to take possession of his own ‘share’ in the economy through criminality. It is important to point out that the space of the ‘location’ or informal settlement, like the one where David grows up, is characteristically a precarious one. For instance, ‘Alexandra, in post-apartheid South Africa, remains a place of violence, crime, dirt, overcrowding, family dysfunction, waywardness and disconnect male youth and even vigilantism’ (Bozzoli (2004: 17). Making reference to what Steve Biko said at his trial in 1976, it is obvious that: township town alone makes it a miracle for anyone to live up to adulthood…this refers to the degree of violence that one gets in townships, which tends to introduce a certain measure of uncertainty about what tomorrow will bring…When you are in the township, it is often dangerous to cross from one street to the next, and yet as you grow up, it is essential that kids must be sent on errands in and around the township. They meet up with these problems; rape and murder are very common aspects of our

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The creation of John and Pumla, who are black South Africans, in the film as representatives of the new middle class, is significant when compared with the socio-political and economic dichotomies that existed between black and white in apartheid South Africa. In this wise, rather than have a situation where a white man would be the target as we have in a film like Mapantsula (1988), the emerging new black class has somehow blurred the apprehensions created around skin pigmentation. Bozzoli (2004: 281) provides an explanation along this line, quoting Isserow and Everatt (1998:53) when they opine that “growing ‘material selfishness’ was noted by some as a feature of the post-election period, concomitant with a drop in the sense of ‘community’”. This new version of class inequality is also played out in the relationship between members of the robbery gang when David, the selfacclaimed leader of the group, doles out a mere hand-out to the other two members after selling the cars stolen from the duo of Pumla and John. Furthermore, the fact that the family of John is doubly attacked by the group provokes an in-depth probing to ascertain whether it is as a result of vulnerability or the certainty of sophisticated booties. Whatever might be the case in this trajectory, one thing comes out very plainly: the limitations of the security system put in place to serve as gate keeper in an attempt to prevent the infiltration of the elite domain by underprivileged members of the society. The somewhat atavistic repression of masculinity comes out very vividly in the relationship between David and Miriam. Miriam who is nursing the wounds of the sudden and mysterious disappearance of her husband gets caught up in the web of David’s high-handedness as she reluctantly assumes the position of a foster mother to the baby that David steals with the car. Even though she eventually demobilises David’s criminal initiatives, her inability to put up an overt rejection in the face of David’s overtures is indicative of her subservience. Miriam’s style of relationship expected of an ideal spouse later culminates in the sensibility she is able to create in David to bring him to return the baby to its biological parents. This shows the importance of conviviality and affection within the family system. We should be reminded that these were absent in the home where David grew up as a child before turning into a fugitive and street boy. The conflation and tension generated at the scene where David turns up to return the abducted baby to its parents hold up both the pattern of conciliatory and harsh approaches to tackling criminality up to scrutiny. Looking at the resilience of charisma and personality, the helplessness and remorse shown by David as against the rashness and brutality associated

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with him earlier, indicate the shallowness and falseness of the latter traits. This means, therefore, that the nuances of criminality, among some other things, can be engendered, cultivated and precipitated. The ‘rites’ of negotiation of the return of the baby to its parents are symbolically reminiscent of a negotiation between the past, represented by the Zuluspeaking policeman, the present, configured in the engagements between John and Pumla on the one side and David on the other, and the future personified by the new baby. Analogous to the physical dispossession and brutality found in the first film, Zulu Love Letter reflects a high level violation and dehumanisation. But while the former is socially propelled, the latter is a consequence of the apartheid regime. The trajectory of engagements in the film shows a spate of contestations between the representatives of the apartheid state and the forces bent on displacing them. Thandeka is centrally placed to challenge the excesses of the apartheid regime by galvanising and mobilising the process of seeking redress for Dineo’s brutal extermination. The dependability of the companion Thandeka gives to Me’Tau, Dineo’s mother, is far-reaching and desirable in helping to attenuate the psychological disruptions Dineo’s death causes her mother and other members of the family. The quest for this personal regeneration is situated within the larger programme of reconciliation and reconstruction constituted in and through the TRC. The Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission played a significant role in helping the South African state come to terms with the negative realities of its past in the present. However, amidst the inclinations of reconciliation and forgiveness precipitated by the TRC as evidenced in the film, certain actors of the past evils are still bereft of any modicum of remorse and penitence, which are required conditions for the dispensing of amnesty and true reconciliation. For instance, one of the white former police of apartheid dismisses the quest by Dineo’s mother to procure justice for the killing of her daughter as tantamount to chasing mere shadow. He is more interested in the scientific and mathematical methodical manner in which the killing was carried out as part of the amorphous definition of politically motivated murders in the apartheid era. The repudiation of the TRC by the unrepentant policeman is a reenactment of the disregard shown by some members of the feuding community. Therefore, while the TRC is venerated by some as an opportunity to eliminate the divisive elements introduced by the extant apartheid regime, others treat it with a pinch of salt. The implication of this is that the process deemed to have produced the much needed platform

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for peaceful and cohesive cohabitation is reduced to a mere chimera. This lack of cooperation on the path of peace is a painful reminder of the actions of people like the former Prime Minister and President, P. W. Botha, who failed to appear before the TRC. In view of the purported failure of the TRC to achieve the desired reconciliation predicated on the notions of full disclosure and a show of remorse, steps are taken further in Zulu Love Letter to seek a reconnection between the wandering spirits of those gruesomely killed by the apartheid machineries and their mournful relations. Of significant foregrounding are the attempts made by Thandeka to get herself and her dumb daughter reconciled with the departed personality of her husband, Moolla, on the one hand, and the longing of Dineo’s mother and relations to be restored to a sustained relationship with the former. With obvious indications that the TRC gives concentration to the alleviation of victims living through the telling of the stories of their violation and victimhood, it is little wonder that the film emphasises the restoration of the wondering spirits of the dead who do not just suffer the tendencies of brutalisation but who are not privileged to be given a proper burial. This explains why efforts are made in the film to carry out a spiritual process that will facilitate the return of the peripatetic spirits of the departed even when that could not be done to their physical bodies. The symbolism and metaphorical manifestations of the South African past and present, in relation to the future, are encased in the personalities of the child David whom the Tsotsi abducts in the first film and Thandeka’s dumb daughter in the second. As it is revealed that the dumbness and attendant filial dislocation that taint the relationship of this little child with her parents and grandmother are principally caused by the apartheid state, not much is known about the possible negativity that awaits the abducted child in future. As mentioned earlier on, while the apartheid regime could be blamed for some of the limitations that ‘adorn’ the South African nation state, class and other indices have come to define the relationship among people, mostly along the trajectory of sociopolitical and economic negotiations. It might then be plausible to argue that the deployment of films in South Africa has gone beyond the reflection of the past and present, but extended to a presaging of the future in order for the country to begin an early headlong tackling of the challenges around security, job provisions and psycho-socio stabilisation. The film, just like some other forms of art, still provides the framework for engaging with the minimal paraphrase of the life of the people in South Africa. This conforms to the view that

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African films offer us a window on Africa, one that presents views quite different from those we usually see through the three windows on that continent readily available to Western viewers: television news, documentaries, and feature films produced in the West (Gugler 2003: 1) .

Only time and season will tell how best the South African future will be able to derive from the present and past. She is not, however, in the dark concerning the realities of her existence as proper illumination is done in that regard amidst great ambiguities and possibilities.

Bibliography Amadiume, Ifi and Abdullahi An-Na’im. Eds. (2000) “Introduction”. The Politics of Memory: Truth, Healing and Social Justice. London: Zed Books, pp. 1-19. Asmal, Kader et al. (1996) Reconciliation through Truth: a Reckoning of Apartheid’s Criminal Governance. Cape Town: David Philip Publishers. Botha, Martin and Adri van Aswegen. (1992) Images of South Africa: the Rise of the Alternative Film. Pretoria: Human Sciences Research Council. Cancel, Robert. (2004) “‘Come Back South Africa”: Cinematic Representations of Apartheid over Three Eras of Resistance”. Focus on African Films. Francoise Pfaff. Ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, pp. 15-32. Cham, Mbye. (2004) “Films and History in Africa: a Critical Survey of Current Trends and Tendencies”. Focus on African Films. Francoise Pfaff. Ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, pp. 48-68. Gugler, Josef. (2003) African Film: Re-Imagining a Continent. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Hannerz, Ulf. (1999) “Sophiatown: the View from afar”. Readings in African Popular Culture. Karin Barber. Ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, pp. 164a-170b. Harrow, Kenneth W. (2000) “Introduction”. African Images: Recent Studies and Text in Cinema. Eds. Maureen Eke, Kenneth W. Harrow and Emmanuel Yewah. Trenton: Africa World Press, Inc., pp. 1-9. Horn, Andrew. (1999) “South African Theatre: Ideology and Rebellion”. Readings in African Popular Culture. Karin Barber. Ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, pp. 73a-80a. Iampolski, Mikhail. (2006) “Russia: the Cinema of Anti-modernity and Backward Progress”. Theorising National Cinema. Valentina Vitali and Paul Willemen. Eds. London: British Film Institute, pp. 72-87.

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Ko, Mika. (2006) “The Break-up of the National Body: Cosmetic Multiculturalism and the Films of Mike Takashi”. Theorising National Cinema. Valentina Vitali and Paul Willemen. Eds. London: British Film Institute, pp. 129-137. Kuzwayo, Muzi. (2007) There’s a Tsotsi in the Boardroom: Winning in a Hostile World. Johannesburg: Jacana. Kruger, Loren. (1999) The Drama of South Africa: Plays, Pageants and Public Since 1910. London: Routledge. Ndebele, Njabulo. (1998) “Memory, Metaphor, and the Triumph of Narrative”. Negotiating the Past: the making of memory in South Africa. Eds. Sarah Nuttall and Carli Coetzee. Cape Town: Oxford University Press, pp. 19-28. Pfaff, Francoise. Ed. (2004) “Introduction”. Focus on African Films. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, pp. 1-11. Ricoeur, Paul. (2004) Memory, History, Forgetting. (Translated by Kathleen Blamey and David Pellaver. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Soyinka, Wole. (2000) “Memory, Truth and Healing”. The Politics of Memory: Truth, Healing and Social Justice. Ifi Amadiume and Abdullahi An-Na’im. Eds. London: Zed Books, pp. 20-37. Tomaselli, Keyan. (1989) The Cinema of Apartheid: Race and Class in South African Film. London: Routledge. Vitali, Valentina and Paul Willemen. Eds. (2006) “Introduction”. Theorising National Cinema. London: British Film Institute, pp. 1-14. Wyke, Maria. (2006) “Italian Cinema and History”. Theorising National Cinema. Valentina Vitali and Paul Willemen. Eds. London: British Film Institute, pp. 61-71.

CHAPTER XIV MIGRATING NOLLYWOOD: MELTING BORDERS IN TUNDE KELANI’S ABENI JENDELE HUNGBO DEPARTMENT OF AFRICAN LITERATURE, UNIVERSITY OF THE WITWATERSRAND, JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA

Introduction Recent discussions about the film industry in Africa appear to have carved out a region for video films coming out of Nigeria. In different ways, these video films have come to acquire a separate identity, in which case, they are seen to have certain features which set them apart from other film traditions from other parts of the world. The term Nollywood is, therefore, used to refer to films produced in Nigeria by Nigerian filmmakers. However, there are indications to the effect that there is need to take a closer look at the temptation to categorize Nollywood as films made by Nigerian producers alone. With the wave of globalization sweeping across the world, definitions of Nollywood should begin to give consideration to the possibility of incorporating films from Nigeria or about Nigeria made by nationals of other countries or even the case of Nigerian films drawing on traditions and involving artists and technical crew from other nations. This need arises from the fact that the identity of the Nigerian personality, and to a certain extent, African personality which Nollywood stands to portray especially with its reception across and beyond the continent has the potential of impacting on the eventual image of the Nigerian character presented to the world. The extents of circulation, increasing popularity and success of Nollywood have been dealt with by Esan (2008). In addition to this is the danger of exclusion of vital works produced by filmmakers whose backgrounds and works are by no means less important

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than those done by their colleagues who enjoy the spatial privilege of remaining within the geographical location of the country. Perhaps, one major reason the study of Nollywood is gaining more currency is the promise it has of producing an antidote to the anxiety shown by Bernth Lindfors (1991:1) in the categorization of popular literature in Africa. In Lindfors’ estimation, the search for popular literature in Africa becomes a complicated task because of the low level of literacy and the multiplicity of indigenous languages spread across the continent. With the development of cinema and the expansion given to this art form, however, a lot of these inhibiting factors alluded to by Lindfors seem to be giving way, especially, in the graphic capacity of the medium of film and the complementarity of the kind of technology through which video films are now made available to a wide range audience on the continent and even in the Diaspora. In this way, the average Nigerian film tends to satisfy certain major conditions which qualify it as popular art. The controversies surrounding the definition of what is to be regarded as popular notwithstanding, there appears to be a consensus on the aspects of mass circulation and accessibility to an imagined audience. This appears to be the major motivation behind Rissover and Birch’s (1983:3) definition of popular arts as “those art forms which appeal to large numbers of people who share similar experiences, interests, values, or tastes.” This does not, however, presuppose any automatic assumption of popularity by a work of art as events and developments over time may contribute to the transformation of a particular work from the region of the serious to the region of the popular. In other words, genre classification cannot be taken to be sacrosanct in looking at popular culture or even any kind of text as an example of this category of literary expression. For instance, Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, which qualifies as a canonical work in African literary studies, is already enjoying the status of a popular novel in some countries. The interest of this chapter in exploring the ways in which Tunde Kelani’s film, Abeni, handles the traps set in the African continent and by extension in most postcolonial societies by the telling effects of colonialism and the erection of borders, both physical and social, between neighbouring communities should, therefore, be appreciated against two major backgrounds. The first stems from the centrality of language to cultural practice as well as the forging of identities, especially in formerly colonized societies. This explains, to a large extent, the close examination of the deployment of language in Abeni and the coupling of cultures and social interactions existing between two different countries with varying colonial experiences which seem to make a unified experience difficult. The second is inherent in the fragmentation of African communities by the

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historical fact of colonialism and the attempts at reconnecting these communities through the instrumentality of popular culture, in this case, film. This is why this chapter will, in addition, examine how the producer uses popular acts from two different countries (Nigeria and Republic of Benin) to further extend the reception base and spheres of influence of Nollywood, and in the process, creates a transnational identity for the Nigerian film. This is based on the understanding of the historical significance of film or cinema as a form of “social practice implicated in the construction of national identities” (Vitali and Willemen, 2006: 5).

Nollywood in Perspective It is instructive to note that the origin of Nollywood has often been traced to the early Yoruba traveling theatre popularly called Alarinjo (Ogunbiyi, 1981:22). Even when Hubert Ogunde took the performance from the streets and the marketplace to the cinema through the format of celluloid, the indebtedness of his performance to the migrant tradition was still never in doubt. It is important to point out here that since the first experience in film screening facilitated by a European merchant at Glover Memorial Hall in 1903 (Uchegbu, 1992: 48), a lot of developments have taken place which continue to generate interest in the different types of films, in varying formats, coming from Nigeria. Most of the early films which were produced in the languages of the various regions of the country featured artistes from traditional theatre groups including the popular Yoruba travel theatre. This fact is important to us in the sense that the issue of migration has been a latent feature of the Nigerian film industry almost since inception. Most of the films released around that period thematically emphasized culture and history and to some extent, morality and politics but contemporary social realities were left out (Akpabio, 2007: 90). Early video films like Ogunde’s Aye, Aropin N’teniyan and Kenneth Nnebue’s Aje Ni Iya Mi fall within this category. The striking difference, however, between Hubert Ogunde’s films and the others is that his were produced on celluloid. This shutting out of contemporary reality in the representation of society drew critical comments from the audience and certain scholars who derided the heavy concentration by these films on traditional practices and beliefs mainly bordering on the occult. Nonetheless, these films had numerous lessons for the society as they had predictable didacticism in which good often triumphed over evil. It should be noted that television played a crucial role in the development of the Nigerian film around that period as producers who could not afford the

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cost of turning their stories into films on their own, approached television stations who collaborated with them in deploying equipment for production and post-production, after which such works were serialized for the television audience. The fortune of the Nigerian movie appears to have changed immensely within the last decade. Writing on the revolution within the industry, Onishi (2002) observes that “the explosive growth occurred after 1998, when Nigerian movies began to be exported all over Africa, especially in the English-speaking countries”. The success of Nollywood as a creative enterprise can perhaps be attributed to a more recent shift of focus from the exploration of historical, cultural and didactic concerns of the early days to a more engaging interrogation of contemporary realities, social issues and conflicts arising from social relations and structures in the society. The ‘new Nigerian home videos’, as these films are sometimes referred to because of their availability in domestic viewing format, did not, however; totally drop cultural matters from their purview. It could not really have, because some of the realities examined by it were the results of cultural conflicts arising from the constant clash between tradition and modernity in a society which had once witnessed colonialism. Modernity in this case does not constitute a total break from the past since “every society in the modern world inherits ancestral cultural values [which imply] that modernity is not always a total rejection of the past” (Gyekye, 1997:217). In a sense, modernity, at a point, also becomes the tradition as society redefines the way things are acceptably done within the confines of the community. As Edward Said (1993: xiii) puts it, “culture in this sense is a source of identity” with which the society sets itself apart from others whose experience might be different from its own. In another sense, it is “a sort of theatre where various political and ideological causes engage one another” (p. xiv). In a way, therefore, the Nigerian film can be said to be a reflection of the society that produces it. At the technical level, the flexibility of new media technology has offered immense capacity for growth to Nollywood. As Oluyinka Esan observes: The progress of the industry may never have occurred without the flexibility of the new media technology. The lower costs of video production kits has democratized the chances of participation in the industry and more producers, without the yoke of large mainstream corporations, are able to translate their ideas into the appropriate format for dissemination in the market (Esan, 2008).

The flow through various media formats over the years, which allows

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for greater access to Nollywood productions, is also a kind of technical migration which reminds us of the significance of constant movement or flux in the determination of the prevailing accomplishments attributable to the industry. In other words, the movement from celluloid through the VHS to the Video CD and now the DVD has had a positive impact on the trajectory of Nollywood both in terms of production and distribution of the films. Though some critics have scorned the industry on the basis of its penchant for allowing ill-prepared practitioners who capitalize on the laxity of new media technology, the potential of market forces to take care of such intrusions is not only discernible but can be said to have manifested in the pattern of entry and exit in the Nigerian film industry.

Abeni and the African Colonial Experience The historical experience of Africa is grossly influenced by colonialism. The partition of the continent which the colonialists undertook for administrative convenience still continues to take its toll on cultural relations among neighbouring countries who otherwise should have no real problems as such understanding one another. In making the Nigerian film an average representative of the film tradition in Africa, certain problems arise which are insignia of the varying colonial experiences of the different countries on the continent. In Abeni, this point is represented in the difference between the colonial experiences of Nigeria and that of her next-door neighbour, Benin Republic. The fact that Nigeria was colonized by the British and Benin by the French puts a wedge between the two countries, making seamless communication difficult as the languages and certain cultural nuances of the colonial powers have greatly influenced the appropriation of meaning in each of the two communities presented in the film. In imagining an African world from the viewpoint of colonized peoples and the negative impact of colonization, Abeni presents the viewer with a picture of an otherwise unified section of Africa polarized by intervening alien cultures. For instance, the encounter between the waiters on the one hand and Laku and Ogagu on the other, in a Cotonou restaurant, exemplifies the linguistic conflict which colonialism imposes on the African continent. The inability of the two young men to understand the question of one of the waiters (avec quoi?) and the subsequent query by Ogagu (ki lo tun n je quoi?) in his native Yoruba language further reinforces the dislocation of the communication ability between neighbouring African communities resulting from colonial experience. At a point, the waiter simulates the crowing of a cock for Laku and Ogagu to understand that the word

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‘poulet’ meant chicken while Laku also demonstrates the egg-laying process for the waiters to appreciate the need for them to include eggs in their meal. The frustration that this kind of linguistic dilemma imposes on people in formerly colonized societies is better understood in the comments of a frustrated Ogagu: ‘You spend ten years explaining what you want’ (the English subtitle provided in the film is used here as translation). When a similar encounter repeats itself in the second part of the movie, the characters decide to appropriate the two colonial languages of English and French in order to get over the problem at hand in a seemingly dismissive manner by enthusing: ‘C’est quoi, c’est nous, c’est we.’ This kind of code-mixing is an obvious rejection of language as an instrument of distortion and a step towards undermining the attempt of the capital’s language represented by the colonial establishment which still holds sway through the imbalance in globalization, to disable the minority’s dialect. By negotiating their way out of the conflict of comprehension created by colonial languages, the speakers, in this instance, also create a space for themselves outside the prescription of the former colony. It has indeed been observed by Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1986:16) that “the conscious elevation of the language of the colonizer, the domination of a people’s language by the languages of the colonizing nations was crucial to the domination of the mental universe of the colonized.” Beyond the issue of language, however, the issue of cultural imperialism further reinforced by globalization poses a big challenge for most once colonized societies. As Ashcroft (2003) argues, postcolonial culture is inevitably a hybridized phenomenon involving “a grafted European cultural systems and an indigenous ontology, with its impulse to create and recreate an independent local identity” (p.220). This new local identity, however, becomes a concern if, like in the case of Laku and Ogagu in Abeni, it becomes a synonym for irresponsible behaviour. In most cases, the attitude of such individual postcolonial hybrids is often preceded by migrancy given further encouragement by globalization. In the course of this migrancy, the temptation arises for them to acquire new behaviour including modes of dressing and communication symptomatic of an unquestioning cultural diversity gradually being imposed on the world. The sense of place and identity resulting from this sort of migrancy usually, for the postcolonial character, “involves an inevitable weakening in any abstract understanding of the idea of authenticity” (Chambers, 1994:81) and subsequently promotes and strengthens the cultural economy of the West. The contradiction present in this kind of attitude for the postcolonial hybrid is better understood in the frustration expressed by

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Ogagu’s mother: I’m totally disappointed in my son. It is his attitude. He even goes about with ear-ring

This is later reinforced by his father: You are more American than Yoruba. You adorn your neck with junks, wear ear-rings, Clad in outrageous wears like drug addicts. And you play stupid games. It is objectionable!

Clearly put, the reaction of Ogagu’s father is a revolt against an unthinking social conformity with the rabid influence of Western cultural practice, with attitude, in certain instances, graduating from mannerism to menace, fortified by an emerging cosmopolitanism on a global scale. This privileging of the ways and gains of the West over the postcolonial community is, however, shoved aside at the end of Abeni as even Laku and Ogagu finally identify with their roots in their closing costumes. In addition, a new consciousness develops in the two friends as they see no fascination in the affectations displayed by Abeni’s supposed brother, Tomiwa. Hence, the conclusion by Laku and Ogagu: He is aping the Americans like we did. In time he will know better, just like us.

Globalization has indeed become one major influence on every society today. The free movement of capital and mobility of labour across borders which are hallmarks of this concept have continued to raise questions especially with regards to the relationship between the North and the South divides of the globalized world. In other words, globalization has been severally accused of further impoverishing developing nations to the advantage of the capitalist West. According to Amoko (2006:136): Globalization refers to the emergence of a world economy characterized, among other things, by the recent phenomenon of mass migration, increasingly rapid telecommunication, and the rapid flow of both capital and economic goods across national boundaries.

The kind of migration hinted at in this definition is what takes Akanni’s parents away from their homeland in Benin to work for a capitalist family in Nigeria. As shown in the film, opportunities for development for those

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at the margin are not always certain in such instances of migration as the centre, represented by former colonial powers and multinational companies with headquarters or controlling interests firmly rooted in the West, is often, seen as the sole beneficiary of the free movement of labour and capital in the final analysis. The relocation of the protagonist’s parents in search of a better livelihood does not offer much results as they return again to their country and not much is heard about the father as he dies shortly after his return from what can be viewed as an economic exile. The process of uprooting and re-rooting occasioned by globalization continues to be in favour of a consciously guarded centre as Abeni also migrates to Benin to pursue further studies, and in the process, reunites with Akanni whom she had always longed to be with. The film, however, uses Abeni’s relocation to an agriculture institute to point the way forward for the margin, especially Africa, if it is to get a better deal in the present equation of imbalance in the development process being foisted on the world by globalization as Abeni informs Akanni that “actually, agriculture should be made top priority in Africa”. The importance of education is also portrayed in the success story of Akanni after he acquires a qualification as a professional accountant in his home country. Agriculture and education, therefore, become for those in the postcolonial world the weapons with which to ward off the “ideological imaginary played out within the larger forces of history, which seek to fix the place from which migrants come, circumscribe where they belong, and limit all future possibilities of their identification” (Raj, 2003:210).This point is quite crucial because difference and identity are usually brought forward in the global trend of multiculturalism in such a manner that seeks to exclude the margin for the benefit of the centre. The global politics of exclusion and inclusion appears to permeate several strata of the modern world to such an extent that whole nations may lose their identities after remaining for too long in the margin.

Melting Borders in Abeni At a level, the kind of relationship portrayed in the film between two African countries, both of which belong to the marginal space of the Third World, goes beyond the portrayal of globalization of space as implying just the melting of borders. It also interrogates the logic of the setting up of needless borders by colonial overlords whose aim was to have controllable entities for ease of administering the colonies. By the same token, there appears to be a suggestion of the need for collaboration even among

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nations who find themselves removed from the centre in the emerging socio-economic realities in the world if they are to make any appreciable progress. This, in a way, manifests itself in the exchange of labour capital between Nigeria and its neighbours as it is revealed in the film that Laku’s father who is re-rooted in Cotonou originally hails from Ogbomosho in Nigeria. The instability which often results from the frequent migrations is, however, mediated in Abeni by the institution of matrimony. The matrimonial pairings are also done in a way that brings each character closer to his or her roots. For instance, Laku settles down with Awa who, though she grew up in Cotonou, has her ancestral home in Ogbomosho. It is also instructive that the feminine intervention of home, through Awa, in the life of Ogagu, eventually tranquilizes him and changes his attitude in a most radical manner. This tranquillity also infects his friend, Laku as they both turn away from cybercrime and reunite as responsible young men. In an attempt to make Abeni accessible and appealing to various communities across Africa and beyond, the producer adopts additional art forms including music which cut across both Anglophone and Francophone traditions. Apart from the deployment of at least four different languages (Yoruba, Egun, English and French), the introduction of popular music acts, like that of the Beninois musician Nel Oliver, seeks to expand the audience base of the film while at the same time breaking the polarity foisted on African communities by colonial experience. Music is also used here as an instrument for transmitting culture across boundaries. The fusion of ideas and cultures in Abeni is an attempt to break away from the shackles of limitations imposed by Africa’s colonial past with the prospect of turning stereotypes to archetypes in the ways neighbouring Africans perceive and interact with one another. This in a way results in a transnational appeal for the film and other Nollywood productions as the work is made available and appealing beyond the shores of its producing nation. The question of transnationality, however, needs to be placed in proper perspective as what happens here is better seen as a reinforcement of an existing quality of the average Nigerian film. Nigeria itself is known to be made up of different nationalities within a country. Therefore, the positioning of a Yoruba film in such a way that makes it accessible and appealing to other nations within the country suggests a transnational orientation in Abeni. Again, as Hofmeyr and Gunner (2005:3) have pointed out, “Africa itself has long been enmeshed in a series of transnational world systems — and so obvious, it hardly bears making.” It becomes obvious, therefore, that recent considerations of the question of nationalism are mere impositions

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on “an already transnational world and is often an attempt to curtail the existing forms of movement, trade and exchange” (Hofmeyr and Gunner 2005:3). The disappearance of borders and stereotypes that exist across various nationalities can only be to the advantage of African communities and to the disadvantage of the imperial powers who still wish to maintain their hold on the continent, this time towards a gradual obliteration of native cultural values. In other words, Africans, at this moment more than ever before, “need to reclaim their sense of selfhood that had been eroded by several years of European occupation and rule” (Odhiambo, 2006:170). The impact of the film mode in interpreting human relations and reality cannot be overemphasized. In the case of Nollywood, its significance in interpreting the African postcolonial condition can be said to stem from the fact that it is generally regarded as the third largest film producer in the world with a proliferous output which at one time reached an outrageous fifty-four titles a week, necessitating a voluntary recess by producers (Onishi, 2002). The concern for quality, however, has recently made regulatory agencies and associations in the industry to fashion out a way of keeping down the number of titles to be released monthly. This size and prolific disposition that result in numerous titles coming out of the industry continue, in a sense, to make Nollywood a subject of interest. Gradually, various divides are also springing up within Nollywood. The generational, ideological, geopolitical, cultural and professional groupings raising their heads in the Nigerian film industry make any study of the industry more interesting and further aggravate the need to make it available to other parts of the world. The more the rest of the world is able to understand and appreciate the thematic, theoretical as well as ideological issues addressed by films from Nollywood, the better for the society which the works intend to serve.

Conclusion As Kelani’s Abeni varies from the conventional in Nollywood, it opens the eyes of the audience to the need to disintegrate artificial borders, both in the physical and social sense, which impede free communication among the people. In fact the collaboration with a Beninois film producer, Laha Productions, which further facilitates the realization of Abeni, is a hint at the potential disintegration of the borders erected in the way of crossborder commerce especially when it has to do with cultural commodities of the people. The film clearly takes the Nollywood tradition beyond the shores of Nigeria and there is a clear manifestation of a steady decline in

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the rigidity and quantity of borders delimiting social interactions among different nations. This, it has been able to do to a large extent, through the deployment of different linguistic traditions in the process of creating meaning. Despite the difference in the various languages and cultures deployed, Abeni successfully makes a statement in its attempt not only to liberate Nollywood from the power of hegemonic influence of colonial traditions but also in making available to numerous other Africans on the continent and in the Diaspora an artistic form which views the African personality in a different dimension. The resulting transnational identity which the use of popular acts from Nigeria and Benin creates for Nollywood also attempts to redeem the African personality from the burden of hyphenated identities such as ‘Anglophone-African’, ‘English-speaking’ ‘French-speaking’ or ‘Francophone-African’. Above all, we see in Abeni a rising hope for the reintegration of Africa symbolized by the crying baby at the beginning of the film and a broader base for Nollywood as an artistic enterprise.

Filmography Abeni (Parts 1 &2) Dir. and Prod. Tunde Kelani. VCD, Mainframe Productions, 2006

Bibliography Akpabio, Eno. ‘Attitude of Audience Members to Nollywood Films.’ Nordic Journal of African Studies 16(1) 2007: 90-100. Amoko, Apollo. ‘Race and Postcoloniality’ Malpas, Simon and Paul Wake (eds.) The Routledge Companion to Critical Theory. London: Routledge, 2006. Ashcroft, Bill et al. The empire Writes Back: Theory and Practice in PostColonial Literatures. London: Routledge, 2003. Chambers, Ian. Migrancy, Culture, Identity. London: Routledge, 1994. Esan, Oluyinka. “Appreciating Nollywood: Audiences and Nigerian Films.”Participations. 5: 1, 2008 Gyekye, Kwame. Tradition and Modernity: Philosophical Reflections on the African Experience. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Hofmeyr, Isabel and Liz Gunner. ‘Transnationalism and African Literature.’ Scrutiny2: Issues in English Studies in Southern Africa. 10(2) 2005: 3-14 Lindfors, Bernth. Popular Literatures in Africa Trenton: Africa World Press, 1991.

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Odhiambo, Tom. ‘Inventing Africa in the Twentieth Century: Cultural Imagination, Politics and Transnationalism in Drum Magazine.’ African Studies 65(2) 2006: 157-174. Ogunbiyi, Yemi (ed.). Drama and Theatre in Nigeria: A critical source Book Lagos: Nigeria Magazine, 1981. Onishi, Norimitsu. ‘Step aside, L.A. and Bombay, for Nollywood’ The New York Times 16 Sept. 2002, http://nigeriaworld.com/feature/spotlight/nollywood.html accessed on 22/03/07. Raj, Dhooleka. Where are You From? : Middle-class Migrants in the Modern World. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003. Rissover, Fredric and David Birch, Mass Media and the Popular Arts New York: McGraw-Hill, 1983 Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. London: Vintage, 1993. Thiong’o, Ngugi Wa. Decolonising the Mind. London: James Currey Ltd. 1986. Uchegbe, B. ‘Goal Oriented Film Censorship Policy for Nigeria: Lessons from the Colonial Era’ Ekwuazi, H. (ed.) Operating Principles of the Film Industry: Towards a Film Policy for Nigeria. Jos: NFC, 1992. Vitali, Valentina and Paul Willemen (eds.). Theorising National Cinema. London: British Film Institute, 2006.

CHAPTER XV ISSUES OF PICTURE-RIGHT OWNERSHIP IN NIGERIAN VIDEO-FILM JULIUS-ADEOYE ‘RANTIMI JAYS REDEEMER’S UNIVERSITY, OGUN STATE

Introduction Video-film, as the Nigerian motion picture is often called, is a creative project that confers both economic and moral rights on the owner(s). These rights, when not clearly defined in the contractual agreement between parties involved in the video-filmmaking, can become a subject of litigation in the court of law between the perceived creators of this creative business. A clear example is the celebrated 2008 copyright case in the US over the Oprah Winfrey’s film/book titled Beloved involving the Ghanaian writer Akosua Busia. At the end of the case, Busia got her due credit for the film screenplay. Also in Nigeria in 2008, the filmmaker Kunle Afolayan almost became embroiled in a litigation over copyright ownership on his highly successful debut film Irapada when the owner of the original idea of the story said Afolayan did not acknowledge him as contributor and co-owner of the film. To forestall further trouble, the filmmaker organized a press conference and acknowledged the writer as co-owner of the film. The film industry taps into the expertise of many professionals (producers, writers, directors, directors of photography/cameramen, designers, make-up artists, costumiers, editors, etc.) to create films. It utilizes more professionals than any other arm of the entertainment industry. Many nations of the world have taken the initiative to develop or write bills and laws that clearly spell out the knotty issues of ownership and the rights of each and every artiste(s) involved in the motion picture industry. However, the Nigerian government and the stakeholders have failed to do this, more than thirty years after the first films.

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In the Nigerian Copyright Act, the motion picture is represented with the term ‘cinematograph film,’ defined in the 1990 and 1999 Copyright Act as the first fixation of a sequence of visual images capable of being the subject of reproduction, which includes the recording of a sound track associated with the cinematograph film. The Act tries to encourage a formal contractual relationship between all those that have contributed to the film intellectually, by proposing that in the case of a cinematograph film, the author shall be obliged to conclude, prior to the making of the work, contracts in writing with all those whose works are to be used in the making of the work. The Act further defines the author of cinematograph as “the person by whom the arrangements for making the film were made, unless the parties making the film provide otherwise by contract between themselves.” This is unclear, because the person who makes arrangement for the financing of the film is the producer in the case of independent production, while the director as the owner of the pictorial images makes arrangement for making the film with every other crew involved in the production in order to realize the vision conceived, as the owner that wants others to align with his own vision. However, the Act maintains that the author of a work is the first owner of copyright in the work. It does not provide the appropriate mechanism for the measurement and acknowledgement of the contribution made by those artists whose works are used for the film, and the type of credit due to them. However, recognition of the right of other stakeholders is the term that the Act fails to recognize. It is noteworthy here that being the producer of the film does not automatically confer on you the title of authorship or make you the owner of the film ‘rights’, as suggested by Laniyan (2008) that the definition given to the author of a cinematograph films “…describes a producer of a cinematograph film.”

Types of Rights in Motion Picture There are two distinct rights that one can locate in any film: economic rights, and moral rights. The third ‘right’ has nothing to do with copyright; it is a right to be in the film credit list. It is a mark for recognition given to everyone involved in the filmmaking and their role. Economic Rights: As films can either be for commercial or noncommercial purpose, so also the degree of economic benefits that can accrue to it. In the case of a commercial film, the producer, studio director and executive producer or both the producer and the director can jointly claim ownership of the economic rights, depending on the contractual agreement between them. These economic rights come in many ways - for

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example, screening in cinemas, sales for home viewing audience and proceeds from rebroadcast by television station. According to the Australian Copyright Amendment (Film Directors’ Rights) Bill (2005), To hold the copyright in something is not to have absolute ownership or dominion over it. Rather, copyright protection confers upon the copyright owner a number of exclusive rights for a period specified by the Copyright Act. These are economic rights. The ownership of copyright in a cinematograph film gives the right: to make a copy of the film, to cause the film to be seen or heard in public, and to communicate the film to the public. Practically, this amounts to a right and power to commercially exploit the film and receive payment for it.

The Bill gives film directors a right to receive fees from the retransmission of free to air broadcasts by pay TV operators. This right is given to independent film directors, and in relation, to films that are not commissioned. Moral rights: These are the rights given to the author of a work: a right of attribution and a right to prevent others from modifying, distorting, or otherwise, interfering with the integrity of that work (Australian Copyright Act 1968). This right is not available in the Nigerian Copyright Act. However, the Act recognizes in section 11 subsection (1a &b) that owners of a copyright have the right (a) To claim authorship of their work, in particular that their authorship be indicated in connection with any of the Acts referred to in section 5 of this Act except when the work is included incidentally or accidentally when reporting current events by means of broadcasting. (b) To object and to seek relief in connection with any distortion, mutilation or other modification of, and any other derogatory action in relation to their work, where such action would be or is prejudicial to their honour or reputation.

In the circumstances of the film usage for educational, litigation and research discourse, the director is taken as the maker and not the producer. Neither the producer nor the production company have the right to release the film on VHS/ VCD/DVD for home viewing audience without the agreement of the director. However, in the case of video-film, it is different because it is captured directly on VHS/VCD/DVD format for the home viewing audience. The right recognises the director as the author and creator of the picture; he/she can at a later date in the future release his/her own version of the picture as the ‘Director’s Cut’ or release a documentary of how the film was made. An example of such films is The Abyss released

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in widescreen in 1989, and later released in 1993 into material for by the director, home viewing, and the 1997 Titanic released worldwide in widescreen and on VHS and laserdisc on September 1, 1998, while a DVD version was released on July 31, 1999. James Cameron stated at the time that he intended to release a special edition with extra features later. This release with 29 extra scenes which were not in the earlier editions became the best-selling DVD of 1999 and early 2000 (Wikipedia).

Who Owns the Film Copyright? Who owns the copyright in a Nigerian feature film or other audiovisual work is one of those questions not clearly answered by the Nigerian Copyright Act. Many people assume that the owner is the producer or the production company set-up by the producer for the project, or, in the case of Nigeria, the marketer and the distribution company. However, according to Stephen Fraser, “it is not safe to assume anything about copyright ownership of a ‘cinematographic work’” (2008). If the author is the first owner of copyright, then it refers to the director, because the Nigerian Copyright Act states in Section 9, Subsection 1& 2, that: (1) Copyright conferred by sections 2 and 3 of this Act, shall vest initially in the author. (2) Notwithstanding subsection (6) of section 10 of this Act where a work — (a) Is commissioned by a person who is not the author’s employer under a contract of service or apprenticeship; or (b) Not having been so commissioned, is made in the course of the author’s employment; the copyright shall belong in the first instance to the author, unless otherwise stipulated in writing under the contract.

Copyright ownership in film depends significantly on the terms in the contract agreement with the film company, as far as the nature and extent of copyright interest is concerned. Because there are many creative works involved in film, this work may belong to a person(s) different from the ‘maker’ of the film itself. The list of those who owns a right in film includes the following: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Director Producer Composer of the film soundtrack Script writer Studio / Production Company

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6. Production Designer Presently, the ‘maker’, described in the Nigerian Copyright Act, as the ‘author’, holds the film copyright in the first instance. On the other hand, who is the ‘author’? The Copyright Act does not clearly specify! However, in the US and most countries in continental Europe including the UK, other participants in the filmmaking process, including directors, can be given recognition as ‘co-authors’ and hold copyright in films. In some contractual circumstances, it is spell-out that the producer and director jointly own the copyright of the film. A good example is the highly successful 1997 movie, Titanic directed by James Cameron, coproduced by James Cameron and Jon Landau, with funding from paramount Pictures and 20th Century Fox. Others involved in filmmaking—most notably, directors—now share in most filmmaking societies’ recognition and parity of treatment with producers. In the Hollywood film credit, it is common to read the name of the director immediately after that of the studio that financed the film and the producer(s) that ran around to secure the funding and every other thing needed. An example is the three-part film, Rush Hour which presents how a film credit should read: NEW LINE CINEMA Presents ARTHUR SARKISSIAN AND ROGER BIRNBAUM Production A BRETT RATNER Film.

Brett Ratner being the director, Arthur and Roger are the producers, and New Line Cinema, the studio that financed the project. The studio is an investor whose aim is to reclaim its investment and the interest, after which proceeds shall be shared, based on the content of the contract. In this case, it is easier to understand that the economic rights of the film lie, as stipulated, on the contractual agreement, but the moral rights belong solely to the director. In the US, Europe and Australia, there are producers and directors employed by the studio. These groups do not have any economic right to the film aside the payment made to them by the studio as their employer, because there will always be a contract binding for them to sign. The independent producers and directors, or in some instances, the producer-director, enjoy economic rights from the film proceeds. The example of film credit given above is the right way of film credit in the

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beginning of the picture. Directors have a right to the title ‘Filmmaker’, and though they are not the person who financed the film, are joint owners of the copyright. However, they may decide to sell the economic rights to the film outrightly to the studio or the producer. Even with the sale, they have the right to the title ‘director’ of the film. For a number of reasons, the Nigerian cinematograph industry does not operate in that manner as we have in other filmic nations. What we have is studio-producer-director, and at time, studio-writer-producer-director-lead actor. For example, who owns the copyright of a film sponsored by EKOBANK PLC through project Nollywood and produced by the director of a studio? Film title: SENSELESS PROJECT NOLLYWOOD Productions AND ECOBANK PLC Present A FAD Productions A FIDELIS DUKER Film

There is a cluster as to who should get the commercial rights of the film Senseless. Another issue affecting the right of copyright ownership in Nigeria is the ‘Marketer-Producer’ syndrome. The fact that a marketer or distributing company financed or paid the film director or producer to make the film, whether for a television documentary or anything else, does not in itself mean that the marketer or distributing company owns the copyrights of the film, as against the conclusion by Chikezie D. Nkem. They may not even have the right to market the film on VHS/VCD/DVD, but only in cinema on widescreen distributorship. The marketer has the rights of distributorship of the film within the area covered in the contract, over a particular period. The case of Titanic director, James Cameron, where we have two companies as distributors, is worthy of citation here. While Paramount Pictures had the right to distribute the film in the US and Canada, 20th Century Fox obtained the right for international distribution. However, in the situation where the marketer is also the producer, the contract should so specify. Under English and the US Copyright Law, copyright is divisible so that different parties in the film production may own different aspects of copyright protection. The original owner of a film script or the company that produces the script will be the first owner of the copyright in it. However, the first owners of copyright in the film itself, as distinct from its subject matter, are the producer and the principal director of the film. Unless, of course, it is otherwise stated in the contractual agreement

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entered into with the director, the producer and the film company, the writer must be paid royalty in future. Even in the presence of written contract between the producer and director, they both share the copyright of the film, though it is worthy of note that the latter could not have been able to make the film without the funding, co-operation and consent of the former.

Conclusion The Nigerian Copyright Act creates room for a written contract or consent to be made between parties involved in the work of cinematograph. This contractual arrangement should therefore not be overlooked by anybody involved in the act of video-filmmaking. It would be proper for the contract to address the question of ownership of copyright in the film, which must be drawn-up in plain language for easy comprehension by the parties involved. Even when the producer or the studio claims the ownership of a film because of the finance committed, there is considerable skill involved in the making of the film itself in terms of camera angles, close-ups, zoom-ins and so forth. The soundtrack of the film, incidentally, is treated as part of the film itself but it should be clear that copyright does not subsist in a sound recording or film to the extent that it is a copy taken from a previous sound recording or film. Producers can claim whatever rights they like, but it is the director who takes responsibility for the total pictorial and sound outcome of the film, and not the person that financed or supervised the project. Allowance should be given to a situation where the director as a filmmaker contracts a producer, in order for him to use his/her influence to secure the services of some notable actors, as we have in the case of Bayo Alawiye’s Ija Okan, produced by Funke Olowu. As there is no clear answer in Nigerian Copyright Act to the question of copyright ownership in a film, directors and producers must take series of important steps to ensure that their ownership is clear. Anyone who could be considered the “author” of any part of the film, from the obvious (writers, directors, designers), to the not so obvious (extras, set painters), must sign a contract with the production company. If the transfer of copyright is not in writing, or if there is nothing in writing showing that the use of the copyrighted element was “cleared”, the producer places the whole production at risk. Contract agreement must be specific between the producer, director and the marketer, as to the medium for capturing and broadcasting the film so produced. If the agreement is for screening on widescreen in cinemas

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and released on VHS/VCD/DVDs, any broadcast by a transmission network as different from the earlier formats attracts economic compensation, and there must be arrangement as to who collects or for sharing the payment from the broadcasting authority. In this case, there is great gain in having a “collecting society for the movie industry” (Laniyan 2008) to receive the compensation from the broadcasting authority on behalf of the copyright holders.

Bibliography Commonwealth of Australia (2005). Copyright Amendment (Film Directors’ Rights) Bill 2005. Bills Digest No. 36, 2005–06. Australia. Parliamentary Library. http://www.aph.gov.au/library/Pubs/bd/2005-06/06bd036.htm Chikezie D. N. (2008). “Copyright Exploitation, Film, TV and New Media Market for Nigerian Movies.” A paper presented at the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) National Seminar on ‘Intellectual Property Rights for Professionals in the Film Industry’. Lagos, October 13-14, 2008 Eller, C. (2008). “Spielberg Expected to dig into own Pockets to Regain Ownership of Movie Projects”. Los Angeles. Los Angeles Times http://www.businessmirror.com.ph/index.php?option=com Intellectual Property Office (2008). Who owns copyright? London. Patent Office Laniyan, F.F. (2008). “The Importance of a Copyright Collecting Society for the Film/Movie Industry.” Lagos. A paper presented at the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) National Seminar on ‘Intellectual Property Rights for Professionals in the Film Industry’. Lagos, October 13-14, 2008. Nigerian Copyright Commission (1999). Nigeria: Copyright, Act (Consolidation Ch. 68), 1988 (1999), No. 47 (No. 42) Copyright Act (Cap. 68, Laws of the Federation of Nigeria, 1990 as amended by the Copyright Amendment Decree No. 98 of 1992 and the Copyright(Amendment) Decree 1999). Abuja. Nigerian Copyright Commission Stephen Fraser (2008). Who Owns the Copyright in a Canadian Film? Answer: It depends (and that’s the problem). Toronto. Stephen Fraser Entertainment Law Firm. United State of America (2007). Copyright Law of the United State, title 17, United State Code. Circular 92

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Online Sources http://www.aph.gov.au/library/Pubs/bd/2005-06/06bd036.htm http://www.filmmakers.com/stories/Producer.htm/ Monday, 22/12/2008 http://www.filmreference.com/encyclopedia/Independent-Film-RoadMovies/Producer-THE-FILM-PRODUCER-S-FUNCTIONS.html copyright 2008 Advameg Inc. http://www.bls.gov/oco/ocos093.htm. Actors, Producers, and Directors http://www.wipo.int/clea/en/text_html.jsp?lang=en&id=3148#P162_12221 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beloved (film)

Filmography/Videography Abyss. Dir. James Cameron. Perfs. Ed Harris, Mary Elizabeth Mastratonio, Micheal Biehn, Kimberly Scott, Todd Graff. 20th Century Fox. 1989. Beloved. Screenplay Akosua Busia, Richard LaGravenese, Adam Brooks. Based on the Novel by Toni Morrison. Dir. Jonathan Demme. Perfs. Danny Glover, Oprah Winfrey, Kimberly Elise, Thandie Newton. Harpo Productions. 1998. Beloved. Dir. Jonathan Demme. Perfs. Danny Glover, Oprah Winfrey, Kimberly Elise, Thandie Newton. Harpo Productions. 1998. Ija Okan. Dir. Bayo Alawiye. Perfs. Kola Oyewo, Muyiwa Ademola, Bayo Alawiye, Moji Olaiya, Yemi Awomodu, Funke Olowu, Taiwo Ibikunle, Kenny Ola Ayeni, Funke Olowu. Banke Film Productions. 2006. Ija Okan. Producer Funke Olowu. Dir. Bayo Alawiye. Perfs. Kola Oyewo, Bayo Alawiye, Moji Olaiya, Yemi Awomodu, Funke Olowu, Taiwo Ibikunle, Kenny Ola Ayeni, Funke Olowu. 2006. Irapada. Dir. Kunle Afolayan, Biodun Aleja. Perfs. Kunle Afolayan, Peter Fatomilola, Laide Adewale, Bayo Alawiye, Toun Oni. 2006. Rush Hour. Dir. Brett Rattner. Perfs. Jackie Chan, Chris Tucker, Tom Wilkinson, Tzi Ma. 1998. DVD. New Line Cinema, 2008 Senseless. Dir. Fidelis Duker. Perfs. Richard Mofe-Damijo, Dakore Egbuson. FAD Productions. 2007. Titanic. Dir. James Cameron. Perfs. Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, Francis Fisher, Billy Zane, Victor Garber. Twentieth Century Fox and Paramount Pictures. 1997.

CHAPTER XVI RACISM IN THE JUNGLE ADVENTURE FILM CHARLES UJI AND OLUWASEUN ADESINA DEPARTMENT OF DRAMATIC ARTS, OBAFEMI AWOLOWO UNIVERSITY, ILE-IFE

Racism and Film According to Newman and Layfield in Racism: Divided by Color, bigotry can be defined as “an obstinate or blind attachment to a particular belief, unreasonable enthusiasm in favour of a party, sect or opinion; excessive prejudice or intolerance” (Newman and Layfield, 1995: 9). Bigotry is one of the breeding grounds for racism. Racism has also been defined as “any attitude, belief, behaviour, or institutional arrangement that tends to favour one race or ethnic group over another” (Newman and Layfield, 1995: 9). Newman and Layfield also outlined four broad types of racism: Attitudinal Racism: General dislike of a certain race or group without reason Ideological Racism: Believing some races are superior to others (Example: Adolf Hitler and his hatred against the Jews). Individual/Group Racism (Example: Ku Klux Klan and hatred against blacks). Institutional Racism: Creating patterns of injustice and inequality because of skin colour (Example: Disenfranchisement of blacks in America for a long time) (Newman and Layfield, 1995: 11-15).

Racism reached its high point in the institutions of slavery, colonialism and apartheid. However, decades after those three structures have been officially dismantled; racism still subsists and is clearly evident in films made in various countries. Alexis de Tocqueville, a French historian, predicted that changing the law to abolish slavery would be easy compared to changing people’s minds about slavery (cited in Newman and Layfield,

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1995: 77). This is corroborated by the fact that decades after the removal of colonialism from Africa, racist films are still being made about Africa. In this article, we will attempt a reading of The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980) directed by Jamie Uys, with a view to determining whether it can be classified as racist. The film belongs to the comic genre, which is designed to entertain the audience and provide relief to the more serious drama of life. However, a close reading of the film reveals that the joke is really at the expense of the black man. Though both whites and blacks inhabit the world created in the film, the white man always manages to emerge as better off than the black man.

Racist Films: Historicity The jungle adventure film genre emerged in the early part of the twentieth century. The antecedents of the racist film date back to a time when racism was at its highest level. Popular examples include Tarzan and King Kong. Jack Parson has succinctly analysed the evolution of racist images in American films. He opined that while many negative and racist images of Africa and Africans in the United States can be traced back to the slave trade and slave society, the specific twentieth century origin of these images in the United States is to be found in the writings of adventurers and travellers in Africa in the late 19th century (Parson, 2004). It is important to state that the mass marketing of the African stereotype has its source in the novels of Edgar Rice Burroughs and the popular Tarzan series (Blisard, 1998). Bozarth’s Tarzan of the Apes: Child’s Tale or Adult Fantasy states that in the first Tarzan film, Africans were conveniently eliminated from the Edenic landscape and replaced with apes and other animals. In those few places where s/he appeared, the black African was shown to be childlike, in need of paternal guidance and portrayed as a superstitious cannibal contemptible and debased in society (Bozarth, 1997). The depictions of the natives are explicitly racist and biased. They also portray heavily derogatory stereotypes. The culmination of the 1918 version of Tarzan is inevitably his triumphant defence of Jane and her party by burning down the village of the Africans who in classic fashion provide the dangerous background against which the hero triumphs. White racism is reflected in the classic Tarzan image of Africa, a dangerous and primitive land inhabited by people in dire need of a messianic white superhero (Bozarth, 1997). King Kong was produced in 1931 and according to Rosen, it is full of racist sub-texts. Racist conceptions of blacks often depict them as sub-

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human, ape or monkey-like. This makes it obvious that the film is a racist slur against the blacks. Kong is forcibly taken from his jungle home, brought in chains to the United States where he is put on stage as a freak entertainment attraction. He breaks his chains and goes on rampage in the metropolis until finally he is felled by the forces of law and order (Rosen, 1975: 7). This resonates the kidnap and transportation of blacks as slaves to America during the transatlantic slave trade. The ‘rescue party’ motif is a recurrent element in films of the jungle adventure idiom. The white woman comes along on the safari not only to provide romantic interest but because she is usually a focus of tension between the white males and the natives, furnishing an opportunity for some of the former to display their virile heroism against the Africans that they consider to be savages (Rosen, 1975: 8). According to Rosen, Miscegenation was and continued to be an idée fixe with the Klan and white racism in general, and the protection of white women was viewed as a major part of the task of saving white civilization (Rosen, 1975: 8).

In many films made during this period, blacks were presented as the stereotypical good natured, fearful, stupid, lazy characters who love to dance and sing, and who provide entertainment for white audiences. Rosen has opined that “the image of King Kong on a Broadway stage may correspond very closely to white America’s attitudes toward the black men in the 1930s: an object of entertainment, but also of fear” (Rosen, 1975: 8). The ape is apparently chained, but with the potential for bursting his chains and wreaking violence and destruction with all the power of his supposed savage primitive nature (Rosen, 1975: 8). The films discussed above were released in the early twentieth century, a century which can be described as the “age of ignorance” when various protests and actions had not yet been carried out against racism. Many of the legislations currently in place to protect human rights had not been put in place either. However, in spite of modernization and legislations, racism still subsists in some films made in the late twentieth century and even in the twenty-first century. At this juncture, the focus will be on a race-based reading of The Gods Must be Crazy (1980).

The Gods Must be Crazy The Gods Must Be Crazy was released in 1980 and it was written and directed by Jamie Uys (30 May 1921 – 29 January 1996), a white South African who might have been influenced by the long years of apartheid in his portrayal of black people in the film. Set in Botswana and South

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Africa, it tells the story of Xi, a member of the Sho ethnic group of the Kalahari Desert. The role was played by a Namibian San farmer named Nxau. The film is a triangulation of separate stories - the journey of the bushman to the “end of the earth” to get rid of a Coca-Cola bottle, the romance between a clumsy white scientist and the new white school teacher, and the escapades of a band of black guerrillas. Xi and his San/Bushmen relatives live contentedly in the Kalahari Desert. Discontent is introduced in the form of an empty coke bottle discarded by a passing pilot, which falls from the sky and hits the earth unbroken. Tomaselli in his article, “The Gods Must be Crazy - A Critique” states that initially, this strange artefact seems to be another gain from the gods - Xi’s people find many uses for it. First, it is “one of the strangest and most beautiful things they have seen”. Second, it becomes “a real labour saving device” (Tomaselli, 1998); third, they learn that it can make music. But unlike anything that they have had before, there is only one bottle to be shared by everybody. This exposes the ethnic group to a hitherto unknown phenomenon – property, and they soon find themselves experiencing things they never had before: jealousy, envy, anger, hatred, even violence. Finally, it is recognized as “the evil thing” (Tomaselli, 1998) which has brought dissension and competition between individuals within the clan. Xi’s attempt to return the bottle to the gods brings him in contact with western civilization. He meets the zoologist, Andrew Steyn, studying elephant dung, his coloured helper, Mpudi, and a white woman, Kate, fleeing from the city and its troubles. Xi is also introduced to the western brand of justice when he is charged to court and imprisoned for poaching a goat. The film presents the Bushmen as ‘noble savages’ leading a simple, fairly utopian life in contrast with western culture. The film fosters the erroneous impression that the arrival of a Coca-Cola bottle, thrown from a passing light aircraft, represents the first exposure that the Bushmen have with western culture. It is instructive to note that Richard Lee, an anthropologist who studied the Bushmen, debunks this filmic fallacy: … forced to abandon their foraging lifestyle in favour of government food hand-outs … by the time of filming, the Bushmen actors had long ceased to be hunter-gatherers and were even confused by the instructions given to them by the directors, as briefly demonstrated in the film Nai, the story of a Kung woman. Even before this rapid change, the Ju/hoansi had not been completely untouched by surrounding cultures and a single foreign artefact would not have upset the society’s equilibrium (Lee, 2003: 7).

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While both western and African audiences found the film funny, there was considerable debate about its racial politics. The portrayal of Xi as incapable of understanding the gods was viewed as insulting by some, including the government of Trinidad and Tobago, which consequently banned the film (The Gods Must be Crazy: Wikipedia). Ironically, many critics see the film as a critique of western civilization and condemnation of racism with Xi as the hero. However, the joke is at the expense of the black man who is made to look very stupid. The characterization resounds the stereotypes accorded to the black man in American films: naïve, superstitious and ignorant. Some of the debates generated by the film centred on Xi’s reaction to the first white people he meets, assuming they are gods since they are strange. This, of course, is wishful thinking on the part of the filmmaker. He would rather invoke a god-like image which is what the white people had been using to maintain their mockery of superiority over the years. A renowned media scholar, Tomaselli, provides the following reading of the film: The narrative is argued by Uys’s US critics to perpetrate the racist core of the film: Xi is ascribed a consciousness different from, and naturally subordinate to, the white characters. Xi neither understands whites, nor the nature of the threats impinging upon him. This relationship is reinforced by the ease with which the black guerrillas are disempowered by white ‘magic’ painted by the zoologist onto the tip of Xi’s arrows. The San character’s innocence encodes an even deeper racism as this condition, argue Uys’s critics, makes Xi incapable of maturing out of this state to one of sophisticated intelligence. The film is made in the form of a slapstick documentary, using pseudo-ethnographic narration, which lends it to a misreading that it deals with actual conditions (Tomaselli, 1998).

The film is insidiously racist, albeit not necessarily in the way one might expect. It uncritically embraces the idea of the ‘noble savage’. While arguably better than the ‘bloodthirsty savage’ immanent in the Tarzan and King Kong films, it is still a condescending, patronizing stereotype. Intentionally or not, it reinforces the politics of apartheid by making the perverse argument that racial discrimination protects the discriminated group by removing them from the corrupting influence of civilization. The portrayal of Xi as the naive innocent man incapable of understanding the ways of the gods is very patronizing, racist and insulting (Tomaselli, 1998).

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Xi as the Noble Savage One of the points of contention against the film is the idea of presenting Xi as a ‘noble savage’. The term ‘noble savage’ originally expresses the concept of the natural man unencumbered by civilization. Although the phrase first appeared in the seventeenth century in Dryden’s heroic play, The Conquest of Granada (1672), it became identified with the idealized picture of nature’s gentleman, which was an aspect of eighteenth-century sentimentalism (Encyclopaedia Britannica Online). According to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, the noble savage in literature is an idealized concept of uncivilized man who symbolizes the innate goodness of one not exposed to the corrupting influences of civilization (Encyclopaedia Britannica Online). A cursory look at the foregoing description of the term implies a flattering depiction of Xi in The Gods Must be Crazy. However, further interrogation in answers.com reveals that What made some savages noble was their rejection of the luxuries with which Europeans made life more comfortable. The noble savage desired nothing beyond the necessities of life, acquired from nature without work, and he subsisted on venison, fruit, and acorns. Content in his existence, he displayed neither ambition nor avarice … (“The Noble Savage”: answers.com, 2010, emphasis added)

The above quote is an indictment of Xi and his clan. They are revealed as people who go about from day to day doing no work to support their existence. They are presented as hunter-gatherers who exploit rather than cultivate nature. They spread leaves on the ground to collect the dew for drinking (this means they have neither the intellect, nor gumption nor the will to dig wells). The water so obtained cannot be enough for drinking, let alone taking a bath. They are also portrayed as people who hunt animals without thinking of rearing them. This is particularly underscored when Xi sees a herd of goats and promptly kills one and prepares to eat it. This portrays him as someone who reaps where he has not sown, a thief. Eventually, this lands him in jail. Xi is presented as belonging to a state of “natural existence”, which makes him to be clueless about the workings of a civil society. The philosopher Rousseau argued that in a state of nature, men are essentially animals and that only by acting together in civil society and binding themselves to its laws do they become men. For Rousseau, only a properly constituted society and reformed system of education could make men good. In Chapter Eight of The Social Contract (1762), Rousseau developed a series of antitheses between natural existence and civil society:

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Natural Existence Instinct Amoral Appetite “the mere impulse to appetite is slavery, natural liberty, possession based on personal power individual strength from a “stupid and unimaginative animal”

Civil Society Justice Moral Reason While obedience to a law which we prescribe to ourselves is liberty (The Social Contract, 196). civil liberty, secure proprietorship based on respect for the law general will to “an intelligent being and a man” (The Social Contract, 196)

(Cited in: http://www.uoregon.edu/~jboland/rousseau.html

From the above, it is obvious that the picture painted of Xi and his clan is not flattering. They are regarded as stupid and unimaginative animals, not possessing what it takes to evolve into an intelligent being. Ironically, at the end of the film, Xi takes himself away from civil society, because he is unable to cope with the dictates of a life regimented by rules and regulations. He is convinced that the best option for him and his people is to go back into the deep forest and slip back into their natural existence.

Jamie Uys’ Cinema of Apartheid The Gods Must be Crazy was produced before apartheid crumbled in South Africa, and so, it belongs to the genre of apartheid cinema. Armes in his book, African Filmmaking North and South of Sahara described apartheid films in South Africa as those that “could be of no relevance” to Africa (Armes 2006, 26). A state subsidy scheme was established for the apartheid film industry in 1956 and 1,300 films were produced between 1910 and 1996. It was a white cinema constructed for a white audience. Armes further states as follows: South African Cinema during the apartheid era continued the traditional role of cinema in colonial societies. Though South Africa’s filmmakers feel that their films lie outside politics, that they are merely entertainment, Tomaselli argues that the films in fact, serve the state through their class displacement of actual conditions by imaginary relations which delineate an apartheid view of the world (Armes 2006, 26).

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The cinema of apartheid has been described as “closely resembling that of western colonial cinema”. In the films, black people only appeared as extras. If the script called for a non-white to talk or to touch a white man, the role would be played by a blacked-up white person (Beittel 1990, 753). According to Beittel in “Mapantsula: Cinema, Crime and Politics on the Witwatersrand”, in the mid-1930s, the importance of cinema in South Africa was increasingly recognized, as the following passage illustrates: If Plato was right in saying that he who makes a nation’s songs exerts a greater influence than he who makes a nation’s laws, then it will certainly not be far wrong to say that he who controls a people’s films exerts a greater influence for good or ill, than he who makes a country’s laws. This extravagant claim was the sober conclusion of the Inter-departmental Committee on Native Education in South Africa (Beittel 1990, 753).

According to Magubane (1988), most films in apartheid South Africa were made by the Department of Information, largely for propaganda purposes. In these films, the Africans, oppressed and exploited by the white minority, are portrayed negatively as “savage objects”, “noble savages civilized”, “human but different”, and “the same but different”, all depending on the political climate (Magubane, 1988: 773). None of the films have been created by members of the subordinate groups. Rather, they are films about Africans produced by Whites. This means that the victims are only seen from the point of view of the oppressors, and thus, the films become a vehicle of the powerful myth designed to expiate the oppressors’ guilt (Magubane, 1988: 773). The first South African film to feature a black man in a major role and which became a box-office hit was Jamie Uys’s The Gods Must be Crazy. Although, according to Armes, the film appeared innocuous, poking fun at blacks and whites alike, English documentary filmmaker Peter Davis has demonstrated that it is impregnated with the spirit of apartheid (Armes, 2006: 26-27). According to Davis, the film masquerades as a Botswanan production, but the filmic Botswana where the Bushmen lead their idyllic life is vastly different from the real landlocked republic of the same name. Chapter 5 of Myth, Race and Power: South Africans Imaged on Film and TV, by Tomaselli et al, discusses the “Bushmen” on film, tracing their story from colonialism to romanticism. The authors point out that most films on the San people deal with the “spectacular” or anomalous aspects of the “Bushman” cultures and do not contribute to a holistic understanding. After the San had been destroyed and those who survived marginalized, they became the objects of romance in both literature and

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film. According to Bester and Buntman in “Bushman and Photographic Intervention”, In perpetuating uncontested identities of Bushman-ness, photography has contributed significantly to the fantasies and spectacle. Popular photography in tourist postcards, for example, commonly invokes a documentary style to legitimize mythologies of a “primitive” people outside of the contemporary realities of South Africa. … This documentary style not only endorses a notion of Bushman-ness in which the Khoisan are positioned as part of an unchanging natural chain, but also fuels a Bushman(ia) that demands the “hunt” as one of the entertainmentdriven archetypes pivotal to the uninterrupted lifestyle and survival of the people called the “Bushmen” (Rory and Buntman, 1999: 51).

This is particularly true in The Gods Must be Crazy. Here, the San culture is objectified and used humorously in an effort to reaffirm the superiority of Western civilized culture. This film exemplifies what Winthrop Jordan calls “an exercise in self-inspection by means of comparison” (cited in Magubane, 1988: 774). Many critics have condemned the grotesque patronizing and romanticizing of San society in the film. For instance, at the beginning of the film, the narrator describes the Kalahari and its inhabitants in the following phraseology: It looks like a paradise, but it is actually the most treacherous desert in the world. The Kalahari, after the short rainy season, there are many water holes, but even with this, within a few weeks the water sinks into the deep Kalahari sand … So, the beautiful landscapes are devoid of people … [Long Pause] except for the little people of the Kalahari. Pretty, dainty, small and graceful …

The racist slur comes at the point of the [Long Pause] in the narration. The narrator tells us “the beautiful landscapes are devoid of people”, pauses and tells us “except for the little people of the Kalahari”. The pause serves as a sub-textual device to contemptuously express the racist view that these people are insignificant. The word “little” is an insult, and it underscores how inconsequential the people are. In the light of the foregoing explanation, the other adjectives used to describe the people as “pretty, dainty, small and graceful” smack of racism. Over these beautiful landscape and people, an airplane flies and the pilot drains a bottle of coke and throws it out of the window. We can only assume that the pilot does not know about the existence of human life in that part of the world that could be hurt by a flying bottle, or maybe it is just the racist attitude that the black people cannot be regarded as human beings at all.

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When we are given a glimpse of the big city that exists only six hundred miles to the South of the Kalahari, the situation is not much different. We see a newsroom teeming with white people and just one obligatory black man. We are also introduced to a fictive country of black people governing themselves, and it is obvious that they are making a very poor attempt at it. This implies that the apartheid policy of relegating the blacks to the background is justified. A band of guerrillas attempt to stage a coup d’état which is terribly botched. The impression fostered through the film is that of Africans being heartless, bloody and power-thirsty. There is no rule of law and the head of state succumbs to extra-judicial torture. The military is inept and cannot defend its territorial integrity. The coup attempt meets them unprepared; they have no military vehicle available and have to commandeer a civilian car which runs out of gas on the road. The rebels are no better than the people in government who preside over meetings sharing out huge amounts of money for vague projects like fighting erosion, etc. The band of rebels is made up of idle, vacuous men, mainly interested in meeting their own selfish needs rather than guided by any ideological concern. The only qualification for Sam Boga to lead the guerrillas appears to be the fact that his skin colour is lighter than the others. Most of the characters in the film perform various ridiculous acts. However, there is always a rational explanation for the acts of the white people while the blacks are portrayed as plain stupid. For instance, when Steyn’s jeep climbs the tree, it is because he is helping Kate with her dress. But the Botswana border guard is portrayed as a wide-eyed imbecile, unable to stop rebels from getting into his country. Even when a white person is being referred to as stupid, he is given the attribute of a black man. For example, when Steyn loses control of his land rover and has to run after it, he falls down in the mud and he comes up looking like the typical white actor in black-face. This seems to be an attempt to legitimize his stupid behaviour. It is interesting to note that even in the United States of America where black-face acting was initiated, it has been declared racist, and consequently outlawed. The Blacks are also treated as objects or commodities. When Kate, the white teacher, arrives at the village, the white tour guide, Jack Hind, tells her “all you have to do is look pretty and have the natives sing at you”: this means that the lyrics of the songs are not important enough to be accorded attention. Even when Kate asks whether she should “wave at the natives or take a bow”, she is told it is not necessary. Still, while on the forced march with Sam Boga, the children are forced to sing, reinforcing the stereotype that blacks are always happy and singing. The “black as

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object or commodity” idea is reinforced by Steyn’s attitude in his conversation with Mpudi who wants to get Xi out of jail: Mpudi: Can I go to Mahadi tomorrow? Steyn: You want to go and see little what’s his name?

The idea of describing Xi as little is not necessarily as a result of his stature, but he is regarded as being less of a man because of his ethnicity. This brings to mind the fact that during the apartheid period, full-grown black men who served as house-helps, gardeners, etc. for the Whites were referred to as ‘boys’. Also when Steyn decides to participate in the “free Xi project”, his first utterance shows his racist inclination. He asks, “Can we buy him out or something?” Certainly, if Xi had been a white man, Steyn would never have suggested buying him out. It shows that the black man is still regarded as a commodity, just as he was during the days of slavery.

The Gods Must be Crazy as Mockumentary The mockumentary (also known as a mock documentary or pseudodocumentary) is a genre of film and television in which fictitious events are presented in a non-fiction or documentary format. Hight and Roscoe, in “Mockumentary: A Call to Play” have described mockumentaries as fictional texts which appropriate the aesthetics of the documentary genre. They use the same codes and conventions as documentary and related media such as an authoritative voice-over narrator or on-screen presenter, apparently “real” footage of events, archival photographs, interviews with apparent “experts” and “eyewitnesses”, and the other familiar ways of representing reality (Roscoe and Hight, 2001: 10). The Urban Dictionary also defines the mockumentary as a film that has the look and feel of a television documentary but with the irreverent humour and slapstick of a comedy designed to “mock” the documentary or subject it features (The Urban Dictionary, Online). Jamie Uys tries to make his viewers believe that The Gods Must be Crazy is a documentary of Kung life. However, the myth has been shattered by a documentary film made by John Marshall titled Nai: Story of a Kung Woman, which happens to include a scene in which a white film crew trains Kung people to play a fictitious arrival scene. This scene turns out to be the end of The Gods Must be Crazy. When shown together Nai: Story of a Kung Woman proves to be a devastating deconstruction of The Gods Must be Crazy (Magubane, 1988: 774). According to Cancel (1995), one of the moving and ironic moments in Nai was the presence of a South

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African film crew staging a scene of “traditional Bushman” life. Nai and some of the other performers are asking themselves in their own language why the director ask them to do things they would never do in real life, why are they asked to act so strangely. It is clear, in retrospect, that few, if any of them, had a conception of what the scene is for and how it would be used in the final production. Uys’ movie made millions for its South African producers, while the people who had no say in the false images sent out in the film were financially exploited as well (Cancel, 1995: 197). Jamie Uys would have his viewers believe that his films are apolitical, but Volkman (1985) regards the film as replete with political metaphor. She provides a political reading thus: The guerrillas are the Southwest African People’s Organization, led by a wild-haired, light-skinned (Cuban) agitator. Xi represents the Bushmen who are now being recruited by the South African Defence Force – ‘‘agile little brown men with razor-sharp senses and a killer instinct” as that state’s press describes them - to counter the Namibian independence movement. The episode replicates in perfect miniature the political reality … Like other ethno-fiction films; the apparently harmless humour of Gods conceals disturbing real-world implications. Apartheid finds legitimation in an excruciatingly nasty, condescending view of Blacks, whether those in power (the ludicrous Black government) or out (the equally absurd guerrillas) ... [it] is dehumanizing and dehistoricizing in its reverence perpetuates the myth that Bushmen are blissfully simple creatures; its popularity persuades South Africa that the world wants to continue to see them that way (Volkman, 1985: 483).

According to Davies, the film could not have been set in South Africa since there; the pass laws restricting the movement of Blacks would have rendered its plot impossible. The commentary accompanying the opening travelogue is highly condescending and the name of the black guerrilla villain, Sam Boca, has curious connotations since the sjambok is the leather whip regularly used by White South African police to disperse black demonstrators. The name also recalls that of Sam Nujoma, leader of the Southwest African People’s Organization (SWAPO) liberation movement in neighbouring Namibia. Indeed the film has disturbing echoes of the actual political situation there, since the South African authorities had enlisted the Bushmen in their fight against SWAPO. Davis concludes that, whatever his intentions, Uys has created “an imaginary country which the architects of apartheid would like us to believe in, a South Africa wellintentioned to all”. If the plot is read metaphorically, it shows that “the blacks are like children led astray by agitators coming from outside (the black liberation force). But they are not the only ones under threat: the

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White race, personified by the heroine, is also threatened too” (Davies, cited in Armes, 2006: 27). Tomaselli, in “Rereading the Gods Must be Crazy Films”, quotes some of the black actors in The Gods Must be Crazy as arguing that the films were simply fiction, and they only acted as directed. The main actor says that “the image of the Bushmen given by the gods films is not really good because it does not show how people are really living. It only shows the past. People should not see this as what is happening now” (Tomaselli, 2006: 184). Tomaselli includes, in his analysis, the thoughts of a number of Africans, particularly other San people. One man believes that the film was part of the propaganda of a racist regime, but another saw the film as simple fiction, without much further meaning. One man resented the portrayal of the hero as a simpleton; another disliked the fact that Xi, in his opinion, acted crazy in the film. These people could see no reason why Xi would want to throw the Coke bottle away at the end of the world, since he could never have gotten there. Still, another expressed resentment that a romanticized vision of the hunter-gatherer way of life, already lost in the 1980s, would be shown in the film (“Peaceful Societies Website”). Tomaselli also focuses his criticism on the inaccurate and misleading publicity that surrounded the films. Uys made up wildly exaggerated statements about the ways he found Gao, the conditions under which the lead actor lived in real life and his relationships to the outside world. For instance, in a 1985 comment quoted by The New York Times, Uys said about Gao that “the tiny Bushman had only seen one other white man, a missionary,” before they met, a statement that Tomaselli describes as untrue. In the same vein, Gao supposedly had no idea of the value of money. When the director paid Gao for his work, the actor purportedly let the money blow away on the wind. Gao told Tomaselli that that story too was nonsense. Despite the criticisms of The Gods Must be Crazy and its publicity, Uys tried to maintain his romantic fiction about Gao in his 1989 press kit about The Gods Must be Crazy II. He evidently wanted to foster the vision of the Ju/’hoansi as people living in an unspoiled Eden, which of course would help sell the second movie. The director indicated that Gao, as of 1989, was still a contented forager who lived a simple, natural life; a man who “drinks the morning dew” (Tomaselli, 2006: 188). Some critics argue that the idea of the Ju/’hoansi viewing a Coke bottle as an object from the gods is a fundamental part of ethnocentrism and racism. The piece of trash thrown from the airplane ironically symbolizes the nature of the ‘gifts’ from colonizers to the colonized societies. This purported humorous fiction obviously crosses the line into insensitivity, bigotry and racism. Tomaselli’s conclusion about the films is that they

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portray a romantic idyll built upon the Afrikaner dream of a return to an innocent, rural existence that they lost in 1902 when the English defeated them in the Boer War. He argues that Uys, an unreconstructed Afrikaner, projects an enduring Arcadian fantasy onto the Ju/’hoansi people. This myth of a return to a rural existence apparently permeates Afrikaner literature, television, cinema and mythology. In the Gods films, Tomaselli suggests that the Bushmen are a reversed metaphor for the Afrikaners (“Peaceful Societies Website”). Tomaselli strongly condemns the press kits used to publicize the film and the attempts by Uys to paint the Ju/’hoansi as still living in a romantic, Edenic fashion. By 1978, when The Gods Must be Crazy was being produced, almost none of the thousand or so Ju/’hoansi living in the same town as Gao foraged or hunted in the bush any longer. They endured life in a slum. This is a clear case of popular fiction crossing into promoting lies and mocking the truth.

‘Buddyism’ and ‘Roadism’ in The Gods Must be Crazy Folklore and tribalization were the mainstays of apartheid cinema, which perpetrated the image of the uncouth and backward rural Black fit for little more than being packed off to the homelands. Apartheid films portrayed Africans either as savages or faithful servants, maintaining the old stereotypical divisions of Africans into the ‘savage other’ and ‘faithful servant’. However, when apartheid began to face oppositions from the outside world in the form of international economic sanctions, it became economically wise to tone down the images of apartheid in South African films. Consequently, the theme switched from faithful servant to that of multiracial buddies. Friendships and collaborations began to develop across the colour line. Film critic, Davis, in his book, In Darkest Hollywood: Exploring the Jungles of Cinema’s South Africa, explains that the cross racial friendship existed only in a “fictive South Africa that bore little resemblance to reality” (Davis, 1996: 61). He adds that “the stories showed a South Africa where Black/White friendship existed by misrepresenting the harsh facts of real South African life” (Davis, 1996: 61). A buddy film, according to Konigsberg in The Complete Film Dictionary is “a film that features the friendship of two males as the major relationship”. Buddy films usually have two protagonists. Regardless of other aspects of their plots (comedy, action, etc.), buddy films characteristically examine or comment on the nature of friendship (Konigsberg, 1998: 41). However, what we see in The Gods Must be Crazy is an unequal relationship between Xi, Mpudi and Steyn. The following

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quote from Volkman (1985) traces the genesis and characteristics of the tripartite buddy relationship in the film: One day, he happily shoots a goat with his bow and arrow, is arrested and jailed. Maputi [Mpudi], the multicultural mechanic who spent three years in the bush and speaks Xi’s language, understands that he will die in jail: “he doesn’t know from walls.” Xi is freed by the biologist, who takes him on as a kind of sweet pet and “ecological expert.” … the heartless guerrillas are leading the school-children and their white teacher on a forced march through the countryside. … Provided with an immobilizing drug, a miniature bow and arrow, and instructions from his white master, Xi infiltrates the enemy lines disguised as a black girl and shoots his tiny but well-aimed arrow at the guerrillas (Volkman, 1985: 482).

Today, the Republic of South Africa happily calls itself the “Rainbow Nation” as an acknowledgement of its cultural diversity. However, the situation was far from ‘happy’ in the apartheid era in spite of what Uys would have us believe in The Gods Must be Crazy. Here, we see Xi as the foolish man, reaping where he had not sown by killing a goat that does not belong to him. As a hunter/gatherer, he has absolutely no understanding of the concept of livestock rearing or property ownership. This naivety lands him in jail. Fortunately for him, Mpudi is there to rescue him by being his mouthpiece in court and also by explaining his situation to Steyn. Mpudi tells Steyn that Bushmen do not live in walled buildings and that the attendant claustrophobia would lead to Xi’s death. Here, we see the white man coming to the rescue again in his traditional heroic role. The black man is not intelligent enough to save himself. The role is always reserved for the white man. Expectedly, we do not have a white man who would condescend to learn the language of the Bushman. It has to be a coloured man – neither black nor white. In the days of apartheid, the coloured man was classified as better than the black, but certainly not good enough to be placed on the same level as the white man. Andrew Steyn is a student, collecting data for his PhD thesis, so we see that the acquisition of knowledge is regarded as a worthy venture. However, there is a difference between the pursuit and attainment of knowledge between the White and non-White. Steyn carries out his research in an honourable fashion, collecting scientific data, backed by technical equipment and with the support of the staff. But how did Mpudi acquire his own knowledge of Bushman language? He acquires it in a less than honourable way, because he is not a white man. He committed a crime, and hounded by the law, he fled into the forest. The Bushmen saved his life when he was at the point of death, and he lived in their village for three years. He obtained a good command of the language

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from the experience. Mpudi also tries to give Steyn advice about wooing Kate, but the fact that he is an African polygamist makes him “unqualified” to give a sound advice. We also see a condescending paternalistic attitude in the treatment of Xi. After being rescued, he is now treated as a curio. He does not offer any resistance to the treatment he is given by the police. He just sits there in a passive way. After his conditional release, he is offered a salary which he is not given the opportunity to negotiate, thereby leaving the white man, Steyn to determine his worth. He learns how to drive, but can only drive in reverse, which makes the viewer to question his level of intelligence. When Xi shoots the goat, he uses an arrow smeared with tranquilizer, which sends the goat to sleep. However, his own science, which he used on the goat that got him into trouble with the law, is not good enough to use on the guerrillas and it is Steyn’s tranquilizer that is used to send them to sleep. This shows the white man as the ‘brain’ and the black man as the ‘brawn’. The neat, scientific end of the rescue is carried out by the white man, while the black Xi had to suffer the ignominy of being dressed as a “young girl” after being described as “dainty and pretty” by the narrator. These are adjectives that any full-grown man would take exception to. Xi risks his life to go and fire the tranquilizer-smeared needles at the guerrillas. However, he is not regarded as the hero, rather, another white man, Jack Hind, sweeps in to take the glory. In spite of Xi’s knowledge of the land, flora and fauna, his tracking abilities, etc., he is still subordinated to the bumbling white man, Steyn. He is portrayed as the archetypal black filmic character that is always happy, always grinning, and always grateful to the white man for one thing or the other. Maureen Eke in her review of the book, In Darkest Hollywood, describes Xi as the “Man Friday” of The Gods Must be Crazy (Eke, 1997, H Net). The buddy film can have significant overlap with road movies since events on the trip serve as a plot device for exploring or advancing the friendship of the protagonists. A road movie is a film genre in which the film’s plot takes place during a journey. According to Atkinson, the genre has a standard plot employed by screenwriters, which developed from both spoken and written tales of epic journeys, such as the Odyssey and the Aeneid. During the course of the story, the hero changes, grows or improves. The modern road picture is to filmmakers what the heroic quest was to medieval writers (Atkinson, 1994: 14). Atkinson in Crossing the Frontier Sight & Sound states further that road movies traditionally end in one of five ways: i. Having met with triumph at their ultimate destination, the protagonist(s) return home, wiser for their experiences.

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ii. At the end of the journey, the protagonist(s) find a new home at their destination. iii. The journey continues endlessly. iv. Having realised that as a result of their journey they can never go home, the protagonists either choose death or are killed. v. The film ends without any implication of further jaunt (Atkinson, 1994:14).

Volkman states that: If the bottle marks the end of innocence, Xi’s journey progressively introduces him to the weirdness and constraints of civilization. He observes with silent or softly clicking wonder (Volkman, 1985: 482).

Indeed, Xi’s road experience only re-confirms apartheid’s assertion that the black man is not intelligent enough to aspire to improve himself. He returns home with no new knowledge to share with his people to improve their lives in the hard terrain of the Kalahari Desert. He returns home, nonwiser than when he set out on the journey, and he returns to the place where the white man wants him to remain, in the reservation area, without ever thinking of venturing from there again. This is a lesson for other black people under apartheid – they have to remain in those geographical spaces that have been assigned to them by the white over-lords. Xi, therefore, is presented as a model black man designed to obey the white man by complying with instructions and abiding by them at all times. Unlike in the typical road film “in which the hero changes, grows or improves over the course of the story”, Xi remains a flat character, unchanged throughout the film. As the three characters (Steyn, Mpudi and Xi) travel along on their ecological mission, there is no doubt that the master is on the road and this has nothing to do with the employer/employee relationship. The Andrew Steyn character is the peaceful scientist, cut off from the world. He personifies a technologically advanced, but non-aggressive South Africa. He is not interested in people, but in their geographical space and its benefits for his scientific experiment. The difference in skin colour is never mentioned, but it perfectly determines his role nonetheless. It is Steyn, even in his bumbling ineptitude, who sweeps in like the conquering hero to disarm the rebels, albeit in a ‘White brainy’ and not ‘Blackbrawny’ way. This film “emphasized the supremacy of the white race, directly and indirectly justifying conquest” (Davis, 1996: 2). Black South Africans and black expatriates were always cast in the roles of characters which Davis describes as “adjuncts to whites” (Davis, 1996: 21-22). Linda Hunter in “The Gods Must be Crazy: Unsolicited Opinions”

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describes The Gods Must be Crazy as “intellectual racism” which is more dangerous than blatant racism. According to Hunter, “intellectual racism is immediately denied when confronted. So, it grows and spreads and is called satire” (Hunter, 1985: 34): … Humour is usually at someone’s expense and it is the blacks who pay the price. It was a price I found too high. … I could understand the appeal of the film to children and bigots, but it slowly became apparent that the intellectual community was rationalizing its enjoyment of the film by claiming to be laughing at itself (Hunter, 1985: 34).

Jamie Uys seems to have assumed that the world would accept the refashioned Noble Savage or Man Friday of The Gods Must be Crazy. We are invited to laugh and overlook the old exotic images of Africa’s wild animals, landscapes, strange and warring peoples for the sake of entertainment, especially, when the Noble Savage is given a personality and choice. One cannot resist wondering about the impact of Jamie Uys’ closeness to the apartheid hegemony on his construction of the Africa and Africans seen in his film (Eke, 1997, H Net).

Bibliography Armes Roy. African Filmmaking North and South of Sahara. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006. Atkinson, Michael. “Crossing the Frontiers”, Sight & Sound. Vol. IV No. 1, Jan 1994. Beittel, Mark. “Mapantsula: Cinema, Crime and Politics on the Witwatersrand”, in Journal of Southern African Studies. Vol. 16, No. 4. Dec.1990. Bester, Rory. and Buntman, Barbara. “Bushman and Photographic Intervention”, in African Arts. Vol. 32, No. 4, Winter 1999. Blisard, F. X. “Tarzan versus Tarzan—Part 1: Tarzan—Not Just for Kids Anymore (As If He Ever Was): The Chequered Career of a MuchMisunderstood Superhero”, 1998. Available at: http://www.erbzine.com/mag2/0291.html Bozarth, David, “Tarzan of the Apes: Child’s Tale or Adult Fantasy? A review which parents of young children may wish to read”, 1997. Available at: www.erblist.com/erbmania/tangor/tarzan1.html Cancel, Robert. “Reviewed work(s): Black African Cinema by Nwachukwu Frank Ukadike”, in Research in African Literatures. 1995, Vol. 26, No. 3, (autumn). Davis, Peter. “The Gods Must be Crazy”, in Cineaste Journal. 1985

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14(2\1). Davis, Peter. In Darkest Hollywood: Exploring the Jungles of Cinema’s South Africa. Athens/Randburg, South Africa: Ohio University Press/Ravan Press, 1996. Eke, Maureen, “In Darkest Hollywood Reviewed for H Afrlitcine”, 1997. Available at: http://www.h-net.org/~africa/reviews/ Hight, Craig. “Mockumentary: A Call to Play”, in Thomas Austin and Wilma de Jong Maidenhead. (eds), Rethinking Documentary: New Perspectives, New Practices. Berkshire, England; New York: Open University Press/McGraw Hill Education, 2008. Hight, Craig and Roscoe, Jane, Television Mockumentary: Reflexivity, Satire and a Call to Play. Manchester University Press, 2010. Hunter, Linda. “The Gods Must be Crazy: Unsolicited Opinions”, in Issue: A Journal of Opinion, 1985 Vol. 14. Konigsberg, Ira. The Complete Film Dictionary. Penguin, 1998. Lee, Richard, The Dobe Ju/'hoansi. Case Studies in Cultural Anthropology (3rd ed.). Wadsworth Publishing, 2003. Magubane, Bernard. “Reviewed work: Myth, Race and Power: South Africans Imaged on Film and TV by Keyan Tomaselli; Alan Williams; Lynette Steenveld; Ruth Tomaselli”, in American Anthropologist. Vol. 90, No. 3 (Sept.) 1988. Newman, Gerald and Eleanor Newman Layfield. Racism: Divided by Color. Springfield: Enslow Publishers Inc 1995. Parson, Jack. “Tim Russert and Me: Teaching About Africa in the United States. South Carolina: Southeastern Regional Seminar in African Studies” (SERSAS), 2004. Available at: http://www.ecu.edu/african/sersas/Papers/ParsonSpring2004.htm Peaceful Societies Website, http://www.peacefulsocieties.org/ Rosen, David, “King Kong Race, Sex, and Rebellion”, in Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media, 1975 no. 6. The Urban Dictionary, “Mockumentary”. Available at: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=mockumentary Tomaselli, Keyan G. “The Gods Must be Crazy - A Critique”, 1998 Available at: http://ccms.ukzn.ac.za/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id =217&Itemid=43 Tomaselli, Keyan, Alan, Williams, Lynette Steenveld, and Ruth, Tomaselli, Myth, Race and Power: South Africans Imaged on Film and TV. Anthropos publishers, Bellville, 1987. Tomaselli, Keyan G. “Rereading the Gods Must be Crazy Films”, in Visual Anthropology: Volume 19, Issue 2, 2006

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US Political Thought. “Rousseau and the Noble Savage Myth”, October 17, 1995 Available at: http://www.uoregon.edu/~jboland/rousseau.html Volkman, Toby, “Reviewed Work: The Gods Must Be Crazy by Jamie Uys”, in American Anthropologist, Vol. 87, No. 2 (Jun.), 1985. Volkman, T.A. “Out of Africa: The Gods Must be Crazy”, in L. Gross, J. Katz, and J. Ruby, (eds.), Image Ethics: The Moral Rights of Subjects. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

CHAPTER XVII FASHION AND FILMS: THE NIGERIAN EXAMPLE TOYIN OGUNDEJI DEPARTMENT OF DRAMATIC ARTS, OBAFEMI AWOLOWO UNIVERSITY, ILE-IFE

Introduction Generally, the entertainment world has always been the product of the society in its various forms of presentation - dance, drama, musicals and films - and costume is a constant aspect of the visual elements in all these performances. This chapter examines the fashion import and export in the costume design of the various filmic traditions in the Nigerian film industry. It notes that while fashions wax and wane, film has become a force to be reckoned with in its dictates and meanings. Film as one of the leading forces of fashion is discussed and instances are highlighted. The chapter seeks to analyse ways and manners in which the film medium can affect the prevailing dress fashion, either positively or negatively. Some titles discussed include: O le ku/This is Serious and Omo Ghetto/Ghetto Dweller. The chapter concludes by affirming the potentials of film as a principal factor in the trends of fashion through innovations and recycling of rested styles in any given society. Fashion is a nonverbal symbol that mirrors times, and sometimes, deeds. Because they are shaped by the forces of an era, they in turn reflect the way people think and live. Each new fashion seems completely appropriate to its time and reflects that time as no other symbol does (Stone 2004, 19). It cuts across virtually all areas of life - politics, food, architecture, clothing, etc. Fashion will be used here in relation to clothing and its other accessories. Anne Hollander describes fashion as “the scope of what everyone wants to be seen wearing in a given society and this includes the haute couture, all forms of anti-fashion and non-fashion, and the garments and accessories of people who claim no interest in fashion” (Hollander 1993, 50).

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Elaine Stone also sees fashion as the prevailing way a group of people at a particular time and place dress themselves (Stone, 2). This is reflected in films by costumes worn by actors and actresses, used to aid the story and the acting. Costume helps in the establishment of era, colour, shape, mood and the locale of the filmic setting. Gillette (1992) affirms that costume exhibits a unity of style, provides a visual reflection of the personality and nature of each character at a given time in a play. It also provides visual information about the world of the play. Costumes are solely personal aspects of the visual elements in a production. Visually, performer and costume are perceived as one because they merge into a single image when worn. At the same time, costumes have a value of their own, adding colour, shape, texture, and symbolism to the overall effect (Wilson, 1998:387). Humans are a fashion-conscious species and they meet fashion everywhere they go. So, there is an appeal which they either take or leave. But through films, fashions go into people’s homes, appeal on certain individuals and when adopted, last for a short period of time as a fad, or arrest the attention of a multitude and stay for a very long time as fashions. Tom Cruise’s aviator-style sunglasses in the film Top Gun (1986) made a difference in the fashion of that period. Sometimes, it could be belts, scarves, caps, mobile phones, a pen or even the fragrance worn by the actors that catches the fancy of the fans and that could make a change in the world of fashion. Film, being an expressive medium, has a valuable place in affecting the fashion trends in a community. The electronic age has aided the fashion industry to a large extent. The television has become a strong medium in informing tastes and styles in dresses through changes in the dress and hairstyles of favourite newscasters, talk-show personalities, series characters, film actors and even sports stars (Stone, 38). Fashion is a form of free speech that not only embraces clothing, but also accessories, jewellery, hairstyles, beauty and body art. What we wear, and how and when we wear it, provides others with a short-hand to subtly read the surface of a social situation. For instance, football has become a socially accepted popular culture in the present twenty-first century via television, as exemplified by the 2012 UEFA European Football Championship. The hairstyle of Mario Balotelli, the Italian striker who played for Manchester City and the Italian national team, became popular and was copied by many of his fans out of respect and admiration for the good job he did on the field. The obsession with his hairstyle was highly visible at the venue of the match, and could still be seen around after the competition. The hairstyle adopted by Nwankwo Kanu, a popular Nigerian footballer, was also copied by his fans at the peak of his football career.

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Figs 1 & 2 are faces of Balotelli at the 2012 UEFA European Football Championship(Champions League and Euro2012).

Fashion Cycle Intrinsically, fashion is governed by certain principles and follows a course described as a cycle. It often materializes in four stages: introduction, rise, culmination, decline and obsolescence. x Introduction: This is the beginning of a new style or of a recurring one. x Rise: This is the period when the new style gains popularity and familiarity x Culmination: This is the peak of the adoption of a new style. It is the point when most people copy the trend and it often becomes a craze. x Decline and obsolescence: The end of a style or trend is highly subjective, depending on how reasonable or unreasonable the style is (Stone 2004, 2). All fashion theories emphasize the principle of leadership and followership, in that someone or some people will always start off a new style, or revisit a long-rested one to be followed by others. However, fashion is not the exclusive province of performers, but of various categories of people who lead fashion in a certain environment. Stone (2004) classifies them into five distinct heads: royalty, the famous, the rich, athletes, innovators and influential. Historically, members of the royal family were always leading in fashion trends, due to their high and lofty position, and the fact that they are rich enough to be able to afford new innovations, which is rare amongst the commoners. It is worthy of

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note that due to the visibility of the famous, mainly athletes and entertainers, some of them are seen as role models by their fans. Therefore, dresses, hairstyles and make-up of these celebrities are copied to show a sense of identification, love, admiration, and sometimes, appreciation.

Filmic Imperatives in Fashion Film is a widely distributed product and its impact is politically, socioeconomically and culturally accounted for. Film and its derivative products have reshaped knowledge through various categorizations, genres, fields of enquiry and various methods of representation (Colman 2009). Film is considered as one of the most important of the arts because of its persuasive skills, disseminating messages faster than any other medium except the internet (Munich 2011, 18). Hollander (1993, 350) sees the shift in clothing during any period as primarily based on the visual impulse, and a response to the pressure of visual need. Consequently, representational artists – the photographer, illustrator, and moviemaker, the ones who create the visualization – are those who also engender the need to change a look. It is pertinent to note that musicians are not exempted from this class of people. In the 1980s and 90s, Anita Baker, an American R & B singer-songwriter with eight Grammy Awards to her credit, carved a niche for herself with her signatory hairstyle of low-cut at the back and long strands at the front. Apart from the fact that her songs came out as hits, her hairstyle became very popular amongst the generality of people. Her hairstyle, which was audacious at the time, became her signature and was copied and remains in vogue up till now. Another prominent example is the Jamaican actress, singer and model Grace Jones, who wears a flat-topped, squared-cut hair that looks weird yet became very popular among the Blacks.

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Anita Baker with her signatory hairstyle (Figs. 3, 4 & 5)

Figures 6 and 7 Grace Jones’ tabular hairstyle and another look

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Fashion and Film on the Nigerian Scene Colin McDowell, Chairman of the Costume Society of Great Britain, as quoted by Elaine Stone, sees fashion as an art form that reacts more speedily and completely than any other to the social, political and cultural nuances of our time (2004, 3). A good example of costumes that react with that speed in the Nigerian film space is seen in Tunde Kelani’s O le ku (1997). This reaction is evident in the rush for imitation of 1970s dressing styles found in the costuming of the film. O le ku is the film version of a Yoruba drama written by Akinwumi Isola and produced by Mainframe Film Productions. It is a story of Ajani, a young undergraduate under pressure from his mother to get married in order for her to see her grandchildren before her death. Already in a relationship with Asake, Ajani finds another beautiful lady whom he also promises to marry. Eventually, he jilts both ladies and ends up marrying a childhood acquaintance, Sade. The love story is set in Ibadan, Nigeria, in the 1970s and this overtly informs the type of costumes used. Though produced in the 1990s, the dresses are selected to depict the 1970s era. The trend of dressing during the era emphasized the mini-look. In all types of cuts and wears - wrappers were tied to look very short, sleeves of blouses (buba) were cut in short sizes, skirts and gowns were also designed to stop above knees - except the flowing gown called ‘Maxi’.

Figures 8 and 9, Nigerian Dressing Styles of the 1970s

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The film was a blockbuster to the extent that many people started wearing their dresses in mini styles, which was immediately, tagged ‘O le ku’, after the title of the film. At production in 1997, the film featured dresses from the two previous decades, and that changed the face of existing fashion of that production year in Nigeria. In the film, Afro hairstyle (James Brown style), hair threading and plaiting were popularly presented to epitomize hairstyles of the 1970s. This might have influenced the move by manufacturers of hair extensions to include afro weave on in their stock. Many people pursued the ‘O le ku’ fashion with ardent passion immediately after the release of the film, and it lasted for some time. The reception of the film and its costumes satisfied Stone’s (2004) description of a ‘fashion cycle’, a ‘departure’ from the usual, or a sort of revival. While it lasted, it became a precursor for new looks and a drastic change of appearances at weddings, birthdays and funeral ceremonies. It became commonplace to find ‘O le ku’ style at various gatherings of people and amazingly, it enhanced the sales of the film. The fad of ‘O le ku’ dressing was rested for almost ten years after its culmination, but it reared its head again in ladies’ dressing styles in 2012 and it has become a fascinating trend to have short wrappers and blouses for various occasions. Embroideries are added to the blouse at the front and on the sleeves to create a beautiful ‘old school’ outlook. Interestingly, the style still retains the title of the film, ‘O le ku’. To appreciate the seriousness of its rebirth, Dansol High School, a privately-owned school in the Acme area of Ikeja, Lagos, declared her 2012 End of Year program, held on the 21th of June an ‘O le ku style’ cultural day of ‘for all students and parents. The production of the film employed the use of costumes, set, props, locale and hairstyles to portray the historical era of the story, but costume and hairstyle became the greatest vehicles that drove home the historical and socio-cultural milieu of the story, and had a lasting effect on the audience. Film costume designers work to keep abreast of the reigning fashion, depending on the setting of the script they are working on. They have to tell a story through their costumes, so they manipulate, through tools such as silhouettes, colour nuances, design lines, or fabric textures, and also create an emotional feeling through minute details such as moving the shoulder seam further from or closer to the neck or making a jacket a little too tight, too loose, too short, or too long. All these details convey considerable information about the message of the story (Munich 2011, 22). Another film that can be seen as exporting fashion through its colour

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nuances into the audience’s lifestyle is Funke Akindele’s Omo Ghetto (2011). Omo Ghetto is the story of a set of twins separated at birth, as their impoverished mother sold one and kept the other. The one she kept stayed with her mother in the slum area of Lagos while the sold twin was adopted into an opulent home. These locales affected the upbringing of the two children as they grew up imbibing different attitudes and morals. The story mainly dwells on the one in the slum area, as she assumes a radical and rascally attitude towards life, joining a gang of girls that terrorize the neighbourhood. In an attempt to create character makeup for the girls, the makeup artist uses coloured hair extensions to illustrate the unruliness of the characters. The film was produced in three parts, and as soon as the first part was released, girls started going to salons for coloured hairdo which they tagged after the film title. In Omo Ghetto, the hairstyle combines different colour schemes which portray the eccentricity and striking looks of the ghetto ladies, and strongly aid the message of quirkiness and weirdness of the storyline. Costume, according to Ommanney and Schanker (1982), is not only a means of characterizing a role as attractively as possible, but, in its colour and silhouette, is a vital part of the total stage design. The ladies’ costumes and hairstyles advance the picture of the ghetto setting created by the film Art Director. According to Sutton and Whelan, the effect of a colour is determined by many factors: the light reflected from it, the colours that surround it or the perspective of the person looking at the colour (2004, 24). The Omo Ghetto twin, ‘Lefty’ and her group’s colour-blocked hairstyles show their insolence towards the other slum dwellers. It advances the characterization as shown in their touting for money and socialization amongst the male-dominated setup. In spite of the negativity portrayed by the coloured hair in the film, some viewers still found the styles good to copy in their complete rebelliousness. The hairdo is also named after the title, ‘Omo Ghetto’ hairstyle. While the intangibles of fashion can be vague and sometimes difficult to predict and chart, certain fundamental principles of fashion are tangible and precise (Stone, 2004), though almost knotty to decipher the trend of fashion nowadays. The kinds of fashion obtained from home video films are mostly revolutionary, and often found amongst the youth, except for occasions where the fashion leader is an elderly actor, as found with one popular Nigerian actress, Sola Sobowale. She has a habitual sagging of one of her sleeves from the shoulder, and the one-bare-shoulder look has caught the fancy of many people, especially the youths.

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A third year student of Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Ibironke Odunewu, attests to the fact that her dress sense has been modified by the Nigerian home video film. According to her, “Sola Sobowale is one actress I admire and respect a lot in the home video films. She is one of my role models and a great actress that is worthy of emulation. Seeing her in films is always fascinating and so, I copy her dressing style most times”. Most films, the ones focused on in this chapter inclusive, can be described as initiating short-run fashion because the styles copied are popular for just a brief period of time. ‘O le ku’ is rather peculiar in its own fashion cycle because it has resurfaced twice after the release of the film, so the style could be called a recurring medium-run fashion. Contemporary film costume designers now work to keep abreast of the reigning fashion to have the desired appeal, while some others dictate fashion trends. In conclusion, Julie Harris, a 1965 Academy Awards Oscar winner for costume design, says “costumes are ‘centre-screen’ in all areas of film production, so, it is customary for the audience to see and appreciate what styles the actors wear. Not only did Omo Ghetto create the crazy hairstyles found in the film, but it also aided the craze to carry colourful short hair extensions, and with the re-emergence of ‘O le ku’ style, no one can predict its culmination and decline. Fashions are, therefore, social expressions that document the tastes and values of an era just as paintings, sculpture, and architecture of the times do” (Stone, 19).

Bibliography Allen, Richard and Smith, Murray, eds. Film Theory and Philosophy. Clarendon Press, 1997. Colman, Felicity, ed. Film, Theory and Philosophy: The Key Thinkers. McGill: Queen’s University Press, 2009. Gillette, Michael. Theatrical Design and Production. New York: McGraw-Hill Companies, 1992. Gray, Gordon. Cinema: A Visual Anthropology. Oxford: Oxford International Publishers, 2010. Hollander, Anne. Seeing Through Clothes. USA: University of California Press, 1993. Kohler, Carl and Sichart, Emma Von. A History of Costume. New York: Dover Publications, 1928. Laver, James. Costume and Fashion: A Concise History. New York: Thames and Hudson Inc., 2002.

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Leese, Elizabeth. Costume Design in the Movies: An Illustrative Guide to the Work of 157 Great Designers. New York: Dover Publications Inc., 1991. Munich, Andrienne. Fashion in Film. USA: Indiana University Press, 2011. Ommanney, Katharine and Schanker, Harry. The Stage and the School. New York: McGraw-Hill 1982. Stone, Elaine. The Dynamics of Fashion. New York: Fairchild Publications Inc., 2004. Sutton, Tina and Whelan, Bride M. The Complete Color Harmony. USA: Rockport Publishers, Inc., 2004. Thomas, Pauline Weston. Theories of Fashion Costume and Fashion History for Fashion-Era.com Wilson, Edwin. The Theatre Experience. USA: McGraw-Hill Companies, 1998. www.scribd.com/doc/fashion-cycle-and-theories

Filmography O le ku Scriptwriter: Director: Producer: Year: Language:

Akinwumi Isola Tunde Kelani Tunde Kelani 1997 Yoruba with English subtitle

Omo Ghetto Scriptwriter: Director: Producer: Year: Language:

Funke Akindele Abiodun Olanrewaju Funke Akindele 2011 Yoruba with English subtitles

Ohun Oko Somida Scriptwriter: Sola Sobowale Producer: Sola Sobowale Director: Lasun Ray-Eyiwumi Year: 2009 Language: Yoruba with English subtitles

CHAPTER XVIII THEMATIC DEVELOPMENTS IN NIGERIAN VIDEO FILMS KWAGHKONDO AGBER DEPARTMENT OF THEATRE ARTS, UNIVERSITY OF ABUJA

Introduction Every film is a reflection of the social and political environment in which it is created. It projects that societal culture through a careful manipulation of the art and technique of the medium. According to Lenin (1997: 101), there is a functional potential of the film medium which is tied to the cultural, economic and political fortunes of the society within which it is located. The production of indigenous films in Nigeria received a boost with the production of the box office hit Ajani Ogun by Ola Balogun in 1976. Before this, very few indigenous films were produced in the country. The few that were made did not create the impact that would open the floodgates for others. The commercial success of Ajani Ogun not only provided the impetus to local film producers, it also provided a new career for other popular theatre troupes most of whom had abandoned their tour itinerates for the new medium (Adesanya 1997: 4). The influx of these former theatre practitioners to the new medium brought an added impetus to local film production, leading to the emergence of more producers, directors and scriptwriters. It also led to the commercialization and the introduction of new themes that would attract large audiences. These themes revolved around witchcraft, horror, thrillers and magic that helped to give the Yoruba film genre a bad name. They also helped to commercially redirect the Nigerian film industry towards the commercialism that would later dominate the home video industry (Adesanya 1997: 14). Celluloid film production in Nigeria received a boost with the entry of

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these popular theatre practitioners into the industry. They came along with their personnel such as actors, costumiers, scriptwriters, directors and producers. They also migrated into film with their techniques, plots and a tradition of striving to create films with commercial rather than aesthetic appeal. According to Boughedir, the films were designed to appeal to the largest number of people by selling those emotions of laughter, fear and violence (cited in Ekwuazi 1991: 59). In their settings, characterization and actions, they depicted or presented images that would appeal to the masses for which the films were made. These theatre practitioners also brought into film the folkloric, episodic and improvisational traditions of the live theatre and the larger than life acting style characteristic of the Yoruba travelling theatre. The folkloric films that this transition produced were made with directors and cast drawn from theatre troupes, interspersed with dances, songs, festivals and rituals. Hubert Ogunde, one of the foremost practitioners of this genre also went ahead to include in his films fantasy elements or actions such as the transformations of human beings to animals to convey the supernatural dimensions of traditional African cosmology, and the “use of the occult language, music, and dance” which evoked mystery, awe and wonder, a phenomenon that mystified the live theatre audiences of Ogunde (Ekwuazi 1997: 73). Several factors facilitated the demise of celluloid film production and the rise of the video film in Nigeria. Foremost among these was the absence of technical personnel and proper marketing channels to enable the producing companies enhance box office successes enough to recoup expenses. There was also inadequate infrastructure to sustain the industry and the inability of the government to come up with a legal framework to provide an enabling environment for the industry. In addition to this were the establishment of more television stations in the country and the Udoji salary increases of the early 1970s which raised incomes and increased the number of Nigerians who had access to television. The availability of more television channels across the country increased the demand for more qualitative locally produced programmes. As a response to this demand, new television soap operas produced locally emerged, such as Cockcrow at Dawn, Checkmate, Mirror in the Sun, and Supple Blues. The popularity of these teledramas contributed immensely to the emergence of home video films in the country.

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Folkloric Era Towards the end of the 1980s, most of the popular travelling theatre companies who had transited to celluloid films, once again moved over to the video medium. According to Wole Ogundele, With a camcorder on your padded shoulder, you can call some former stage actors together, get them to act out a story in imitation of the vanishing travelling theatre tradition and everybody was back in business (1997: 50).

The new practitioners, aided by the video production technology, pushed forward thematic worldviews and mental attitudes that were parallel to those of science and technology. This worldview was determined by reliance on the folkloric traditions of the producers. And since most of these early producers were Yoruba, they featured in their videos the cosmology and folklore of the Alarinjo tradition of popular entertainment where transformation and fantasy are the main features. In this tradition, animals and inanimate objects take on anthropomorphic attributes. Human beings acquire non-human features, and both interact on a more or less equal basis of existence. There are witches and wizards, some malevolent, some benevolent as circumstances permit. It is a morally idealized world in which good always triumphs over evil, the good is rewarded and the evil punished. Video film producers in Nigeria, using this background, came out with films that had traditional-metaphysical subjects. These videos portrayed the Oba and his chiefs and the Babalawo (priests) resolving traditional conflicts through a metaphysical plane. The women were played up as benevolent witches who would single-handedly save their communities from evil men. Other celebrated themes were “the natural supernaturalism of the Yoruba worldview plus the occult means of tapping into it, and the hypnotic poetry that goes with both” (Ogundele 1997: 57). The power of the spoken word, a carry-over from the stage days, was extravagantly combined with the manipulative capabilities of the media to manufacture fantasy images and to present them as real. This helped to narrow the boundary between the supernatural and the natural. One major preoccupation of these earlier video films was the fascination with women. The films canvassed the idea that there was a need to acquire wealth and to enjoy this wealth with women. In Bata Wahala for example, a rich man acquired six wives “all of whom he insults and treats most atrociously”. None of the women would leave because they were also enjoying the wealth. Moreover, only staying put

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would enable them maintain the conspicuous lifestyles they had been used to. They also undermined each other in diverse ways to gain the favour of their husband (Ogundele 1997: 60). The films portrayed women as cruel, wicked, irrational and evil. They were jealous and a danger to their husbands, to themselves and to their fellow wives and their children. They were also portrayed as mothers who possessed mythical powers which could be harnessed to rescue the community from stress. They possessed more power than the Oba and without the support of the communal powers which they alone possessed, the Oba would not be able to exert authority over his subjects. The narrow thematic direction of these early films, coupled with poor storylines, inexperienced actors, directors and inadequate support infrastructure, led to the inability of these films to create the kind of impact that was necessary to move the industry forward.

Individualism versus Communalism The second wave of video films produced in the country witnessed the entry of Igbo producers. They were a radical departure from the primitive culture of mysticism, ritualism and magic that had characterized the first wave of mostly Yoruba-dominated home video films. They moved the video film away from the genres of “village idylls, traditional religious dramas, Juju contests and farcical comedy” to more contemporary themes (Haynes and Okome 1997: 26). The themes dug deep into the Igbo cultural matrix and elements of contemporary life in Nigeria. Their imaginative intensity and high emotional appeal were a derivation from the individualism in the Igbo community and the high premium placed on individual achievement. In Circle of Doom, “the characters come to grief because they dislocate the balance of relationships in the community” (Ekwuazi, 1997: 73), while in Living in Bondage (I & II) and Dirty Deal, the characters were punished for deviating from the norm. Their inordinate ambition created the context in which destructive forces worked. The Igbo worldview which formed the bedrock of most of the videos was patterned on a social structure which attributed a different role to the individuals in society. The individual was merely a quotient at the bottom of the hierarchical structure. Ibagere (1997) was of the view that this social structure was built “around the relational points of kinship, local community, continuity with ancestors and the ordering of hierarchical relationships” which leaves the individual with little room to operate. The important units are the family, the age grades, the hamlet, the village and the tribal group.

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This communalistic ethos was penetrated by Christianity and western forms of individualism and the ideas of accountability of self before God. There is also the influence of western ideas of liberalism, the right to privacy and personal choice. Increased urbanization and its attendant social upheavals, western capitalist values of pursuit of personal gain and wage labour have destroyed the communalistic essence of traditional life. In other words, western ideas of individualism have taken over the society to the detriment of the traditional organization of life; a life where discoveries in science for example, are attributable to individuals rather than the community, while the rules of western art regard plagiarism as a serious intellectual and artistic sin (Mazrui 1997: 74). The Igbo film, therefore, features characters who present these traits. They live in a make-belief world, a transition from the constraints of collective village life to the relative permissiveness of urban life. In Taboo, Ijeoma and Obi, two lovers, both well-educated lawyers, cannot get married because one is freeborn and the other, Osu, i.e. an outcast who must live on the fringes of society (Ekwuazi, 1997: 75). In other words, urbanization has not completely eroded the vestiges of tradition and culture. The video films of this phase are set in urban areas where the characters embrace the permissiveness that spurs them to achieve irrespective of the path through which this achievement was obtained. This pushes most of the characters to embrace cults or other organizations that can guarantee them instant wealth and which enable them to achieve their ambitions. In Dirty Deal, Chief Ogbu-Orie seizes people’s properties, masterminds armed robberies and uses his finance house to cheat the people in his community. In Taboo, Dorcas the Igwe’s wife seeks spiritual powers to fight her co-wives for the Igwe’s attention. The storylines in these films are simple and straight forward. There is a beginning, a middle and an end. There are no sub-plots to help make the story interesting. In the majority of the videos, the storyline or plot is predictable. Some poor fellow desirous of ending his poverty is helped into a cult by a friend; he has to sacrifice his wife, child or a loved relation. He makes a lot of money but finds no peace. He, therefore, tries all things possible to get out of the group, to no avail. When all else fail, he turns to some Pentecostal (white garment) churches which pray for him or lay hands on him. The problem is then solved, ‘to God be the glory’.

Era of Innovations The third phase of the home video has witnessed the entry of a new class of participants to the industry. The new entrants have come in armed

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for the roles they are to play in the industry. They are educated, better focused and more prepared to chart a new course for the industry. Their enthusiasm has, however, been cut short by the other players in the industry - the marketer/producers who have had their own vision of what the industry should be. According to Gukas (2004: 2), these marketers dictate the industry’s entire activity, deciding what projects get made, who works on them and how much they will be paid. They decide the cast of the films and what roles each of these actors will play. The films made during this phase do not radically differ from the earlier ones because of the lack of independence of the professional actors, directors and others. The only difference is that they now take on more complex themes and plots. According to Obadiegwu, these themes present more materialistic contents; they feature prostitution, fashionable women, advanced free fraud (419), flashy cars gotten from deceit and opulence (2000: 15), themes that are readily sourced from current happenings in the Nigerian society. The films exploit aesthetic violence as an alternative artistic form of desired reality such that the more violence they present, the larger the audiences they are able to attract, and therefore, the greater the profit margin. They parade titles like Evil Men, Rituals, Battle of Musanga or Revenge, which are very suggestive of the level of violence they contain. In the words of Obadiegwu, they show the moral and aesthetic bankruptcy they possess (2000: 5). A large number of these video films reflect themes that convey the dissolution of family cohesion to enable the individual survive. Morality is subsumed under the survival instinct. For example, the demise of Andy in Living in Bondage is accepted as normal because he had manifested signs of weakness or womanliness, a trait not normally associated with men who are successful. Immoral ideas have also provided the themes for some of the producers. They churn out ‘amoral and insidious’ videos into the market. These videos possess contents that are explicitly sexual and therefore detrimental to the healthy growth of the communal order of the Nigerian society. Half nude women and sordid portrayals of the sexual act are alien to a society that is still largely traditional. Is the Nigerian society ripe or ready for this kind of explicit content? In some of the videos, there is no recourse to professionalism in the actualization of the roles being played by the characters. There is a mechanical recitation of the lines while the use of costume and makeup is either absent or very crude. In some cases, for either selfish reasons or to maximize profit, family members are drafted into the cast. In other words, a great percentage of the producers laid more emphasis on profit-making,

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thereby relegating quality to the background. A consequence of the above is that the aesthetic elements of the genre are taken as a matter of course. Anybody with a camera and some money in the bank can assemble members of his family and become a filmmaker. The cinematographic techniques of these films are, therefore, amateurish, the lighting inadequate, the sound recording very poor while the sound tracks are taken from cheap-sounding studio music or from western pop hits whose wordings are not in line with the theme of the movie. A producer/director can make a full-length movie in a few days. According to Okome and Haynes (1997: 26), The low budget domestic setting of the vast majority of the films suggests the influence of soap operas…. (and) they generally lack the grandeur of movies.

Despite these critical observations, there has been a steady improvement in the quality of films being produced now. Characterization, acting, delivery, thematic structures and quality of directing have improved over the years. The use of costume, camera angles, picture quality and editing is better in the recent productions. There has also been a steady shift from undue emphasis on witchcraft, horror and rituals, that helped to give the earlier generation of Nigerian video films a bad name, to more modern themes such as romance, problems of prostitution, children and women trafficking, armed robbery and cultism. Some of the films are gradually beginning to focus on social problems such as family structure, the marriage institution, problems of widowhood and inheritance, problems of urbanization i.e. housing, women and children trafficking, sanitation, electricity supply, the clash of cultures traditional and modern, problems of polygamy and sexual promiscuity among others. Although these thematic issues are taken from a changing Nigerian environment affected by globalisation, they are African and reflect the rich African cultural heritage and worldview. They treat issues that touch the lives of Africans and how they are grappling with the problems of transition from the traditional to the modern society. They show the urban nouveaux riche who have moved ahead in the mad scramble for survival in post oil boom Nigeria. The recourse to traditional themes in some of the films is a welcome development. Idegu (2002) posits that art without a cultural base is meaningless; any art must be aesthetically fulfilling and it must be derived from the culture that produced it. The producers of video films in Nigeria must reflect the histories of the Nigerian peoples and the symbolic effects of these histories on contemporary relevance. There is a need to also

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explore folkloric forms that are expressive, mythical or quasi-mythical to see how they precipitate the struggle between the good and evil forces, and how the good inevitably triumphs over the evil. There is also the need to turn more attention to the issue of morality. The complications or contradiction between aesthetics and the economic interests of the producers are noticeable in the films. These impinge on what determines the contents of some of the films, which is the conflict between economic interest and artistic achievement. Inasmuch as we urge for a reduction in thematic usage of witchcraft, voodoo, wizardry, magic and fetishism which suggests that the Nigerian culture is static or backward-looking, we should remain African in our story ideas. Nigerian video films have done a wonderful job of conveying the country’s diversity to its audiences despite their aesthetic, ideological and thematic underdevelopment. Their elasticity and response to the demands of their audiences is a quality that has greatly contributed to their success. Matt Steinglass (2002: 7) asserts that the fans are addicted to these films because they “deal with the real issue of African life, crime and corruption, family conflict, religion, etc.” The films should, therefore, remain largely African, teaching the values of African worldviews to our children. To Robert Obioha (2004), The world can learn from our native sense and intelligence. They can learn from our indigenous social security system, our techniques of rain-making and other African science …beneficial to mankind.

Prospects The dominance of the American film in the worldwide film industry has left many other film industries including that of Nigeria with few other options to copy. In spite of this, the Nigerian film has created something unique and African. For example, the thematic structure and plot of the stories and the acting and the settings have remained largely Nigerian. The films have done a remarkable job of conveying the country’s diversity and rich historical, political and economic experiences to the outside world; and despite their aesthetic underdevelopment, their elasticity and prompt response to the demands of their audiences are qualities that have greatly contributed to their success. The Nigerian film Industry has a great future. It is, however, at the crossroads. For it to make a right turn and contribute its quota to national development and to the international film industry, much needs to be done. The formation of guilds and collecting societies is a step forward. According to Kanayo O. Kanayo (2002: 7), president of the Actors Guild,

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It is hoped that these steps will help streamline the industry, professionalize it, create sanity and enhance quality productions. The industry requires the injection of independent sources of funding. The agreement between the Film Makers Cooperative of Nigeria (FCON) and the Standard Trust Bank to invest in the industry is a welcome development. The resolve by Don Pedro Obaseki, President of FCON, “to raise funds to change people’s mindset in order to take the industry into the mainstream of business” (Ajirire 2004: 25) is a welcome development. Negotiations with the US-based Film Association of Nigeria for the sale of Nigerian videos in the United States will open some more profitable avenues for marketing Nigerian films abroad and for injecting hard currency into the industry. The attempt by the Nigerian Film and Video Censors Board to create a better distribution framework for the industry is also a welcome development. This will ensure that records on things like sales, production costs and film audiences would be available. The government can also assist the industry by providing a more favourable policy environment for it to grow. This can be done through tax concessions to encourage foreign sector participation. Government can also provide a conducive economic environment for private sector injection of the required capital base to facilitate independent productions and acquisition of modern equipment to improve the quality of the films. There is a need for more training of actors, directors, costumiers, cameramen, lighting personnel and every other person involved in the industry. This will also help to improve the storylines, the acting, the directing, camera work and postproduction. The industry and the consuming public stand to benefit immensely from these developments.

Conclusion Nigerian home video films are marketed throughout Africa and the African Diaspora in Europe and the Americas. The re-orientation of the home video film from sex, witchcraft and magic to themes that portray and reflect Nigerian cultures in more positive directions would give the industry the necessary boost to enable it grow. The provision of a conducive economic and policy environment will help mobilize the support of the private sector. This will also facilitate quality productions that can compete favourably with productions from the other national film

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industries at the world stage.

Bibliography Adesanya, A., 1997, ‘From Film to Video’ in Jonathan Haynes (Ed) Nigerian Video Films, Jos: NFC. Ajirire, T., 2004, “Nollywood Breaks into Bank Vaults” in Sunday Sun, April 18. Ekwuazi, H., 1991, Film in Nigeria, Jos: NFC —. 1997, “The Igbo Video Film: a Glimpse into the Cult of the Individual” in Jonathan Haynes (Ed) Nigerian Video Films, Jos: NFC. Gukas, S., 2004, ‘Standing up for Nollywood’ British Film Magazine Vol. 6 No 23, March. Haynes, J. and Okome, O., 1995, Cinema and Social Change in West Africa, Jos: NFC Lenin, V.I. cited in Dul Johnson, 1997, “Culture and Art in Hausa Video Films” in Jonathan Haynes (Ed) Nigerian Video Films. Jos: NFC. Obadiegwu, C., 2000, “Home Video Movies and Socio-Cultural Query in the New Millennium” Paper presented at the 14th Annual Convention of SONTA, University of Ilorin, 8-11 November. Obioha, R., 2004, ‘Not yet Hurray for Nollywood’ in Daily Sun Vol. 2 No.272, June 29. Ogundele, W., 1997, ‘From Folk Opera to Soap Opera: Improvisation and Transformations in Yoruba Popular Theatre’ in Jonathan Haynes (ed) Nigerian Video Films, Jos: NFC. Ogunleye, Foluke, (2003) “Citizenship and Democracy as Themes in American and Nigerian Films” in Ogunleye, Foluke, Amali, S.O., Patton, et.al., (eds.) Ethnicity, Citizenship and Democracy in the United States of America. Lagos: American Studies Association Publication/PAS, pp. 131-140. Steinglass, M. (2002) “Nigerian Video Films” International Herald Tribune.

CHAPTER XIX A HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF THE UGANDAN FILM INDUSTRY DOMINICA DIPIO MAKERERE UNIVERSITY, KAMPALA

Introduction When one talks of film as a national industry, a chain of questions comes to mind such as: is there a commercial institution of filmmaking in the country? Are there production companies, studios, cinematographers and other members of the technical team, actors and directors, researchers and writers, on-going production and screening activities, distribution and marketing, and festivals in place? In the context of Uganda, most of these questions can be answered tentatively. If a national cinema is strictly determined by the existence of the above condition, then Ugandan industry does not exist as it is still emerging. However, if it is defined in terms of individuals making films, there is a growing number of Ugandans making films since the 2000s. Arguably, filmmaking by Ugandans is a recent phenomenon, though films have been screened in the country since the colonial days. This chapter maps out the historical highlights that have either retarded or enhanced the development of cinema in Uganda. Among the key highlights are the colonial legacy, the rich theatre culture, the influx of Nigerian films and the related “video hall” phenomenon, the digital video camera era, and the emergence of regional and national film festivals within the East African region, where locally made films are screened. This chapter traces the evolution of Ugandan cinema from its roots in theatre, and explains why theatre groups are turning to film production. The 2000s is a decade that has seen an increase in the production of films by Ugandans. The paper gives a perspective on this new film consciousness and its prospects for development.

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The Film Department under Colonial Film Unit Way back in the 1960s, research carried out by the colonial office indicated that while film had a great potential as an instrument of education, film consciousness had not developed in the East African region, both as a consuming and producing area. Since the colonial era, within the region, Kenya has been ahead in film consciousness. Mostly, newsreel and educational documentaries existed in the region. Other types of film production were extremely infrequent. Although the 1962 UNESCO meeting recommended that African governments establish and promote educational film services, this was not uniformly implemented all over the continent (Jane Banfield, 1962: 18). In the East African region, the first experimental filmmaking dates back to the Bantu Educational Cinema under the Colonial Office. 35 mm and 16 mm films were produced with commentary in English and eight other African languages, mainly to educate civil servants to adapt to westernized way of life that was considered to be superior to the African traditional ways. Under indirect rule, what the colonialists deemed good was teaching hygiene, as well as transmitting and preserving those traditional values, The colonial office shortly abandoned this venture as they doubted film’s efficacy as an instrument of instruction. It was in the 1950s that the venture was reactivated, with the colonial office training Africans in film production and establishing colonial films units for the development of film production in the region. After independence, some of the activities of the film units were abandoned as money was needed in other departments, and film was dismissed as an expensive luxury. The radio and newspaper media were considered adequate to do what film would do (Banfield, 1962: 19). Some educational documentaries were made in 16 mm format. The pattern was the same in the East African region, with an emphasis on educational documentaries, not feature films. Thus, until recently in the context of the region, the documentary format, inherited from the Colonial Film Unit, has been the dominant film feature. Consequently, to date, many Ugandans tend to describe anything film as “documentary”. The entertainment and recreational function of cinema for the Africans was very low on the colonial agenda. Even then, the colonial office determined what good entertainment for the Africans was. This was evident in the film series of (Poor) Kapere, an educational comic series started in the 1950s after the Second World War, in which Kapere, the main character, always did the opposite of what was right. For instance, instead of putting two cotton seeds in a hole for planting, he would put a handful; instead of using a pit latrine, he would use the bush;

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instead of a small manageable family, he would have many children that he could not feed. In this way, the right way of doing things became evident to audiences through the metaphor, Kapere. These were series shot in Uganda under the Colonial Film Unit. This was also the era of mobile cinema. The Kapere movies were taken from place to place for the local community to see. Because Kapere always represented the wrong side of things, this word has come to be associated with poor quality. There is a fabric for clothes that is still referred to as “kapere” because of its poor quality, and those who wear it are associated with low quality and poverty. Kapere is a derivation from the word “captain” that the Baganda found difficult to pronounce. In this regard, captain Lugard was also called “Kapere Lugadi” (Interview with Ashiraf Simwogerere). The only surviving Ugandan, trained in Britain by the Colonial Film Unit is Mzee Bbosa of Lungujja, who worked with the film unit on return. This category of filmmakers mostly did newsreel, assisted in making documentaries and taught the group of Faustin Misamvu who were the second batch of filmmakers of the 1970s. Under the colonial administration, the Uganda Film Unit was based in the department of Ministry of Information, Broadcasting and Tourism. The colonial-trained Africans made documentary films for the ministry; those were then sent to England for postproduction and processing. Data from the UNESCO “Basic Facts and Figures” show that by 1959, in Uganda, there were 21 cinemas, with about 1.8 people going to the cinema annually. It was evident that not many people were cinema goers. Although occasionally, individual filmmakers like The East African Railways and Harbours produced film reviews and films on railwayrelated activities for the education of the audiences and the promotion of their companies. Their film, Permanent Ways, a 45 minutes film in colour, was produced during this period (Banfield, 1962: 20). There was hardly any production of ‘art’ film and consequently no local audiences for art films. As for the distribution of film for commercial purposes during this era, it was extremely low in the region, as the viewing audience was quite small. There were mainly two companies: Twentieth Century Fox, MGM and others who had an office in Nairobi and were in charge of distribution to cinemas in the region, with a film audience mainly made up of Europeans and Asians. There were not many film options to choose from; the films screened were often dubbed to suit the needs of local audiences, and were often reruns of poor quality, except for advertisements, handprinted slides, cartoons and British Film News (Banfield, 1962: 20).

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Foreign films showed for short periods in the cinema, though Indian films showed for longer periods. The ordinary Ugandan was excluded from cinema halls because it was too expensive for them. In Uganda, there were eighteen independentlyowned commercial cinemas all around Kampala, except two, owned by group distributors. Comparatively, within the three original East African countries (Kenya, Tanganyika and Uganda), the situation was similar, except that Nairobi had better equipment and facilities, and better opportunities to run better quality films in their cinemas. This can be attributed to the comparatively large white and Asian population in the country. During this era, the censors’ boards in the three countries were all operational, and every feature and documentary passed through the boards. Films pre-censored by the Kenya Board were usually passed by the Uganda Board. The Kenya Censorship Board had a full time officer, the only one in East Africa, appointed on voluntary basis. The major role of the board was to classify films and cut out offensive parts especially on the basis of violence and nudity. With the small number of people watching films, there was only one film society in East Africa, based in Nairobi, and the membership was mainly made up of Europeans and a few Asians. The smaller societies were in the university colleges of Dar es Salaam and Makerere. The societies got films for one view only. The activities of these societies demonstrated the great potential of film as an instrument of education and cultural development. The activities of the university-based societies survived until 1961 and 1962 when Tanganyika and Uganda became independent. In places where the missionaries had their bases, film screening on Sunday after prayers was a routine experience for the local communities, who came to the evening prayers for the purpose of watching a film thereafter. These films were from the countries of origin of the missionaries and there was an interpreter positioned behind the reel, simultaneously explaining the images and dialogues in a free style for the benefit of local audiences in the hall. The interpreter had the liberty to emphasize and creatively interpret the film to suit the context of the audiences. This style is what the bibanda (The bibanda, plural for kibanda, are the video shacks used as film “theatres” that are very popular in Uganda. This chapter presents a whole section on them later) have become famous for. These colonial experiences demonstrate a couple of things. For a viable industry to take off, availability of funds, equipment, training as well as government involvement and its policy decisions are important. Film-related activities were interrupted after independence, as the new government was overwhelmed by a number of development challenges

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before it. Right from the colonial era, the need to develop a film-viewing public culture was nevertheless identified as vital for broadening citizen’s horizon and vision (Banfield, 1962: 21). The prospect for developing a film industry was thus planted way back in the colonial era. If the industry did not take off, it was due to the policies or lack of policies of the new political administration after independence.

From Theatre to Film The budding Ugandan “film industry” has drawn greatly from the live stage. Coming from the rich cultural background of the performing arts, what Uganda can boast of right now are a few films, great talents, stories, and the “longing and hunger for film” since it is still in short supply in the region (Barua, J. 2005: 105). A growing number of Ugandan artists are now venturing into the film arena, even though they lack professional and academic training. Digital technology has made filmmaking affordable and an enthusiastic aspirant can make movies by simply experimenting with them. The bulk of video artists are migrants from the stage medium, as Ugandan audiences have realized that something is dismally wrong with stage performances, and audiences are dwindling in the theatres. Faustin Misamvu, a filmmaker and communication consultant, presents the conflict and divide between “high” and “popular” culture/art: Ugandan drama is unserious and run down; it is on the way to its death. There are no plays that capture the attention of serious theatre lovers ... Things are left to the whim of the actors who rush onto the stage to entertain with scrapes picked from exciting events of the week. Consequently, the audiences that storm this kind of ‘theatre’ are aged between 20-40 years. The Theatre Factory style* that thrives on slapstick comedy is what has currently captured the imagination of Ugandans. This makes the taste of Uganda for art consumption of ‘artistic’ production frighteningly low and in need of development. The escapist and the ridiculous, that make audiences laugh themselves silly is what they prefer.

*The ‘Theatre Factory’ is a popular theatre group that has recently emerged in Uganda. The group performs every Thursday in the open air at the National Theatre because the crowd that comes cannot be accommodated inside the theatre. Stand-up comedy is their style and their performances are mainly skits based on interesting events of the week or recent past. Irene Kulabako complements Misamvu’s views in emphasizing how Uganda theatre has become “tired”, predictable and not worth attending, with no new blood in it. Besides, the plays tend to be too long for no good reason. With the demands on people’s time, it is difficult to sit through a

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three or four hour production lacking both ideas and artistry. The idea of invigorating theatre with the use of “film” was started by the Ebonies drama group in the late 1980s and 1990s. They combined their stage productions with screened images set in London or New York. Other drama groups later copied this style. This screen dimension boosted audience attendance as it gave them the opportunity to see exotic locations that only cinema could provide. According to filmmaker, dramatist and actor Ashiraf Simwogerere, what led to the poor attendance of the theatre between the 1990s and the 2000s was the mindless monotony and competition among the groups to retain audiences. In order to capture the attention of their audiences, theatre practitioners began putting up plays on a weekly basis at the expense of good scripts and proper rehearsals. In the process, the productions became quite dull and the audiences felt bored, as there was nothing mind-joggling about the productions. They then started looking for alternative art forms. When private televisions such as WBS came up in the 1990s, they started inviting Ugandan drama groups to make films for the TV stations. Diamond Ensemble was contacted, and their first production for WBS was a stage play, recorded on stage. The four hour production was divided into 20 minutes programmes for TV. This first experiment fully sponsored by WBS was testing the ground for audience interest, and turned out to be popular. WBS then started giving equipment to selected artists for three hours a week and allowing them to use their editing suite in order to feed the TV. Simwogerere’s London Shock (2006), originally a stage play, was made under this kind of arrangement (Interview with A. Simwogerere). The move to screen was an attempt by theatre practitioners to recapture their lost audiences. It was exciting and motivating for both audiences and actors to see themselves and those they could recognize on the screen. This was the starting point for theatre groups to notice that audiences were more interested in the screen image; so, they started expanding the screen time and reducing the stage time in their productions. However, they soon encountered a snag that propelled them to move in the direction of making full films. In the words of Simwogerere, a number of factors were responsible for this: It became difficult to please audiences long with this experimentation. In terms of genre, it was unclear what we were doing. Since the screen bits were also done poorly because of our lack of technical knowledge, the audiences wanted us to go back to the stage instead of messing things up. In any case, the Nigerian movies that had started coming into the country were better done than our unprofessional attempts; and of course, the same audiences were also used to watching Hollywood and Indian films in the

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The various theatre groups acknowledge that although film has advantages over theatre, and the trend right now is to go in the direction of film, they could not abandon the theatre altogether because movies cannot capture the atmosphere and other features that are unique to the theatre. “The stage is like doing a physical exercise – something we miss in the movies. The direct communication and feedback we get from audiences is great. This means the movies cannot replace the stage completely” (Senkubuge). Ugandans’ economic situation and lifestyle have changed. In the past, going to theatre was a status symbol. “People made new clothes to go to theatre” (Simwogerere) and “one made sure that he or she was noticed by someone” (Irene Kulabako). Today the theatre culture has collapsed. Economically, Ugandans are poorer and very few can afford to go to the theatre among those who love the performing arts. In the past, the weekends, beginning from Friday, used to be dedicated almost solely to theatre, and artists could make good returns from their performances. Today, the situation is different: The weekends are very busy with hardly any time for leisure. Besides, social events such as weddings, football matches, prayer-crusades, promotional activities, are getting too many for the weekends. This is coupled with the growth in the music industry that takes a big portion of the same audiences. There is a stiff competition in the entertainment industry: there are many radio and TV stations that are entertainmentbased. When we started in the 1980s, we had only one television station that started its programmes at 3 p.m. and ended before midnight; and there was only one radio: Radio Uganda. Our decision to turn to film is also influenced by this factor. People are very busy these days; there are hardly weekends for families to go out as shops are open even on Sundays! In the past, the weekends were for leisure and going to the theatre. This is not so anymore. Lifestyle has tremendously changed and we must change with it (Senkubuge).

In the view of film director and actress Irene Kulabako, the mix between theatre and film is an interesting one; and the fact that stage actors are now in film is one of the reasons for the boom in the local film industry. Although what they are doing is actually stage plays put on DVD, those who love them on stage are happy to watch them on video. In this respect,

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the demarcation between film and stage is unclear. This is particularly so because stage directors are also film directors without necessarily having the skills to do so. Because of audiences’ exposure to good films through Hollywood films distributed on video and also those exhibited at film festivals, these ‘stagey’ films are being rejected by the public. This fact is likely to propel Ugandan filmmakers in the right direction of professionalizing the industry. The viewers would rather see stage productions than watch the stage on video.

Nigerian Films and Video Hall Factors in Uganda In the 1980s, African films started emerging on Ugandan television. These films were accredited to the Union of National Radio and Television Organization of Africa (URTNA), a Pan-African organization founded in 1962 at a time when most African countries were getting their political independence. The URTNA came into being with the purpose of helping Africans define and assert their identity through the radio and television media, which, as powerful instruments of ideological orientation, were seen as weapons for this process of decolonization. Programme exchange was one of the objectives of URTNA, and it was through this that films from West Africa started appearing on Ugandan television. This organization can therefore be considered a precursor to the Pan African Film Festival of Ouagadougou (FESPACO) and the Federation of Pan-African Filmmakers (FEPACI) that both came into existence in 1969 with the main objective of using film to promote culture and development in Africa. In the 1970s, Kyeswa and Christopher Mukiibi produced series of drama for Uganda Television (UTV); and in the 1990s, a drama group, the Ebonies, came up with That is Life Mwatu, a stage production turned into a series for television. By the 1980s, filmmakers like Misamvu were involved in making telefilms before Nigerian movies emerged in Uganda. His Adopted Twins was one of the films in this genre. In the early 1990s, Mzee Bbosa made a feature film on Philly Bongoley Lutaaya, an HIV/AIDS activist, titled Alone and Frightened. In the 1990s, there were a series of John Riber films, docudramas done for Uganda Television. One of them, It is Not Easy, was also directed by Misamvu. All these films were done for UTV and did not go commercial. From the point of view of Ugandans, the single most important impetus for the development of the Ugandan film industry was the influx of Nigerian movies into Uganda in the 2000s. Although Ugandans had been exposed to film long before, none of these films have excited their

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imagination as much as Nigerian movies have done. This coincided with the liberalization of the airwaves and the emergence of private TV stations, most of which screened these movies on account of their popularity with the ordinary Ugandans. The phenomena of the Nigerian movies and the Ugandan “theatre films” point to one thing: audiences identify with what culturally makes sense to them. Simwogerere and Senkubuge affirm that the ordinary Ugandan loves what is local best. For instance, the interest in American movies shifted when Nigerian movies and later Ugandan films started coming on the scene. The following figures give some indication on the market sales of pirated DVDs: American/European movies Nigerian movies Ugandan movies

UGX 1,500 UGX 3,000 UGX 5,000

The higher price recorded for Uganda films was to be expected, since these are new in the market and in greater demand from Ugandans. The trickle of Nigerian movies on Ugandan telescreens in the 1990s turned into an explosion in the 2000s and this had a direct impact on the development of the budding film industry in the country. The film that captured the attention of Ugandans was Suicide Mission (2003), as the idea of a man trapped in a bottle was something Ugandan audiences could immediately identify with. This was the most popular Nigerian movie in Uganda, and it opened the door to an influx of Nigerian movies which became a must for Ugandan theatre performers wanting to try their hands in film (Senkubuge). It made Ugandans to realize that capturing ordinary life could also be interesting (Irene Kulabako). As for Simwogeree, This film made me realize the fact that Ugandans are not good readers. This is because a play like The Lion and the Jewel has been on the Ugandan syllabus for years, but it has not brought Nigeria as close to Ugandans as the movies have done in the 2000s. The number of Ugandans who have read this book might not even reach ten thousand, but those who have watched Suicide Mission might be over a million in Uganda. This convinced me that the way to reach wider audiences is through film.

One cannot discuss the impact of the Nigerian movies in the Ugandan social context without talking about the video hall, or bibanda phenomenon. The bibanda (literally meaning shacks) are spaces where films are watched, mostly by low income audiences. These halls can accommodate up to 200 people and entry fees range from UGX100 to UGX500 (1 dollar is about 2000 shillings), depending on the facilities.

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This amount is pocket-friendly for those who belong to the low income bracket - nothing compared to the UGX 15, 000 to UGX 20, 000 paid by those watching movies at the Cineplex, the only posh cinema in Kampala. Regular audiences are largely the youth, low income earners, and jobless adults. These may pay special “wholesale” prices of UGX500 1000 shillings and watch all the films on the day’s programme. A wide range of movies are shown here: the films watched are largely Hollywood, Chinese and Nigerian. Viewing begins from around 10 a.m. until late into the night, with blue movies screened after 10 p.m. Nigerian movies acquired their reputation in those video halls. Because of their popularity, they are charged more expensively than Hollywood movies, and often screened after 7 p.m. which is considered as prime time to accommodate those who have to work. Because of the social category of people who frequent the video halls, all the films screened there are “creatively” manipulated. The video jockeys (VJ) have to “joke” about the film before it is screened to the nonEnglish speaking audience. The VJ, a creative artist in his own right, has his creative way of bringing the movie home to the audiences. The video hall audiences enjoy themselves tremendously watching the films from the point of view of the VJs. Whether it is a James Bond or Nigerian film, characters are given local names such as Kibuka or Mukasa for males and Namayanja or Nantenza for females. The story is also recreated and retold from the perspective of the VJs. The VJs themselves who do not understand the English language well enough, often add, misinterpret and twist the reality in the movie to suit the interest of their audience, but are often advertised on the local FM radio for the benefit of audiences. The meaning of the film is to a great extent influenced by the VJ’s interpretation. Depending on his mood, the same film may be rendered differently on different days. Often current socio-political happenings are integrated to spice up the message for his audience. There are areas of specializations among the VJs: there are those who are good in comic renditions, sad renditions, dramatic action renditions, etc. They often perform so well that the preferred option for video hall films is to have the VJs “joke with them” even if they are in Luganda, the language audiences understand (Interview with Akim Katongole, film editor).

This is popular art in its subversive form, giving pleasure to the lower social classes (Fiske, 1989). The emergence of the video halls followed the expulsion of the Asians during the Idi Amin regime in the 1970s: with the departure of the Asians, the big cinemas in the country, that were solely managed by them, closed down. A vacuum was thus created, which the drama groups tried to fill in the 1970s and the 1980s, but this was not

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successful as outdoor life and theatre was low key in the Amin era. There were not many challenging plays written or produced on stage. People’s interest then turned to film as a form of entertainment. This was facilitated by the introduction of television in Uganda in 1972 and the introduction of the video tape and playback machine made it possible for people to watch Hollywood and Indian films. International piracy of film made it possible for Ugandan businessmen to obtain films, show them in towns and make some profit out of the exercise. Soon, the availability of generators made it possible to show the films in small townships and villages. This is how video halls started to sprout and satisfied the audience’s desire for art, which the highbrow theatre could not quite satisfy. The film is brought to the level of the audience by the VJs who mediate it. The low charge - between UGX100 to UGX500 – allows a large number of the population that cannot afford to buy a television set, video deck and acquire films to go and watch VJ-mediated films in the shacks, and both parties are happy. From a small initiative, this form of popular entertainment has grown into a big enterprise enjoyed in many townships in the country. There is no clear monitoring and control from government, as these activities are regulated by the Union of Video Owners and Operators Association (UVOOA). The VJs association of Union of Video Jockeys/Translators Association (UVJA) is also in place. The VJs mediate the films in various ways. They either manipulate the sound tracks – both the dialogue and background music – and replace it with their own interpretations, by clipping the sound connection to interrupt the flow of dialogue from time to time; or their interpretations and commentaries may be presented as recorded voice over when the intra and extra-diegetic sounds are suppressed; or the characters are made to speak in a local language; or it may be a live presentation of jockeying. Live presentation is preferred by video hall audiences and it is usually widely advertised on the local radios that VJ so and so, will “joke” live at such and such video hall. On such days, halls are packed to capacity. At certain points, the VJ becomes interactive. He poses some questions to the audience who responds back. In such a case, even over-pirated, low quality films are enjoyed by audiences, for what matters is the story and how it is represented by the VJ. Even companies that distribute films are conscious of this: anyone buying a film must specify whether he needs the version mediated by the VJ or the original one. Ugandan filmmakers agree that the development of the industry cannot ignore the video hall owners and audiences, for this is where the real Ugandan is to be reached; and this is also where one can recoup production expenses. In this category are filmmakers like Simwogerere and Senkubuge, who target the video hall as

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the major consumer of the films. Simwogerere stated that he recouped his investments handsomely from his first serious film, Feelings Struggle, from the video halls before he sold the distribution rights to a UK-based businessman. According to him, the future market of the Ugandan films lies with the video hall audiences: if each of the over 40, 000 bibanda in the country bought a copy, this would mean 40,000 copies of a film sold. Simwogerere’s view is that Ugandan films should be brought to the attention of the video hall owners who are not yet well informed about Ugandan filmmakers. For him, The bibanda are the real movie theatres. If we get the video hall owners on board, the industry will take off with a ready internal market without any big effort. Since the local people created these halls on their own, they will do everything to ensure that they continue. These are the people who will popularize the Ugandan movies just as they did the Nigerian movies (Senkubuge).

However, not all Ugandan filmmakers have romanticized the view about the video halls and their operations, as some do not want to give their movies to the bibanda owners to do with them what they want. The films shown in the video halls are thus often pirated copies; but at the official level, nothing is being done to curb this practice. Misamvu’s view is that this is a practice that must be condemned as criminal because it really is. If it is criminal to steal money, it is equally criminal to pirate Quantum of Solace and manipulate it the way one wants. To make a Ugandan Quantum of Solace out of the original in the name of jockeying with it to make it more relevant for the local audiences is a crime, however creative the VJ might be. Far from promoting it, this might kill the emerging industry. To praise the VJs for what they do is “like thanking people who sell alcohol to students for their excellent marketing skills. It is like stealing someone’s goat and cooking it into a well-seasoned dish and expecting to be praised for providing the meal. No! You are a thief! Foremost, nobody should praise you about how well you cooked the meat. The eaters of that sauce are also accomplices” (Misamvu). This cannot be part of a healthy growth of a film industry because it is infringing copyrights and killing local filming talents. The fact that the audiences can watch the best of Hollywood movies creatively translated into local languages has become acceptable and a big fun. The view of this crop of filmmakers is that, in the long run, it is making it very difficult for local filmmakers to compete in catching the audience’s attention, as they are used to watching the technically superior Hollywood films. Yet the VJs get these movies almost free of charge, through pirating, and make

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profits out of them. The focus of BBC on this practice in Focus on Africa Magazine and on the radio programme, Network Africa demonstrates its unclear position on the subject. Instead of condemning the practice, the BBC presents it in a glamorous manner as something ingenuous on the part of Ugandans. There are some Ugandans who do not take their films to the video halls; these are the least known filmmakers within the country as their films might be seen only at festivals and at film club sessions, and have not made money out of the productions. The view of this category is represented by Misamvu who says: If we are to do anything about film, we have to fight piracy; we have to get government to ‘godfather’ film production. But also the other way of fighting is the practitioners making a decision to say, “To hell with the bad conditions, I am going to make films, I am going to make a name, am going to be professional and I am going to sell my films outside because their quality meets international standards and I will be acknowledged there”. Finished! In Nigeria, great personalities have emerged in creative output amidst challenges like ours. Wole Soyinka decided to write plays: he set his heart and mind on it and wrote until the world said, “You are good!” These are the examples that should inspire us. If you have perfected your art, then you become like Wole Soyinka. You will be in a position to speak to the world about any subject and people will listen; you will be taken seriously.

Emerging at a particular time in the history of Uganda, the video halls indeed demonstrated something ingenuous on the part of Ugandans to realize their desire to watch movies. But this cleverness can only be acceptable up to a point. When the VJs begin to play with an artist’s work to the point where they turn it into their own creation to please their audiences, it is difficult to praise this without hesitation.

The Role of Regional and National Film Festivals and Related Activities Since 2004, a wave of film-related activities started taking shape in Uganda and these have helped a great deal to improve the Ugandan consciousness of film. For a long time, to Ugandans, film was synonymous with television and documentary, since Ugandans have had a long experience of being exposed to documentary films through television. The early feature films of the 1980s like Misamvu’s Adopted Twins and the John Riber series of films were also viewed by Ugandans as television programmes. Activities of NGOs and interested parties in growing a film culture in the East African region, such as the Maisha Film Laboratory

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Project whose headquarters is in Kampala, have done commendable work in improving Ugandan’s film vocabulary. The objective of the Maisha project is to promote a film culture within the East African region. The project, which was officially launched at the Zanzibar International Film Festival (ZIFF, 2004), took off in August 2005 with a training workshop for screenwriters. This has become a yearly event for filmmakers in training and the participants are competitively drawn from the Eastern African region including Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda and Uganda, and from India and Pakistan. Maisha brings professional people from Hollywood and other film institutions to train participants in a wide range of fields for intensive three weeks sessions. Currently, those who have been trained by Maisha since 2005 are actively involved in filmrelated activities, and a cross section of talents has emerged consequently. A number of names and short films made in the region have Maisha in the credit list. Filmmakers like Samson Ssenkaba and Donald Mugisha who have made short films acknowledged at international film festivals, and actors and technical people like Allie Mutaka and Paul Mugisha are some of those who have been trained in the Maisha film lab. The Amakula International Film Festival initiated by a group of film enthusiasts is another event that ushered in a film climate since 2004. The Amakula Foundation is an NGO committed to developing a film culture in Uganda and the region. Its annual activities have not only broadened Ugandans’ consciousness and film expressions, but have also brought renowned filmmakers and academics to the country to inspire Ugandans to make films. Professor Manthia Diawara, filmmaker and scholar from New York University, was the guest speaker at the first Amakula International Festival in 2004. His public lecture on “African Cinema” in Makerere University was a hugely inspirational event for the students and the general public. The chief guest at the 2005 Amakula was the renowned Moustapha Alassane of Niger, one of the fathers of African cinema, and especially of African Animation. In 2007, the chief guest was Gaston Kabore, one of the key figures in African cinema. In its second year, the festival started giving awards and nominations to acknowledge outstanding talents. This gesture has done a great deal to motivate young filmmakers in the region to enter their films, mostly shorts, for the festival. Every year, the number of Ugandan film entries at the festival goes higher. The festival has also become the location where filmmakers come to know and acknowledge each other. The various festivals in Kampala, Nairobi, Kigali and Zanzibar have given visibility to Ugandan filmmakers. The Zanzibar International Film Festival (ZIFF) has become the Cannes of the region, that sets the pace and quality for the East

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African region. These festivals are a great motivation for the filmmakers to work hard each year and to have films to present. The invitation of international figures like Melvin van Peebles, the legendary director referred to as the “Twentieth Century Renaissance Man” and the “godfather of Independent African-American cinema” (see ZIFF Catalogue, 2006: 7), as chief guest at the 2006 ZIFF, conferred status on the festival. In this regard, the regional festivals are a motivation to the development of national cinemas. One of the juries, the World Catholic Media Association (SIGNIS) jury, gives a special award, The East Africa Talent Award, to deliberately encourage and promote film talents from this region that is relatively thin on film production. The festival events brighten the future of film in the region, and the availability of digital technology, that encourages faster output, has eased things. Another burst of energy in film emanates from Makerere University. Since 2004, some film courses are taught in its Department of Literature. A number of short and very short films have been produced as parts of the students’ training. The challenge for the university is to develop a fullyfledged film department in order to take care of the growing need of professionals in the discipline. Senkubuge, a theatre director who is also a film director, articulates the aspirations of a large number of Ugandans when he says: If I had money, I would commit it to training in film and buying equipment. A person like you [the author of this article] should take us and teach us the rules of the game. We cannot compete internationally because we are basically teaching ourselves the rules of the game. The majority of us are self-taught and there are many things we do not know about the language of the camera. It is amazing what we are doing with the camera, but we still need to learn the professional ways. The movie industry is new and exciting, and the people want to get involved at once, believing they can do it! I would invest in training Ugandans in the whole art to do things professionally from script to editing. I went to London and bought myself a mini editing software, but I have never used it because I don’t know where to begin. Most Ugandans who are using these machines are using the bare minimum of the programmes; 90% remains unused because they do not know how to use it! It is very good to train people. It is my dream, and we are going to do it, because people are eager to learn.

Other film-related activities are organized by enthusiastic individuals to train and create awareness about the same. Noteworthy among these are Ndaliko Petna (film director) and Esther Olanma Jacun (actress) who have invested their time and talent to train young people in film production and acting skills and to develop a pool of human resources to draw from. The

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group meets once a week at the National Theatre to either pitch ideas for film, watch and critique a colleague’s film or do workshops on one component of filmmaking. Once a week, there is a full day seminar on an aspect of film production. When one of the members wants to shoot a film, he identifies talents and crew members from this group. The French Cultural Centre in Kampala is acknowledged as a key contributor in developing Ugandan film culture. Long before the film festivals and other related activities started, the French Cultural Centre, located at that time at the National Theatre, was the sole organ screening African films. Through the Alliance française, Ugandans have come to see most of the award-winning (African) films, and names of leading African filmmakers like Sembene Ousmane, Soulaymane Cisse, Raoul Peck, Regina Fanta Nacro and Tsitsi Dangarembga have now entered Ugandan repertoire of African filmmakers because of these activities. With this synergy of activities, in recent years, awareness about film has been enhanced in Uganda. The quality of participation of audiences during the festivals has also improved. What Ugandans need right now is to make more films, in order to become visible and draw attention from reviewers and critics. At the moment, the existing films are too few to make generic statements about Ugandan films.

The Direction of Ugandan Films Uganda’s budding film identity cannot be pinned down to a single style. There are various voices and talents emerging with different aesthetic tendencies. There are filmmakers like Simwogerere and Senkubuge who adopt the Nigerian style of popular film that targets the mass audience. Films must be popular because they cannot exist without the market. Simwogerere sees himself as the first Ugandan filmmaker to go in the direction of commercialization. His films are not only screened in the video halls, but he also has a distribution company, Twinex, that sells and even funds the production of his films. By comparison, his films have done very well. Simwogerere says he recouped over 10,000,000 Uganda shillings from his first film, Feelings Struggle, mainly from the video halls, before he sold the distribution right to a UK-based businessman who bought it at 8,000 pounds. He explains why he prefers to entrust his films with the distributors instead of selling them himself for fear of piracy: I cannot market my films. With the piracy in the country, one would be extremely frustrated trying to do so. If you give it to distributors, since they are businessmen they will know how to control it. In any case, it is a business opportunity and they will be motivated enough to fight piracy.

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This is a positive indicator of the development of an industry. On the other hand, there are filmmakers whose films are seen at national and international festivals only, and they are hardly known in the country. A director like Petna Ndaliko, who makes art films, claims that his films have been accepted locally only because they have been accepted and acclaimed at festivals in Europe. However, Ugandan audiences think of him as a filmmaker who makes films for foreign audiences more than for Ugandans because of the western style of his films. His is a different film style from Simwogerere’s and Nigerian movies that an ordinary Ugandan likes. That Ndaliko’s films are applauded at international festivals, but not so much by local audiences, is not something the filmmaker is proud of, for Africa, he claims, is his target audience. He asserts that if his style is artistically innovative and creative, it is because he is an African, and that he draws his creativity from his rich, artistic African source. In his innovative filmic style, Ndaliko is committed to contributing to the “decolonization” discourses accentuated by Africans and African-Americans like Marcus Garvey, Bob Marley, Malcom X, Patrice Lumumba, Fela Anikulapo Kuti and Ngugi wa Thiong’o (Petna Ndaliko). The two styles, the popular and the art, and the attitude of audiences to them, say something of Ugandan’s artistic taste. Responding to a question on Ugandans’ aesthetic sense, Misamvu, who subscribes to the art film concept, expresses his disappointment at the majority of Ugandan audience and their very low capacity to appreciate art: Ugandan aesthetic sense is pretty shallow! They don’t enjoy reading, they don’t enjoy art that challenges them to pause and reflect. They don’t seem to want to listen to anything serious and reflective. That is why popular films and theatre based on skits is what they enjoy. In film, they enjoy seeing the artist play with effects and the portrayal of the fantastic and fabulous just to while away time. An artist who wants to make a strong statement in an art form is likely not to find a remarkable audience in Uganda because Ugandans want to laugh about everything, perhaps to forget some sad realities. But why not do comedy in a more serious, professional way? This makes the Ugandans’ mind almost a comic joke: slapstick comedy. The effect of this is evident: how many Ugandan plays are being taught in schools as part of the curriculum? People who cannot rise up to a certain level, will be wallowing in the gutter all the time. This is not a healthy situation for us.

Senkubuge also affirms that Ugandan artistic taste has deteriorated to slapstick comedy. He says, as an artist, his job is to please and relax the audiences who come to the theatre to have a good laugh before they return

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to the tough realities of their lives. The Ugandan film industry is posed in the act of becoming. There are a number of factors that favour its development. The biggest capital Ugandans have is their enthusiasm to make films, as evidenced in the number of performing artists and stage directors turning to film; and all striving to be called filmmakers. This enthusiasm has the capacity to overcome enormous challenges. In the words of Kulabako, “the era of the history of Uganda film is now; this history is in the process”. Now, everybody who has a camera is a filmmaker, whether it is a still camera, a phone camera, or anything that can frame pictures and record reality! This is the Ugandan phenomenon! Everybody is a scriptwriter, everybody is multipurpose. They write, they direct and act as main actors in their own films and eventually edit them. Every musician is also a filmmaker because he can produce music video! This is the digital video era we are in, where all call themselves filmmakers; and there are films being made every day: short movies of 30 seconds to 5 minutes duration! The films can also run as long as four hours! It is an interesting era because it has brought a lot of attention to the industry. This interest is a positive development that needs direction and support. Those who have made a couple of films, like Simwogerere and Senkubuge, are becoming self-critical about their own works. Simwogerere, for instance, confesses he wishes he had made his earlier films after acquiring some of the knowledge and skills he now has. Of the four films he has made, Feelings Struggle (2006), Murder in the City (2007), The Honourable (2008), it is only the latest one, The Passion of the Uganda Martyrs (2009) that he feels good about. He says he has improved himself through watching well-made Hollywood films. Selfcriticism and motivation to improve oneself are a plus in the move to develop the industry. Speaking about The Passion of the Uganda Martyrs, he says: This is the film in which I feel I have matured as a filmmaker. In the making of this film, I have realized that my previous crew had no knowledge of the art of filmmaking; they were those who did newsreels. In this film, I have tried to be more careful in the selection of my crew. I have also come to realize that music video editors are the best. They have the kind of editing style that is good for movies.

One cannot overlook the mushrooming local organizations/associations and companies emerging to promote film in Uganda and the region. These associations include the Uganda Film Network that was started by a group of filmmakers who think Amakula International Film Festival is not doing

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well enough to promote film production in Uganda. This group to which Simwogerere belongs believes that having a national association is important before thinking of going international. This association’s view is that Amakula has tended to jolt Ugandans into an international film experience without first building a national base and that this has alienated the majority of the Ugandans. The group meets monthly and carries out training workshops on the basis of filmmaking. Their aspiration is to organize an annual local film festival that can give visibility to the mushrooming Uganda films. The Kenya International Film Festival (KIFF) and the Kenya Film Commission (KFC) are the models of film activities that they cite as well organized. Simwogere who attended KIFF in 2008 has this to say on the subject: I think we must learn from them. The conferences and workshops were well organized. Everything was taken seriously. The opening ceremony, my goodness! The category of people who attended included ministers, business people and academics. We do have workshops at our festival too, but the participation is nothing to compare with KIFF in terms of the numbers and quality of people who attend it; policy makers are not among the participants in our own film workshops. This is where we miss out! After the festival, one does not expect anything to happen by way of development if policy makers are not included; and indeed nothing happens in terms of policy following our Amakula festivals! I see this as waste of time and money (Simwogerere).

The direction of several film associations emerging in Uganda is a healthy move to develop the industry, even though there is still a lot of room for improvement at organizational level. For instance, in its enthusiasm to promote film, an association called The Uganda Movie Awards (UMA) organized an award ceremony in November, 2008 that was slated to bring two beloved Nigerian film actors for the occasion: Ramsey Nouah and Genevieve Nnaji. Although the publicity of the event was inadequate and some of those nominated for the award actually denounced the nomination on account of the unclear criteria for nomination and award, the event itself demonstrated the great capacity of UMA to pull high calibre people at a film event in Uganda. The Vice-President himself attended (Ssegawa, December 2008). Africa Cinema and Culture Company (ACCC) is another organization that is oriented towards making documentary and feature films on topical issues of development on the continent. Visibility through professional output is a major value of this organization. On the whole, the competitive atmosphere in the country and the more progressive situation in Kenya and the region are bound to challenge

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Ugandans to positively develop the film industry. Comparatively, for independent filmmakers, the atmosphere in Uganda is a lot more conducive. Low-budget films are easier to make; and thus, the output of feature is faster - this fact needs to be verified. Statistical reports on the region, however, indicated that Uganda scores lowest in quality of things. Therefore, numbers are not always the best indicators of progress. Ugandan filmmakers associate with one or more of the existing film organizations. Today, the issue of language is beginning to feature in the discussions of many Ugandan filmmakers. Most popular films, especially from the theatre groups, have been made in Luganda, because this language group is the big audience for the video halls. From predominantly using the Luganda language, filmmakers are beginning to change direction to accommodate a more national and international viewership. Although film as art is a language in itself, the option before the Luganda-based Ugandan filmmaker is to choose between the Indian model of using Hindi in their films with English subtitles, and the Nigerian model of using English. Using Luganda alone is decisively restrictive and not good for the market, so filmmakers like Mariam Ndagire are now changing to English. The two films she has made, The Strength of the Stranger (2008) and Down this Road I Walk (2007) are in English, though there are also the Luganda and video hall versions. Even Senkubuge’s films, My Twin Brother and Once Upon a Home (not yet released) are also in English. He says: For me and my group, we can no longer continue performing in Luganda alone. The world is one global village. We want Kenyans and Nigerians to understand the dialogue in our films. We need the English and the Americans themselves to access our movies and buy them via internet just like the Nigerian movies. An MP told me, today if an African goes to America, the question the Americans would ask is, “How is Nigeria?” because in Africa it is Nigeria they know well, especially because of their movies. We have been performing for the local community for over 20 years and we have not changed much. Now, we want to act for the international community and see what happens.

Although what is evident is the enthusiasm of Ugandans to produce films, there are nonetheless challenges the industry needs to face in order to place itself on a strong footing.

Challenges and Conclusion Challenges facing the Ugandan film industry are wide-ranging. Filmmakers identify the biggest challenge to be institutional. In the first

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place, the liberal government policy allows anything to be on the airwaves for public consumption. There is no control of the electronic media. Anything goes; there is no censure of the quality of films that come in and are produced in Uganda. This is a moral time-bomb planted in the society; the repercussions will be heavy on the citizens. If in our lack of vision, we let the children feed on decadence because right now we are interested in making money, we are destroying the future. We have morals to protect in order to save our children and the next generation. Our sense of industry should not be narrowed down to the conventional manufacturing of goods like beer and cars and totally forgetting the value aspect of life. We need to be well rounded, wholly developed human beings. Cinema is one of the industries that matter in protecting and promoting the nation’s values and cultures. We cannot afford to fold our hands and watch depravity claiming our society. In the view of Misamvu, The media have been liberalized, but there is no quality in this liberalization. This has led to hawkers taking over the trade. This is simply chaos! The situation of piracy is very bad and it has dominated the trade. The extent to which this has spread is difficult to control because of the general attitude of “kulembeka”, which means: “let’s eat”! This refers to the various ways of looking for money, since life is difficult. Who are you to block someone’s creative way of making money? The effect of this is killing the development of film. How can a young filmmaker compete with James Bond films to capture the attention of the video hall audiences, who are the avid viewers and good critics?

In this regard, government intervention in terms of film policy is crucial to create an enabling atmosphere for local filmmakers to develop. At the moment, the only thing left for independent Ugandan filmmakers is to develop their professionalism and forge ahead, as this is the one thing that will assure them of international recognition. It will be a very hard work in an environment of this nature. This being the institutional scenario, it is up to the body of filmmakers to form a strong association beyond pettiness and wrangles that can fill in the gap, and be in a position to dialogue with government. At the moment, unlike in Kenya, the film industry has not been prioritized as a partner of development. This is not out of guile on the part of government, but perhaps, out of ignorance of the role that cinema can play in development. It is, therefore, up to filmmakers to present their agenda to government for discussion. The tendency in Uganda is to lump film with television. This is reflected in the 1996 Electronic Media Bill which replaced the Cinematographic Act and in its place, created the Broadcasting Council

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which presumptuously takes over the role of cinematography. From the institutional point of view, this was the final nail on the coffin of the film industry, which virtually killed the cinema industry as a medium. In Kenya, it is not so. The Kenya Film Commission is vibrant; the censors’ board is functional. In Uganda, the censors’ board exists only on paper; it is non-functional. There is, therefore, nothing to protect or promote since, institutionally, there are no structures to deal with the film industry. This is where a strong film body can come in to draw the government’s attention to these anomalies, and engage in educating both the people and government on the distinction between film and television. There is a need for guidelines and codes of ethics for the practice, and this is the job of the government. Filmmakers can only lobby. Ignoring film in the national agenda reflects a lack of vision, for a people can be inspired to attain their dreams through films, just like Hollywood movies have done a great job to inspire individuals to achieve the American dream. Art has the capacity to challenge society to look for new answers to old problems and to challenge audiences to stretch themselves so that “the harmonious elevation of the human spirit” is realized, as art seduces the audiences from ugliness, selfishness and pettiness, and moves them towards “healing rifts and stifling fragmentations” (Osundare, N. 2002: 15). At the moment, it is difficult to speak of a vibrant film industry in Uganda without the existence of institutional structures. The value for art and professionalism are significant challenges for filmmakers who want to attain recognition. Ugandans should not take their gift as creative people for granted. It should be backed up by professional training. Ugandans need to be informed about a whole gamut of things concerning film, including producing, marketing and distribution, so that their films can be visible once they are made. Before talking of copyrights, we need to be aware of our output so that we know what is there to protect. Then, it is important to specialize instead of being a jack of all trades in one’s own film. Professionalizing also involves getting professional actors and paying them, however, minimally. At the moment, this is not what happens in Uganda in most cases. This aspect plays down both the quality and the time taken to complete movies. At times, shoots are abandoned because some actors have absconded; and without a contract, the director’s hands are tied. Some directors exploit prospective actors by asking them to pay audition fees when one has come to express interest to act in a movie. This is their unethical way of raising money for the production. The bad reputation of short-sightedness and wrangles over money are some of the slurs on Uganda’s emerging film industry. Kulabako’s words of advice to Ugandan

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filmmakers are to look beyond individual selfish interests if the industry has to develop. Very few ask themselves the following questions: at the end of the day, where do I want to see Uganda in terms of film production? What enabling environment am I involved in creating for the film Industry ten years from now? The majority are only thinking of the money they will make through filmmaking. Pioneers of any category must give room for growth to happen and this often involves laying the foundations and making sacrifices. In conclusion, Ugandan film industry is emerging, with a number of activities in the East African region contributing to the development of this industry. Top among them are the film climate in the region and the enthusiasm this has generated among Ugandans. Institutional structures and policies, however, need to be in place to promote this budding energy and enthusiasm. Film’s relationship to development, in promoting culture, boosting the tourist industry, creating employment and improving the national economy, has not yet been exploited by stakeholders, especially, government. The fact that individual filmmakers exist in Uganda is not enough to create a national film industry. The relevant institutions and structures need to be in place to promote a healthy growth of the industry.

Bibliography Bagyenzi, King, 2006, “Voices from the Ugandan Film Industry”, Amakula Festival Catalogue, Kampala. Banfield, Jane, “Film in East Africa” Transition, No. 13 (March-April, 1964), pp.18-21. Indiana University Press, on behalf of the W. E. B. Du Bois Institute. Barua, Jakub, 2005, “The Paradox of a Film Festival in Zanzibar” The Catalogue of 9th ZIFF Festival of the Dhow Countries, Zanzibar. Diawara, Manthia, 1992, African Cinema: Politics and Culture, Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Dialogue with Ndaliko, K. P., 3rd July 2006 and 8th January 2007, Makerere University, Kampala. Dialogue with Simwogerere, A. 9th January 2007, Makerere University, Kampala. Dialogue with Misamvu, F., 7th January 2009, St. Anthony’s, Kampala. Dialogue with Kulabako, I., 2nd January 2009, Bugolobi, Kampala. Dialogue with Senkubuge, C. J., 5th Janaury 2009, Conrad Plazza, Kampala. Fiske, John, 1989, Understanding Popular Culture. Boston: Unwin

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Hyman. Ogova Ondego, “Uganda; A New Cinema Going Culture” at http://www.africafiles.org/articles.asp?ID=19215 Ogunleye, Foluke, 2008, Africa through the Eye of the Video Camera. Swaziland: Academic Publishers. Osundare, Niyi, 1995, “Literature as a Medium of Cultural Exchange: The African Example”. Address at the Japan-African Forum, Nagoya, Japan. —. 2002, Thread in the Loom. Trenton: African World Press. Segawa, Mike, 2008, “Mixed Fortune for Ugandan Film Industry”, Daily Monitor, September, 6. —. 2008, “Film Awards on… but without Glamour”, in Daily Monitor, Kampala, 29th December.

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Afolabi Adesanya is a film historian trained at the San Francisco Art Institute, USA. He is the third Managing Director of Nigerian Film Corporation (2005-2013). Adesanya is also a film/art critic, photojournalist, and television director. Films that he has produced/directed include ‘Vigilante’ (1988) and ‘Ose Sango’ (1991). Oluwaseun Adesina obtained his B. A. (Hons) and Master of Arts from the Department of Dramatic Arts, Obafemi Awolowo University Ile-Ife, Nigeria. He has produced some video films and directed many plays for the stage. Kwaghkondo Agber lectures in the Department of Theatre Arts at the University of Abuja, Nigeria. Kwaw Ansah is one of Ghana’s foremost filmmakers and broadcasters. His films include ‘Heritage Africa’ (1988), which won the prestigious grand prix ‘Étalon de Yennenga’ at FESPACO, ‘Cross Roads of People Cross Roads of Trade’ commissioned and funded by the Smithsonian Institution of Washington, (1994) and ‘The Golden Stool … The Soul of the Asantes’ (2001). He was decorated with the National Order of Burkina Faso in 1995, for his immense contribution and projection of African cinema. He founded the television station TV Africa, which was officially commissioned in May, 2003. John R. Botha is a Professor at the School for Communication Studies, North-West University, Potchefstroom, South Africa. Some of his publications include South African handbook of mass communication and ‘The History of South African Film”. Aziz Chahir is an Associate Professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Hassan II Casablanca, Morocco. Tendai J. Chari taught at the Department of Media Studies at the University of Zimbabwe before joining the University of Venda, Republic of South Africa, where he is at the moment. Before going into academics,

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he had practiced as a journalist for many years. Dominica Dipio is an Associate Professor in the Literature and Cinema Department at Makerere University, Uganda. She was a Commonwealth East African Visiting Scholarship Scheme Fellow at SOAS in 2000 and Fulbright scholar at Kennesaw State University, USA (2012). Hyginus Ekwuazi lectures in the Department of Theatre Arts at the University of Ibadan, Nigeria. He was the pioneer Managing Director of the Nigerian Film Institute, Jos, and also a former Managing Director of the Nigerian Film Corporation (1999 – 2004). Ekwuazi, a renowned film critic, has published widely, both nationally and internationally. Jendele Hungbo is a Volkswagen Foundation post-doctoral fellow at the Wits Institute of Social and Economic Research (WISER), University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa. He has been involved in the teaching of various courses on popular culture and media in Africa as well as Postcolonial Literature at the University of the Witwatersrand. His research interests include media in Africa, African popular culture, life writing and post-colonial studies. Rantimi Jays Julius-Adeoye is a PhD student in the Institute of Cultural Discipline (LUICD), Leiden University. He is a graduate of Theatre Arts, University of Ibadan, Nigeria where he also obtained a Master of Arts degree in the same field. He taught briefly at the Department of Photojournalism and Cinematography, School of Communication, Lagos State University, Nigeria before joining the teaching faculty of the Department of Theatre Arts, Redeemer’s University, Nigeria where he teaches theatre history, acting and directing, media arts/studies. Wanjiru Kinyanjui is a Kenyan film and theatre director, publisher and journalist. After receiving a Master in English and German Literature, she enrolled in the German Film & Television School in Berlin. Since then, she has directed numerous fiction and documentary films for European and Kenyan television. Wanjiru Kinyanjui currently lectures at the Department of Film Technology, School of Visual and Performing Arts, Kenyatta University, Kenya. Nyasha Mboti graduated with a PhD in film studies from the University of Zimbabwe. He is currently with the Centre for Communication, Media and Society (CCMS) at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in Durban, South

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Africa, where he is researching what he calls ‘visuality forensics’, a study of the behavior of images. He has previously published in African Identities and Critical Arts. Busuyi Mekussi lectures at the Adekunle Ajasin University, Akungba Akoko, Ondo State, Nigeria. He recently completed his doctoral studies at the University of Witwatersrand, South Africa. Vitus Nanbigne has worked as a freelance video producer, making a number of corporate documentaries and community-based fiction films. In 1998, he took up an appointment as a lecturer at the National Film and Television Institute (NAFTI), Ghana. Currently, he works at University of Cape Coast, Ghana. Toyin Ogundeji worked with the Ondo State Arts Council, Akure, as a cultural administrator and officer for ten years before joining the Department of Dramatic Arts, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria as a business manager and senior artist. She now lectures at the same department. She has designed costumes for several home video films and is currently the national deputy president of the National Association of the Nigerian Theatre Arts Practitioners (NANTAP). She won the ‘best costumier’ award at the AMA awards in 2010. Francoise Ugochukwu, a chartered linguist and former Professor from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, currently affiliated to the Open University UK, is a collaborator to the Paris CNRS-LLACAN, a Fellow of the British Higher Education Academy and a Senior Research Fellow, IFRA, Ibadan. She is the author of seven books including Nollywood on the Move, Nigeria on Display (2013) and more than 120 book chapters and articles. Her qualifications, professional career path and area of expertise have placed her at the crossroads between language studies, literature, translation, anthropology and cinema. Charles Uji lectures in the Department of Dramatic Arts, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria. He has published works on diverse aspects of the theatre in books and learned journals, both at national and international levels. Agatha Ukata lectures at the American University of Nigeria. She completed her doctoral studies at the University of Witwatersrand, South Africa, in 2010. Her PhD thesis “The Images(s) of Women in Nigerian

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(Nollywood) Videos”, examines female representation in Nigerian cinema. She has published widely on the topic of gender and Nollywood.

Editor Foluke Ogunleye is a Professor at the Department of Dramatic Arts, Obafemi Awolowo University Ile-Ife. She obtained her B.A. in Dramatic Arts from the University of Ife (now Obafemi Awolowo University) in 1982, and went on to acquire her Master’s and Doctorate degrees in Theatre Arts from the University of Ibadan. She is a teacher, filmmaker, producer, director, actress and writer with specialization in Theatre and Media Studies. She has directed and produced such films as The Solid Rock (1993), The Broken Hedge (1997), Born to Live (2000) and Heaven’s Gate (2007). Professor Ogunleye is the author of over sixty book chapters and articles in reputable international Journals. Her published books include African Video Film Today (2003), Theatre in Swaziland: The Past, the Present and the Future (2005), Theatre in Nigeria: Different Faces (2007) and Africa through the Eye of the Video Camera (2008). She is the recipient of many awards, fellowships and grants which include the 2006 CODESRIA (Senegal) Textbook Grant to write a book on Video Film in Africa and the 1997 Humanities Institute Fellowship to undertake a study of African and African-American Cinema at the University of Ghana and Northwestern University, Evanston, USA. At the moment, she serves as the Editor of Humanities Review Journal. She is also on the Editorial Board of Journal of African Media Studies housed in the University of Westminster, England. She held a visiting position at the University of Swaziland from 2003 to 2005. Foluke Ogunleye is the Executive Director of the Ife International Film Festival and is currently a Visiting Professor at the Department of Media Studies, University of Botswana.

2ND IFE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL IN PICTURES

National Anthem at the Opening Ceremony. From Right: Prof. Akinwumi Isola, Rep. of the Hon. Minister of Culture , Dean of Arts, Prof. Y. K. Yussuf, Chief Segun Olusola, Prof. Manthia Diawara, Prof. Femi Osofisan

Chairman of the Opening Ceremony: Chief Segun Olusola, MNI, OFR, Former Ambassador to Ethiopia and Founder, African Refugees Foundation, Lagos

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Special Guest of Honour: Senator Bello Gada, Hon. Minister of Culture and Tourism of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (rep. by Mr. Seyi Womiloju)

1st Keynote Speaker: Prof. Manthia Diawara of New York University, USA

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2nd Keynote Speaker: Mr. Kwaw Ansah Chief Executive Officer of TV Africa, Ghana

Prof. (Mrs) Foluke Ogunleye and her husband, Engr. Segun Ogunleye at the Opening Ceremony

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Children Delegates from Sunshine Nursery & Primary School, Ile-Ife, at the festival

Dr. & Mrs. Chima & Bisi Anyadike (Proprietress, Sunshine Nursery & Primary School, Ile-Ife)

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The Vice Chancellor, Prof. Michael Faborode chatting with Prof. John R. Botha of Northwest University, South Africa

Cocktail at the Vice Chancellor’s Lodge

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Prof. (Mrs.) Foluke Ogunleye, (Festival Founder/Director Conversing with Prof. Wendy Coleman of Albany State University, USA (Festival Resource Person) at the Conference Centre

Prof. John R. Botha of Northwest University, South Africa Delivering a Lead Paper

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Some Delegates Sight-seeing

From Left: Moabi Mogorosi (Botswana), Wanjiru Kinyanjui (Kenya), Dominica Dipio (Uganda), Africanus Aveh (Ghana), Vitus Nanbingne (Ghana), Agatha Ukata (South Africa), Tendai Chari (Zimbabwe), John Botha (South Africa)

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At a Masterclass session

From Left: Mr. Busola Holloway (President, Independent Television Producers Association of Nigeria), Mr. Jeta Amata (Award-Winning Filmmaker) Leading a Masterclass session

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Registration Desk - 2nd right is Dr. Charles Uji

Nigerian Film Corporation Pavillion at the Festival

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Profs. Fouke Ogunleye & Manthia Diawara at on of the festival venues

Festival Participants

From left: Africanus Aveh (Ghana), Foluke Ogunleye, Hyginus Ekwuazi & Segun Odukomaya

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Sr. Dominica Dipio (Uganda) making a point at one of the panels

Emeka Mba, DG, Nigerian Film & Video Censors Board interacting with the media

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Seun Adesina (2nd right) and other participants at the festival

From left: Mr. Olaitan Faranpojo (Film Producer), Dr. Ademiju Bepo & Prof. (Mrs) Foluke Ogunleye

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Prof. Alade Fawole (right) discussing with Biodun Ibitola (Remdel Optimum Communication)

At the Book & Film Market

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Festival Venues: Left - Pit Theatre, Right - Oduduwa Hall

Mrs. Toyin Ogundeji (far right) and some participants

Participants at the Arts & Crafts Shop

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Festival Participants

Delegates from Nigerian Film Corporation, Jos

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Festival Participants Sporting the festival T-Shirt

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Participants

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INDEX

A Reasonable Man, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 31, 32 Abdelhay Iraki Mona Saber, 105 Abdelmejid Rchich Story of a Rose, 103, 107 Abeni, 3, 171, 172, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181 actors, 10, 23, 25, 28, 95, 116, 118, 136, 146, 164, 167, 189, 195, 204, 213, 220, 223, 224, 225, 227, 230, 232, 236, 237, 238, 245, 249, 250, 253 Adeyemi Afolayan, 13 aesthetic, 15, 50, 60, 95, 116, 142, 223, 227, 228, 229, 247, 248 aesthetics, 14, 37, 114, 120, 121, 146, 159, 202, 229 Afolabi Adesanya, 2, 13, 256 African mythology, tradition, folklore, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 34, 47, 60, 63, 66, 67, 71, 73, 75, 76, 78, 81, 84, 90, 92, 108, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 124, 126, 131, 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 144, 145, 147, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 161, 162, 163, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 175, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 193, 194, 198, 199, 203, 205, 207, 209, 210, 223, 228, 229, 230, 232, 233, 234, 235, 239, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248,

251, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259 African cinema, 13, 14, 16, 17, 114, 115, 245, 256 Africanness, 113 Ahmed Maânouni Alyam Alyam, 100 Akosua Busia, 183, 191 Ali Mazrui, 163 amateur video, 3, 108, 118 Angela Davies, 140 Anglophone, 16, 179, 181 apartheid, 20, 48, 156, 157, 158, 159, 161, 162, 163, 165, 166, 167, 168, 192, 194, 196, 198, 199, 201, 202, 203, 205, 206, 208, 209 archives, 9, 70 audience, 2, 25, 32, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 47, 50, 51, 54, 59, 76, 78, 80, 85, 86, 88, 119, 122, 131, 132, 160, 172, 173, 174, 179, 180, 185, 193, 198, 218, 219, 220, 234, 237, 241, 242, 243, 247, 248, 251 banning, 104 Bantu Film Experiment, 6 bibanda, 235, 238, 240, 243 Black Consciousness, 113 Bob Cole, 114 Bolanle Awe, 139 bourgeois hegemony, 51 Broadcasting Services Act 2001, 46 buddy film buddyism, 205, 207 Camp de Thiaroye, 7 celluloid, 2, 10, 13, 16, 17, 18, 72, 109, 118, 122, 173, 175, 223, 224

African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward censorship, 71, 106, 111, 112, 159 characterization, 39, 47, 88, 146, 196, 219, 223 Chergui Violent, 98 Chimurenga, 2, 46, 47, 49, 50, 52, 53, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63 Chimurenga Videos, 2 Chris Hesse, 114, 117 cinema, 1, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16, 18, 48, 67, 69, 90, 91, 95, 97, 98, 103, 104, 105, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 116, 121, 123, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 172, 173, 188, 198, 199, 205, 232, 233, 234, 235, 237, 241, 245, 246, 252, 253, 258, 259 cinema houses, 7, 9, 10, 11 Cockcrow at Dawn, 44, 223 code-mixing, 176 colonial cinema, 15, 108, 199 Colonial Film Act, 47 Colonial Film Unit, 5, 47, 233, 234 colonialism, 2, 3, 15, 25, 30, 58, 63, 82, 84, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 139, 156, 172, 174, 175, 192, 199 colonization, 22, 71, 110, 175 comedies, 71, 73, 112 communalism, 225 communautarism, 95 concert party, 114 context, 14, 15, 25, 27, 30, 46, 50, 51, 52, 57, 61, 62, 63, 84, 87, 115, 120, 225, 232, 233, 235, 240 contract, 3, 184, 186, 187, 188, 189, 253 Copyright, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190 costumes, 4, 31, 160, 177, 213, 217, 218, 219, 220, 258 critics, 4, 56, 61, 95, 116, 147, 175, 196, 200, 204, 247, 252 Cry Freedom, 10, 48, 114, 162

279

cultural artefact, 163 cultural heritage, 14, 125, 228 cultural identity, 15, 105 cultural productions, 97 Cultural renaissance renaissance, 96 culture, 2, 9, 11, 15, 16, 18, 30, 31, 33, 47, 50, 66, 96, 98, 99, 103, 104, 106, 110, 112, 127, 134, 146, 163, 172, 173, 174, 176, 179, 195, 200, 213, 222, 225, 226, 228, 229, 232, 236, 238, 239, 244, 245, 247, 254, 257 Culture, 4, 15, 18, 45, 64, 123, 153, 169, 181, 182, 231, 250, 254, 255 de-womanhood, 139 didactic, 69, 73, 108, 174 digital, 2, 13, 73, 119, 122, 232, 246, 249 digitization, 17 Dingaka, 22 directorial approach, 24 directorial style, 32 Do Your Own Thing Bernard Adidja, 114 documentaries, 9, 49, 67, 69, 70, 71, 73, 74, 112, 114, 116, 160, 161, 162, 163, 169, 233, 234, 258 documenting, 2, 56, 63, 70, 158 donor, 18, 49 Durkheim, 99 economic rights, 184, 185, 187 economics, 15, 16, 112 Eddy Ugbomah, 10 editing style, 33, 249 educate, 7, 233 Endfield Cy, 23, 24, 25 entertain, 33, 70, 193, 236 entertainment, 1, 2, 17, 29, 34, 35, 36, 38, 40, 43, 44, 52, 70, 73, 88, 123, 183, 194, 198, 200, 209, 212, 224, 233, 238, 242 epic, 20, 23, 24, 74, 207 Farida Belyazid, 105, 107

280 Fashion Cycle, 214 Fatima Boukili, 101 Fatima Jabliya Ouazzani In my Father’s House, 102 feminism, 147 feminist, 137, 141, 144, 145, 147, 150, 152 Film directors, 14 Film Festival, 67, 68, 239, 245, 249, 250, 254 film narrative African, 116, 126, 146, 147 film-making base, 48 film-making venue, 48 financing, 2, 10, 22, 23, 184 Financing, 22 findings audience survey, 39, 44 folkloric, 224 Foluke Ogunleye, 1, 64, 66, 123, 259 foreigner-made films, 66 Francis Oladele, 13 Francoise Ugochukwu, 125, 258 Francophone, 7, 16, 106, 179, 181 Freedom for Ghana, 113 French Government, 7 functional art, 114 fund, 9 funding, 16, 24, 35, 73, 187, 189, 230 Gaston Kabore, 245 gender, 42, 69, 72, 73, 97, 98, 99, 104, 132, 137, 147, 259 gender approach, 98 gendered notions, 3, 136 George Santayana, 1 George, Terry Hotel Rwanda, 1, 54, 58, 75, 78, 82, 85, 86, 88, 93, 94, 153 Ghana Film Industry Corporation GFIC, 8, 115 Ghana National Film and Television Institute NAFTI, 10

Index Ghanaian cinema, 2, 5, 108, 114, 116, 117, 118 Ghanaian Cinema, 2, 5, 123 Ghanaian Film Industry, 10, 11 Globalization, 123, 177 Gold Coast Film Unit, 2, 5, 7, 8 golden age, 48 government-sponsored, 46 Gramsci Antonio, 50, 51 Hakim Noury Stolen Children, 101 Hamitic hypothesis, 84 Harvest at 17, 119 Hassan Benjelloun Trial of a Woman, 105, 107 Hegemony hegemony, 3, 50, 51, 89, 108 Heritage Africa, 9, 10, 12, 256 Heritage... Africa, 114 heroines, 136, 152 heroism, 24, 27, 194 history, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 18, 20, 21, 24, 28, 46, 47, 50, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 68, 70, 71, 73, 78, 81, 83, 85, 89, 91, 93, 99, 111, 113, 115, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 138, 141, 143, 159, 160, 163, 173, 178, 244, 249, 257 History, 2, 3, 17, 34, 55, 56, 62, 63, 64, 68, 70, 89, 125, 130, 134, 135, 169, 170, 220, 221, 256 HIV/AIDS, 41, 42, 43, 44, 73, 239 Hofmeyr Gray, 23, 27, 28, 29, 179, 180, 181 Hollywood, 8, 9, 10, 11, 15, 21, 24, 30, 33, 48, 66, 70, 85, 89, 90, 93, 119, 187, 205, 207, 210, 237, 239, 241, 242, 243, 245, 249, 253 Hood Gavin, 23, 25, 26, 163

African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward Hotel Rwanda, 3, 75, 76, 77, 78, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 91, 94 Hubert Ogunde, 13, 173, 223 Hyginus Ekwuazi, 2, 35, 257 I Told You So Egbert Adjesu, 114 ideologies, 2, 21, 32, 76, 84, 86, 97, 109, 116, 120, 139, 149, 150 customs, belifs, 21 ideology, 3, 32, 51, 63, 75, 76, 89, 96, 98, 100, 103, 122, 138, 139, 147, 160 Ife International Film Festival, 1, 4, 21, 259 improvisation, 118 Indigenization, 113, 114 individualism, 225 ironic, 32, 202 Jamie Uys, 4, 193, 194, 198, 199, 202, 203, 209, 211 Jean Rouch, 5 Jilali Ferhati Reed Dolls, 100 John Grierson, 5 John Marshall Nai Story of a Kung Woman, 202 Kenyan Film, 3, 69 Kenyan film industry, 66, 67 King Kong, 193, 194, 196, 210 King Solomon’s Mines, 48, 109, 111 Kofi Yirenkyi, 119 Kunle Afolayan Irapada, 183, 191 Kwame Nkrumah, 2, 6, 8, 9, 11, 112 Kwaw Ansah, 2, 5, 117, 119, 122, 256 Lancelot Odua Imuasuen, 138, 140 language, 15, 17, 20, 22, 29, 46, 76, 111, 123, 150, 172, 175, 176, 189, 203, 206, 223, 241, 242, 246, 251, 258 Leïla El Marrakchi Marrock, 104 lighting, 31, 32, 38, 118, 228, 230

281

Living in Bondage, 225, 227 Living Memories, 52, 53, 56, 58, 59, 65 local content, 46, 49, 56 Lord Bolingbroke, 1 Love Brewed in the African Pot, 9, 12, 114, 115 Love in Vendetta, 3, 125, 130, 131, 132, 134 Magana Jarice, 44 Mamdani, 81, 84, 94 Manthia Diawara, 110, 161, 245 marketing, 4, 16, 18, 44, 114, 119, 121, 122, 193, 223, 230, 232, 243, 253 Marx Karl, 50, 51 Marxian, 51 Marxist, 51, 63, 100, 143 Masterstroke, 136, 138, 140, 147, 148, 150, 151, 152, 153 McCollins Chidebe, 140, 153 Med Hondo, 15 message, 23, 24, 26, 40, 56, 58, 72, 73, 87, 125, 127, 138, 218, 219, 241 meta-narratives, 3, 108, 109, 121 methodology, 40 Mirror in the Sun, 44, 223 missionaries, 15, 235 mockumentary, 202, 210 modernist, 24, 25, 30, 96, 97, 98, 103, 105, 106, 119 Mohamed Abderrahmane Tazi Seeking The Husband of my Wife, 95, 99, 100, 107 Mohamed Abouloukar Hadda, 103, 107 moral messages, 47 Moroccan cinema, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106 Moroccan Cinema, 3, 95, 98 motion picture industry, 2, 3, 44, 183 Moumen Smihi, 96, 98, 107 movie industry, 11, 190, 246

282 Mr. Bones, 27, 28, 29, 32 Mr. Mensah Builds a House, 7, 113 music, 51, 88, 106, 114, 122, 146, 179, 195, 223, 228, 238, 242, 249 Mutwa Credo, 25, 27, 28, 30, 31, 34 mythology folklore, 14, 31, 61, 205 Nabil Ayouch A Minute of Sun Less, 104, 106 Narjiss Najar Dry Eyes, 103 Negritude, 113 neo-colonialism, 2, 63 new wave, 96, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104 newsreels, 7, 69, 114, 116, 249 Ngugi wa Thiong’o, 176, 248 Nhari Rebellion, 52, 54, 58, 61, 65 Nigerian Copyright Act, 184, 185, 186, 187, 189 Nigerian filmmakers, 2, 17, 171 No Tears for Ananse Sam Aryetey, 114 Nollywood, 2, 3, 17, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 44, 134, 136, 144, 145, 152, 154, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 179, 180, 181, 182, 188, 231, 258, 259 Notcutt L. A., 5, 6 O le ku Tunde Kelani, 212, 217, 218, 220, 221 occultism, 12 Ogunleye, Foluke, 123, 154, 231, 255 Ola Balogun, 10, 13, 222 Omo Ghetto, 212, 219, 220, 221 Operation Salisbury, 52, 56, 58, 60, 61, 62, 65 Oprah Winfrey, 183, 191 Ousmane Sembene Sembene, 7, 13, 14, 15, 161 overprovision, 82, 87, 88

Index Pan-Africanism, 49, 113, 115 phallocratic model, 98 photography, 109, 160, 183, 200 pirates piracy, 10 plots movie, 22, 133, 205, 223, 226, 227 policy, 9, 10, 14, 17, 41, 46, 49, 56, 58, 61, 67, 96, 117, 201, 230, 235, 250, 252 political, 3, 6, 14, 16, 20, 21, 23, 29, 32, 46, 50, 51, 52, 55, 56, 57, 58, 62, 63, 66, 69, 71, 73, 84, 85, 95, 97, 103, 104, 105, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111, 113, 114, 115, 116, 131, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 156, 157, 158, 160, 161, 163, 164, 166, 168, 174, 199, 203, 217, 222, 229, 236, 239, 241 political hegemony, 46 positivism, 33 postcolonial, 13, 17, 21, 30, 84, 90, 91, 92, 114, 121, 122, 137, 138, 139, 156, 172, 176, 177, 178, 180 postcolonial style, 30 post-independence, 13, 15, 115 postmodernist, 21, 32 production, 2, 4, 9, 10, 15, 16, 17, 18, 21, 36, 37, 38, 44, 46, 48, 49, 50, 51, 55, 67, 72, 73, 74, 108, 109, 111, 112, 114, 116, 118, 122, 132, 134, 159, 160, 162, 163, 174, 175, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 199, 203, 213, 218, 220, 222, 223, 224, 230, 232, 233, 234, 236, 237, 239, 242, 244, 246, 247, 250, 253 propaganda, 16, 18, 25, 47, 48, 50, 55, 56, 59, 61, 108, 110, 112, 199, 204 purposive sampling, 47 Queen of Aso Rock, 144, 152, 153

African Film: Looking Back and Looking Forward Racism, 3, 192, 210 radio, 49, 77, 112, 117, 233, 238, 239, 241, 244 Right Ownership, 3, 183 road movies roadism, 207 Saâd Chraïbi Women and Women, 101, 107 Sabido methodology, 40, 44 sacrifice, 21, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 31, 58, 78, 133, 226 Sanders of the River, 109 Sarrouinia, 114 satire, 28, 32, 209 Schuster Leon, 23, 27, 28, 29, 32, 34 sequel, 27, 48, 144 serial drama, 44 Shakespeare, 2, 125 slapstick, 29, 73, 112, 196, 202, 236, 248 social change, 40 social-realist, 118, 119 sociological, 95, 97 socio-political, 50, 63 South African Film, 2, 20, 124, 135, 170, 256 special effects, 33 sponsor, 2, 35, 36, 38, 40, 44 sponsors, 35 stereotype, 15, 76, 82, 137, 193, 196, 201 stereotypes, 11, 12, 29, 40, 93, 117, 132, 133, 137, 179, 180, 193, 196 stereotypical, 11, 112, 113, 115, 120, 137, 194, 205 storytellers, 14 story-telling storytelling, 31, 34, 43, 109 stylistic analysis, 32 stylistic approaches, 30 symbolism, 76, 77, 78, 168, 213 Tarzan, 111, 193, 196, 209 television, 9, 28, 32, 33, 49, 69, 73, 87, 117, 122, 162, 169, 173, 185,

283

188, 202, 205, 213, 223, 238, 239, 242, 244, 252, 253, 256, 257 textual analysis, 47, 50 The Battle of Algiers, 114 The Battle of Sinoia, 52, 55, 59 The Battle of the Sacred Tree, 72 The Boy Kumasenu, 7, 113 The Burning Spear, 70, 72 The Dignity and Importance of History, 2 The Fall of the Queen of Aso Rock, 144 The Gods Must be Crazy, 4, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 202, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211 The Gods Must Be Crazy, 193, 194, 211 The Life of Reason, 1 The St Alberts Recruitment Experience, 52, 54, 56 The Tyrant, 115, 136, 140, 141, 142, 144, 146, 149, 152, 153 themes, 4, 7, 13, 30, 47, 52, 71, 74, 98, 103, 133, 146, 222, 224, 225, 227, 228, 230 Things Fall Apart, 76, 161, 172 Thomas Edison, 1 Tomaselli Keyan, 62, 78, 109, 124, 135, 159, 170, 195, 196, 198, 199, 204, 205, 210 training, 3, 9, 18, 48, 66, 73, 74, 96, 118, 230, 233, 235, 236, 245, 246, 250, 253 Truth and Reconciliation Commission TRC, 157, 167 Tsotsi, 163, 164, 168, 170 Tunde Kelani, 3, 171, 172, 181, 217, 221 TV television, Television, 5, 11, 33, 35, 37, 39, 44, 73, 132, 134,

284 135, 185, 190, 199, 210, 237, 238, 240, 256 Ugandan Film Industry, 4, 232, 254, 255 Union of National Radio and Television Organization of Africa URTNA, 239 Van Beaver, 6 Veronica Quarshie, 13, 119 video film, 2, 4, 10, 46, 126, 130, 220, 223, 225, 230 video halls, 241, 242, 243, 244, 247, 251 video jockeys VJ, 241 video technology, 10, 118, 121 video-film, 2, 3, 108, 109, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 125, 138,

Index 140, 142, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 185 visual composition, 142 visual effects, 117 visual tautology tautology, 87 Webster, 2 West Africa Film Training School, 6 Wole Soyinka, 137, 244 Wounds of War, 52, 53, 56, 65 Zimbabwe, 2, 46, 47, 48, 49, 52, 53, 58, 62, 63, 64, 256, 257 Zimbabwean Film Industry, 47 Zulu, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 30, 31, 139, 164, 167, 168 Zulu Dawn, 24 Zulu Love Letter, 164, 167, 168