Some nations record their history in books, while others etch their memory in stone. Nigeria, however, has chosen the camera. Where our history classes stutter and our archives gather dust, Nollywood has become our diary; raw, unedited, and sometimes chaotic, but undeniably ours.
From the streets of Aba to the shores of Asaba, our filmmakers have spun stories with shoestring budgets and sheer determination. What began as grainy home videos sold on DVDs and CDs in crowded markets, has grown into the world’s second-largest film industry in terms of the number of movies produced per year. Nollywood is more than just an industry, it is therapy to the body and soul.
In a nation that attempts to make sense of itself amidst antagonistic poverty, politics, and paradox, every story is a sermon. The pastor on the screen is a critique of the church on the street. The corrupt politician in a movie set is a mirror of the man in the news. That village girl who eventually makes it to the city in a movie is not just a character played for awakening or entertainment purposes only, it is the reality of every Nigerian who dares to dream beyond their postcode.
Through melodrama and mythology, Nollywood performs the work our leaders often fail to do. It educates, cautions, and consoles. But let us be honest, Nollywood is also flawed. Too frequently, we recycle clichés, exalt superstition, and glorify the very vices we claim to be fighting against. But even in its imperfection, it holds a power our parliament envies.
No government white paper has the reach of a single blockbuster movie. No policy briefing moves hearts like a late-night film streamed on a used cracked phone screen with faded bottom numbers and borrowed data. The question now is not if Nollywood entertains, because it does. However, can we all identify its profound role?
It is an archive of our lived pain and experiences, and a pulpit where the nation preaches to itself. Nollywood is the market woman’s gossip curled into cinema, the nation’s trauma and plea repackaged into storytelling, and our survival instinct transmitted in digital form. Therefore, when all the lights are dim and the screen is flickering, remember that you are not just seeing a movie and watching actors display their talents; you are watching Nigeria wrestle with itself: its fears, desires, and contradictions.
Whenever you watch Nollywood movies, you are watching people who have refused to disappear, insisting that their stories, however imperfect, must be told.
✍🏽 William Z. Bozimo
Veteran Journalist | Columnist | National Memory Keeper
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