HOW TO SELL AN AFRICAN MOVIE TO HOLLYWOOD

Editor’s note: This letter was discovered to have been written before the release of Black Panther.

            Dear White People Hollywood,

             We write to you in light of recent events concerning our portrayals in your movies. Truth is if you’re reading this it’s because you refused to take heed of our suggestions from brothers like Binyavanga Wainaina. Also if this letter comes off as cliché, well… guess whose fault it is?!

 Hollywood is arguably the most watched movie industry in the world and as such we feel the need to correct you on certain things, least the world takes your movies for gospel. I mean I certainly don’t expect to build a real life Iron Man suit anytime soon to fly away, but the thought has crossed my mind since I discovered 3D printers.

             

We know in the past you’ve faced certain accusations, some made popular with hashtags like #OscarsSoWhite and controversies like giving Oscars to the right people, but for the wrong movies (Denzel, Leo, etc). We’re not here to delve on the past or gather more ammunition against you for we know the Oscars have tried to diversify over the years and that is good. We also don’t really have a problem with White actors getting nominated based on their great performances, even if it results in an ugly hashtag like #OscarsSoWhite… just don’t let our other Black coalition brothers know we said that.

It is also why we write this letter, to make sure you don’t falter in your diversification and mind control expansion of the world. We the concerned citizens of Africa write to you in concern of how we would like to be portrayed from henceforth. For starters, stop distinguishing us Africans between those in North Africa and those in Sub-Saharan Africans. Africa is Africa. You portray one group as desert Islamists and the other as starving hungry children. We are all starving Islamist children in the desert with laptops and the energy to respond to you, so stop separating us.

Second, while we would like to be treated as one, we are not. Realize that all Africans DO NOT have that one accent you’ve been parading around for the past twenty years in your movies and TV shows. As a matter of fact there is a bounty on finding that one African who first spoke like that and gave you the impression that we all speak the same and ending his life, so when next you speak to an African who doesn’t sound like that, you will at least have an alternative accent to use for the next twenty years.

             

Third, we would also like to discuss the potential of making a Hollywood movie about Africa that is mutually beneficial to us both. First we would like Brad Pitt to produce said movie, he and his Plan B company have funded 12 Years a Slave (the movie, not the years we spent listening to you recycle that accent) as well as Selma, which caused a debate about whether the White guy, Lyndon B. Johnson was portrayed unfairly (welcome to our world). We want Brad Pitt, because it seems Brad Pitt likes Black people. More importantly Brad Pitt funds movies about Black people!

            

We’ve also decided that the star of the movie will be White and from South Africa, that rainbow nation that gave us Mandela. We’re not casting a White hero because we think it’ll help sell our movie, but because we don’t need the hashtag #AfricanMoviesSoBlack and because aside certain countries like South Africa, it’s hard for White actors in Africa to get roles where they’re not the devil. So you see, we do care about diversity and not stereotyping!

             

We also have a storyline we’d like you to follow. Also take note we will not allow product placement for Western products that put more money in the hands of the West than the Motherland, so cozy up to some African companies, no matter how inferior you think some of their products are. We buy African… even if they are imported African fabrics from the Netherlands!

             

Our hero, who we shall name Cecil Madiba Rhodes, shall be an old man, say in his sixties who decides in his old age to wander the Motherland (I know some of you are saying shouldn’t his motherland be Europe, that’s beside the point). And you best cast an African for this! If you hire any Non-African in this role, I assure you we will burn down Hollywood starting with that sign! We don’t need anyone trying to sound like us… just hire us for a change!

            

The plot will revolve around him having multiple adventures as he journeys round the continent. Now before you question how you’re going to fit that into two hours, may we remind you of the numerous biopics where you squeeze a person’s life into the same amount of time? Good! If you don’t think it’ll work, there’s always Netflix and no chill!

So, let’s look at the rest of this movie, eh?! Somewhere along his adventure across the African continent, John Rhodes shall get captured by Niger Delta militants (or perhaps, Boko Haram) upon entering West Africa. The director would need to make sure that the actors playing the militants are dark skinned going by Hollywood standards, because they’re no light-skinned Africans. The militants shall speak very bad English, although that can be blamed on the Nigerian educational system. The militants shall hate Rhodes for his white skin and he in turn shall recognize the atrocities of his ancestors and what a burden it is to be White. Or maybe the militants just want money and like Chris Rock said, “If it’s all White, it’s all right!”

            

Who cares how Rhodes gets rescued, certainly not by the Nigerian government. We know you are not going to let the Nigerian government look like heroes in a Hollywood movie, what kind of marketing is that? Rhodes will most likely be rescued by a special American Black op team situated in the country, not unlike Bruce Willis and his soldiers from Tears of the Sun. Or maybe the militants shall probably get tired and realize his “white value” is not as high as that of White men from America or Europe or maybe his ransom shall get paid. Whichever one looks more adventurous or convenient.

             

Rhodes shall journey to East Africa, Kenya specifically. No need to tell you why. He shall visit the Serengeti, enjoy the wild life and in Nairobi, the capital, he shall see posters of Obama and Black hope. So called hope! He shall go to the Congo and see almost extinct gorillas and since this is supposed to be a positive movie (excluding the kidnapping, because Nigerians have to be the bad guys), there shall be no encounters with child soldiers, female mutilation or sex-crazed rebel soldiers.

             

He shall head up to Egypt, that’s if he doesn’t get captured by Somali pirates on his way, where he shall see the pyramids and have some sort of enlightened revelation that only non-Africans have in movies, when they visit exotic foreign lands. Black people never have enlightened revelations in Hollywood, except when the White man saves them, (are we still doing that stereotype in Hollywood?). Have you noticed that most North African countries are free of the darkly misconstrued images of Africa? Of course some of them get portrayed as terrorists as I mentioned earlier, but that’s another story for another day.

            

Rhodes shall finally return to South Africa, to the scenic city of Cape Town. He sure isn’t going back to Soweto. And the movie ends here. That’s how you sell an African movie to Hollywood. The truth is even I’d watch it. Just remember, we don’t want an American or Englishman (even though we love Benedict Cumberbatch) in the role and just remember to have a variety of African accents, eh?!

Yours truly,

 

Concerned African Cinema-Goers and Bootleggers Association.

THE PRESIDENT'S DIARY

April, 28^th, 2019.

            It’s the day after the elections and I have been confirmed the winner of the 2019 elections. The results had been mentioned in the early hours of the morning and my phone hasn’t stopped ringing, with friends and well-wishers calling me, “Mr. President”. I say my morning prayers and pray God guides me through the next four, possibly eight years of my life. I’ve already decided who will make my cabinet and my decision means Federal Character will be thrown out the door.
            As the sun rises and brings in a new day, I call those who have made my campaign team, some of whom will still serve under my administration. The first order of the day is to thank the Nigerian public and to also visit the INEC office and congratulate them on holding a free and fair election this time.
            I am also to meet with security officials concerning the safety of my family and I, as they assign us code names and security details. However I am more eager to meet with military officials to discuss the situation in the North-East and to tell them we will double troops to keep the country safe. I will also have a secret meeting with senior military brass to talk “emergency exits” in the case of another religious or ethnic crisis. In reality this will be a meeting on how if need be we will implement the “Plateau solution”. You see years ago, my dear Plateau state was caught up in a series of religious and ethnic crisis. The then president offered up tearing the state and dividing it among the neighbouring ones. It was never publicly stated in the media due to fear of backlash. However it intrigued me back when I was just a commissioner for my state, perhaps because I was accused of being a settler as opposed to an indigene, despite my being born and bred there as was my father and his father before him. The Plateau solution shall serve as a possible exit strategy to any state that gets caught up in any sectarian violence. Imagine if the public knew of this, but as a soon to be head-of-state I have to take bold decisions.
            I shall also discuss with my team about who will head my proposed Audit Bureau, which will check every financial transactions of the ministries. Although not capable of arrests on its own, the Audit Bureau will partner with the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) when it comes to catching culprits. There will be a visit to the Department of Statistics to discuss the important of gathering statistics, specifically that of people who die in hospitals. The sooner we know we know what kills us the most, the better we will have an idea on helping the health sector on needed equipment and medicine. This will obviously involve the Health ministry.
            All these meetings don’t have to take place in one day of course. What’s important is that in the days leading to my inauguration, I have a clear vision of what I want to accomplish in my first six months. There will be no promise of an “energy emergency” like some of my predecessors had and no numbered agendas either, no Vision 2040 or any of those false promises. But perhaps my biggest challenge will be convincing the political system to get rid of the policy known as Federal Character, especially when it comes to choosing my cabinet.

            The Federal Character policy was initiated to “carry out fairness and equity in the distribution of public posts and socio-economic infrastructures among the various federating units of the Federal Republic of Nigeria”, but in reality it promotes filling up positions with unsuitable candidates just to appease a nation of people who feel marginalized by the next man, who doesn’t share their faith, ethnicity or place of origin, despite us all being citizens of the same country.

            In trying to get rid of Federal Character, it is then I will be accused of serving a Northern agenda by the South while also being seen as working for the same South by the North, who will label me a puppet with a Northern face. Clearly I am not going to please everybody and some states and tribes will claim that they are not represented. I believe that’s what the Senate and the House of Representatives is for; to represent every region of every state. This shouldn’t have to include the ministers of my cabinet. If I can’t have capable hands with me, just because one state doesn’t have a minister, there’s already a problem!

            Four or eight years down the line, I will face an even similar challenge as I try to convince my party to get rid of zoning, where leadership is switched between the North and the South. “He wants his fellow Northerners to continue.” “He wants the South to regain power again”. Such and such will be said. Surely it isn’t easy to be president; well at least I pray I have my health through it all, I can’t be travelling out the country for medical reasons and face the ire of my people.

June 12^th, 2019 (Democracy Day/Inauguration)

            It’s inauguration day and it’s finally real, I AM THE PRESIDENT of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. The inauguration is set to take place at 11:00a.m. No more 7 or 8 o’clock swearing in. I want the whole country to be awake when I’m sworn in. I want the parades and the fighter jets. We are about to do right by the millions of Nigerians out there. Not so much by the elites, even if I am considered one of them. I wanted to arrive Eagles Square in one of those red buses, Minister El-Rufai introduced when he oversaw the Federal Capital Territory, but my security team has advised against that. Just as I’ve they’ve told me I have no say in the upgrading of the local airport in my home state, which will now include a helipad and a tarred road that leads all the way to my residence. These are the things that can make you too comfortable with power. I have to remind myself my reason for being here though. I wanted to arrive in that red bus to signify a new change in government, a symbol of the time of the common man. Already I’m being distanced from my aim. I shall not fall into the sunken place like some of my predecessors have, I remind myself.

            At 12:00p.m, I shall address both chambers of the house at the National Assembly and ask them to cut their July/August holiday short. Ever since Democracy Day got shifted from May 31^st to June 12, schedules have to change too. Governance is not a holiday, it is a job and I need my soldiers with me. It will be my first proposal to the house. All that money they’re being paid, they can afford to forfeit half their holiday. And thus may start my first conflict with the house.
            At 3p.m, I shall meet with the men of the Nigerian Army and talk about our various peace keeping missions home and abroad: Boko Haram, Biafra dissentions, oil conflicts and so on. One thing on my mind is securing our borders in the North, especially since the war in Libya has seen weapons come through our Northern border.

            At 5p.m, I shall meet the youth organizations, the mainly “Twitter activists” and so called social media influencers and various other youth groups who helped campaign for me, and show some gratitude. I hear this people make enough noise to get the world’s attention, it’s best to tread carefully with them, at least for now.
            At 8p.m, we shall have the state dinner. All government officials as well as foreign diplomats will be invited, not to mention members of the press. The dinner shall be at the State House. We would’ve used the I.C.C (International Conference Center), if not for security concerns. I may be president, but these damn security details tell me what I can and cannot to do on occasion.
            At 10p.m, it’s off to bed as I pray God grants me the wisdom to lead my people and accomplish what has never been done. I then kiss my wife, that woman whose being by my side when I was a nobody that used to walk and enter the bus before being able to buy a Tokunbo car, but I don’t sleep. I can’t sleep and I probably won’t any time soon. Nothing can prepare me for the next four years of this life under the most scrutiny any individual in this country can go through. A prison full of luxuries.

            As I walk down the stairs to the dining room for breakfast, it is only 9am. The TV is on and I catch a glimpse of the debate that pundits say got me to the Villa. My words ring back to me, “We suffer from a lack of ideals as to who we are and how we plan to move this nation forward. We have no manifest destiny. All that has got to change. Our only exceptional-ism lies in being a West African giant, but we are no longer and have probably never been the giant of Africa… and that has got to change too!”

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY

They say God tests us with afflictions, for the past 30 odd years of my life, mine has been my mother. As far back as I can remember it has been one battle after the other. Her for supremacy; me for justice, democracy and liberty for all! Even as a full grown man, my mother still chose to see me as a child. I would’ve been the boy who grew up in a bubble were it not for my father and his insistence that I be allowed to roam free. My mother’s own insistence however, was that there was nothing good in the world and her need for control made me socially damaged and awkward before I was even released into the world.

It was quite clear to me there were things about our generational gap that she didn’t quite understand, like the Internet and how I could claim spending time on it could make me money. Perhaps most worrying was the fact that she refused to accept we were raised differently in different times. It’s as if she still saw me through those discontenting eyes she hid so well when her friends talked about their own children and their successes. Perhaps discontented more by the fact she could no longer keep an eye on me, try as she may. She found it easy to sympathize with other people’s children being rebellious, but couldn’t extend that sympathy to me when I was portrayed as such! Instead, what I got were roundtable meetings with people who had no business knowing my business; uncles whose only job was to agree with her and statements that started with the words, “Why can’t you be more like…”

I remember having to tell my parents I was going to spend an extra year in the university due to my unsatisfactory grades. There was so much tension in the room, it didn’t help that my mother started consoling my crying father like he just lost his only son. In hindsight, I should’ve read something I was good at but I never really thought much of university to begin with, it just seemed like the thing to do after secondary school, because telling an African parent you have no desire for higher education is akin to committing suicide. So there I was stuck in school, for a little longer than I should have. It was not the greatest feeling in the world not graduating with my mates, but just like a close friend assured me, it too would come to pass and it did.

I remember when we first moved to the city in my teenage years, when my eyes were not fully open (more than a decade later and I still feel my eyes aren’t fully opened). I was forced to play both child and psychologist as I analyzed how much of my mother’s behavior had rubbed off on me, including her anger. How when no one agreed with me, I got angry and how I began to use people as crutches even though I could do a lot of things on my own. I remember when I was much younger; I used to pray that my mother’s behaviour would change. Of course I didn’t understand how faith or God worked and that change didn’t come to one who wasn’t willing to do so on their own and so as I grew up with my faith in a higher power beginning to wane till I was pretty sure I was agnostic.

Whatever problems I had outside my home were minor to those I experienced within it. From understanding girls and their needs, to boys pulling up in cars to take those girls I wanted as I silently watched, none was as disturbing as what went on at home. I remember when I was younger and would purposely stay after school doing nothing, because the thought of going home was dreadful and I couldn’t stand the constant shouting.

When mother spoke, you could actually hear her through the walls of the house. That was because she wasn’t speaking, she was yelling! So growing up I was afraid of having my friends over just in case my mother flipped out like she often did. I preferred going over to my friends’ houses and if their mothers yelled too, it just made me feel more comfortable.

Telling mother, “no”, was like giving her a heart attack. She seemed perfectly fine, till she heard a word of defiance, then all hell broke loose and the melodramatics began and phone calls started being made. It was like the mafia was about to make a hit on you once she picked up her phone, you were going to lose. She believed everyone was out to get her; the telephone company hated her that’s why she never got through, the TV stations were out to get her children, that’s why they never showed anything good and so on and so on. The woman had OCD and didn’t even know it! Even telling her what OCD was and that she might have it, would’ve caused an argument. Come to think of it, BOTH my parents must’ve had OCD, because when you advised them not to do something, they had a compulsive disorder to do exactly that. So I use to wonder why I got yelled at for the doing the same thing!

Growing up, I often wondered if there was a school that taught people how to close doors in a non-violent manner, just so I could take my family there. When mother was angry she’d slam every door in sight and so would everyone. But the most horrifying of nights, was when father was away and in a fit of rage after an argument, mother brought a knife to my room and asked me to kill her since I could be so disobedient. The scars… not on her, I didn’t pick up the knife, I meant the scars this woman produced in my life; I still bear them!

Happiness is when she’s not home for a while, at least we’d miss her a bit, but that was when I was younger before I realized I really needed my own space, instead of settling to be another overgrown man-child, which she seems happy with, while ironically complaining about my existence around her.

There are other afflictions in my life of course, but none more so than my mother!

Happy Mothers’ Day!