Фестиваль нигерийского кино в Германии: поиск идентичности и принадлежности

A Film Festival—and Questions of Identity Main image: Actors, dignitaries and ambassadors attending the Nollywood Film Festival in Germany. The writer was invited to cover the Nollywood Festival in Germany, but what she found there went well beyond films; she discovered identity, belonging and the power of storytelling. When I first reached out to Isaac Izoya, Cultural Ambassador and founder of Ehizoya Golden Entertainment, the organisation behind the Nollywood Film Festival Germany and the Nollywood Europe Golden Awards, he invited me to cover the festival. The films themselves were incredibly moving. The audience seemed enthralled by the themes being explored – for example, the complex relationship between faith and medicine, the realities of infertility and longing to have children, in A Visit to Ward 4, produced by acclaimed Nollywood actress and filmmaker Rosabelle Andrews and directed by Tony Edozie. Themes of class, love and legacy were explored in Follow Me To Forever, produced and directed by Eric Stephenson, investigating the tensions between family expectations, social status and personal desire. However, what struck me was the nuanced richness with which these themes, relatable across cultures because of our shared human experience, were explored within the backdrop of Nigerian culture. It soon became clear that this festival wasn’t simply about films. It was about African storytelling, identity, belonging, culture, owning one’s own narrative and dreams too. Who gets to tell Africa’s stories? This question became especially personal to me during my conversation with Nollywood pioneer Bob-Manuel Udokwu. “The first thing I’m proud of is that the Nigerian film industry, which is now known as Nollywood, has taught Africa to tell its own story,” he said. Bob spoke about his journey – his determination to show the world what was inside him, and the overwhelming drive to express it. What I found particularly powerful, and what resonated with me, was how he described this not simply as passion, but as something deeper — an urge that could apply to any line of work, any calling, any gift that someone feels compelled to bring into the world. His words seemed to confirm something I had already begun to sense. This festival wasn’t simply about filmmaking. It was about pursuing purpose and fulfilling one’s potential. It was about creating something despite the barriers that tell you otherwise. At the same time, another theme emerged from our conversation – the importance of Africa telling its own stories and the danger of harmful and untrue perceptions taking shape when others tell our narrative for us. So what does it mean to have ownership of those stories, especially when there is such a direct link between the stories we tell and how Africa is portrayed internationally? Growing up in Britain as the daughter of Nigerian parents, these conversations hit particularly close to home. I learnt my culture through my mum. Beyond that, because I grew up in a predominantly White neighbourhood, I had very little connection or reference point to Nigerian culture. There was always a sense of duality. On one hand, there was the knowledge that there was royalty in my family – my grandfather was a chief, and my mum was a princess. The significance of that sounded immense, yet felt far. I also grew up in a family where education was of the greatest importance, championed by both my parents. On the other hand, I witnessed the realities of the immigrant experience, which placed my parents within systems that did not recognise the brilliance they brought. As a result, I grew up in an environment that looked completely different from the world my mother knew as her own. Coming to the festival, I realised these questions of identity hit so close to home because identity feels so interlinked with community, and community with the ability to belong. At a time when belonging has become such a buzzword, not only in wider society but also within workplaces and communities, I found myself surrounded by something that didn’t simply talk about belonging. It seemed to embody it. People had travelled from across the world to attend, and one guest spoke of genuinely feeling a sense of belonging. I must admit that before arriving, I was slightly apprehensive because of what can sometimes feel like a divide between those born in Nigeria and those of Nigerian descent who were born outside Nigeria. But being there made tangible the possibility—and need—for connection: an evolving understanding of what it means to be African across different places and experiences. Sense of identity Throughout the festival, I asked each of the filmmakers and ambassadors I interviewed the same final question: “What do you carry with you wherever you go?” Again and again, there seemed to be a common thread; people spoke about carrying—what I can only term—their Nigerian-ness. For some, it was grit; for others, it was pride; for others, it was home. One of the festival’s award winners, actor and producer Nosa Rex, spoke about “carrying where he comes from wherever he goes”, and the immediate connection that creates with others. What struck me wasn’t only their answers; it was the energy that came over them as they described it. There was something about it that felt both palpable and infectious. It made me wonder what people in the diaspora carry and what shapes our identity when we haven’t grown up with those same reference points. What role does Africa play, and what is our experience of knowing Africa? Is it from afar? If so, whose lens do we use to view it? How does that inform not only how we experience Africa, but how we experience being of African descent in the West? At the same time, how much does Africa even feel like ours to embody? It feels like there is both hope and tension. Hope because there is clearly something shared, but tension because it also feels like a conundrum, with many questions I don’t yet have the answers to. Yet sitting across from people describing their culture with such conviction, I found myself feeling something unexpected. There was room for my own perspective too. My authentic presence, thoughts and questions were welcomed. Isaac had invited me into the festival without fully knowing my vision for the interview series. By pursuing his own vision despite years of pushback, he had made space for me to pursue mine. In many ways, it felt as though the festival itself had become a bridge between Africa and the diaspora. It raised the question of whether film could become one of the ways Africa and its diaspora reconnect in a more meaningful way. Leaving a legacy At the end of the festival, my final conversation was with Isaac. “We believe the next generation yet unborn will read about us one day, will hear about us one day, and will honour us one day.” He spoke about legacy. About continuing even when people don’t immediately recognise your vision, or when those in positions of power choose not to support you. I arrived expecting to cover a film festival. I left with something much bigger. Not answers but questions about identity, about belonging. They matter to anyone who has ever tried to reconcile multiple identities, navigate different cultures or understand where they belong. And perhaps that is why I left Frankfurt not simply inspired by African cinema, but with a renewed belief in the possibility of building bridges through storytelling, creativity and the conversations that allow us to connect more deeply and honestly with ourselves, with one another, and with the stories that shape who we are. Bomafabia Wokoma is a UK-based filmmaker and creative producer developing a documentary exploring African storytelling, identity, cultural ownership and belonging. She is the founder of Vision Liberate, a creative organisation exploring identity, culture and belonging through storytelling, documentary and community-led creative and wellbeing projects.