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Foremost cinematographer in Nollywood, Tunde Kelani, bounces
back from the setback of the heavily pirated ‘Arugba’ with a new film,
‘Ma’ami’, starring Funke Akindele. In this interview with NEXT, Kelani talks
about the making of ‘Ma’ami’ and his plans to get the film to the masses.

How did Arugba do commercially?

‘Arugba’ is a flop. There is no doubt about it because we were
really modest in our expectations; we bought the recommended holograms, 100,000
from the National Film and Video Censorship Board and we didn’t sell 50,000. We
still have thousands and thousands of copies of the film. There is no way we
can sell with that level of piracy. Right now, we have in our possession three
pirated versions and then one London pirated version. All our films have been
pirated but there had never been such an orchestrated attack, like that of
‘Arugba’.

How do plan to forestall
this with your forthcoming film, Ma’ami?

I think that generally this is a reflection of the Nigerian
society. The industry is suffering from lack of the necessary infrastructure so
this is going to go on for a long time. I don’t believe the government at this
time has the capacity to deal with it, especially now when elections are
coming. If I carry a few samples of pirated films to any police station, I’m
sure that I will meet more difficult issues that need the attention law
enforcement agencies.

We have to adopt the physical division model in Nigeria where I
have to release VCD or DVD and we have to physically move it from region to
region, town to town.

Broadband internet access is at the moment less than two percent
penetration in Nigeria. So, that suggests that we have to do physical
distribution for a long time. The desperation in piracy since ‘Arugba’ has gone
worse… I understand that in the market today on any release, in the evening of
the same day the pirated versions will come in the market. It suggests that
there is no way we can risk physical distribution of ‘Ma’ami’ so we have to
come up with another model for making sure that it gets to the people.

Can you talk about your
new strategy?

I’m passionate about reviving the cinema going culture. That’s
why I initiated the mobile cinema project and I got support from the Lagos
State Government. We screened ‘Arugba’ in the 57 local governments and
development areas of Lagos State. We took the film on the road and it showed
free, in the open air to Lagosians. I’ve been toying with the idea of
developing at least 30 cinemas in Lagos State, working with the local
governments. I’m already in discussion with the Association of Sports Viewing Centres
in Lagos State and I’m hopeful that perhaps we can put together a chain of 200
such centres. Secure, comfortable centres that can seat a minimum of 100
people. This way, I plan to take the film to the grassroots.

What about the rest of
the country?

First of all, my focus is on Lagos State because it is viable
and accepting; and we have Governor Babatunde Raji Fashola who is keen and he’s
been very encouraging and supportive. If this model works in Lagos State, then
we can explore the possibility of exporting it to the whole of the South West
and by extension the whole country.

What can be done to widen
the acceptance base of the Yoruba film?

I don’t think that’s a problem because now we are moving into
the area of indigenous cultural expression. Countries like China, Japan or
India for instance, how [have their films] been accessible? The whole world has
been waiting, but the film has to be of a reasonable quality and standard.
Japan and India [make] films of quality standard, so that’s all we have to do.
Already, some of the films we have produced (at Mainframe) have been subtitled
in English, French and in the case of ‘Saworoide’, we did a Portugese
subtitling. So that’s what we should do. Of course, I will be excited about the
possibilities of meeting a great indigenous cultures like, for instance,
Japanese and Chinese, rather than looking to following Hollywood. So for me,
Yoruba cinema has a great prospect.

You’ve been filming
‘Ma’ami’ with Funke Akindele, Wole Ojo and the young man you are introducing to
cinema for the first time, Ayomide Abati. What has that experience been like?

Filming ‘Ma’ami’ is exciting because it has some element of my
childhood in it. For example, when we combed the whole of Abeokuta looking for
a primary school that has a football field, I realised it was becoming rare
because education standard has fallen so low that they don’t consider such
development part of education anymore. I had to return to my own Oke-Ona United
Primary School in Abeokuta and luckily we still had a kind of a field that we
used 50 years ago. It’s still there but in bad shape. The buildings are still
standing although they are crying out for [renovation].

Again, we scouted for possible appropriate locations but we
didn’t find any, so we had to return to my own family compound; and for me it
was like going back home. We had to repaint all the houses in the neighbourhood
and our single interior set for Funke Akindele and the boy actually was shot in
our own house. I found a boxfull of documents which my father had kept away.
Going through these documents, I found a Christmas card that was sent to me in
1960 – from a girl and it was ‘With love from Yetunde’. I couldn’t even
remember who it was! It was going back to my own childhood and my own
neighbourhood and I knew the terrain like the back of my hand. That’s why
making the film is special to me, I could see things from my growing up years.

There were reports you
had dropped Funke Akindele from the film but she’s still in it. What actually
happened?

It was a misunderstanding. After I had talked to her and
released the script to her, I was coming from my ophthalmologist and there was
a video shop. I saw the poster of a film called ‘Iya Mi’ and it was Funke
Akindele on the poster. I was shocked because of the closeness between the
titles, ‘Ma’ami’ and ‘Iya Mi’. For a moment I was concerned that it might
mislead some of the audience because I had received a few calls from people
asking me if the film was out. I was apprehensive that ‘Ma’ami’ might be
mistaken as Part two of ‘Iya Mi’. I sent for the film, I saw it and what I saw
was that Funke was not even playing the mother in the film, she actually played
the daughter.

I thought something was funny… I decided that we were going to
change her, to do another film entirely. She heard this news and came to me and
explained her own side of the story. I thought Funke needed the film, she
wanted to do ‘Ma’ami’. I thought she genuinely wanted to be in the project and
I was convinced.

Of course, there is a reason why I decided to work with Funke
Akindele because I have followed her career closely; and in (my films) ‘Narrow
Path’ and ‘Abeni’, she had played minor roles, supporting roles. I was waiting
for the right story to cast her. What was strategic for me, it was not a
glamorous role and in the film, she had a change of costume only once; wearing
the same thing again and again. She’s not the glamorous star that everybody
expected. I think this was a challenge for her and she had to play convincingly
the mother of a 10-year-old.

And the young man that
you cast as her child – you know what they say in Hollywood: never work with
animals or children. How was it?

Ayomide is a child in the neighbourhood in Oshodi where we live,
he’s quite lively and gets along with everybody. But my worry… at this point
I have to appeal to parents because we are gradually getting to a point where
it is becoming very difficult to find young or adult Yoruba actors and
actresses who can speak the Yoruba language. I think it’s becoming a challenge.
For about two or three days, we were really disturbed – both the young
Kashimawo (Ayomide Abati) and the adult Kashimawo (Wole Ojo) – because it’s now
a problem and this is a result of when consciously parents discourage their children
from speaking their own language or practicing their own natural culture.

I think that’s the result of an identity crisis and we had
identity crisis on the set. I think that Ayomide has learned from that
experience and I think he will be redeemed. But I think it’s a crisis in the
Yoruba nation. There is no doubt in my mind that the children of the elite and
the lower class no longer speak Yoruba in their homes. I doubt even the
lawmakers, if any of their children speak Yoruba at home.

Can you tell us more
about the making of Ma ami from a filmmaker’s point of view?

I think ‘Ma ‘ami’ is the beginning of another era because we are
at a point now in digital media where we have access to great technology and it
is the first and only film that I have shot digitally in what can be called 35
mm. You know they talk about shooting 35mm celluloid; this is the digital
equivalent of it. In other words, we shot in 4K-to-a-35mm-censor. I think this
is exciting. It is just like when I discovered photography in those days when I
was young, I was excited every day of my life. Now, I’m excited all over again
because of the various possibilities in the delivery of the content.

If there was demand and corporate sponsorship, we could get a
35mm print in celluloid for cinema release and we could do digital projection
on any of the four formats since our original format was resolution 4K. For me,
this is as topmost as you can get and I am happy I was supported by at least
four companies. ‘Ma ‘ami’ is a high-low budget film. It [cost] around 150,000
dollars, but I’m hopeful that it will be worth something like 700,000 dollars.
I have the objective to achieve more with less.

When can we expect to see
the film?

Work is going on on ‘Ma’ami’ everyday and I still have some bits
to shoot. We designed it in such a way that we rigged an editing system, work
is going on everyday. We have a digital laboratory and presntly we are doing
our first primary colour correction and then encoding into the editing format.
The rough cut of the film is almost complete.There should be a workable version
before the end of December because for Funke and some of the various expertise
on the film, I have to enter the film for the Pan-African Film and Television
Festival of Quadadogou (FESPACO). I think I’ll be in time to enter for AMAA
which closes December 15.

You have been able to
sustain a blockbuster career, what are you doing that the other filmmakers are
not doing?

I don’t think the films can really be called blockbusers but at
any time, they meant something. They show a progression and at any point, they
have been experimental either from point of technology or digital media. If I
thought that the future of African Cinema or world cinema will be in digital
media, then I think I’m right because officially the year 2010 has been mooted
by experts (as) the death of the chemical process of making films.

The collection of films that I have made have been successful ,
both universities both home and abroad use them as resource. Particularly for
‘Arugba’, there have been one or two universities that ordered copies for
African Studies. For me, that has been a kind of satisfaction and
encouragement.

You relocated to Benin
Republic where you shot the ‘Abeni’ series and the ‘Narrow Path’ but you are
back. What happened?

I couldn’t relocate totally because I’m one of the people who
subscribe to the notion that ‘ibi ori dani si laagbe’ and it was clear
throughout my career that I had options of staying abroad. I am happy and
grateful to God that I have been created in Yorubaland and so far He has made
it enjoyable. It is exciting for me, not only Yoruba culture but all Nigerian
cultures. What happened was that I went there to see the Yorubas staying there
and see how they are faring.

I didn’t stay just in Porto Novo, Akete, Isede, Pobe, Ketu; I
went as far as Dassa up north , Sabe. I did spend quite some there, about three
years. If you watch the ‘Narrow Path’ for instance, the marriage scenes, where
they sing marriage songs, that is the song in that community. It shows that
this is Yorubaland and these are Yoruba people. That was really exciting for me
and obviously we reaped good things because the experience kicked off the
Beninoise film industry. Now, they make a lot of home videos just like in
Nigeria. I believe that our cooperation started that film industry up to a
point that they make films regularly and I am not needed anymore.

Why don’t you do
collaborations with other filmmakers?

It depends on the project. For instance, I would gladly
co-produce any Nigerian film from other cultures if they will do things from
their vast literary resources like ‘Danda’ by Arthur Nwankwo or any of Cyprian
Ekwensi’s or any of Chinua Achebe’s work. ‘The Passport of Malam Ilia’, things
like that. Most of [Mainframe’s] works spring from literature because I read a
lot when I was young; I love novels and literature and I will be willing to
work with [other filmmakers]; it depends on the orientation, if they want to
follow Hollywood. I don’t want to follow Hollywood, I’m an indigenous filmmaker,
I believe in telling our own great stories and finding expression and taking
the audience through my own cultural background. So I’m not really comfortable
making a film the Hollywood style. The prospect of a co-production where Samuel
L Jackson will play Sango, I don’t think it excites me.

Or because I want to penetrate international or American market
and I would use Danny Glover as Kabiyesi in my story. That’s not quite what I
want.

Mainframe recently
collaborated with NANTAP and Dance Guild of Nigeria to stage ‘Yeepa! Solarin
Nbo’. Can we expect more of such?

Yes, theatre has always been my passion because when I was in
Form Two at the Abeokuta Grammar School around 1963, I was part of the
excursion team that travelled all the way from Abeokuta to watch ‘The Palmwine
Drinkard’ at the 0bisesan Hall in Ibadan. It was a privilege watching Kola
Ogunmola on stage and it was a production of the University of Ibadan. It was
the first time I sat in a theatre where I witnessed the effect of lighting; when
the light changed to black or came on, my head was this big. It must have made
a lasting impression on me. Again, I was privileged to have [seen] all the
great plays, like ‘Oba Koso’ and ‘Kurunmi’, for instance, and ‘Danda’. For me,
it’s seeing those people live on stage, appreciating them. Sunny Oti, Shodipo.
The thrill I got looking at Duro Ladipo on stage or Ogunde on stage, I thought
they were not human beings. It’s a disaster that we have not documented any of
the great classics, so I would really have loved to do ‘The Palmwine Drinkard’
on stage for the 50th anniversary of Nigeria Independence but of course we
couldn’t because of the shortage of time and then Lagos State came in at just
the time for us to stage ‘Yeepa! Solarin Nbo’.

What was exciting for me is the the possibilty of doing the
standard Yoruba presentation where you do an opening glee, because the Yoruba
theatre which has influenced me was ‘Total Theatre’. Before we watch the play
they will do an opening glee which is a song and dance routine – perhaps a
summary of the whole play in dance. And at the end of the day, they will do a
closing glee, so I conceived that and wanted to work with NANTAP and the Dance
Guild of Nigeria to do an opening glee and to use Ogunde’s ‘Yoruba Ronu’ and ‘Petepete’
by 9ice to give it a contemporary touch. We tried to bring it back during the
Ileya (Eid) festival with LTV and corporate sponsors because, coming out of the
play, I am seeing things like people saying: I have never watched a Yoruba
stage play in my life. People saying: we have never watched anything like this
in 25 years. This doesn’t even speak well of the country.

It’s a pity, a shame really and I think somehow, we have to find
a means of continuing and in my lifetime produce ‘The Palmwine Drinkard’ before
all the original cast die. I know where the material is. One or two people are
still alive and its been studied… I befriended Pa Amos Tutuola before he
died, I visited him at Odo Ona, Ibadan, several times.

What next after Ma’ami?

I have a string of projects lined up. First, I will like to do
an adaptation of Yinka Egbokhare’s ‘The Dazzling Mirage’, about sickle cell.
Then I will have to quickly do another Yoruba film to pacify the Yoruba
audience so I will do an adaptation of Femi Osofisan’s ‘Wuraola’ and then I
will love to do ‘Cordelia’, which is another Osofisan stuff. This is set
against a popular military coup and I have always wanted to do something about
one of our military coups. Then I will do ‘Dog’s on Lions Trail’ which I have
shelved for about seven years. It’s an adaptation of Kola Akinlade’s ‘Aja To N
Lepa Ekun’. It’s interesting because all those five or six films I have
mentioned are adaptations from literary resource.

We don’t have as much
production anymore in Yoruba literature; will there come a time when you run
out of resource?

It’s not possible because if I take to Ifa corpus, for instance,
those are more than a thousand stories. Our ancestors have already done all the
work and passed all these things to us. It’s another thing if we close our eyes
and turn our back on it and never look. It’s not possible in two lifetimes to
exhaust literary resource. We haven’t even touched any of Fagunwa’s works. Two
pages of D.O. Fagunwa is about two films. It’s all there.

Chinua Achebe turned thirty in 1960, the year Nigeria became an
independent country. His novel, ‘Things Fall Apart’ had been published only two
years earlier. That same year 26-year-old Wole Soyinka returned home after a
six-year sojourn in England. Soyinka’s ‘A Dance of the Forest’ made its
Nigerian debut during the Independence celebrations.

50 years later, none of the initial promise that accompanied
Nigeria’s birth has been fulfilled, and both men, understandably, are
frustrated.

In September, Soyinka, now 76, launched a political party; “an
experiment… that directly challenges those who grumble that there is no
platform, no springboard from which they can provoke the political arena with
fresh and innovative ideas.”

Like Soyinka, Achebe, now 80, is deeply aware of the urgent need
for change in his homeland. “Nigeria has passed the alarming stage and entered
the fatal, and will die if we continue to pretend she is slightly indisposed,”
he told the audience gathered to hear him speak at the Law faculty of the
University of Cambridge, on a chilly Friday evening in November.

Achebe’s relationship with independent Nigeria is fraught with
unrequited love. His achievements as writer (of ‘Things Fall Apart’ and several
other books) and editor (founding editor of the highly influential African
Writers Series) have played a significant role in placing Nigeria on the world
map.

In return, Nigeria has (admittedly) been generous, but only in a
perverse way: setting up the conditions that compelled Achebe’s ethnic group,
the Igbo, to embark on a secession attempt (Achebe suffered heavy losses – his
home, library, his close friend, Christopher Okigbo – during the war that
followed); destroying the local publishing industry that once sustained the
AWS; proving incapable of providing decent medical attention after the 1990 car
crash that paralysed him from the waist down; mocking him with the offer of a national
honour while his home state lay under siege from government-backed thugs. (He
publicly turned down the honour, an action that both incensed and embarrassed
the government).

Flawed beginnings

Achebe was in Cambridge to deliver the inaugural African Studies
Lecture, in honour of Audrey Richards, founder (in 1965) of the University’s
Centre of African Studies. I was twenty minutes late when I arrived at the
venue of the lecture. I met a full hall, with a crowd gathered outside, some
standing on chairs, straining to listen. Unable to squeeze into the hall, I was
forced to mount a chair and struggle to catch his words from behind a glass
wall, until squatting space opened up for me on the floor of the auditorium.

Achebe’s words bore a vigour that belied their speaker’s frail
appearance. The trademark wit remained undiminished. When I arrived he was
reading, from his forthcoming memoirs, a section, set in the distant past,
about “small Ghana” and “big Nigeria”. The difference between Nigeria and
Ghana, I heard him say, was that between “sixpence” and “one penny”.

The period, of course, was 1957, the year Ghana got her
independence. Small Ghana had achieved what Big Nigeria still struggled for –
freedom from British rule. Achebe recalled staying up all night to celebrate
with Lagos-based Ghanaians “only to wake up the next morning to realise we were
still in Nigeria.”

Nigeria would not make the transition from colonial state to
independent nation until three years later. That transition, Achebe said, was
flawed. The British handed over power to “that conservative element in the
country which had played no real part in the struggle for independence.”

Nigeria was thus born tense – its birth the beginning of its
unravelling. Seven years later, the ‘giant of Africa’ was on her knees, ravaged
by war. External influences (“the big powers”), said Achebe, played a
significant role in perpetuating conflict amongst the “small (expendable)
people of the world.”

Victorious Nigerian Head of State, Yakubu Gowon, proved to be a
clueless leader in peace-time, leading the newly-united nation into “decadence
and decline”. Achebe attributed this to Gowon’s being “ever so cocksure
following a civil war victory.”

Political adventure

Democracy would evade Nigeria until the very end of the 1970s,
when, Olusegun Obasanjo (the man who, almost a decade earlier, received the
instrument of surrender from the Biafrans), handed over the instrument of power
to Shehu Shagari, who became – not without controversy – Nigeria’s first
democratically elected civilian President.

In the early ‘80s Achebe joined the “left of centre” Peoples
Redemption Party (PRP), where, he says, he was “right away” appointed Deputy
National President. He found himself “the most unlikely candidate in politics.”
It didn’t take long for him to quit politics. He realised that the majority of
Nigeria’s politicians were in politics “for their own selfish advancement.”
Persons like PRP leader Aminu Kano (“a saintly man”) were rare.

The great paradox

Underlying Achebe’s deep frustration is pride in Nigeria’s
potential – its “very distinguished people” and their “great energy”. “Don’t be
misled by the fact that some of us are always complaining,” he joked.

Nigeria’s size is one of the reasons for that pride; the fact,
Achebe cheekily declared, that “God arranged that every fourth [person] in
Africa would be a Nigerian.”

This paradox – of a failed country of great people – is at the
heart of the Nigerian dilemma. “Why is it that we don’t seem to be making anything
out of these gifts?” Achebe queried.

He equated leadership with “priesthood” because of the “sacred
trust” required by both. Noting that there was a direct link between crude oil
and corruption in Nigeria, he said functioning anti-corruption and judicial
systems are necessary to make corruption “unattractive”.

“Hold people responsible for misconduct and punish them if
they’re guilty.” He also called for the abolition of the Official Secrets Act,
and the speedy passage of the Freedom of Information (FOI) Bill.

But here was a man as hopeful as he was critical. “Nigerians
have begun to ask themselves the hard questions,” he said, adding: “The
Nigerian solution will come in stages.”

‘I want to see Chinua’

A drinks reception followed the lecture. Achebe was swarmed by
adoring fans seeking handshakes and photographs; wielding books in need of
signing.

Guests at the lecture included the Acting Nigerian High
Commissioner to the United Kingdom, Dozie Nwanna; Etisalat Nigeria Chairman
Hakeem Bello-Osagie (one of the sponsors of the event); Royal African Society
Director Richard Dowden, and Cambridge’s Vice Chancellor Leszek Borysiewicz.

Thurstan Shaw, long-time Achebe friend, and Emeritus Professor
of Archaeology at the Universities of Ibadan and Cambridge, arrived after the
lecture. It was Shaw who, in the late 1950s, led the excavation of the bronze
pieces in Igbo-Ukwu, South-eastern Nigeria, groundbreaking evidence of the
existence of an ancient Igbo civilisation dating back to the ninth century.

His wife, herself a Cambridge professor, accompanied him.
According to her, the 97-year-old Shaw insisted he wanted to “see Chinua”. And
so she had brought him. Unfortunately Achebe had left the lecture venue by the
time they arrived, and Shaw was too frail to make the trip to the venue of the
dinner holding in honour of the father of the African novel later that evening.

Shaw would leave without seeing Achebe. I left Cambridge pondering on the
poignancy of that missed opportunity.

The great Chinua
Achebe once told the story of how, when raising his daughters, he could
not find books written specifically for them. He proceeded to write
books for them. The writer Ayodele Olofintuade (a.k.a Ayodele Enitan
Alabi) has written such a book. I have just finished reading her book,
Eno’s Story; I am simply blown away by the beauty of its story. This is
one of the best works I have read in a long time. The illustrations
alone are worth the price of a copy. The artist, Bolaji Liadi is quite
simply brilliant. Using watercolour as a medium he masterfully sketches
the angst and joys of children born into a war that they did not ask
for. I am so pleased with the quality of this work; it rivals any
Western piece on children’s literature that I have ever read. The words
that I can think of in describing this little book are: Engaging,
enchanting, instructional, funny, and well researched. The dialogue
flows quite well too.

All parents will
warm to this triumphant tale of a brave little girl who has to deal with
the trauma of being accused of witchcraft by mean, ignorant adults. In
Eno’s story, we inherit a heart-break of a story, and we become living
witnesses to the tortured lives of children who believed they were
infected with witchcraft because they had been so labelled by
misbehaving adults. Eno’s story is both heart breaking and heartwarming.
It is really affirming of our humanity to see a Nigerian book that
actually celebrates a little girl who is in a loving, wholesome
nurturing relationship with her father. What a novel concept.

I am so in love
with Eno’s Story. I read it in one sitting because I wanted to see what
was lurking on the next page. I adopted this little girl Eno; I wanted
to protect and nurture my little Eno. Again, the illustrations are to
die for. I am quite simply in awe of the collaboration between writer
and visual artist. The illustrations leap bravely from the story, they
are an integral part of the story. We may have just found the most
effective way to tell the story of what is happening to children, youth,
and women in Nigeria. Perhaps the publishers, Cassava Republic, could
partner with talented authors like Alabi and start a Children’s series. I
will pay for every one of them, yes. And I am going to adopt Eno. I
don’t care that she is a fictional character. Here is a standing ovation
for Enitan Ayodele Alabi and Cassava Republic. There is hope. Yes. A
few editorial issues mar an otherwise stellar production, but this is
how to tell a story. There has to be a way to publish this story abroad,
in the West. This book proves that we can really tell a story about
injustice our own way. There is no overwrought sensationalism here; this
is not a tired tale, even though it is covering familiar material.
Eno’s Story is quite literally the story of thousands of beautiful
children born into a war in Nigeria and it sounds like somehow they are
surviving and triumphing over the trauma. Adults should be ashamed of
themselves. Our leaders should be shot for allowing this to happen to
children.

It is not a
perfect production, but who cares; I am in love with this book. I would
have liked the book to complement the English names of indigenous
offerings like akara (bean cake) and Fried yam (dun dun). It is time for
us to start asserting our heritage. I am also worried that thieving
NGO’s in Nigeria, begging bowls allegedly working on behalf of the
Nigeria downtrodden will gleefully adopt ‘Eno’s Story’ as proof that
they are doing real work in Nigeria. I can see them stapling this
beautiful book to their beggar-applications for funds from the West to
fuel their opulence. An unspoken scandal in places like Haiti and
Nigeria is the amount of Western aid that has been gobbled and wasted by
these pretend-angels with not a penny going to the intended
benefactors. On the other hand, maybe this little tome will inspire them
to do their work. But for now, shame on every one of them engaged in
doing nothing in Africa.

Alabi brings together simply and expertly without any fuss, many
issues. It is a fidgety person’s delight. The illustrations are so good,
the reader’s face falls with disappointment whenever one flips to a
page without an illustration. The illustrations break up the text nicely
and it is possible to stop reading on a page and simply gawk or gawp
with joy at the illustration. No space is wasted, the layout is
exquisitely done. This is indeed one of the best children’s books I
have ever read and believe me, as the parent of four children I have
read more children’s books than I ever care to count. Eno’s Story is a
refreshing approach to confronting our anxieties.

Chike Onuorah’s latest exhibition, ‘Commitment’ opened at Terra Kulture on December 4, 2010. Displayed prominently on the gallery wall was the exhibition’s title painting, ‘Commitment’, which encapsulated the theme of the show.
The painting of a woman carrying a baby with three hands painted in different colours, the artist said the work depicted dependency and then responsibility. “Your kids are dependent on you. They give you a sense of purpose. It’s only commitment that will make you nurture a child that can give you nothing in return,” he said.He added that one needs three hands to raise a child; one to love, another to nurture and a third for discipline. Hardly surprising that in the piece, the hand meant for discipline is the longest.
Onuorah’s philosophy of commitment is one he holds dear. “There is no success without commitment,” he pointed out. “It takes commitment to bring out what is on the inside to reality.” Onuorah also practises commitment; his determination to always mount an exhibition every year no matter what it costs him, attests to this.
The week-long exhibition showcased about 30 works of different media: oil, acrylic and charcoal on canvas. One unique thing that did not go unnoticed was the fact that the artist had attached a short poem to every single painting on display.
On the reason behind this, he said that a lot of people who have no eye for art would come to an exhibition like this and leave without an understanding of the works and the message they intended to convey. “The poems will help the viewers in that it will lead them into a dialogue with the picture. So they can get what you are saying,” he explained.
In addition to this, Onuorah disclosed that the inspiration for each of the poems came as he worked on the paintings; and they are meant for eventual publication. The poetic accompaniment to one of the works, ‘Finally’, expressed relief and a sense of accomplishment.Another one titled ‘Wall Street’, with its portrayal of people and their different means of livelihoods, expressed street sense and the importance of being skilled in one’s chosen endeavour. ‘Togetherness’, which was a bit more abstract and symbolic in design, carried with it an eight-line poem that spoke about the spirit of unity.
On what influences his art, Onuorah stated, “God is my influence. I have seen many works and every artist has his own individual style. I am doing my own thing. I paint what I see and feel”.
Asked why there seemed to be quite a focus on the female figure in many of the paintings, Onuorah said that women are expressive and he finds them a fluid medium through which to express whatever he wants to say through his paintings.
For instance, the painting titled ‘Finally’ was a woman with one clenched hand raised in expression that could be interpreted in different ways, even if the poem had not revealed that it was an expression of achievement.
Onuorah studied Fine Arts at the University of Benin and graduated in 1988. Aside from art practice, he has worked as a creative consultant. The artist has also conducted quite a number of exhibitions in and outside Nigeria; and is a member of the Society of Nigerian Artists (SNA) in addition to the Atlanta Society of Artists, USA and Romania Society of Artists.
The curator at the Terra Kulture Art Gallery, Olumide Faturoti, commended Onuorah for his commitment to his work. “His exhibitions have been consistent” he said.
‘Commitment’ is at Terra Kulture from December 4 to 10.