Jah people, the Africa Cup of Nations is finally water under the bridge.
As a small-scale soccer slave, I can do with a consistently improving Nigeria regaining the trophy after 19 years in the wilderness.
For mathematics’ sake, 19 is the passport-certified age of Nigeria’s youngest player—defender Kenneth Omeruo.
For art’s sake, I wish that country’s filmmakers recovered from their slumber sooner than it took the Super Eagles to soar again.
Their film industry—Nollywood—is trumpeted as the fastest growing and it produces more films than Bollywood or Hollywood.
Play their films. Theirs is the slowest motion picture that steals from the poor every time as an incomplete story spills to more compact discs.
In their slow motion, the igwes, ashawos and other Nollywood brains see nothing wrong with wasting time on turning car tyres as supporting actors do nothing worth the cameras.
They happily sop their nairas in predictable storylines and recycled themes, including witchcraft and false prophecies. Chinekeee!
In their futile search for home-grown alternatives, some Malawians sanitise the Nollywood eyesore as ‘African culture’. This erroneously implies that our newfound diplomatic friends from West Africa share the totality of their way of life with the rest of the continent.
Overtime, reviewers have compiled a litany of shortfalls of the grainy imported films.
Elementary economics show something can only be called an industry if its practitioners earn a living strictly by doing what it entails.
But it is no secret that award-winning Seasons of a Life filmmaker Shemu Joyah lives on land surveying. And some topflight actors are living on artisans jobs.
Call it Mollywood or Nyasa Films, the movie scene will be just what it is—a nameless baby in the womb or a silent giant lacking financial injections to realise its potential.
Until the country starts investing in film-making as a serious business, contemplating names for the fruitless woods wrongfully considered Malawian film industry will be premature.
