By Muhsin Ibrahim The uproar over Sultan Abdurrazak’s Film House in Dorayi is astonishing, though, on reflection, perhaps not entirely surprising. There are several film houses in Kano, Kaduna, Jigawa, Gombe, and elsewhere. The films we watch and discuss, and sometimes quietly enjoy, are shot in those very houses. Why is this one different? Why is this one being rejected? This is not, after all, the first time such a proposal has met with hostility. When the federal government under President Muhammadu Buhari proposed building a dedicated Film Village to serve as a production hub for the Nigerian film industry, the reaction in many Northern circles was swift and dismissive. Critics saw it as a government-sponsored gateway to moral corruption, a physical infrastructure for an industry they would rather see disappear. The Film Village never materialised, at least not in the form envisioned, and the opposition it generated revealed something important: many people’s problem is not w...
By Muhsin Ibrahim Inna lillaahi wa innaa ilaihi raaji’un! There is a particular cruelty in the timing of some deaths, a cruelty that refuses to be explained away. Muslim Abdurrazak Ibrahim, 31, died on a Friday. Every Friday without fail, he would send a Jumu’at Mubarak message, a small ritual of love and faith that connected him to family and friends across the distance between a soldier’s post and the world back home. On this Friday, he sent nothing. He could not. He had already gone. Muslim was the firstborn son of Abdurrazak, who named him after his uncle — a tribute to my older brother, Muslim. Abdurrazak, a retired soldier, had fought in battles inside and outside Nigeria and had returned home carrying the weight of friends lost in the trenches of Liberia, Sierra Leone, and beyond. His children, Muslim and his brother Bilal, would both join the Nigerian Army. The week of his death was, without either of us knowing it, a week of farewells. On Wednesday, my busiest day, Muslim aske...