Op-Ed: Why African Stories Are Global Stories

I often return to memories of my childhood with my brother Wale in Gbagada Phase 2. I still remember coming home after school and looking out our large window upstairs, curious about what life was like beyond the horizon. These moments are specific to my childhood, but when I share them in different corners of the world, I see recognition in people’s eyes. Some things are universal in their specificity. I see people think of their own days of playing football barefoot in the streets, trying not to let the ball enter the gutter, or kicking the ball over the fence and having to go to the neighbors to retrieve it. Our stories are ours, but after they’re told, they take on a life of their own. They travel. They connect us. 

African stories are global stories: our lives are not marginal or peripheral. They hold within them the same struggles, joys, and contradictions that define the universal human experience. Our stories have been passed down for generations with an honesty and vibrance that rings true across time and format. With the right infrastructure for filmmakers and storytellers on the continent, I believe the more rooted they are in our truths, the further they can reach.

My debut feature film, My Father’s Shadow, began as a very personal exploration of memory, history, identity, and fatherhood. When Wale first brought the idea that would eventually become the film to me in 2015, I had an emotional reaction. It was the first script I had read by someone that I knew. It made me weep. I had never conceived of a story about our lives fictionalized in this way. 

My Father’s Shadow is set in June 1993, a moment of political turmoil in Nigeria following the annulment of the June 12 election. Even in my memories as a vaguely aware eight-year-old, I knew 1993 was a very definitive year in Nigeria. The annulment set off a chain of years of unrest that enthralled Nigeria into an even more brutal dictatorship and human rights atrocities.

In our film, two brothers spend a rare day with their estranged father in Lagos, moving through the labyrinth of the city. It is a portrait of a country at a crossroads, but also a very insular story of a family trying to hold on to each other. We lost our father when I was two, and as long as I can remember, my brother and I have been on this journey to build a relationship with someone who is not there, using our memories. Through our film, we reflect how loss at a young age means you only have a few moments to get glimpses of the flaws, vulnerabilities, dreams, and ideas that make up the complex people we have to grieve.

I knew, during the process of writing with Wale, that we would be including our own grief. We decided to make a film that revolves around a father, to the detriment of not having a maternal figure, even though our mother has probably been the single most important person in our lives. My Father’s Shadow intentionally centralizes that paternal relationship that so many people try to navigate. Its themes of love, loss, and memory speak far beyond where the story is set.

My Father’s Shadow became the first Nigerian movie to be selected for the Cannes Official Selection. I didn't quite understand the significance till people in Nigeria caught wind of the film and began to message and follow me. In all honesty, it's one thing to be accepted by the festival; it's another to have a whole nation proud and excited about a project they haven't seen! We received the Caméra d'Or Special Mention. That recognition, for a story that is completely Nigerian, and completely shot in Lagos and Ibadan, is historic, but what I’ve really loved is speaking to people from all over the world about how they found their own memories, longing, and joy in the film. A story told truthfully, no matter how regional and specific, will always carry universal resonance.

For our stories to reach this wide audience, we have to build on the infrastructure of how they’re made. This is why I co-founded Fatherland in Lagos with Wale and Funmbi Ogunbanwo. We wanted to build a studio that honors our history while creating opportunities for the future. Over eighty percent of My Father’s Shadow’s cast and shooting crew is Nigerian.

We discovered two new tactile actors in Chibuike Marvellous Egbo and Godwin Egbo through a street casting initiative for the film. When I first met them, I didn’t even know they were brothers. I just thought they had really formed a bond. They were really supportive of each other and picked things up really quickly. It was quite a lot to ask both boys to carry the film, but we rehearsed and workshopped, and after that, we knew they would be our leads.

On the set of our film, Nigerian and international crew collaborated, with expertise and cultural context flowing in both directions. Many of the crew members had never done anything like this before, and they all went above and beyond. My Father’s Shadow sets several new precedents, and I hope that the model it creates empowers local talent, inspires storytellers, and spotlights us to the world.

As my first feature, the process of filming My Father’s Shadow did feel daunting sometimes — I’d wonder: would I be able to do it? But I was surrounded by so much love from the cast and crew, and that really showed me I really enjoy the collaborative nature of filmmaking — where we all learn from each other and encourage each other. It’s an endurance activity, but one you understand more the further you get into it.

I hope Nigerian audiences will relate to the same things that I love about My Father’s Shadow. Trying to navigate family politics, the spirituality, and the psychology of these aspects in this mid-nineties Nigerian period drama is what helps make this film unique. We’ve tried to make something that is accessible, so that when people watch it, they see a reflection of themselves and experiences that they are familiar with.

With films like this, we are archiving our histories, our cultures, our daily lives. We’re saying our voices belong, that our imagination matters, and that our perspectives enrich the collective human archive. African stories are global stories because they carry the weight of history and the intimacy of personal memory. They can be made in Ibadan, Lagos, Nairobi, or Accra, but when they land in Toronto, Busan, Melbourne, and London, they find new homes.

My Father’s Shadow is one story we’ve written. It has become many “firsts,” but it won’t be the last. My hope is that it encourages people across the continent and the diaspora to be fearless in telling their own stories and trust that their vision is enough. Because the truth is simple: when we tell our stories with honesty and care, the world listens.

Akinola Davies Jr.’s 'My Father’s Shadow' opened in Nigerian theaters last weekend.