by Douglas
Messerli
Wapah Ezeigwe (screenwriter and
director) Country Love / 2022 [45 minutes]
Nigerian
Igbo filmmaker Wapah Ezeigwe has created something quite remarkable in his
fairly simply-plotted Country Love.
Fifteen years earlier, Kambili (Kelechi
Michael) has left his country home, perceiving that as a gay boy he was not
only hated by those around him but also could find room in his Mother’s heart.
This is, after all, Nigeria were expressions of homosexuality, male and female,
are punishable by imprisonment of up to 14 years, and where even admitting to
your sexuality often results in public violence.
After his long time away, Kambili’s sister
Nneka (Uzoamaka
Onuoha) writes him of his mother’s death and begs him to return, arguing that
she is totally alone, filled with guilt, and wishes to demonstrate her love,
although she had generally gone along with his Mother’s viewpoints during his
childhood. Yet it is not his sister’s love alone that brings the handsome, now
grown man back to his beautiful homestead; he has left behind his boyhood
lover, Ifediora (Divine Ahiwe), for whom he has promised to return and help him
escape as well.
Kambili’s first perception upon returning
by hired car with is suitcase and several bags tied to the car’s roof, is that
nothing much has changed, signaled by his own sister’s reluctance even to run
to him with an open-hearted greeting. He moves toward her, and their hugs are
anything but enthusiastic.
He soon learns that, in fact, little has
changed. The boys who taunted and beat him when he was a boy still play soccer
in a field as adults. Nneka suggests that he join them, with Kambili attempting
to explain that he was never friends with his fellow school peers and that
football is not his game.
While the priest officiated the games, the
boys let Kambili play, but the moment the priest left
they
kicked him off the field and often beat him.
She is also attending a wedding
announcement the next day, and suggests he join her since he might meet a nice
girl there. It’s clear she has still has no intentions of supporting his
existence as a gay man. She has, however, returned his small room to its
original condition, even with the same photos on the wall, in which he left it.
And momentarily they find moments of laughter and joy together. But the
tensions of his childhood are still strongly represented by his sister.
When he rushes off to find Ifediora, he
finds a rather bitter young man, angry with Kambili for not returning sooner,
and arguing that things have “changed.”
Kambili does join his sister the next day to celebrate the wedding
announcement, but he makes himself up with eyeliner and powder, much to her
consternation, beforehand, dressing in a controversial outfit for the country
dwellers.
There he again runs into Ifediora, who this time draws him into a back room—Nneka following with justified suspicion as she observes them briefly kiss—before the two run off to a secret place that Ifediora has found with a hillside view of the lush countryside around them.
They
make love, and for a few minutes it appears that their relationship has abided
during Kambili’s long absence. That is, until Ifediora reiterates that he is
soon marrying a woman to please his mother and the society, particularly the
church, surrounding. Unlike his dear childhood friend, Ifediora does not have
the strength or the self-recognition to escape his childhood home, the lessons
of a narrow-minded parish priest, or the homophobic attitudes of the country in
general, and
When Kambili returns to his childhood
home, he discovers that Nneka has thrown most of his clothing into the front
yard, burning some of his pants and shirts. Like Nneka before him, he spies on
her in her room where she has broken down into sobbing, but backs off before
she discovers his presence.
The next morning, she announces that she
has written the letter to him because she had hoped he had changed, admitting
that like his mother, she too can never accept his existence as a gay man, the
sorrow of which will result in her death.
Soon after, with no other choices offered
to him, Kambili calls the car service as we watch him bring out the suitcase
and bags which he throws into the back seat before being driven off, Nneka, in
the background, kneeling in sorrow for the differences between them and the
loneliness she will once again now face for her own choices.
Through all of this, Kambili does not
argue, but holds his own in demanding his sister, lover, and the community
accept him for who he is despite their homophobic attitudes. In a sense, they,
who all recognize his as someone special, lose the one who might have made all
their lives richer.
To contextualize Nneka’s and Ifediora’s
behavior it might be useful to know that not only is homosexuality outlawed,
but in a 2007 Pew Global Attitudes poll 97% of Nigerians believed that
homosexuality is a way of life that society should not accept—the second
highest of all the nations they polled.
Accordingly, we immediately recognize just how brave the director and
actors were to create this work.
The beautifully filmed short has the aroma
of being semi-autobiographical, although Ezeigwe understandably, given the prevailing
laws and attitudes, denies it is autobiographical. In an interview with Sheba
Anyanwu in Cinelogue “they” (Eziegwe’s preferred pronoun) respond:
“While
Country Love isn’t autobiographical, it’s deeply personal. As a queer
individual, I wanted to address the broader queer experience. Growing up in a
conservative society, I faced challenges and prejudice, which inspired me to
create a film that reflects universal queer experiences while highlighting
often-overlooked stories.”
Indeed, the director, now based in the
Nigerian city of Lagos, the largest in Africa, generally couches his films in
an international context: “I’m passionate about creating films that transcend borders
and speak to the human experience. I believe every story should resonate globally.
Country Love is a testament to this philosophy, and I’m delighted that
it connects with audiences both in Nigeria and internationally.”
And elsewhere in that same interview they
argue “Country Love reflects Nigerian realities but aims to engage with
a global audience. Homophobia and prejudice are universal issues. Films should
challenge these norms and foster dialogue beyond geographical and cultural
boundaries.”
If these seem to be generalized comments
that speak around the issue of Nigerian homophobia, however, in a 2022
interview with Uzoma
Ihejirika in Open Country Magazine, Eziegwe is much more forthcoming about
the difficulties of making such a movie in their country:
“
‘I wasn’t willing to compromise any of my artistic vision,’ Ezeigwe said. ‘When
I was looking for a shooting location, I remember going from one lecturer’s
quarters to another and getting a full-blown no. I felt miserable. The fact
was, I was making a ‘queer film’ and I had to be
very picky about the places I choose to tell the story.’
But it wasn’t just about their aesthetic
vision. ‘I didn’t want to expose my actors to any sort of homophobic attack or
maybe some altercation. I had to lie to a lot of people a lot of times and I
don’t even feel sorry for lying to them. There were no two ways about it: the
story is ‘abominable’ to society, but the story must be told because it is
worthy to be told and the only way to get it done was to be intentional with
what I say and to be very unapologetic about saying them!’”
Later in the same interview, the director
makes it even clearer what is vision is about homosexuality in general:
“But
Ezeigwe is very interested in ‘the right representation of queer desire in
cinema,’ they added. ‘There should be a conscious effort in portraying queer
desire from a place of authenticity and genuine love. We should first talk
about what love truly feels between humans, and not gender, then we should
address that imagination that people have about two men in a relationship.’
As a femme queer person who is non-binary,
nothing makes them laugh more than ‘that silly notion of ‘masculinity’ and
toughness and roughness as the valid portrayal or image of what queer desire
looks like or should look like.’
They continued. ‘I find that very
offensive, because it cancels queer diversity, and then when people, especially
heterosexuals, think of two homosexual men in a relationship, it is imagined to
be some sexual battle, when in trueness two men can be tender and mild and pampering
towards each other because that is exactly what love feels like—two men in a
sexual exploration can be romance, can be erotic, intense, and subtle because
homosexuality is never about ‘masculine’ presentation or masculinity. I am keen
about dismissing that idea that separates queer bodies from love and
tenderness.’
It is that tenderness in Country Love’s
central character that is most noticeable about his ability to remain true to
himself. Despite the hate surrounding him, the terror of his memories about the
place, Kambili remains open to engage. Yet when told that no one in his
childhood community is willing to offer the same openness, he simply leaves
once again, allowing them to suffer in their hollow and hateful lives. Kambili
is no missionary; he is only a man true to himself.
Finally, it an interview with Adelard in Gay Christian Africa, Ezeigwe was asked to speak directly to their bravery of creating such a film:
“Q:
You are making a queer film in one of the countries with the most hostile laws
against ‘homosexuality’ in the world. Aren’t you afraid of being harassed or
your movie being banned?
A:
I am a very passionate filmmaker, and it is the passion to tell stories that
gives me the courage
Before we tsk-tsk the Nigerian situation when it comes to queer
behavior, we should recall that from 1934-the early 1960s, the Motion Picture
Code did not allow any gay content in US films, and during that same period and after, in many states gay men and lesbians were often
arrested for simply gathering in a restaurant or bar. Given the US history of
bans on just such gay cinematic stories, perhaps we can learn equally from
someone like Wapah Ezeigwe.
Los
Angeles, July 14, 2025
Reprinted
from My Queer Cinema (July 2025).