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Kalu Ikeagwu is a celebrated British-Nigerian actor and writer, with standout performances in many Nollywood films. A graduate of the University of Nigeria, where he earned a degree in English Literature, Kalu has also made his mark on television with appearances in award-winning series including ‘Domino’, ‘Tinsel’, ‘Super Story’, and ‘Doctor’s Quarters’. In this interview on Nollywood on Radio, he shares insights into his journey and experience in Nollywood, among other topics. ROTIMI IGE monitored the interview and presents excerpts.

You schooled in England and Zambia, and then you also graduated from the University of Nigeria, where you studied English Literature. Did your living in England and Zambia affect the man you have become today as an actor?

Immensely, because sometimes I feel like when someone says he is the son of a soldier or a policeman, I understand what they mean. You get posted everywhere, as a soldier or policeman. The children never really gather moss wherever they are; they’re always in different places. I think that’s how I feel sometimes. But kudos to my father, he made sure by that by age four, I could read and write Igbo. My father banned English from the house, you go outside and speak your English. He made sure Igbo was spoken in the house, where I learned everything I knew about my culture. So, I’m kind of a split personality, I’m a very down-to-earth village man and at the same time, I have everything mixed in me so I can play or do anything that comes to mind because my dad made sure I was rooted, all of us were rooted in our culture right from birth.

You get a lot of scripts and offers, how do you decide which of them to take?

Before anything else, I read the script. From what I learned in school, whatever movie you do is supposed to inform, educate, and entertain at the same time. I didn’t really take it that seriously until one day, I think, when my mother came to visit me. When I was seeing her off at the airport, she saw some people who were like, ‘Ah, can I take a picture? Can I sign an autograph?’ I never really told them what I was doing. So she was like, ‘Ah, this acting you went to do, it’s as if something is coming out of it. When next you’re coming to visit, bring one of your movies so we can watch.’

When I returned to visit them, my brothers were present. During the movie, it got to a point where I had a scene with Ini Edo and we had to kiss. I completely forgot that scene was there because I had looked for the safest movie I could find. As the scene was about to start, I was like, ‘Oh, this scene is coming! Sweat was running down from my armpits, and I just started retreating. My brothers already knew what was coming, so they said, ‘Ah, Mummy, where is this your son going? What is he doing?’ I disappeared from that place, and I looked at myself and thought, ‘I’m not a small boy anymore; why am I so nervous around my mother?’

It dawned on me that the training your parents give you never leaves you. Though it wasn’t a bad movie, it just made me realise I would never take part in a film my mother can’t watch. My father is late, so that one is different. I think that’s the main thing that really inspires me to make sure I read the scripts of movies I appear in. I don’t care how much you’re paying me or how big the budget is; the message is always the most important.

Are you ever going to step out of your calm persona of doing family-friendly films, perhaps an action role or a character very different from the calm persona we often see on screen?

I had a shot at that in ‘Cheta’M’. In it, people hated my guts. It was an English/Igbo series. I played three different characters all in the same body, so my body was inhabited by different spirits and stuff like that, and one was really evil. I enjoyed that one because it was outside my scope and in fact, I had to learn a different dialect of Igbo. I think that was the most challenging role I’ve ever had, and I like playing bad guys; it’s really good fun. Something outside you and I had to be very energetic outside my normal, calm self and stuff, so it was fun.

If you did not make it as an actor, what other career path would you have chosen?

Teaching, definitely or I’d have been a writer. I do a bit of storytelling too. But it would have been teaching. My father was a teacher, and he rose through the ranks. He was a primary school teacher, then went into teacher training school, then went into secondary school teaching before he was sent on scholarship to go to overseas to study, and then came back and became a lecturer. So I went through the whole gamut; I had to learn how to read and write Igbo. Originally, I was supposed to become a doctor, read medicine, but because my father made sure I read a lot of literature, I fell in love with storytelling, and that’s why I insisted I was going to read English literature in the university.

Nollywood has become such an enigma that a lot of people are watching, and we are now getting the attention of the world. What do you think informed us that made us that way? What do you think helped the industry grow into that, and where do you think is the next step for the industry in terms of growth?

It’s simple, self-confidence. My best movies are from 2000 and earlier, dating back to the early ’90s because they told stories about us, by us, for us. These films were so original and heartfelt, which is what attracted the whole world, even if they didn’t understand our culture. It was so impactful that, whenever I travel to the US, I meet people like Jamaicans giving their children Nigerian names. Everyone knows what Omugwo is, and it really helped us because, surprisingly, abroad they actually think we swing from trees like monkeys. Imagine their shock when they see beautiful houses and people with a rich culture. Especially with Nigeria, Africa as a whole, or even the black diaspora-when you see a parent disciplining a child in a movie, everyone understands what it means: that broom or slipper will follow you and hit you right on the butt. Black people understand that, and it really resonates because many times they feel alienated, like strangers.

But when they see models like Nigeria-so confident-they immediately feel they haven’t lost their culture. They feel connected, and that really endeared them to us. We went through that phase with great storytelling but lacked proper equipment; it wasn’t very strong. Most was analog, and as more sophisticated equipment came in, it became about picture quality and what you could produce. The storytelling scene was somewhat pushed aside, and often stories from Bollywood or Western tales were adapted into ours, which alienated viewers-they couldn’t connect. I believe there’s a resurgence of African stories, helped by music. Our music, unapologetically Nigerian, has gained global popularity. I think the film industry has also contributed-like the one I did with Tosin Igho, Uzor Arukwe, and others, which was an amazing story. It was a detective story, but using African methods to find the culprit-but with jazz and local traditions. Omowunmi Dada and RMD starred in it. That really resonated with us, sparking a renewal of stories by Africans, for ourselves, and exporting them to the world.

Have you ever produced a movie? There’s a new trend now that, as a producer, after you’ve done your work, you have to go the extra mile again and make sure to market it. And one of the ways to market it in Nigeria successfully is to dance. You have this sort of sage aura around you; will you dance to promote a film?

Yes, I’ve danced to promote. Dancing is not something I like to mention because I’m still very angry with Mary Lazarus. I had to dance, and I’m a terrible dancer. I hate dancing because I cannot dance to save my life. The only worse dancer than me is my younger brother. So please, don’t ask me to dance unless you pay me good, I have to rehearse very well before.

What if it’s your film?

I’ll dance. Have you seen white people dance? That’s how I dance, but a white person when they’re dancing, they dance so terribly, but they believe so much in themselves that they actually enjoy what they’re doing, making fools of themselves, that is how I’ll dance to promote my film.

Do you think it creates a dangerous trend in the industry?

You see, one thing you have to understand is why Nigerians are respected all over the world. They’re like the Agama lizard. If no one praises them, they’ll praise themselves and that is why what we are known for anything that works. That is why this country has not crumbled with all the stress it’s going through, they must find something to laugh at or smile so if it’s dancing that will do the job, so be it.

The Presidency on Thursday faulted activist, Omoyele Sowore’s plan to organise a protest march to the State House, Abuja, to demand the release of the detained leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), Nnamdi Kanu.

The activist, a former presidential candidate of the African Action Congress (AAC) in the 2023 general elections, doubles as the publisher of Sahara Reporters, an online news platform.

The Special Adviser to the President on Information and Strategy, Mr Bayo Onanuga, taking to his X handle, described Sowore as ‘an anarchist masquerading as a rights activist.’

Onanuga accused Sowore of planning to incite disorder under the guise of a protest against government.

The publisher had earlier announced that the #FreeNnamdiKanuNow demonstration would be held on October 20 at 7 a.m., describing it a ‘historic’ protest to press for release of the IPOB leader.

According to the presidential spokesman, the move is a deliberate attempt to undermine the rule of law, warning that the IPOB leader’s ongoing trial on charges of treason must be allowed to run its lawful course.

He tweeted, ‘You are nothing more than an anarchist masquerading as a rights activist. You very well know that Nnamdi Kanu is facing trial for treason, and yet you want to cause a breakdown of law and order by mobilising for a protest. Is this the kind of revolution you envisage for Nigeria, where the rule of law will be violated and your idea of justice would be the law of the jungle?’

He also chided former Vice-President Atiku Abubakar for expressing support for the planned protest, describing his stance as opportunistic and irresponsible for a statesman of his standing.

Onanuga notes ‘I am surprised that ex-VP Atiku Abubakar, who is always opportunistic, has supported the planned mob action. As a statesman, he should know better that matters of justice are not resolved on the streets but in the law court.’

He reaffirmed that while the judicial process in Kanu’s case may appear slow, the administration remains committed to due process and the rule of law.

He wrote, ‘While the wheel of justice can sometimes be grindingly slow, partly caused by Kanu’s lawyers, Nnamdi Kanu will eventually get the justice he deserves for his alleged transgressions.’

YOU could well describe it as a ‘smart campus’ if we were to deploy a contemporary description, for an academic space which packed so much within its moderate geographical land area. The University of Ilorin when it was birthed in 1975, germinated from the facilities of the erstwhile Government Technical College, Ilorin. It equally appropriated adjoining parcels of land around and about it, where it sat between the thighs of Agbo-Oba and Adewole Estate, in the capital of Kwara State. While a futuristically planned, idyllic, eye-catching campus spread across a land area of more than 10,000 hectares was gradually in the works elsewhere in Ilorin, academic activities began decisively in the primal mini campus of the institution. By the time I was admitted into the institution in 1982, the faculties of Arts, Social Sciences, Education and Clinical Medicine were already domiciled in the fledgling school. So compact was that academe that you could actually walk through the entire expanse in about an hour.

Extracurricular activities flourished side by side with approved academic curricula. I was always inclined towards performing and creative arts, including acting and creative writing. Indeed, I acted the role of King Odewale in the classic play The gods are not to Blame, written by the renowned Nigerian first-generation playwright, Ola Rotimi. It was the convocation performance of the Kwara State College of Technology (Kwaratech), Ilorin, just months before. As a student in the School of Basic Studies, (SBS) of the school where I wrote the Higher School Certificate Examination (HSC) moderated by the University of Cambridge, I was auditioned for the role and selected. The University of Ilorin, which we abridged as Unilorin, was going to provide more opportunities for the blossoming of this flair.

The Unilorin Creative Writers Group and the Ajon Players Drama Troupe were two extracurricular bodies which brought students together outside the classroom space. David Cook, the venerated British scholar who nurtured several East African writers including Ngugi wa Thiong’o during his stint in Makerere University, Uganda, reenacted his baby project in Unilorin. He developed a creative writing course for final year students of English, in addition to the writers’ group. The writers’ group drew enthusiasts predominantly from the Department of Modern European Languages, which prosecuted courses in English and French. The department has since been unbundled into separate departments for both pursuits. Notable members of the Unilorin Creative Writers Group included: Sola Babatunde, Tivlumun Nyitse, Blessing Wikina, Mopah Aileku, Sunnie Ododo, Wumi Raji, Rasheed Na’Allah, Hakeem Bello, Olufunmilayo Olusunle, (then Adedeji), among others. Guided by Cook and some of our other teachers, including Prayag Tripathi, (Indian); Russell Chambers, (American); Stephen Hesbon Lubega, (Ugandan); and Olu Obafemi, we met every week to discuss our teething efforts as cub writers. Some of us were concurrent members of Ajon Players, which further cemented our friendships and relationships.

It was from this background that Hakeem Babatunde Bello and I met and became good friends and brothers. I was in my final year when he was in the first year, but this was no barrier between Hakeem and me. Indeed, I graduated in 1985, but returned two years later for a master’s when he was in his final year. Once I completed my postgraduate work in 1989, my eyes were focused on a career in the media, where a number of my classmates were already cutting their teeth. I got a job in the Daily Times of Nigeria in Lagos in 1990, when the revolutionary, charismatic Dr Yemi Ogunbiyi, was Managing Director. Hakeem was rounding up his master’s at the University of Ibadan at the time and he equally had abiding interest in the media. A second-class upper honours degree graduate in English, I was sure he could contribute to the Ogunbiyi rebuild project in the Daily Times.

In 1991, I was redeployed from the Sunday Times, my first stop in the newspaper octopus, to the Daily Times, the flagship of the organisation. My reassignment left a vacuum in the Sunday Times and I was desirous that Hakeem replace me. I sure didn’t have the political or administrative leverage to bring him in at my level. But I had ideas which I believed we could explore. I tutored Hakeem to get referrals from any two of Ogunbiyi’s contemporaries who Ogunbiyi held in very high esteem. I told him to speak with Professors Femi Osofisan, Niyi Osundare and Olu Obafemi. I assured him that recommendations from any two of these literary giants, all Emeritus Professors now, and all recipients of the Nigerian National Order of Merit, (NNOM), will easily sway Ogunbiyi. My suggestion worked. Hakeem was engaged. Ayo Akinkuotu, Wole Olatimehin, Maurice Ogar, Edwin Baiye, Gbenga Ayeni, all alumni of Unilorin were already embedded in the *Daily Times* system. Tunde Rahman joined us along the line. It was my privilege to help Hakeem acclimatise in his new official address.

Hakeem was deployed to the same responsibilities I handled in Sunday Times. The brief necessitated standing astride the features and arts desks, and Hakeem acquitted himself competently. You couldn’t be a product of that premier university in the whole of present day Kwara, Kogi and Niger states, without being a standout in your vocation. The University of Ilorin was the archetypal Ilo-irin, the flaming forge where metals were beaten into shape. Hakeem and I had several editorial collaborations along the way. I was for instance assigned a full page in the Daily Times on Tuesdays, beginning from early 1994, for topical interviews with a broad spectrum of societal concerns. The series was titled Dialogue this Week. Hakeem and I conducted a few such engagements, including a very explosive one with Ken Saro-Wiwa, the famous Ogoni rights activist and prolific author. It was so insightful that it was serialised over two editions of the newspaper. (See the rest on www.tribuneonlineng.com)

I dared the ‘lion’s den,’ literally on one occasion, with Hakeem in tow. I wrote to Major General Mohammed Christopher Alli, the first Chief of Army Staff (COAS), during the administration of General Sani Abacha, asking him for an interview. Alli acknowledged my correspondence, surprisingly and fixed a date for our engagement. I laugh out loud to myself whenever I remember how fear-frozen Hakeem was on that visit. From the gate of the Army Headquarters in Lagos at the time, through the reception area on the ground floor of the complex, all the way to the floor of the COAS, we were confronted with the sight of armed-to-the-teeth, helmeted, mean-looking uniformed soldiers. Hakeem held very tightly to my dress all the way, seeking comfort and reassurance in me!

*Sat Guru Marahaji,* a self-styled sect leader who was based in Ibadan, who was always in the news those days, once caught our attention. Hakeem and I invited him to our office in the *Agidingbi, Ikeja,* Lagos office, for an interview. Yes we expected *Sat Guru Maharaji* would be accompanied by a few devotees of his sect, we didn’t expect the wholesale takeover of the sprawling expanse of our official space, by his adherents. How would our bosses react to this invasion? The Managing Director of *Daily Times* had offices in our *Kakawa,* corporate headquarters on Lagos Island, and in Agidingbi, respectively. We had very senior managers and editors who could be averse to the situation. Hakeem and I looked in each other’s eyes, even as he was confident I would typically conjure a solution to the situation. Happily, we had an understanding management which perceived we operated in the line of professional duty.

Hakeem got married in December 1993. Despite not having a car of mine, I was determined to attend the event with my fiance at the time. We hitch-hiked in public transportation from Lagos to Ibadan, and thereafter from Ibadan to *Ejioku,* Oyo State, which we thought was the venue of the wedding. We traced the home of Hakeem’s in-laws in the community, only to be told that the ceremony had been concluded and Hakeem had, as tradition dictated, taken his bride away! My fiance, now my wife of over 30 years and I, looked at ourselves and the overhead night sky. Hakeem’s mother-in-law interjected. As if reading our minds, Mama said she wouldn’t even accept that we travelled so late in the night, even if we came with our vehicle. A room had been prepared for us in the house and we will spend the night with them. Hakeem rose to become editor of the most important publications in the stable of the organisation, *Sunday Times* and *Daily Times* respectively. It doesn’t get bigger or better for a professional in our vocation. I had left the newsroom to function as an aide to former President Olusegun Obasanjo at the dawn of the Fourth Republic.

My relationship with Hakeem continued to flourish despite our geographical distances. I looked out for him whenever I was in Lagos, and he reciprocated whenever he was in Abuja. In the course of one of his trips to Abuja, back in 2007, he let me into the fact that he was functioning as media aide to Babatunde Fashola, SAN, who was Chief of Staff to President Bola Tinubu at the time. Fashola was being primed to succeed Tinubu and Hakeem was on the project. Having served three Governors in my state in media and public information roles, and having been campaign media attache to Obasanjo during his own electioneering, he sought my advice. We sat together through several sessions, fashioning probable items on a schedule of duties, cork sure the Tinubu influence would swing it for Fashola. That Hakeem was a constant fixture on Fashola’s core of principal officers for a record 16 years, between Fashola’s years in Government House, Lagos, and the Federal Ministry of Works and Housing in Abuja, speaks to his sterling qualities, both as an individual and a professional.

That we’ve served principals of different political inclinations has never affected or coloured the relationship between Hakeem and I. We are primarily friends and brothers, inseparably joined together, for over four decades. I literally dragged him to the Nasarawa State University, (NSUK), a few years ago, to go register for his doctoral programme. He ended up at the University of Abuja where I also did my doctorate. Hakeem shouldn’t let that intellectual flair, wither, I thought. My wife and I flew in 2023, from Abuja to attend the wedding of his eldest child, Barakah, in Lagos. A few years before, Hakeem’s wife joined us in Ilorin, as we began the final rites of passage for my father, Pastor Jacob Adeniyi Olusunle.

Hakeem learnt during the yuletide in 2019, that I was hospitalised in Ibadan. Here is a friend he considers too rugged to nurse a fever. He got into his car in Lagos and drove straight down to check up on me. Between us, we have nicknames, patented specifically by us. He hails me *Kogi O,* with reference to my abiding love for the state, much as the quality of leadership and governance of the nearly 34 years old state, has been pitifully underwhelming. I call him *Rapsy Kima,* the last bit an adaptation of his name, Hakeem. Both of us indeed share the same middle name, *Babatunde.* I’ve heard him hailed as *Funky Alhaji* by some of our propositions colleagues. What is more, Hakeem shares the same birthday, October 10, with my only daughter!

Hakeem Babatunde Bello has been as humble, self-effacing and amiable as much as the prototype Yoruba *omoluabi* can be. He is loyal to friendship, unassuming in carriage. I am personally and specifically excited to welcome my brother to the ‘sixth floor’ which to the glory of God I ascended earlier this year. Hakeem has ‘beaten’ me to becoming a *grandpa!* I will join you in no distant time, by God’s grace. May the lines continue to fall in pleasant places for you and may you remain the source of pride and happiness you’ve always been to us all. Hearty congratulations, my beloved brother. Together, we shall advance deep into old age in good health by divine grace.