In Northern Nigeria, a vibrant but tightly regulated film industry continues to grow in the shadows of global cinema giants like Hollywood and Bollywood. Known as Kannywood—named after Kano, its principal production hub—the industry produces a striking volume of Hausa-language films on modest budgets while operating under some of the strictest censorship frameworks in the region.
Unlike Nollywood, Nigeria’s better-known film industry based in Lagos, Kannywood is shaped by distinct cultural, linguistic, and religious expectations. Its stories are designed for audiences across northern Nigeria and beyond, where Hausa is spoken by more than 50 million people. Yet every production must navigate a regulatory system that significantly influences what can be shown, how relationships are depicted, and even how movement and costume are framed on screen.
A filmmaker’s struggle with censorship
For Mansura Isah, a veteran actress, filmmaker, and producer who has worked in Kannywood since 2001, the tension between artistic vision and regulatory approval is not abstract—it is personal and emotionally charged. Now 40, she has built a career in the industry and recently completed a film titled “Jodha,” which she considers one of her most important works.
The film explores social issues including HIV awareness and early marriage, topics she believes are essential for her audience. But when she submitted the final cut to the Kano State Censorship Board earlier this year, she encountered a decision that left her in tears.
Officials instructed her to remove or significantly alter a birthing scene, a moment she described as central to the film’s emotional and narrative structure.
“They just told me that the way I lifted my legs was not OK, that men can have a fantasy,” she said, adding that she had invested heavily in the sequence. “It’s the core story… without that scene, that movie can never be the movie that I want people to see.”
A system built on cultural regulation
Kano State, with a population exceeding 16 million, is one of Nigeria’s most populous regions. Out of the country’s 36 states, only four operate censorship boards. While Nigeria also has a national censorship authority based in Lagos, its focus is largely administrative and financial rather than cultural content control.
As media scholar Abdalla Uba Adamu explained, the national body “doesn’t care if you appear naked… it’s more for auditing purposes.”
In contrast, the Kano State Censorship Board—established in 2001 following the reintroduction of Sharia law in 2000—oversees a much broader range of moral and cultural guidelines.
Although Kannywood films do not have to be physically produced in Kano, they must be made in Hausa and conform to strict standards rooted in conservative Islamic values. These rules extend across multiple creative dimensions: singing, dancing styles, costumes, depictions of weapons, smoking, drug use, and on-screen intimacy are all heavily restricted. In most cases, even physical contact between men and women is prohibited.
According to Adamu, “Whether it is singing, dancing, costumes, even, let’s say, gun warfare, they ban it… no smoking, no drug use, no to all those sorts of things.”
How filmmakers adapt creativity to constraint
Despite these limitations, filmmakers are not simply silenced—they adapt. Scenes involving intimacy, for example, must rely on implication rather than depiction.
Censorship board executive secretary Abba el-Mustapha, himself a former actor, argues that the goal is not to suppress creativity but to ensure films remain suitable for family audiences while reflecting Hausa culture and Islamic teachings.
“We want to show our teachings of Islam in our movies,” he said. “This censorship board is not an attacking agency. It’s a friendly agency for filmmakers to showcase their talent.”
He insists that sensitive scenes can still be handled tastefully. As an example, he described how filmmakers might imply sexual activity: a character leads another into a room, the lights go off, and the audience understands what follows without explicit depiction.
“Everyone that is viewing knows that something is happening,” he said. “You don’t have to see them naked on the bed.”
El-Mustapha also pointed to the scale of production as evidence that censorship is not preventing growth. Last year alone, more than 500 films and television series were approved in Kano.
Growth behind the restrictions
While censorship remains a defining feature of the industry, filmmakers say other aspects of production have improved significantly.
On set in Kano, filmmaker Ibrahim Bala—who has worked in the industry for 12 years and directed more than 30 films—described a rapidly changing production environment during shooting for his film “The Footprint of the Elephant.”
“Our equipment is much better now than years ago,” he said.
Budgets have also expanded dramatically. Where productions once cost between 5 and 6 million naira (roughly $3,500 to $4,500), some films now attract investments of 50 to 60 million naira.
Distribution has evolved as well, with YouTube becoming a major platform for Kannywood films. Revenue now also comes from advertising partnerships and product placement deals. In one instance, Bala and his crew filmed inside a luxury fabric store in Kano that had paid for on-screen visibility.
Storytelling trends and shifting themes
Kannywood films have long been known for romantic storylines, often complex and emotionally entangled. Bala’s current project, for example, features a “love rectangle,” where multiple characters are romantically connected in overlapping relationships.
However, both Bala and Isah note that social issues are increasingly being woven into plots, including health awareness, education, and community values.
According to Adamu, this shift began more clearly after the creation of AREWA 24, a Hausa-language television station launched in 2014 with approximately $6 million in funding from the U.S. State Department’s Bureau of Counterterrorism. The initiative was part of broader efforts to counter extremist messaging, including that of Boko Haram.
Adamu described two major turning points in modern Kannywood: the introduction of censorship in the early 2000s, and the arrival of American-funded Hausa-language broadcasting.
“It took about four or five years for filmmakers to start integrating social issues,” he said, noting that many successful programs were inspired by the structure of externally funded television without adopting foreign storylines directly.
He also referred to the period before this shift as a “dark period” in the industry’s history.
The era of strict enforcement and its aftermath
Researcher Carmen McCain, who has studied Hausa literature and film for over two decades, traces the tightening of censorship to 2007, following a scandal involving a leaked private video of a Kannywood actress and her boyfriend. The video, stored on a phone later taken to a repair shop, was reportedly hacked and released publicly, triggering widespread moral panic and outrage.
In response, then-censorship head Abubakar Rabo Abdulkarim introduced severe enforcement measures.
“He was very, very intent on getting rid of the film industry,” McCain said.
Adamu, who referred to Abdulkarim as “the dark lord,” said filmmakers faced fines and even imprisonment during this period.
The turning point came when Abdulkarim resigned in 2010 amid controversy and allegations of sexual impropriety reported in local media, which he denied. His departure marked the beginning of a gradual easing of restrictions, although rebuilding the industry’s creative confidence took several years.
A more negotiated present
Today, filmmakers and observers describe a more collaborative environment. While censorship remains firm, there is greater negotiation over interpretation, including debates over how much hair should be covered or how scenes should be framed.
El-Mustapha is seen by some analysts as adopting a more dialogue-based approach, with Adamu noting that he remains closely connected to the industry and is expected to return to it after his tenure.
Personal stakes and generational hope
For Mansura Isah, these industry dynamics intersect with deeply personal motivations. Although disappointed by the removal of the birthing scene in “Jodha,” she continues preparing for its scheduled release in May.
Outside her professional life, she balances motherhood—raising three sons and a daughter—who often expresses admiration for her work.
“Sometimes she’ll just look at me and she’ll say, ‘Mommy I’m proud of you,’” Isah said.
As she prepared to attend a henna event organized ahead of Ramadan and sponsored by one of her film’s corporate partners, she reflected on the message she hopes to pass on.
Her daughter, she added, sometimes tells her, “I want to be very strong like you.”
Pausing briefly, Isah summarized her outlook on resilience in an industry defined by constraint and possibility alike: “I have legs. I have hands, I have eyes, and I have a mouth. So I know if I work hard I am going to make it.”