“We know we are relevant,” Dunstanette Bodkin on childhood reading and why libraries matter

Dunstanette Bodkin, the Deputy Chief Librarian of the Sierra Leone Library Board.

Dunstanette I.O. Bodkin is the Deputy Chief Librarian of the Sierra Leone Library Board. Before attaining this position, she was the children’s librarian in the Children’s Department and an administrative assistant and programmes officer, respectively. She holds an M.Phil. in Library, Archive and Information Studies, a Bachelor of Arts with Hons in Library, Archive and Information Studies, and a Diploma in Library, Archive and Information Studies, all from Fourah Bay College, University of Sierra Leone. She is a trainer and facilitator of literacy development-related workshops and programmes. She has attended and co-hosted literacy and early childhood conferences, seminars, and workshops in the country and outside Sierra Leone.

In 2023, she participated in the Library Aid Africa’s Young African Library Leaders Fellowship, a visionary program that prepares young librarians to become catalysts for change in the library ecosystem. Upon completion of the fellowship programme, she continuously participates and engages in early childhood literacy development activities and technology-related courses to promote her passion both as a passionate and a tech librarian. In this virtual interview with Poda-Poda Stories, Bodkin spoke to Ngozi Cole about the importance of childhood reading and why public libraries will always be relevant, even in the age of AI.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Ngozi Cole: Dunstanette Bodkin, welcome to the Poda-Poda. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

Dunstanette Bodkin: I've been working for the Sierra Leone Library Board for the past seven years. I studied Library Information Studies at Fourah Bay College. I started with a diploma program, then moved on to a BA Honors degree, and finally earned my Master's in the same field. I started as the children's librarian and then became an administrative assistant. But I continued working with the children's department because it is my special calling. No matter where I find myself, I always ensure that I work with kids, encouraging them to read and teaching them how to read as well. Recently, I was promoted to the Deputy Chief Librarian of the Sierra Leone Library Board.

NC: Congratulations! What made you want to become a librarian in the first place?

DB: It’s quite a story. I never really intended to become one. I loved books, and I loved reading, but there was nothing about librarianship because, growing up, you’re taught to aspire to become a lawyer, doctor, or engineer. But after my GCE O’levels, I looked out for different programs at Fourah Bay College where I could start a diploma course, and then I got to know about the Library Studies department, and I was like, okay, this sounds nice. The moment I started the diploma program, I just knew there was no turning back because I fell in love with it. After that, I enrolled in the BA program and graduated as a top student. But back then, no one saw the value of librarianship. I had to promote and advocate for Library Studies students to be valued and appreciated on campus.

NC: I'm a huge fan of librarians and libraries. My dad worked briefly at the Sierra Leone Library Board, and I got a library card really early on. Thank you so much for your work! As a librarian, how do you see people, especially children, using libraries? What are people using the libraries for, and how is that translating into literacy and reading in Sierra Leone?

DB: The Sierra Leone Library has 24 branches across the country, and our key patrons are children. We have a special department in our libraries called the children’s department or children’s corners. We have been able to partner with Book Aid International UK, and they have been very supportive of the children's corners and children's department. When you come into these libraries, you'll notice that the children's department is a special place, very well organized with books, toys, and games, designed for children. We always organize activities for them because having the children come in is one thing, but what would make them stay? It is activities across all our libraries, and we have several planned throughout the year. As long as you can get children reading when they’re young, it's best.

Getting adults to use the library is a bit trickier, but we do have them coming in, especially from colleges and universities, because we have those who understand the value. We have research materials and historical materials. Sometimes, people doing research struggle to find certain information, but when they come into the library, we have all these materials ready for them to use. That's the kind of service that we are providing for everyone.

Even though we are now competing with technology, we still know our place in society. We know that we are providers of relevant information. We know that we are curators of historical knowledge. In fact, we have a policy that all authors, both within and outside Sierra Leone, who write about Sierra Leone, should deposit three copies of their book with the Library Board for free. It's called a legal deposit, and all those who comply have their materials in the library.

NC: What are some of the challenges that the library is facing currently?

DB: A big challenge is finances. Sometimes we have late allocations coming in or allocations being cut off, so we have to manage resources all the time.  An important thing about libraries is our programming; if we don't have the support we need, we lag and need to catch up with trends, but that’s difficult because of funding. For instance, for now, we really want to see how best we can go digital with our resources and how we can change our acquisitions department from traditional to digitized. But we can't do that. We still have to go through the hard labor of stamping them and punching cards, even though that's what makes us librarians. We also want to offer more programs for adults, like workshops on leadership and climate change, but we don’t have the funds. 

Another challenge we are facing is transportation. We have 24 libraries across the country, and it’s hard to monitor them. We also need to take books to rural areas all around Sierra Leone. That’s why we are still trying our best to get our job done and stay relevant in the midst of all the challenges.

Dunstanette Bodkin also runs a non-profit organisation advocating for early literacy development and children’s welfare, Dunamis Kids Organisation.

NC: Can you talk a bit more about the organization you started, Dunamis Kids Organization, why you started it, and some of the initiatives you guys are working on?

DB: I used to have some family members sending me books because they just knew I was passionate about books and reading. So, they’ll look around to see what books they can collect and send to me, and I’ll make donations and distribute them to schools. So, with the knowledge from the Early Literacy course I took with the African Library and Information Associations and Institutions (AfLIA), I decided to team up with colleagues to see how we can put our limited resources, knowledge, and passion together to reach more children. Since we launched, we have been targeting schools and communities. So, for schools, we normally try to see how best we can help them set up the school library and support them in running it. And then, for the community, we normally organize pop-up libraries and reading activities with children. We’ve also been going as far as the children’s hospitals, where we launched a bibliotherapy initiative, emphasizing that even books can support healing. We’ve been to some hospitals, where we share stories with the children and also donate a certain number of books for the nurses to keep in the children’s wards, so the children can access and read them. We’ve also had community play-day activities where we merge play and reading, often during the Christmas break. In fact, we have a school where we set up both a computer room and a library, using computers donated to the organization from someone in the UK. We just blended that with some books we had, and we teamed up with the school authorities. They welcomed the idea, so now they have a library and computer room up and running, and that has helped to boost literacy in the school and engage the children in learning activities.

NC: Why are libraries so important, not just for kids, but adults as well?

DB: We tell people to see the library as a hub and a space that can provide many opportunities. People are not aware of how rich our collection is, and the whole idea of saying “Oh, I can just go to ChatGPT and get all that I want”, for example, isn’t really true. People have to understand that these things are not human. They make mistakes. There are so many errors, and for people to even use this tool successfully, they have to learn how to use it properly. As librarians, we have the capacity to know how to arrange information and how to determine relevant information for use. Not everything available online is true. You have to know how to verify and analyze your information. These are all things people aren't aware of; they just feel they don't need the library, but we keep telling them to come to the library. In fact, not everything in the library is online. We have some historical records in the library that you cannot find on any digital database. We know we are relevant, but then even within the field, we have colleagues who no longer want to be librarians. Now we have many colleagues with first degrees in librarianship, but they are rushing to pursue other fields because they don't feel comfortable in their own skin. But we try to have conversations where we can tell ourselves how much we matter.

There’s a lot of talk about Sustainable Development Goals or SDGs. You cannot leave libraries behind in that because there is a way the library can help to reach those goals, whether it is education, climate change, or entrepreneurship. We are a space where people can think together and offer solutions. The moment we gather for events and workshops, there's going to be a spark of ideas and solutions.

NC: Thank you, Ms. Bodkin. A final question: How have books saved your life?

DB: If I didn’t have access to books and stories growing up, I don't think I would've been able to get to where I am right now, because there is something about childhood reading that never leaves you. It helps you dream and imagine where you want to go and what you want in life. Sometimes people say, “Oh, you speak so well”. And I believe that didn't even happen in school or university. It's from my childhood, having access to good books and stories. I am where I am because of the books I read as a child.

Yarri Kamara on the importance of African translators in literature

Yarri Kamara is a Sierra Leonean-Ugandan writer, translator and policy researcher who has lived and travelled extensively in the Sahel. She has been awarded several translation grants and was a finalist for the National Translation Award in the US for her translation of Monique Ilboudo’s So Distant From My Life. Her own essays and poems have appeared on numerous platforms including Africa is a Country, The Republic, Lolwe and Brittle Paper, and her work has been translated into French, German and Portuguese. She recently co-edited the anthology Sahara: A thousand paths into the future (Sternberg Press). In this interview, Kamara talks to Poda-Poda Stories about the importance of literary translation in Africa.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Ngozi Cole: You’re a writer, essayist and researcher. How did you get into literary translation? 

Yarri Kamara: I saw it as a necessity. I like playing around with languages, but I was happy for many years just doing technical translations.I lived in Burkina Faso for 17 years, so I was reading a lot of African literature written in French during that time. I'd come across great work and then I tried speaking to my family who don't read French about these books, but the books weren't available in English. That’s when I started paying attention to what gets translated and what doesn't get translated. 

Now, a lot of the Francophone African literature has been translated by non-African translators, which in and of itself is not a problem, but sometimes you come across some translations that are a little bit lacking in context. So you wonder how much of the local context of the way French is spoken and whether it is West African or central African, whatever the region is, how much that particularity did the translator understand and how much attention did they put into conveying that into the English form. When I came across a Burkinabe novel, So Distant from My Life—which was my first literary translation project— I read it and I loved it. And I thought, well I have many years experience translating, given not literary translation, but here I am thinking about why is it that there's so few African texts translated by Africans? This is my opportunity to change that. And so I jumped in and gave it a shot. 

Ngozi: What was the translation process of So Distant from My Life?

Kamara: I came across the book at its book launch. I picked up a copy and I read it almost in one sitting. It's quite a short book, but I like the rhythm and humor in it. So then I went to meet Monique Ilboudo and I told her I was interested in translating the book and would she be fine with that? And she said, sure, go ahead. I started looking for grants and came across the Penn/Heim grant program. I sent off an application and continued translating, even though I had no funding secured yet. And the translation process in and of itself was just a lot of fun and easy, because I knew exactly where her characters were coming from. Ilboudo bases her characters on the youth that grew up at a certain time in Burkina Faso. I could see her characters and in my head I could understand their expressions,what the thought processes were underneath what they were saying. 

Ngozi: What would be some of these gaps that you think are still holding us back in terms of literary translation, and what’s your mapping of the literary translation landscape in Africa? 

Kamara: There are a not lot of African translators between European languages, for example English and French or English and Portuguese. And I think part of that is a reflection of how foreign languages are not taught particularly well in our school systems, because to be a good translator, you absolutely have to be able to comprehend everything in the source language. On the other hand, thankfully you do see a lot of literary translators working between African and European languages. In South Africa, there's a lot of support for working and translating with the local languages like IsiZulu, Xhosa etc. I think it was just a few months ago that a celebrated translation of George Orwell's The Animal Farm came out in Shona. So I think it's fantastic to see these African writers and translators who master the languages that a lot of them grew up speaking and that they're now bringing works written in English and sometimes written in English by African authors. There's also now an impetus for promoting literature in the Swahili language, and some of that also goes towards translating texts into Swahili. I think Abdulrazak Gurnah winning the Nobel Prize for Literature has given a boost to that because now you have international bestsellers that can be translated into Swahili. So I think there’s a lot of positive development.

If we come back to West Africa, my overall observation is that there's still a lot more texts written in English by West African authors being translated into French, though often that's passing directly through France because we have such big name writers writing in English and most French publishing houses are interested in them. A lot of English to French translators emerge from Cameroon just because of that unique situation that Cameroonians have where a lot of people who grow up bilingual within the European languages in addition to indigenous Cameroonian languages they may speak. 

Portuguese speakers are in Portugal, Brazil, and then the three or four countries in Africa. But I do know a lot of publishers based in Angola or Mozambique that are actively looking for things to translate into Portuguese for the Angolan or the Mozambican audiences because there's quite some differences between African Portuguese and Brazilian Portuguese. 

Because so much of the world functions in English and through English, you can already access quite a variety of literature within Africa. There are so many Nigerian writers and so many South African writers. So maybe it takes us English speakers some time to realize that we're missing out on parts of the world when it comes to literature. Both the publishers and readers are not that actively looking for works being translated into English by African writers writing in other languages. Whereas I think certainly the Portuguese-speaking Africans, and also the French-speaking Africans are much more curious about accessing what is being written by Africans in English.

Ngozi: You’re right, English speakers do read in a bubble because so much is translated for us. I read Han Kang’s The Vegetarian and I really enjoyed it! And when she won the Nobel prize for literature, there was a debate on social media about the translation of The Vegetarian and that’s when I thought, oh, of course it was originally written in Korean! How do translators strive to stay true to the original version of the text? 

Kamara: I think that's why translation is an art rather than a science. It’s great that you enjoyed Han Kang’s The Vegetarian–I know the translator who translated it into English—and it didn't occur to you initially to think this was not written in English. I think that's a sign of a good translation where it feels like it was written in the language you're reading it in. At the same time, you're also able to glean the unique cultural world of the original author. I think that's the balance that translators are always seeking.

Ngozi: What have been some of the formative books or forms of literature that have shaped you both as a writer and a translator?

Kamara: I went to an international school and there was no African literature on the curriculum at the time, but I think that has changed now. As a young teenager, I did attempt to read some of the immediate post-colonial African writers. But I think I read them at the wrong time in my life. I found them very stuffy and that didn't appeal to me. I came back to African literature as an adult and fell in love . I read two remarkable memoirs by African writers: Equiano’s Travels, also known by its original title “The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano or Gustavus Vassa the African” which chronicles the life of an enslaved Nigerian, who later buys his freedom, and his travels from Africa to the Americas and through Europe. And the other, more recent, “An African in Greenland” by Togolese writer Tété-Michel Kpomassie which recounts his long trip to Greenland in the 1960s. The observations that these two travellers coming from an-as-of-yet unglobalized Africa make of the foreign worlds they encounter are fascinating and a refreshing alternative to the prevailing Eurocentric narratives of those times. These books really opened my eyes to the importance of us Africans chronicling our times for future generations. A recent book that I come back to a lot is Ben Okri's A Way of Being Free, which are just beautiful reflections on the work of writers, or more broadly the work of artists in society, and how do we navigate the joys and also the heavy burdens of what storytellers are trying to do. In that book, Okri talks a lot about the responsibility that storytellers have and the kind of courage they need to have to do it well.

"Storytelling is resistance"-Hickmatu Leigh on the power of visual storytelling

Hickamatu Leigh is an artist photographer, storyteller, and young feminist activist from Sierra Leone. Known for her impactful photography and filmmaking focussed on the lives and experiences of Sierra Leonean girls and women, her award-winning work includes honours from the Women Deliver Arts and Film Festival 2023, and the SDG Vanguard Award in 2024 from the UN Foundation. 

Her film, Gboroka, which explores Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), has been selected for the African Film Festival in New York. Ahead of the screening, Leigh shares the inspiration behind the film and why African women’s stories are important.

Poda-Poda Stories: Let’s start with your journey with photography as your language. How did you choose photography as a medium, and what has that journey been like? 

Hickmatu Leigh: I don’t think I chose photography,photography chose me. 

For a long time, I lived in silence. Growing up, I began to realize how much our environment shapes who we become. In my community, we were taught that the things that happened to us especially as girls were normal. That to be quiet was to be respectful. That to question tradition or religion meant you were rebellious, ungrateful, or even sinful. But deep down, I kept asking: what about us? What about how we feel? What about our voices? 

I was angry. I wanted to stand out. I wanted more. 

After graduating with a degree in public health, I struggled to find work. I was home, idle, reflecting a lot and that’s when it hit me. I had always loved taking pictures. It brought me peace. It made me feel seen, like I was actually good at something. Friends and family would tell me, “You’re really good at this,” and for once, I decided to believe them. 

Photography became my language during a time I couldn’t speak. I was in a dark place, feeling invisible and not enough. But through the lens, I began to reclaim my worth. I started to see the power of visual storytelling especially in a country where so many stories about women like me go untold. 

Over time, photography transformed from a safe space into my purpose. It took me into rooms with UNICEF, WHO, Purposeful, winning awards and having international exhibitions. More importantly, it led me to myself. Through photography, I have healed. And now, as a new mother, it feels even more sacred. It’s how I speak to my child, my ancestors, and the world. It is how I remain visible, rooted, and free. 

Poda-Poda: What is your creative process like as an artist working in visual storytelling?

Leigh: My creative process is deeply spiritual. It often begins with a feeling sometimes from a story I’ve lived, or heard, or imagined. It could be sparked by a conversation, a sound, or even a single image. But once the spark comes, I sit with it. I reflect. I pray. I ask myself: What truth are we trying to honor here? 

I write. I dream. I talk to the people whose stories I want to tell. I let their energy guide me. 

For me, visual storytelling isn’t just about aesthetics. It is about emotion, legacy, and truth. I let intuition lead the way. Whether I’m documenting girls’ voices or exploring the sacredness of womanhood, I always aim to show the beauty in the struggle. My images are often black and white because I want people to focus on the emotion, the texture and the story.

My photography is a conversation that speaks without shouting, one that honors identity, culture, and resilience. Through veils, masks, and raw portraiture, I try to reveal what has been hidden. My work is my voice. It is my resistance and my offering.

Poda-Poda: That’s a good segue into the next question, which is about your film, Gboroka. I love that your work focuses primarily on Sierra Leonean women and this movie tackles a very sensitive and complex topic in Sierra Leone. How were you able to handle that sensitivity and drive the discussion forward about FGM in your film? 

Leigh: Gboroka is deeply personal. It is my story—our story. 

In Sierra Leone, topics like FGM are often surrounded by silence and shame. But I know firsthand how powerful visual storytelling can be, and I knew this was a story that needed to be told. Not with blame, but with honesty. Not to condemn our culture, but to show all of it the beauty, the pain, the complexity. 

As a team through AWATS (African Women and Their Stories), we approached it with a lot of care. We didn’t want to sensationalize the topic, we wanted to humanize. We centered the voices of women and girls. We listened. We felt. We allowed their truths to guide the narrative. Gboroka is a conversation starter. It’s powerful, it’s triggering, but it’s necessary.

The goal was never just to make a film, it was to open space. Space to feel. Space to talk. Space to imagine a different future for our daughters. 

We have screened Gboroka in a few places so far and had two international film selections. Every time, it stirred something deep. We’ve now launched our impact campaign and are actively taking the film to schools and communities to continue the conversation and inspire change. That’s the power of art it reaches where words can’t always go. 

A still from the film Gboroka, which explores FGM.

Poda-Poda: What was the writing process like when you were working on the film, especially from the perspective of merging the visual with narrative? 

Leigh: When I was writing Gboroka, there were moments I genuinely felt afraid. I remember sharing the idea with my mom and my aunt and their response was, “This na society secret, dem nor dey pull am na doe.” That moment hit me hard. It reminded me just how deep and sacred this silence is. But it also fueled the urgency. There was a strong will in me to tell this story from my own perspective from the stories the women before me whispered, the things I had seen, felt, carried. I wanted it to be raw. I wanted it to be honest. 

We wrote Gboroka from the heart. We didn’t sit down to create a script that explains everything. We sat in silence. We sat with the question of what it means when a girl can’t speak her truth, when she screams inwardly and is told to call it tradition. We didn’t want to preach. We wanted people to feel. 

Because I’m a photographer first, I approached every scene like a still image. I visualized pain, hope, and resistance in motionless frames. And that’s why Gboroka has no dialogue intentionally. We wanted viewers to interpret it on their own terms, to confront their emotions, their discomfort, their memories. Every frame was deliberate carrying weight, grief, silence, but also beauty. 

We wanted to show the richness of our culture, the rhythm, the colors, the rituals but also the parts we’re not allowed to talk about. The wounds hidden behind smiles. So Gboroka isn’t just a film. It’s a question. A mirror. And I’m proud we dared to make it.

Poda-Poda: What are you hoping will be the outcome of Gboroka when people watch it? 

Leigh: I hope Gboroka lingers. 

I hope it opens doors for conversations we’ve been too afraid to have. I hope it helps girls feel seen. I hope it challenges parents to reflect, and community leaders to protect. I hope decision-makers move from silence to action. 

But above all, I hope it births empathy. Real change happens when people feel something deeply. Data doesn’t always shift hearts, but stories do. If Gboroka helps even one person see things differently, it has done its job. 

Poda-Poda: Choosing a creative career in Sierra Leone, as you may know, is not an easy path to forge, especially as a woman. What has helped you in your journey, and what advice would you give to budding filmmakers? 

Leigh: It hasn’t been easy. Some days, it still feels like I’m fighting just to be heard. But what keeps me grounded is my why. 

I remind myself constantly of my purpose for the girl I once was who needed to see someone like me doing this work. I lean on my sisterhood, my partner, and my faith. And now, as a mother, I carry a new kind of fire. Everything I create now is also a message to my child. A reminder that their mother tried to shift something. 

To young filmmakers, especially women in Sierra Leone: your voice is enough. You don’t need permission to create. Start small. Start honest. Build your tribe. Protect your vision, and don’t be afraid to feel deeply. 

Storytelling is resistance. It is love. It is a way of remembering and a way of dreaming. The world needs your voice, don't be afraid to use it.

Gboroka will be screening at the New York African Film Festival in May.

Oluwaseun Babalola on Black Identity and the power of film.

Oluwaseun Babalola is an award-winning director, Emmy-nominated producer, exhibited photographer, DOC NYC 40 Under 40 Honoree and the founder/executive director of the organization, KOSINIMA, Inc, a nonprofit that provides grant funding for African and African diasporic filmmakers. Currently, Oluwaseun is on a festival run as writer/director on her short narrative film, Fighting Giants, filmed in Sierra Leone. The story is about a mother and daughter confronting their relationship with grief during a surreal visit back to Freetown, Sierra Leone. In this interview, Babalola talks about her work as a filmmaker, why she wrote Fighting Giants, and the importance of funding African films.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Ngozi: The first time I came across your work was through the series ṢOJU where you were documenting the lives of young people around Africa. How did you get into documentary film and why did you start ṢOJU? 

Babalola: I just naturally had an interest and a passion for documentary filmmaking because I liked finding out about people's stories. I was always filming things from a young age. But in terms of ṢOJU–which was three seasons of a digital documentary series where I was going around Africa and the diaspora, focusing on youth culture and how we see ourselves– that started because I had the idea for years before I actually did something about it. Growing up in Brooklyn, outside of my home, there wasn’t a strong presence of being African because Brooklyn is very Caribbean and African-American. In addition, in media representation, there also weren’t African experiences that closely reflected mine. So I had the richness of an African home, but then when I turned on the TV, Africa was the butt of a joke or depicted as this scary place.

And so with that natural progression of loving storytelling, I thought, let me travel to Africa and show my community. It started off as trying to show a different form of Africa, but then it evolved into a series about how we actually see each other as Africans. 

Ngozi: You've been a documentary filmmaker for many years. But then when it came to sharing a story that was really personal, you decided to choose narrative film. Your short film, Fighting Giants, is about a mother and daughter’s relationship with grief during a surreal visit back to Freetown, Sierra Leone.Why did you use narrative film to tell the story?

Babalola: I could have made a documentary film but that wouldn't have properly allowed me to show the past from the standpoint of emotion. If it was a documentary, I would've had to look at the past in a historical context and maybe present facts and resources in a way where it kind of removes how I was impacted on a personal level. Whereas with narrative, I could reenact the story because the story is a hundred percent true. I didn't make up anything that happened. 

I could have depicted in a way where I'm telling this real life thing, but I can add elements that more invoke how the real events impacted the people who were involved, whether that be with surrealism, whether that be with camera angles or editing music and it let me experiment a little bit more with retelling something that happened as opposed to having to fixate on facts in a documentary. Film gave more artistic expression and creative freedom.

Ngozi: There’s a scene too in the film that I really liked. The mom and her daughter are crossing this waterway at River Number Two Beach, and the mom is really hesitant. Her daughter coaxes her on and they eventually reach the other side of the beach. And then this random guy shows up and starts yelling at them that they can’t be there. And it stood out to me for several reasons. Firstly, that is something that has happened to me before actually at one of the beaches. But I think it also highlights other issues in our society. Why did you put that scene in? 

Babalola: Thank you so much for saying that because, and I love how every Sierra Leonean I’ve shown it to likes that part, because it’s realistic!

It made sense for me to put that scene in, not only because it actually happened, but because I think it really shows how these characters are having this moment where it may or may not be a breakthrough. And when they finally do, they can't even get a second to have a peaceful moment because Sierra Leone just breaks that calm and that man on the beach is a personification of …it always has to be something!

That's what the mother and daughter kept coming across the entire film. Even when they tried to make progress, there was always something in their way. And so it was really important for me to have that moment where they could be close to a happy ending, but once again there's something in the way of that. 

Ngozi: You wrote an op-ed where you wrote about the grueling process of trying to figure out what had happened to your sister, Massah KaiKai, when she went missing in Freetown. You mentioned the lack of urgency when you tried to talk to detectives both in New York and Sierra Leone. Globally, black women disappear at a really alarming rate, and these disappearances are not always taken seriously. So what are you hoping will be the outcome when people watch the story about this family looking for answers in Fighting Giants?

Babalola: When I wrote Fighting Giants, I wanted us to have a bit more accountability in how we treat one another and where our integrity lies. Because specifically, with my sister’s situation in Sierra Leone, I feel like there's a number of people who could have helped or even could help now, but maybe because we live in such a society people are just trying to survive, so they’ll say, ‘I'm not gonna stick my neck out and I’ll just keep quiet.’ And that’s a mentality I can’t stand. 

We can see someone who might need help or need assistance, who might benefit from some knowledge that we have but because it's not immediately beneficial to us, we choose not to help. And I wanted to call that out.

I also just wanted to start discussions about what we allow. What do we allow in our societies? What do we allow with each other? And are we actually just like going through the motions and trying to just build our own fortresses so that we can live in a bubble? And what is that doing to our government systems and institutions?

I know that's a lot to ask from a short film, but I'm bringing it up now and here we are talking about it.

In Fighting Giants, a mother and daughter search for answers about their missing family member in Freetown, Sierra Leone. Image courtesy of the filmmaker

Ngozi: What was the writing process like for Fighting Giants? 

Babalola: Well, I actually wanted to make this a 90 minute feature film, but feature films, especially African ones, are expensive to fund. So a friend said well why don't you just make this a short film?

I said why not because a short film is actually really accessible in a lot of different ways. I had already written the script as a feature and I tried to whittle it down to a shortened version. It took me many drafts to get a16 page script and the final film isn't even that script because I had to recreate an entire new film in post-production just because of production troubles.

The process actually took a really long time for it to get to where it is now, which is an eight and a half minute short. I started writing it in 2022, and now we're here in 2025.

 So it was a really long process and it was difficult. I had to start and stop a lot of times because I would also just get very angry having to relive what has happened to my sister and then put it on a page that was easily comprehended in traditional storytelling form.

Ngozi: You’ve worked on documentaries and films in the US and Africa.What are some of the gaps in the film industry that you’ve seen and experienced?

Babalola: I'm gonna speak from the perspective of maybe African filmmaking because I do see myself as an African filmmaker and that informs a lot of my work. I’ve seen that African films have to be from a specific lens to get funding. For something to look like it might get commercial success, it has to be trauma-based or historical based, perhaps about slavery or war. It’s unfortunately rare to see an African documentary come out in the United States that's not tied to colonialism or some sort of difficult period in African history.

I think those films are incredibly valid and really informative and they should exist, but that's not what I want to make as a filmmaker. I'm really interested in contemporary works and black identity right now, and also how our past experiences have informed where we're going towards the future.

And so when I make films in that regard, the access (to funding) is not always there. Also when you go to Africa, it depends, right? There's so much money and opportunity for African films. But let's say you're an African filmmaker from Nigeria or Sierra Leone. Unfortunately to get proper funding, you have to look for a co-production house in the UK, right? Or if you're in Senegal, you have to look for France, Belgium, et cetera.

It’s going to take time because we are still building our structures. But I think we really need to rely on our own structures and create our own work and fund and elevate things created by Africans. We need homegrown African filmmaking in every form, from distribution to building the foundations of things like grant funding and institutions for Africans by Africans, because we understand the films that we're trying to make, and it's not always through the lens of others. 

Ngozi: And you're trying to do that with the Kosinima Short Film Grant, which you started in 2022 as a grant for African filmmakers and screenwriters?

Babalola: Yes. I started a grant fund specifically for Black female or femme filmmakers. If you're a Black filmmaker, African filmmaker, African female filmmaker, the opportunities lessen based on what rung you stand on. When I was shooting ṢOJU, my documentary series, people were surprised to see me with a camera and surprised to see that I was the director. And I’d think, but there's so many of us out here. Why are y'all always pretending like we don't exist? Hire us. We exist. And our voices and our stories deserve to be heard.

So that's how the Kosinima Short Film Grant started. Everybody can benefit from making their own short film. Whether you're a seasoned filmmaker and you want a proof of concept for a project that you're working on that's longer, or you're a first time filmmaker and you want to make a short as a calling card, I figured that's a great starting point to get more stories out there that are outside of the norm.

So far, it’s been going well. We’ve got eight short films completed and plenty more plans for the fund and its films in the works.

Fighting Giants will be screening at the New York African Film Festival in May.