iREP 2025 and Documentaries Telling Africa’s Truths

For over a decade, the iREP International Documentary Film Festival has been the go-to platform for documentary filmmakers across Africa.

 

Established in 2010 by Femi Odugbemi, Jahman Anikulapo, and Ilemakin Soyinka, the festival was created to provide a space for socially relevant documentary films that challenge perspectives, preserve history, and inspire action.

 

With its founding theme, Africa in Self-Conversation, iREP has grown into one of the most significant documentary festivals in West Africa, shaping discourse around non-fiction storytelling.

 

Unlike fiction, which dominates mainstream African cinema, documentaries take on a different responsibility, unearthing uncomfortable truths, preserving history, and forcing audiences to confront realities they might otherwise ignore. The 2025 edition, currently taking place in Lagos from March 27 through March 30, stays true to that mission. This year’s lineup is a mix of personal, political, and historical explorations, proving that documentary filmmaking in Africa is more than just an artistic pursuit, it’s a tool for change.

 

James Amuta’s “The African Identity” raises a question that lingers in the minds of many in the diaspora: when an African embarks on a journey to trace their lineage, will they discover they are descendants of enslaved people or slave traders?

 

Kọ́lá Túbọ̀sún’s “Ebrohimie Road: A Museum of Memory” also looks at history, examining how memory is shaped and preserved through time.

 

 

But history isn’t the only focus. Documentaries like Priye Diri’s “The Bitter Feminist” challenge societal norms by diving into the struggles of feminism in Africa, while Brenda Maina’s “The Equalizer” explores gender rights and activism in Kenya. Pelu Awofeso’s “Mission to Osoogun” takes a deep dive into Yoruba history, uncovering stories that have remained in the shadows for too long.

 

Other films tackle contemporary struggles. “Born Different” by Nneoha Ann Aligwe highlights the lives of people with skin conditions, showing how they navigate a world that often fails to accommodate them. “Forgotten: The Human Cost of Homelessness” by Shyline Msika forces viewers to confront the reality of homelessness in African cities, where entire communities are often erased without a second thought.

 

The festival also makes room for lighter but equally significant topics. “Nigeria Laughs” by Oluwasesan Olayemi Jigan looks at the evolution of Nigerian comedy and its cultural impact, proving that laughter has always been a form of resistance and survival. “Never Say Die: The Story and History of Rangers International Football Club” by Ed Emeka Keazor celebrates one of Nigeria’s most iconic football clubs, blending sports and history in a compelling way.

 

Since its inception, iREP has always been about more than just screening films. It’s about sparking conversations. Organized by the Foundation for the Promotion of Documentary Film Festival in Africa (FPDFA), the festival provides a vital platform for African documentarians, fostering collaborations, industry discussions, and new opportunities for filmmakers across the continent.

 

Many of this year’s documentaries are not just stories; they are calls to action, pushing audiences to reflect on the world around them. But while the themes are weighty, the filmmakers behind them insist that documentary filmmaking in Africa is more vibrant than ever.

 

To understand what it takes to bring these stories to life, The Nollywood Reporter spoke with some of the filmmakers screening their works at iREP 2025. From the challenges of funding to the difficulty of telling stories that some people would rather not be told, their insights reveal the highs and lows of documentary filmmaking on the continent.

 

Reclaiming Black Identity: James Amuta’s Journey to Unravel a Forgotten History

 

James Amuta’s latest documentary “The African Identity” is a deeply personal exploration of identity, history, and the erasure of Black heritage. Inspired by years of travel and firsthand experiences, the film seeks to reconnect Black people in the diaspora with their true African roots. Amuta’s journey began with an unsettling realization that took shape across different continents, from Trinidad and Tobago to Canada. It was a moment of clarity that solidified his purpose: to investigate how history had been systematically rewritten and, more importantly, how it could be reclaimed.

 

It all started with a trip to Trinidad and Tobago, where a conversation with a Caribbean friend sparked his curiosity. “Now, James, you understand what you’re seeing. I hope you understand your interaction with Black people in Trinidad better now,” his friend had said. The statement lingered in Amuta’s mind because, during his visit, something felt off. The Black men he encountered carried themselves differently reserved, cautious, as if conditioned not to disturb the status quo.

 

Trinidad is a diverse country with a mix of Caucasian, Indian, Chinese, Syrian, Asian, and Black populations. Yet, within this racial blend, Black men seemed to be at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

 

As a Nigerian, Amuta was used to a certain boldness and confidence that came with knowing one’s heritage. But in Trinidad, he noticed a stark contrast. The Black men there weren’t necessarily timid, but they seemed laid-back, almost as if they had internalized an unspoken rule to not assert themselves too strongly.

 

 

One experience in particular stood out. While staying at a certain establishment, Amuta encountered a Black woman who was visibly surprised to see him there. It wasn’t the usual warm curiosity; rather, her reaction suggested a belief that he didn’t belong. “She was a Black person, just like me, yet she seemed shocked that I was in that space, as if it was meant for someone else,” he recalled. The moment was unsettling. It wasn’t just about class or wealth it was about an ingrained mindset, a conditioned belief that Black people weren’t supposed to thrive in certain spaces.

 

That experience frustrated him. At one point, he found himself asking, “Why are you accepting this? Why are you behaving like this?” But the response he got was a quiet look that said, “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

It was during a visit to the Royal Ontario Museum in Canada that everything started to make sense. There, he saw history on display but not in its entirety. African artifacts were showcased without context, stripped of their true significance. The deeper Amuta looked, the more he realized how Black history had been systematically erased.

 

“Black people in the diaspora have been conditioned for over 500 years to disconnect from their true heritage,” he explained. “Their history has been reduced to the transatlantic slave trade. That’s all many of them know.”

 

The issue became even clearer when he considered how Black History Month is framed. Most references begin and end with slavery, rarely acknowledging the powerful African empires that existed long before colonization. Meanwhile, in Africa, history is passed down through generations. Nigerians, for example, don’t need external validation to know they are descendants of great warriors and rulers. But for many Black people outside the continent, that connection has been severed. Instead, they are given regional identities – Black American, Afro-Caribbean, Afro-Latin – without a deeper link to their African ancestry.

 

This realization became even more personal when he spoke with Tunde Da Silva, one of the figures in the documentary. Da Silva shared an experience from a visit to the slave museum in Badagry, Nigeria. While there, an African American friend broke down in tears upon seeing the names of slave traders on display. Turning to Da Silva, he asked, “Why do you have the same name as one of them?” The question caught him off guard. It was a moment that exposed the deep complexities of identity, history, and the lingering trauma of the past.

 

For Amuta, these revelations fueled his desire to create a documentary that would serve as both an investigation and a bridge. The film is not just about history; it’s about identity. It asks crucial questions: How have Black people been conditioned to see themselves? Why has African heritage been erased from mainstream narratives? And how can that connection be restored?

 

His frustration with how African artifacts are displayed in Western museums led to an unforgettable confrontation at the Royal Ontario Museum. He approached the front desk and demanded to speak with the curator, questioning why these artifacts were being shown without proper historical context. “The people who defaced those sculptures succeeded in their mission,” he said. “Because even today, museums continue to tell history on their terms, leaving out what really happened.”

 

The documentary is still in development, but its foundation has already been laid. The version that will be screened is a pitch video, which is a prologue to a much larger project that will trace ancestral connections from Lagos Island to Badagry and as far as Brazil. Amuta describes it as a proof of concept, meant to highlight the stark differences in Black identities across various regions.

 

For the introductory phase, filming took place in four countries: Canada, Trinidad and Tobago, France, and the United Kingdom. His approach to research was unconventional: he set up his camera in public spaces, simply observing. “I like to watch how people interact, how they carry themselves. Black people in Europe move differently from those in the Americas, who are different from those in Africa,” he explained. “It’s almost like there are different ‘versions’ of Africans shaped by their environments.”

 

One of the most eye-opening moments occurred in London. Amuta was racially profiled but noticed a shift in attitude when people realized he was African. “They actually apologized, saying they had mistaken me for ‘one of those Black people who mug people.’ As if that made it any better,” he said. The experience underscored the nuanced, often unspoken distinctions within the global Black community.

 

In France, he observed another layer of complexity. African immigrants were treated differently from African tourists. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. There’s a hierarchy in how Blackness is perceived, even among Black people themselves,” he noted.

 

But beyond these observations, Amuta’s research also delves into historical migration patterns. He points to Lagos Island as a key example. Many of its residents are descendants of Brazilian returnees: Africans who were enslaved and later sent back after the abolition of slavery. These individuals often carried European-sounding surnames like Taylor, Da Silva, and Pedro, remnants of their past. But for those trying to trace their roots, these names present a moral dilemma. “If your last name is Da Silva, was your ancestor a slave trader, or were they an enslaved person who took on their master’s name?” he asked. “It’s an identity crisis that not many people talk about.”

 

The documentary aims to challenge these narratives and offer an alternative perspective. It explores the idea that many Africans who were sold into slavery weren’t just victims; some were political prisoners. “Conquests were normal back then,” Amuta explained. “If a royal family was overthrown, the conquerors had two choices: kill them or send them away. Many were shipped off not because they were weak, but because they posed a threat to new rulers.”

 

This reframing of history is crucial. It challenges the long-held perception that African ancestors were simply subjugated people. Instead, it highlights the possibility that many were descendants of warrior kings and rulers. “Have you ever asked yourself what happened to Mansa Musa’s descendants?” Amuta posed. “The richest man in history where did his bloodline go? Some of them are in America today, unaware of the legacy they come from.”

 

At its core, the documentary is about restoring pride. It’s about showing Black people – whether in Africa, the Americas, or Europe – that their history did not begin with slavery. “When you know where you come from, it changes everything,” Amuta said. “It gives you confidence.”

 

And for James Amuta, this journey is just beginning.

 

Beyond his filmmaking ventures, Amuta reflects on the complexities of African identity, particularly in relation to the transatlantic slave trade and the perception of Africa by the global community. According to him, most Africans today do not have a direct historical experience of slavery, except through ancestral ties whether as facilitators, resisters, or victims. The more pertinent issue, he notes, is the interaction between Africans and those in the diaspora, such as African Americans and Afro-Caribbeans, who have a more immediate historical connection to slavery.

 

“There’s a lot of rivalry,” Amuta says, citing social media tensions and the way African Americans are often surprised by modern life in Africa. “They think we live in huts, wrestle with lions … . Anytime I travel, I joke about it. When people see me in traditional African attire, they get curious. So I tell them, ‘Every morning, we have to outrun lions to catch antelopes for breakfast.’ And they actually believe me!”

 

He recalls a striking experience in Paris, where an elderly Japanese-American couple assumed he had “escaped” from Nigeria. Their perceptions were shaped by misinformation, including U.S. travel advisories that painted Nigeria as a place overrun with kidnappers and religious violence.

“They asked, ‘But you’re Christian, don’t they kill Christians in Nigeria?’” Amuta recounts. “I was stunned.”

 

Even after showing his passport, the couple remained skeptical. The conversation only shifted when he pulled out his phone to show them images of Lagos’ skyscrapers, luxury cars, and modern infrastructure. “They were shocked. ‘You have cars?’ They asked. At that moment, my Nigerian pride kicked in. I pointed at the [Paris] street and said, ‘Look around.” Count the luxury cars. Do you see any Bugattis or Lamborghinis?’ They said no. ‘Exactly. In Lagos, you see them often. So who’s more advanced now?’”

 

Experiences like these reinforce Amuta’s belief that African storytellers, particularly documentary filmmakers, have a responsibility to challenge outdated narratives. He acknowledges that documentaries are often sidelined in mainstream Nigerian cinema, partly due to funding constraints and distribution challenges. However, he argues that the notion of documentaries being niche or unappealing is misguided.

 

“My 2018 documentary, “Nightfall in Lagos”, blended comedy, sleaze, and entertainment, making it more digestible for audiences,” he explains. “There’s no rule that documentaries must always be serious or academic. They can be about anything – a love for strip clubs, how I drink water, anything. What matters is the execution.”

 

He highlights the rise of true crime, investigative pieces, and behind-the-scenes concert documentaries, particularly on platforms like Netflix, as proof that factual storytelling can be commercially viable. Yet, many streaming services remain hesitant to back documentaries, often questioning their marketability.

 

“But documentaries don’t just educate, they entertain, inform, motivate, and inspire. They have soul, no matter the subject,” Amuta insists. He believes that as more established fiction filmmakers venture into documentaries, the perception will shift. “If audiences see respected filmmakers embracing documentaries, they might think, ‘’Oh, if he can do it, I can too.’’

 

Despite the challenges documentary filmmakers face, Amuta remains optimistic about the future of the art form. Festivals like iREP, he says, play a crucial role in sustaining the industry, offering filmmakers a platform to showcase their work to engaged audiences who provide real-time feedback. “That kind of interaction, the ability to see how your work impacts people is what keeps many documentary filmmakers going. It’s about leaving something behind for humanity.”

 

But beyond artistic fulfillment, financial sustainability remains a major concern. Unlike blockbuster fiction films, documentaries rarely generate massive box office returns. “If you’re looking to get rich, documentary filmmaking isn’t the path,” Amuta admits. “Statistically, documentaries don’t generate the kind of revenue that mainstream fiction films do.”

 

 

However, commissioned projects from networks like National Geographic, BBC, and Discovery provide some stability for documentary filmmakers. Independent filmmaking, on the other hand, is a different challenge entirely. “Waking up one morning, grabbing a camera, and deciding to follow your gut instinct to tell a story? That’s almost madness,” he says. “But sometimes, that’s where you strike gold because you’re not bound by studio restrictions or conventional storytelling formats.”

 

He believes that African distributors need to give documentary films a fair chance, citing industry figures like Moses Babatope, who once suggested a limited theatrical run for “Nightfall in Lagos,” which was a move that would have been groundbreaking for Nigerian cinema.

 

Amuta sees untapped commercial potential in documentaries, particularly those that tap into sentiment and nostalgia. “Imagine making a film about the legacy of Nigeria’s oldest colleges – King’s College, DMGS, CKC, and Government College –  celebrating their 100-year contribution to education. The nostalgia alone would draw alumni and supporters to the cinemas.”

 

Amuta also highlights the effectiveness of dramatization in documentary filmmaking, pointing to films like “Schindler’s List”, which dramatized real historical events and reached a wider audience than many Holocaust documentaries. He cites “Good Hair,” narrated by Chris Rock, as an example of a documentary that educates while entertaining. “It’s a simple yet powerful documentary about the black hair industry. It presents facts and figures but feels like a comedy special. That’s the kind of impact I want more documentaries to have.”

 

For Amuta, iREP is the ideal platform to premiere his work. “IREP is family,” he says. “Screening my film there feels like sitting in my living room with loved ones, watching my work, and having deep discussions about it.” Unlike other festivals, iREP attracts an audience that engages critically with films, offering feedback, collaboration opportunities, and encouragement for bold storytelling.

 

“IREP isn’t just an African festival; it’s an international platform, up there with major documentary festivals like Sheffield and IDFA,” Amuta adds. What he appreciates most is the festival’s openness to unconventional storytelling. “If you want to make a documentary about ants, they’ll say, ‘Go crazy. Surprise us.’ That’s the kind of environment that nurtures innovation.”

 

For a filmmaker who sees documentary work as both a craft and a responsibility, such spaces are invaluable. “And let’s be honest, most documentary filmmakers are a little mad. You have to be, to keep doing this,” Amuta quips.

 

Pelu Awofeso’s “Mission to Osoogun”: A Journey into the Past

 

For Pelu Awofeso, “Mission to Osoogun” is more than just a documentary; it’s the first episode in a larger series about Bishop Samuel Ajayi Crowther, a man whose life embodies the theme of this year’s iREP Documentary Film Festival – “Freedom: Rights and Responsibility.”

 

Awofeso initiated the project in October 2021, just months before the 130th anniversary of Crowther’s death, setting out to retrace the journey of the young boy who was captured by slave merchants, sold in Lagos, and rescued by the British Navy before being sent to Sierra Leone.

 

“This early part of his life fits perfectly into the theme for iREP this year,” Awofeso says. “I’m glad a slice of that is featured in “Mission to Osoogun”.”

 

Bringing the documentary to life, however, came with its share of challenges. Funding, as expected, was a major hurdle, but Awofeso and his team managed to solve part of it through crowdfunding. Beyond finances, the process required extensive travel with a 10-person research and filming crew, navigating multiple locations over several days. Then there was the challenge of securing interviews. “It took a bit of time, but we eventually found our first set of interview subjects,” he says.

 

Awofeso is no stranger to iREP. In fact, he has been attending the festival since its inception and considers it a natural home for his work. “It is the only one of its kind in our part of the world, and its energy and creative atmosphere are unrivaled,” he says. “Beyond these, iREP has been a welcoming platform for my previous documentaries. “Mission to Osoogun” will be the third of my documentaries to screen at the festival.”

 

The conversation around documentary filmmaking often frames it as niche, especially compared to fiction films, but Awofeso disagrees. He believes that documentaries are now more accessible than ever. “Even if it was in the past, that is already changing in the contemporary world dominated by smartphones, social media platforms, diverse digital tools, and a global citizenry of aspiring and established content creators,” he says.

 

With “Mission to Osoogun,” he hopes audiences walk away with more than just historical knowledge. “I hope that they are touched by the neglect and state of Bishop Crowther’s hometown and moved enough to do something about it,” he says. In his view, Osoogun should be a pilgrimage site for Christians, not just in Nigeria but beyond, given Crowther’s contributions to education and interfaith relations.

 

Kọ́lá Túbọ̀sún’s “Ebrohimie Road: A Museum of Memory” Explores History, Legacy, and the Struggles of Artists

 

For Kọ́lá Túbọ̀sún, “Ebrohimie Road: A Museum of Memory” began as an obsession with a single photograph. The image, featured on the cover of Wole Ṣóyínká’s Ìbàdàn: The Penkelemes Years, captured a young Ṣóyínká standing in front of No. 8 Ebrohimie Road. Something about its composition struck Túbọ̀sún, sparking a fascination that lingered for years.

 

“I first saw it when I was in high school,” he recalls. “Years later, I found the full photo on eBay, bought it, framed it, and kept it in my study.”

 

That fascination deepened when he returned to the University of Ìbàdàn in 2018 and discovered that the house still stood, untouched by time. As he began to dig into its history, he uncovered its deep significance not just in Ṣóyínká’s life but in Nigeria’s political, literary, and academic landscape. The idea for a documentary, however, only came two years ago when funding arrived unexpectedly. “I hadn’t planned to do a film,” he admits.

While the documentary’s selection at iREP naturally aligns it with this year’s theme, “Freedom: Rights and Responsibility,” Túbọ̀sún leaves its interpretation to the audience. “As you’d see from the film, part of what it explores is how institutions treat artists and how they often seek the freedom to be themselves away from the constraints of established norms,” he explains.

 

Unlike many independent filmmakers, funding wasn’t his biggest challenge. Instead, it was securing key interviews. The process was marked by a sense of urgency and loss. Jimi Solanke, scheduled to be a subject, fell ill the week of their interview and passed away shortly after. Ṣóyínká’s elder sister, Aunty Tinú, also died during that period. Even getting Ṣóyínká himself proved difficult, as his packed schedule caused multiple delays. When a date was finally set, Túbọ̀sún was unable to make it due to a scheduling conflict, leaving his colleague, Deji, to conduct the interview. The longest wait, however, was for Mrs. Ṣóyínká.

 

 

Then there was the race against time. The funding came in November, with a target completion date of July. “That was a really short deadline, knowing the many uncertainties we faced,” he says. “But thankfully, we got there.”

 

Though Túbọ̀sún won’t be attending iREP this year since he’s currently out of Nigeria, yet he recognizes the festival’s importance. “iREP is an important festival that showcases work from around the continent, and I’m proud to be associated with it.”

 

As for the perception that documentary filmmaking is niche, Túbọ̀sún hopes that will change. “There are so many important stories out there that need to be told in documentary form,” he says.

 

With “Ebrohimie Road,” his goal is to reignite conversations about memory, heritage, and history. He also hopes the film offers a deeper understanding of Ṣóyínká’s early years and the struggles that shaped him into the literary giant he became.

 

 

Daniel Chukwuemeka and Priye Diri’s “The Bitter Feminist”: A Bold Narrative on Gender and Power

 

In “The Bitter Feminist,” co-creators Daniel Chukwuemeka and Priye Diri delve into the complexities of gender dynamics, societal expectations, and personal autonomy. Chukwuemeka, the creative director of HardFacts Studios, co-founded the media company in 2021 with a vision to unearth and boldly present underexplored African stories. Their approach merges narrative fiction techniques with real-life events, crafting emotionally resonant and intellectually stimulating films.

 

The inception of “The Bitter Feminist” was sparked by “The Bitter Feminist” Podcast, a YouTube series by Ijeoma Chinonyerem. Recognizing its potential for visual storytelling, Chukwuemeka reached out to Chinonyerem to adapt the podcast’s themes into a cinematic format.

 

Isaac Newton Akah introduced them to Ringret’s story, a young woman from Jos who faced sexual violence and societal pressure to enter a forced marriage. Her narrative became the emotional core of the film, embodying the struggle for personal freedom against societal constraints.

 

Aligning with iREP 2025’s theme, the documentary examines the delicate balance between individual autonomy and societal expectations. It portrays Ringret’s journey to reclaim her voice and assert her rights in a culture that often equates femininity with endurance and obedience.

 

Additionally, the film explores the dissemination of truth in the digital age, highlighting how women’s voices are amplified, dismissed, or weaponized online, which reflects broader democratic dialogues central to this year’s iREP festival.

 

The production faced significant challenges, particularly in handling the emotional depth of Ringret’s experience. The filmmakers prioritized building trust with her and her community to authentically convey her story while preserving her dignity. Technically, blending narrative techniques with documentary footage required meticulous attention to tone and pacing to ensure a cohesive and impactful narrative.

 

Choosing iREP as the platform to premiere “The Bitter Feminist” was a deliberate decision. Chukwuemeka views the festival as a unique space that values documentary filmmaking as both an artistic expression and a political statement. He believes that while documentary films have traditionally occupied a niche in African cinema, this is changing because a new generation of filmmakers is using documentaries as tools for dissent, memory preservation, and cultural introspection in an effort to meet an evolving audience eager for authentic and compelling stories.

 

Through “The Bitter Feminist”, Chukwuemeka and Diri aim to provoke reflection on accepted societal norms, encouraging viewers to question structures deemed “normal.” They aspire for the audience to experience empathy and discomfort, prompting a reevaluation of feminism, silence, and the power of storytelling. Moreover, they hope the film illustrates how individual resistance can inspire broader societal change.

 

Looking ahead, HardFacts Studios is finalizing a new film addressing internet fraud, based on Chukwuemeka’s forthcoming book. This project aims to explore themes of technology, crime, legality, and morality in contemporary Africa, further demonstrating the studio’s commitment to tackling pressing societal issues through innovative storytelling.

 

The Bigger Picture: African Documentary Filmmaking at a Crossroads

The documentaries showcased at iREP 2025 tell a broader story beyond their individual narratives. They reflect the evolving landscape of African documentary filmmaking, a space that is growing  but still struggling with structural and financial constraints. While filmmakers are reclaiming narratives and pushing artistic boundaries, they must also navigate the persistent challenges of funding, distribution, and visibility. iREP continues to play a crucial role in bridging these gaps, fostering a culture where documentary storytelling is not just preserved but also elevated as an essential part of Africa’s film industry.

 

A common theme among this year’s iREP documentaries is the act of reclaiming identity, history, and personal agency. James Amuta’s “The African Identity” tackles the enduring disconnect between Africa and its diaspora, exploring how history, particularly the transatlantic slave trade, continues to shape modern perceptions. Amuta’s documentary highlights the urgent need to counter the misinformation that clouds African identity, particularly among African Americans who may have never visited the continent. His work is part of a growing movement of African filmmakers who are not just reacting to Western narratives but actively reshaping them.

 

Kọ́lá Túbọ̀sún’s “Ebrohimie Road: A Museum of Memory” similarly interrogates history, using a single location No. 8 Ebrohimie Road in Ibadan to uncover Nigeria’s artistic and political past. The house, once home to Nobel Laureate Wole Ṣóyínká, becomes a symbol of artistic resistance and intellectual legacy. What started as a personal curiosity for Túbọ̀sún turned into a full-fledged documentary about space, memory, and history. His film, much like “The African Identity”, highlights how African documentarians are reclaiming lost or overlooked narratives, ensuring that stories of cultural significance are not forgotten.

 

On the other end of the spectrum, “The Bitter Feminist” tackles gender narratives head-on. By centering the experiences of Ringret, a feminist navigating social and cultural resistance, the documentary challenges traditional gender expectations in Africa. Like the other documentaries showcased at iREP, “The Bitter Feminist” is an assertion of identity this time, through the lens of gender activism. It reflects a growing trend where African documentarians are using deeply personal stories to spark broader cultural conversations, moving beyond observational storytelling to more immersive and confrontational narratives.

 

Challenges: Funding, Distribution, and Market Viability

 

Despite the increasing presence of African documentary filmmakers, systemic challenges continue to hinder growth in the industry. One of the most significant obstacles is funding. Unlike fiction films, which can attract commercial investments, documentaries rarely receive the same financial backing. Many filmmakers, including Amuta and Túbọ̀sún, have had to rely on personal funds or grants to complete their projects.

 

Pelu Awofeso’s “Mission to Osoogun” is a prime example of how financial constraints can shape a documentary’s production. Awofeso, like many African documentarians, had to navigate funding limitations, which dictated the scope of his work and the pace of its completion. He emphasized how crowdfunding and small grants have become essential tools for African  documentary filmmakers, though they remain unreliable as long-term solutions.

 

Another major challenge is distribution. While fiction films dominate cinemas and streaming platforms, documentaries often struggle to find mainstream visibility. James Amuta’s reflections on “Nightfall in Lagos” highlight this fact that documentaries rarely get theatrical releases in Nigeria and, even when they do, audience turnout is unpredictable. Streaming platforms like Netflix and Showmax have started acquiring more African content, but documentary films remain a lower priority unless they fit into highly marketable genres like true crime or investigative journalism.

 

However, there are emerging opportunities. The rise of digital platforms has democratized filmmaking, making it easier for independent filmmakers to share their work. Social media, YouTube, and alternative streaming services have created new avenues for distribution, allowing films to reach audiences beyond traditional cinema and festival circuits. As Awofeso noted, smartphones and social media are increasingly blurring the lines between documentary filmmaking and social commentary, allowing more voices to emerge.

 

 

The Role of iREP: A Hub for Documentary Filmmakers

 

In the midst of these industry struggles, iREP continues to play a critical role in shaping the African documentary landscape. Unlike mainstream film festivals where documentaries often take a backseat, iREP places them at the forefront, ensuring that filmmakers have a dedicated space to showcase their work, engage in discussions, and connect with industry professionals.

 

For James Amuta, iREP is more than just a screening platform; it’s a community. “IREP is family,” he said. “Screening my film there feels like sitting in my living room with loved ones, watching my work, and having deep discussions about it.” This sentiment is echoed by other filmmakers like Túbọ̀sún, who chose iREP for the premiere of “Ebrohimie Road” because of its reputation as a space that values historical and cultural documentaries.

 

Beyond screenings, iREP fosters bold experimentation in storytelling. Many African filmmakers feel constrained by the expectation that documentaries must follow rigid academic or journalistic formats. However, iREP embraces unconventional storytelling, encouraging filmmakers to push boundaries. This year’s selection of films demonstrates an increasing hybridity in African documentary filmmaking, with filmmakers like Daniel Chukwuemeka, Priye Diri, and Túbọ̀sún blending archival footage, dramatized reenactments, and deeply personal interviews to create more engaging narratives.

 

By prioritizing African stories told by Africans, iREP continues to challenge the dominance of Western perspectives in documentary filmmaking. The festival’s role as both an exhibition space and an incubator for new ideas ensures that African documentary storytelling remains innovative and impactful.

 

Looking Ahead: The Future of African Documentary Filmmaking

 

The collective message from these films and the discussions at iREP is clear: African documentary filmmaking is at a turning point. While challenges remain, there is growing recognition of its importance as both a cultural and commercial tool.

For the industry to sustain its momentum, several key developments must take place:

 

Stronger Industry Support: Distributors, cinema owners, and streaming platforms must recognize the commercial and cultural value of documentaries. Films like “The African Identity” and “Ebrohimie Road” demonstrate that there is an audience for historical and cultural narratives. What’s missing is the infrastructure to reach them.

 

Continued Experimentation: The increasing use of hybrid storytelling, blending fiction and non-fiction elements, is making documentaries more accessible. Filmmakers should continue to push these boundaries, making documentaries as engaging as mainstream films.

 

Expansion of Digital Distribution: Social media and alternative streaming platforms offer promising opportunities for documentary filmmakers to bypass traditional gatekeepers. However, monetization remains a challenge, and more work needs to be done to create sustainable revenue models.

 

Institutional Investment: Governments, film bodies, and cultural institutions need to prioritize funding for documentary projects. Many historical and cultural narratives are at risk of being lost due to a lack of financial support.

 

Audience Education: There needs to be a shift in how documentaries are perceived. African audiences are still largely conditioned to view documentaries as “educational” rather than entertaining. Filmmakers and festivals like iREP must continue working to reshape this perception, showing that documentaries can be just as gripping and cinematic as fiction films.

 

African documentary filmmaking is evolving beyond mere observation; it is actively shaping the continent’s history, identity, and future.

 

As iREP 2025 has shown, these films are no longer just stories; they are acts of resistance, preservation, and transformation. The challenge now is ensuring that these voices continue to be heard not just within the festival circuit, but across the broader African and global media landscape.