The Culture of Waiting for Tragedy
I was on my way, performing my usual contribution to capitalism. There I was, rushing as early as 7 AM to get to my destination before 9 AM.
The typical scramble for bus, and cab. I was walking so fast trying to out-walk a guy crushed by the weight of his school bag. A door suddenly flung open, almost hitting my forehead (I’m short. Thank you) After barely scooting over the guy, I successfully squeezed my way between the driver’s door and the young man.
I smirked to myself at how “sharp” I was.
With the vehicle already in motion, I saw something that froze me. It wasn’t new. An electrical pole, slanted at an unnatural angle, dangled from a few strained wires. That’s my usual route. It had been like that for weeks. Two, maybe three. No barriers around it. No sign of repairs. Just an accident waiting to happen.
As I sat in the cramped small car, the driver muttered with a shrug, “Until it falls and kills someone, that’s when they will come and fix it.”
That moment hit differently.
Because that’s exactly how it works here. We wait. We mourn. We post. Then we forget. Safety isn’t taken seriously — not by the government, not by institutions, and often, not even by ourselves. We live in a culture where inaction is the norm, where known dangers are only addressed when they turn into headlines.
And this culture is killing people.
Nollywood, Africa’s cinematic powerhouse, produces thousands of films annually, captivating audiences across the globe. Yet behind the scenes, a darker reality lurks. The industry, known for its creativity and passion, is grappling with a systemic crisis: a persistent lack of safety measures that has endangered, injured, and in some cases, cost the lives of its actors and crew.
Recent Incidents Highlighting Safety Lapses in Nollywood
Junior Pope’s Tragic Drowning
Just a year earlier, in April 2024, Nollywood actor Junior Pope boarded a small wooden boat to reach a movie location on the River Niger. He went live on Instagram, smiling. Hours later, he was gone. The boat capsized. The driver was unlicensed. The boat was unregistered. Only one person onboard had a life jacket — their own.
Videos later showed people dragging his body ashore in the dark. Chaos. Screaming. Someone yelled, “He’s alive!” Until he wasn’t.
No paramedics. No standby medical team. No emergency protocol. A respected actor died doing his job, not in a warzone, but on a film set.
Godwin Nnadiekwe’s Injury
Barely a year later, in May 2025, actor Godwin Nnadiekwe landed in the hospital with internal bleeding. On set, Zubby Michael had jump-kicked him in the chest, an unscripted stunt that was never approved by the director. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t safe. It happened anyway.
Nnadiekwe later revealed the harsh truth:
“No insurance, no first aid… that’s the reality most of us face.”
Gideon Okeke in Sin
Gideon Okeke had a traumatic accident during the production of Jim Iyke’s Sin. An injury that required stitches and a three-month recovery period.
What stings even more, according to him, was Jim Iyke’s lack of response.
“Jim Iyke refused to show concern and has been running like a small boy,” Gideon said in a video posted to Instagram. “I’m my mother’s only child. What if I had died?”
Jim Iyke eventually responded on an interview with Chude Jidenowo.
Systemic Issues Plaguing Nollywood
These incidents are not anomalies. They point to deep-rooted structural issues:
- Nonexistent Safety Protocols: Some sets operate without formal safety guidelines or emergency response plans.
- Budget Over Safety: In the race to produce high-volume, low-cost films, safety often takes a back seat.
- Lack of Oversight: There is minimal regulation or enforcement from governing bodies within the industry.
The problem goes beyond dangerous locations or stunts. Just recently, actor Taye Arimoro accused actress Peggy Ovie and her crew of physically assaulting him on a film set after he attempted to leave, having exceeded his agreed work hours. He shared visible injuries online, but no official guild or authority has intervened as of the time this was published. That silence reveals another form of systemic neglect — the absence of workplace conduct standards, conflict-resolution systems, or any real mechanism to protect professionals from on-set abuse.
These tragedies are not unfortunate one-offs. They are symptoms of a broken system. In Nollywood, speed and cost-efficiency often override safety. Shoots happen in rivers, rooftops, highways, and forests — without risk assessments or emergency support. Most filmmakers rely on instinct and improvisation. Few, if any, hire certified stunt coordinators or medical professionals.
When filmmakers and actors have no structural protection from physical harm or professional misconduct, it becomes clear that Nollywood’s crisis is one of governance, not just safety gear. The same culture that allows a stunt to go wrong without accountability also allows people to be mistreated under the excuse of “creative pressure” or “production stress.”
And when things go wrong? There’s no structure to fall back on. No real union protection. No compulsory insurance. No central enforcement body. The Actors Guild of Nigeria (AGN) has issued statements and even suspended riverine shoots after Junior Pope’s death. They formed a safety committee. But as with many things in Nigeria, committees don’t guarantee change.
Is there any official body providing safety oversight?
In theory, Nigeria has a regulatory agency overseeing the film industry: the National Film and Video Censors Board (NFVCB). The board was established in 1993 to license, censor, and regulate video content and exhibition in Nigeria. While the NFVCB is legally tasked with enforcing safety regulations, in practice it has done little to proactively implement or monitor safety protocols on set. Its enforcement mechanisms remain weak and largely ceremonial.
Following recent tragedies, industry organisations such as the Actors Guild of Nigeria (AGN) have made attempts to step in. The AGN suspended all river-related shoots and called for stricter safety compliance. But these are reactive measures. There is still no structured, fully empowered safety body enforcing standards across the board.
But the responsibility still largely falls on individual filmmakers; those who can afford it. That leaves filmmakers to police themselves. Production houses with strong reputations—those backed by Netflix or Amazon—tend to adhere to global best practices: hiring set medics, conducting risk assessments, and providing safety equipment. But outside of these well-funded circles, most Nollywood sets are governed by improvisation and cost-cutting. Crews work long hours, often in dangerous environments, with little protection and even less training on risk management.
Filmmakers and actors often bear the brunt of responsibility for their own safety. There are no official industry-wide mandates, safety training programmes, or enforced penalties for neglect. And in a fiercely competitive market where budgets are tight and turnaround times tighter, cutting corners is the rule, not the exception.
The Bigger Picture: A National Hypocrisy
This isn’t just a Nollywood problem. It reflects a national truth. From collapsed buildings to stampedes at palliative distribution centres, from overloaded boats to neglected infrastructure, our systems wait for tragedy before they respond. Safety officers are paid peanuts and overruled. Companies parade polished safety policies that are never enforced. Religious gatherings with tens of thousands of attendees have no medical plan. And when people die, we say, “It is well.”
The hard truth? It’s not well.
The Path Forward
Nollywood can lead by example. Safety should not be a luxury or a personal decision. It must be systematized.
- Create enforceable safety regulations for productions: stunts, locations, transportation, and emergencies.
- Mandate certified personnel: stunt coordinators, medics, and safety officers on all high-risk shoots.
- Make insurance compulsory for all actors and crew.
- Empower unions and guilds to blacklist unsafe productions.
- Push for legislation: The Labour, Safety, Health and Welfare Bill of 2012 must become law.
This Is Not Only About Film
The lights of Nollywood illuminate much more than fiction. They expose how we operate as a country. Behind every tragic story is a preventable flaw: a pole left hanging, a boat without jackets, a kick delivered with no plan.
Let this not be another wave of outrage that fades. Let it be the one that changes the script.
Because the show must not go on if it costs people their lives.
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