EndSARS: How Art Preserves a Movement’s Legacy
On the 20th of October, 2020, the air in Lagos became heavy with the weight of unspeakable violence. What began as a movement for justice, transformed into a defining moment in Nigerian history, marked by bloodshed and unanswered cries for freedom. It was on this night, under the cover of darkness, that young Nigerian protesters, gathered at Lekki Toll Gate in peaceful demonstration, were met with bullets instead of reforms. The EndSARS movement, which started as a call to dismantle a notorious police unit, became a fight against brutality and injustice by state actors.
The events of the protests left scars across the collective consciousness of the nation. In the aftermath, multimedia journalist and producer Aisha Salaudeen, filmmaker and screenwriter James Amuta, and many others, took on the responsibility of documenting the events. Their works, shaped by the harrowing experiences of many Nigerians, including themselves, offer a glimpse into the ongoing struggle against police brutality in Nigeria.
Collision Course, a 2021 movie that tackles the issues of police brutality, systemic corruption, and the tension between law enforcement and civilians, was inspired by Amuta’s personal experience in 2009. He was stopped, harassed, and nearly framed for kidnapping after a confrontation with a police officer who demanded a bribe. “He had a gun. There were certain moments that night where I could feel him aching to shoot me, and trying to hold back.”
Amuta feared for his life. This experience stayed with him, prompting him to write a draft of the story at the time. When the EndSARS protests began, he revisited the script, and it felt incredibly timely. He shared the screenplay with Bolanle Austen Peters who was immediately on board to bring the story to life as its director.
“The film became a form of protest cinema,” Amuta, who also produced the film, says. Collision Course resonated with many, went ahead to clinch four nominations at Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards and won two, including Best Screenplay.
While Amuta’s work leaned on narrative and true-life-inspired fiction to grapple with these themes, Salaudeen’s approach brought the sharp immediacy of first-hand testimony. “I was looking through hours of footage. I thought my eyes were going to peel off,” says Salaudeen of the making of the documentary, October 2020.
Although there were too many stories to choose from, Salaudeen eventually went with the ones she felt were most relatable, and that matched the timeline of the EndSARS protests. “I find that stories that a lot of people can relate to hold a lot of power; [stories where] you can see yourself in this person’s experience.”
“Documentaries serve to preserve history,” Salaudeen says. “Because we are a people that tend to forget sometimes, we need these reminders in real time so that the truth is not distorted, and so that it stays in our memories.”
But preserving history comes with its own set of challenges. As Salaudeen recounts, getting people to speak on record was no easy task. “It’s very dangerous in Nigeria to publicly accuse the government of wrongdoing. You could get in a lot of trouble. [People] told us, ‘I don’t trust you, I don’t want to do this.’ And rightfully so.” The fear of reprisal ran deep, even among those who had witnessed the violence firsthand. Many, weighed down by the consequences of speaking out, chose silence.
This fear isn’t unfounded. Daniel Ojukwu, a journalist, was arrested for reporting on corruption by a presidential aide. Inibehe Effiong, who has led cases against police brutality and government misconduct, was sentenced to a month in prison for contempt of court after he raised an observation that the court had become a hostile environment with the presence of two AK47-wielding police officers.
The recent arrests during the #EndBadGovernance protests in August provide a stark reminder of this reality. Over one thousand protesters were arrested, many of them facing serious charges, including treason. Some remain in custody. These protesters, like those of the EndSARS movement, risked severe consequences for speaking out against the government.
Art as resistance
“You can’t silence art,” says Amuta. It’s a stubborn, undaunted declaration. Amuta adds that the Nigerian government has certainly tried to dictate to filmmakers what kind of stories can and cannot be told, especially where state authorities feature at the center of the narratives. “Many socially conscious films face censorship or suppression because they make those in power uncomfortable,” he says. Distributors and broadcasters then shy away from such films, weary of backlash from the government.
For Jumoke Verissimo, author, poet and editor of poetry collection, Sò̥rò̥sókè: An #EndSars Anthology, “poetry [is] a means of resistance against forces beyond our control.” She adds, “Certain events defy understanding, and we turn to poetry, hoping to find meaning within the chaos. I believe many others who feel a similar urgency find solace and strength in language; to borrow Toni Morrison’s phrase, ‘we do language.’”
The project that became Sò̥rò̥sókè: An #EndSars Anthology, which was co-edited by James Yeku, writer and associate professor of African and African-American studies at the University of Kansas, began as a collaboration with Brittle Paper. They focused on curating a digital archive, with “an intention to create a living memory…to preserve and document the experiences and emotions surrounding the event.”
Photo from Amazon.
"Sò̥rò̥sókè: An #EndSars Anthology,' is a digital archive of the experiences and emotions surrounding the movement.
“Instead of being a call to action, literature and the media offer a space for actionable contemplation,” she says. “They provide a space for reflections and interpretations, which serve as a form of resistance. To speak when others are silent is a privilege. Literacy is a privilege. To be a writer is a privilege. Media access is a privilege, so why not use it?”
The EndSARS movement, for Verissimo, exposed the criminalization of youth. It wasn’t merely a protest against police brutality, but a broader demand that a society stops punishing its young people for asking difficult questions about their future. “For every Nigerian who breaks through the barriers of injustice, there are over a thousand others who continue to struggle, aware that they will never be able to overcome a system that has left little room for them,” she says.
Despite the continued systemic issues that Verissimo hammers on, she does not lose sight of the progress the movement has achieved. She says that although the fight for justice may be a slow and long journey, there’s a growing confidence in Nigerians, especially among the youth, in engaging with authorities and calling for transparency. She adds that with the defiance of art and language, this fight will only continue to grow stronger.
Although Salaudeen is not very optimistic, she agrees with Amuta and Verissimo that the power of art in memorialization is towering and undeniable. “It ensures that history cannot be denied or rewritten,” Amuta says.