2026 BlackStar Film Festival: Naishe Nyamubaya on the Politics in “God Sleeps on Sundays”

In 1971, Kofi Awoonor published his poetry collection, Night of My Blood, and his popular poem, The Anvil and the Hammer, was included in the collection. The poem reflects how modernization and colonial history forced a transformation in African values, languages, and lifestyles. The Anvil and the Hammer captures the violent pressure the African mind was exposed to courtesy of colonialism. In 2025, Zimbabwean-Egyptian filmmaker, Naishe Nyamubaya made God Sleeps on Sundays, a short film that meditates on the enduring traditional African roots and the church as a remnant of colonial expansion. Its characters represent ideologies that have hitherto confronted Africans. James, a pastor, represents colonial legacy and violence; Chirongonma, a traditional healer, represents indigenous African culture and spirituality; and Marvis, James’ wife, represents the average African who carries both spiritual identity and its complexities. 

The film screened at the 2026 BlackStar Film Festival, and Culture Custodian had a virtual interview with Naishe Nyamubaya to reflect on the symbolic meaning of the characters, the place of ancestral land in African philosophy and culture, and the need to build a sustainable African film ecosystem. 

This interview has been edited for clarity. 

The conflict in the film is old, generational, but alive. For you, when did observing this spiritual divide transmute into a need-to-be-made film? 

My mother told me that we don’t do tales-by-moonlight stories that bring the community together anymore. Over the years, this has allowed us to lose the generational wisdom, tradition and culture that those gatherings hold. When I converse with Zimbabweans in my age group about our culture and heritage, it is clear that these ancestral stories and wisdoms are lost. 

Compared to Nigeria, which is split between Islam and Christianity, Zimbabwe is a Christian-dominated country, and there’s little religious harmony. Traditional worship and practices are vilified. Traditional healers and spiritual mediums are categorized as witches. This bothered me because what’s vilified is our national and cultural identity prior to colonial conquest. So, how can you hate who we were before Christianity and colonialism came calling. That unsettled me so much that making a film became important. In Zimbabwe, film is a way to reflect on such a controversial topic and start the conversation. 

What have the conversations in Zimbabwe been like after the film came out? 

We were nominated and won two awards at the National Arts Merit Awards, the biggest arts awards in Zimbabwe, so it was very encouraging to be seen at home at the highest level. We are still waiting to hear back from festivals we submitted to at home, but we had a private screening consisting mainly of friends and colleagues in the Zimbabwean industry. It was an almost unexpected response I got when the film screened. This is partly because people were enamoured by seeing themselves, language, and local issues represented onscreen.

It was an almost unexpected response I got when the film screened in Zimbabwe. This is partly because people were enamoured by seeing themselves, language, and local issues represented onscreen. I didn’t get an angry, controversial response but a warm, accepting one. When we screened in Accra, the response was good too. The film touched on a topical subject that a lot of people are thinking about but can’t articulate. It’s our dream to do a public screening at home after the film’s festival run.

Although James and Chirongoma’s conflict rests on a spiritual divide, the film also comments on cultural imperialism and land ownership. Can you speak more broadly on this? 

A big part of African traditional religion is rooted in land. Thus, it was impossible to talk about this colonial and traditional conflict without centering the land. The land is who we are, and it’s ours. In making the film and critiquing colonialism and cultural imperialism, it’s important to situate the land as sacred. James’ inability to understand the sacredness of the land because it has been bought by the church and has a government seal reflects that cultural disconnect. 

Even when the Chief in the film tried dissuading him from building his church on the land, he was still unable to understand that the government’s seal holds no weight when it comes to ancestral lands. When the colonialists came, it was the same thing. They didn’t care about the people and the land; they bulldozed their way into the country and claimed ownership. For us, James planting his cross on that ancestral land was symbolic of that colonial and religious brutality and violent expansion. 

An interesting aspect of the film is how each character carries metaphorical meanings. James is representative of colonialism, Chirongoma of the enduring African cultural and spiritual identity, and Mavis, a mixture of both. What were you thinking when writing the character? What do you think of this conflict? Is it a utopia?

With Mavis, I was avoiding this binary conflict and conversations about the two religions. There are so many Mavis who go to church and still uphold indigenous worship and rituals. That was why, for Mavis, who was a pastor’s wife and felt she could find a solution in Chirongoma’s herbs, it’s important to have her in the film. It wasn’t to say Christian prayers aren’t working. It was just to raise the possibility of a harmonious coexistence between a Christian and a traditional identity. Marvis made the argument for why we can’t coexist, rather than cherry-picking which is right or wrong. Also, most of us are torn in the middle. 

I can call it a utopia and a reality that we have. It’s more of a reminder of who we were and a call to take pride in it. It’s also a mirror to who we are now. It’s contentious, but it’s a reality that we can head to. The current status quo is unacceptable for a lot of young Zimbabweans and Africans. They’re becoming disillusioned with the offerings of the West and are retracing their steps back to who they were before colonialism. Over time, for the coming generations, they’re seeking an identity and something deeper. And that means coming back to the African past and national identity. 

In an interview, you mentioned that despite the international screenings and recognition the film has received, you fondly remember the screening in Zimbabwe. For you, does this also tie into the need to build more structured infrastructure in Zimbabwe and the continent? 

It’s important to have a self-sustaining African film ecosystem. This thing where African films travel across international festivals and win numerous awards but aren’t accessible to watch on the continent is disturbing. These awards and international screenings are important, but who are we making these films for? A film wins awards at major European and North American festivals, but locals won’t know it exists. I understand these things, especially when you consider the non-existence of infrastructure on the continent. Yes, we want to make our films travel, but we need our people to watch, discuss, and cherish these films. There’s also the need to build a pan-African audience where films travel across the continent. African filmmakers are often operating within their own bubble, and that needs to change.

The question remains: who are we making films for? 

We don’t have a pan-African audience. Hollywood still dominates the limited cinemas on the continent. Distribution of African titles is still an issue.  And there is limited national and pan-African funding for filmmakers. But amidst all these, initiatives are trying to solve funding, accessibility, and distribution concerns. As a filmmaker, what are your thoughts on these? 

In the past, there were initiatives like the now-defunct community and mobile cinema, and Zimbabweans loved it. But now, going to the cinema is a luxurious experience. To watch films, they often have to rely on national broadcast films and, sadly, piracy. Initiatives, as we had before, are important to building the ecosystem. 

It’s disheartening to know that there are few national funding sources and pan-African co-productions on the continent. Zimbabwe has no co-production treaties. I can’t co-produce with a Kenyan and Nigerian filmmaker. You will find that those co-production treaties are mainly non-existent across Africa, but treaties with Europe exist. Film, next to gold and tobacco, is our best export. And when they leave, they don’t return home. It’s a vicious cycle. As an African filmmaker, you get into these international residencies, win production grants, get the film made, and the film doesn’t return to the continent or contribute to building a sustainable ecosystem. 

That’s the path African filmmakers are forced to take. If we have national funding and pan-African co-treaties that allow filmmakers to make films, make a living, and build an industry, it will blossom the industry and reduce Western dependency. Yes, these fundings and programmes are vital in enabling film production and introducing undiscovered African filmmakers to an international audience, but, again, these films don’t often get seen by their actual audience. It’s a dangerous cycle.