Ifeoma Chukwuogo’s “Dear Dija” and the Poetry of Distance

My introduction to Nigerian filmmaker, director, producer, and writer, Ifeoma Chukwuogo was with Bariga Sugar which she made a decade ago. The short film, which is set in a brothel, was made a decade ago and has been described as one of the best Nigerian short films of all time. In 2024, Chukwuogo’s directorial feature film, Phoenix Fury premiered at African International Film Festival (AFRIFF) and won Best Director and Best Film. These films are united in their intimate portrayal of the interior lives of its characters. In Bariga Sugar which centers the relationship between two children living in a brothel in Bariga, the film distances itself from caricature, moralist and accusatory  portrayal. It chooses an empathetic and observatory approach toward telling the nuanced stories of its sex-workers’ characters. Phoenix Fury weaves Nigerian history, personal trauma and the need for healing in a watchable drama. Told in four chapters, the film touches on the Biafran war, a military coup, oil bunkering and the journey of a woman seeking revenge against a man who caused her suffering decades ago. 

In 2026, the director  returned with Dear Dija, a coming-of-age short written by Nduka Ebube Dike from a story by Eleanya Eke and Nduka Dike. The short film sees the director telling the story of two teenagers Nnamdi (Efosa Idahosa) and Khadija (Praise Adejo) living in neighbouring apartments who develop affection for one another. Their conversations which often happens over balcony railings sees them sharing their love for Nigerian and global cinema. They connect on their shared love for Old and New Nollywood titles including Andy Chukwu’s Mr. Ibu, Tchidi Chikere’s A Million Tears, Kemi Adetiba’s Wedding Party and Jade Osiberu’s Isoken. These films and the topic they meditate upon are the staples of their endless conversations. Watching these teenagers connect on their shared love for Nigerian cinema show what’s possible when Nigerian filmmakers tell stories that reflect national and cultural contexts. These films, not foreign ones, become reference points and study materials in formal and informal conversations. And by paying homage to these films, there’s a tradition of filmmaking being centered and referenced. 

Efosa Idahosa

Produced by Idunoba Entertainment (An Enugu Homecoming), the romance short focuses on how small interactions can evolve into something deeper and true. What’s striking in the film is how it centers distance between the characters. Geographically, the distance between the characters when they stand at their apartments’ balconies couldn’t be more than 10 inches. But, as the story unfolds, we realise that distance is wider and older than them. When their parents’ warn them, in a cautious and violence-pronce tone, about how bad of an influence the other person is, the distance becomes metaphorical. The physical distance symbolizes the historical, cultural, and religious barriers that have been enforced on Nigerians, depending on their ethnicity and religious affiliation. Nnamdi is Igbo and Christian while Khadijat is Muslim and Hausa. In Nigeria, that isn’t a good mix. And this has its roots in the 1914 colonial and capitalist-driven amalgamation of the British Governor-General Sir Frederick Lugard, uniting the Northern and Southern Protectorates into a single entity, the Colony and Protectorate of Nigeria. This strategic move established indirect rule across the country but failed to integrate disparate ethnic groups, setting the stage for enduring regional imbalances and political competition that continue to affect the country’s nation-building efforts. The result of it is the violent skepticism Nigerians, depending on their ethnic background, ascribe toward each other. It also explains why the teenagers in this film have to deal with bigoted parents. 

Praise Adejo

The cinematography is artistically-ambitious but also keen on making the audience feel like interlopers in the unfolding story. When Nnamdi and Khadija talk, the cinematography banishes external images and details. It centers their reluctance, clumsiness, the forced and suppressed smiles, but, above all, the genuine feeling they hold towards each other. The cinematography is reminiscent of the intimate close up in Barry Jenkins’ If Baale Street Could Talk and Raine Allen-Miller’s Rye Lane where the cinematography is an active storytelling tool. The film favours close-up shots that capture subtle expressions, conveying character feelings and vulnerability. It’s ironic and deliberate that the camera scantily picks long shots despite the geographical, religious and ethnic distance between the characters. The distance between Nnamdi and Khadijat is palpable but the camera opts for the intimate close up shot. By relying on close-up shots, the film is resistant against that geographical, religious, ethnic and historical distance and conflict. The film is calling for an emphatic, nuanced and vulnerable conversation around these religious, ethnic and historical distancing and “differences” even if the teenagers’ parents and immediate society isn’t receptive. 

The film is also cautionary in its calling for an utopia. Towards the end when the teenagers try closing the distance between them, they meet fierce parental and societal disapproval. Although the film primarily concerns itself with these two teenagers, it ponders on the unflattering commentary single women are exposed to. Interestingly, anger isn’t allocated to the dead beat father but the loving and courageous mother who stays. 

History has taught us that love often sprouts in weed-infested environments. Thus, even if society still refuses to close that historic distance, humans will learn to shrink.