“People often think that independent or contemporary women cannot fulfil traditional roles in the African context. The assumption is that you are either one thing or the other, either ‘tough’ or ‘homely’. But that is not true. You can be all of it. You can be both soft and nurturing, and yet career-driven”. – Omotola Jalade Ekeinde.
By Jerry Chiemeke
When Omotola Jalade Ekeinde made her film debut in 1995, Nollywood was still finding its voice. Three decades later, she has become one of the defining faces of Nigeria’s cinema boom. Now, at 47, she’s trading her actor’s chair for the director’s seat.
On 6th September 2025, at the recently-concluded Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), Ekeinde premiered Mother’s Love, marking her directorial debut after a storied acting career.
With a cast featuring Ekeinde herself alongside Ifeanyi Kalu, Noray Nehita, Lilian Afegbai, Nosa Rex, and Olumide Oworu, Mother’s Love examines the quiet but unyielding influence of mothers across different social classes within a 102-minute runtime, particularly focusing on the complex dynamics between mothers and first-born daughters.
Produced by Redhot Concepts and distributed by Nile Entertainment, the film follows a privileged young woman’s transformative journey during her National Youth Service Corps year. As she ventures beyond her sheltered world, she discovers purpose, resilience, and identity through her mother’s enduring love and guidance.
“I wanted to tell a coming-of-age story that challenges privilege, confronts identity, and ultimately celebrates the quiet strength of women redefining themselves on their own terms”, says Ekeinde. “It draws inspiration from real experiences, not just my own, but from the many untold stories of young Nigerian women finding their place in a complex world”.
In this exclusive conversation, Ekeinde sits with Afrocritik to discuss making Mother’s Love, filmmaking logistics, generational gaps between talent, a new career trajectory, and the perception of women in contemporary Nollywood.
What specific moment or experience made you realise this story needed to be told from behind the camera rather than just in front of it?
Interesting question. I visited Nigeria in December 2023 for Christmas, and a very beautiful friend of mine, Ruth Kadiri, a big deal in the YouTube ecosystem, mooted the idea of making a feature film to me. I had organised TEFFEST (The Entertainment Fair and Festival) in 2019, partnering with YouTube and Google, and she wondered why I hadn’t jumped on the current YouTube wave.
In her words, “you pioneered this whole movement at some point. We’re doing very well in it now, and you’re not even a part of it”. I told her that I had only travelled home for a vacation, but she insisted that I produce a film, and she was persistent about it.
So in March 2024, I consulted my team and discussed the feasibility of shooting a made-for-YouTube film. To my shock, we completed shooting in four days, despite enormous problems: the power grid in Nigeria went down, and there was fuel scarcity, but because of our scheduling and organisation, we actually finished. That shocked me, because I didn’t think it was possible.
Ultimately, I challenged my team to produce a feature that would go to cinemas. With the previous shoot, I didn’t care, I just wanted to prove a point to myself. But this time I thought, “I can actually push myself and do something I would enjoy”. I decided to focus on a simple story.
The first thing that came to my heart was a story about the mother-daughter dynamic, a story I’ve always wanted to tell. I feel like people don’t show enough of that complexity; I had my own share with my departed mother. One of my NGOs, Give and Let Give (GALG), is inspired by my mother’s widowhood and my relationship with her. So I’ve always wanted to tell that story.
In previous iterations of Nollywood, we often showed crying mothers. I wanted to show a different kind of mother. My mother was very independent and very strong. I wanted to show that type of woman.
I also drew energy from myself, as a mother, and from my own relationship with my first daughter, which in itself is very complicated. Having experienced these intergenerational complexities at both ends, I realised one common theme playing out: with first daughters, mothers always feel like they need to be extremely strict, because first daughters “lead” the others.
In this case, I didn’t want to get too much in my head, so we decided not to give the character siblings; otherwise, it would become too close to my real-life past. I wanted her to be a separate character, but with real energy.
That’s where we decided to explore PTSD and grief. With my own mother, she died, so that grief shaped me. In the film, we gave the mother a backstory of losing a child. That way, we still captured that energy of grief.
Part of the story is set against the backdrop of the National Youth Service Corps. For many Nigerians, it is an integral part of youth development and career trajectory. But was it a random decision to insert the NYSC into your narrative, or was it something pivotal?
No, it’s just creative license. The weaving of the National Youth Service into the plot went with the theme of how she would have been able to start living anyway. Because the girl in the story was so sheltered, it was the easiest scenario where she’d be able to meet a boy from the other side of the tracks.
When you watch the movie, you will understand why she was extremely sheltered. We were trying to highlight the theme of parents who over-shelter their kids. They think they are doing something great for them, but in essence, they are not preparing them for the outside world. That’s another story, with so many other subjects that would have been nice to touch on, but we couldn’t. Hopefully, we can explore those in subsequent projects.
What influenced your decision to work with emerging talent like we see in the cast, since they are relatively young and from a different generation?
Lilian (Afegbai) is doing very well now; her performance in To Kill A Monkey has received much praise, so her talent is not in doubt. Nosa (Rex) is doing very well on YouTube, and we needed him for his comedic prowess.
Noray (Nehita) is relatively new; she’s only done a few projects, but we also needed someone who looked like me. When I saw her, that was the first thing, because the casting had to be believable. She needed a lot of grooming, but she worked very hard and caught up quickly.
As an industry veteran, how do you see your role in nurturing the next generation of Nigerian performers, both as a director and as a mentor?
With regard to my role in nurturing the next generation. I take it very seriously; I think it is very important. But I am also careful about the kind of people we bring in. In my generation, we came in with passion and were very particular about discipline, which is not very easy to come by with the new actors now. So I tend to avoid those who lack a work ethic.
I don’t care about popularity. I believe my name can carry a project. For me, it was important to find the right cast, to find disciplined actors, and to showcase people whom, as an actor myself, I would be proud to present to the world. So, it was not just about their acting, even though that was very important, but also about their personalities and how serious they are as artists.
In my production company, we emphasise heavily on discipline. I know I am on the global stage, so I don’t want to project any actor who I feel is not ready for the global stage or who does not take their craft seriously.
The film was shot across various Nigerian locations. How did the geography and local communities influence the story you were telling?
The locations were very important, because the story itself is a juxtaposition: we were working with two extremes, the very rich and the extremely poor. In Nigeria, to be precise, the very rich live on Banana Island. And the interesting part is, just across the ocean and the bridge, you have the Makoko community, which is known worldwide as a squalid settlement. They have even tried to shut that place down.
Some years ago, there was a debate about closing the settlement, and at some point, it even involved UNESCO, so I thought it was very important for us to shoot there.
Even though Nigeria has many poor neighborhoods, it mattered that we used Makoko because we do not know how much longer it will still exist. The dynamic was important: on one end of the ocean is extreme wealth, and on the other end is extreme poverty. So what are the odds that a child with a privileged background and a child from humble beginnings could meet in school, interact, and then fall in love? That contrast is central to the story.
When you watch the movie, you will see that we play with people’s perceptions. There is often a belief that when you are from that kind of background, you must be unscrupulous or streetwise. But in this film, you will find a very different kind of person, which we do not show enough in Nigerian cinema.
By the way, this movie also has an app attached to it, which will soon be out. It is an intellectual movie. I wanted to try different things with it, so that it stands apart from most projects out there. For example, the boy in the story is a tech guy, and the app he is pitching in the movie is one we have actually built and will be launching alongside the film. So those are the kinds of layers we added to make the experience unique.
What challenges did you face while shooting in these diverse settings?
Shooting in Makoko is hell. You have to deal with so many groups, clusters, and cliques, and then you also have to deal with the government. For instance, we needed a government school for some scenes, so we had to get approval. They were very strict about it, because they did not want people taking advantage of the kids, which is understandable.
Then there was the creek. Getting on the water is dangerous, and sometimes we even had to shoot at night. Eventually, we had to collaborate with one of the biggest NGOs in the community, Slum2School, founded by Orondaam Otto. They have been working in Makoko for years, so they stepped in and helped us. They gave us a smoother passage during filming, but we still faced issues.
At different points, groups would confront us on set. There was even a very dangerous situation where one group threatened to destroy our equipment and cause mayhem. Thankfully, it was quickly brought under control. And then there were the Area Boys. You pay one group to let you shoot, then another comes saying that group is different, and you have to pay again. It is a cycle, and it makes things very tough. The only way to manage it is to collaborate with people who know the area well.
In the affluent neighbourhoods, the challenges were much lighter. We had to use a yacht and some other logistics, but nothing compared to Makoko. That side was relatively easy.
What surprised you most about the transition from actress to director?
I have worked as a co-director on other people’s projects and served as a consultant on several movies, so I have previously been involved behind the scenes. But this was different.
This was totally my own project, and that meant full responsibility. And, as I mentioned earlier, considering how I even got started on this project, everything was on the mark. I did not have much time to think. Everything had to move quickly, and I had to stay on my feet.
Shooting in Nigeria at the time added to the pressure. The national power grid had shut down, at least in Lagos, if not across the country, so there was almost no electricity. Then there was fuel scarcity, so we had to buy black-market fuel to keep things running. All this was happening while I did not have the luxury of months of pre-production. I had to keep thinking on my feet, making decisions as I went. I was both producer and director, so the pressure was immense.
When I compare directing to acting, to be honest, I found that I actually preferred being a director. I felt more comfortable in that role, as if I was made for it. Ironically, what made things even tougher was the acting. Initially, I was not supposed to act in the film — we had cast another actress — but after we reviewed the final script, everyone insisted that I play the role. That added another layer of pressure, because I had already planned the production with the other actress in mind.
Having to step into the role myself forced me to re-adjust everything. It even got to a point where I would forget I was acting in the movie. I was handling so many things that people would suddenly come up to me and say, “Director, your scene is ready”, and I would have to run off, do my makeup, and rush back to set. The behind-the-scenes experience was overwhelming, but I am thankful for it.
Looking back now, the most surprising thing was realising that I could actually handle it all. I do not know how I pulled it off, but I did. By all measures, I should have quit under those circumstances: I am a perfectionist, and stepping into something without feeling fully ready usually terrifies me. But I just went in with faith.
I consoled myself with the thought that, since it was my money, in the worst-case scenario, I could simply abandon the project, keep it to myself, and nobody would ever see it. That gave me the courage to keep pushing. Thankfully, here we are today.
How has this experience changed your perspective on the stories you want to tell? And what is next for you as a filmmaker? Has it shaped or influenced the sort of stories you will focus on from here on out?
I have always been drawn to human stories. Even as an actor, I have consistently been part of projects that centre on human struggles and experiences, such as films like Alter Ego (2017), Lockdown (2021), and Ije (2010). I am very particular about the kind of movies I choose to work on, and that will not change.
What this experience has done, however, is make me lean even more towards true-life stories, the kinds that have the power to influence or even change the future. At this point, I feel more comfortable telling stories inspired by real events or real people. I feel more connected to them, and I believe they resonate more deeply. Going forward, I am inclined to pursue stories like these in my own projects.
What do you hope local and international audiences take away from this film about contemporary Nigerian women, particularly those from privileged backgrounds who are questioning their place in society?
I think what audiences can take away from Mother’s Love, especially when it comes to contemporary women, is the understanding that women are flexible. There is no universally singular definition of what it means to be a woman. First and foremost, women are multi-taskers, and we are also multi-thinkers. In other words, we can adjust to whatever situation we find ourselves in.
Most importantly, women are also very wise. We know when it is time to pivot. That is exactly what happens with my character, Labake. When it was time for her to switch, she did it so seamlessly you would almost not notice, but she knew that if she did not pivot, she would lose everything.
So, I think it is about recognising that we know when to be a wife, and we know when to be a mother. We may not always get it right at first, but if we are given the opportunity, we will adjust and eventually get it right.
People often think that independent or contemporary women cannot fulfil traditional roles in the African context. The assumption is that you are either one thing or the other, either “tough” or “homely”. But that is not true. You can be all of it. You can be both soft and nurturing, and yet career-driven. You can take care of your home while also being sensitive, ambitious, and successful. It is possible. I know because I am an example of that balance.
It’s tricky, really, having to combine everything while also taking small breaks. I’m also hoping that as you do more films from personal experience, you’ll draw even deeper. We’ve seen stories about shining stars, women in Nollywood who were on an upward trajectory, and then after a while, motherhood comes in the way, and they step back for some time. Then the blogs start asking, “What happened to this person?”
It is tough, it is not easy, but it is possible. My message to my colleagues who have gone through that is this: it’s never too late. Come back whenever you are ready. Take the time you need to do whatever is essential to you, because everybody’s journey is different.
I also don’t like the pressure that people put on women to fit into one narrative. If a woman needs to step away for a while to take care of her children, then that is what she needs to do. I step away from the media sometimes, too. I do it intentionally, and people ask, “Omotola, where are you?” But for me, it’s about prioritising my mental health.
As women, it’s not easy to balance taking care of a man, a home, and children with maintaining a career. So take the time you need, and when you are ready, come back. Your spot will always be there waiting for you. Nobody else can take it.
Mother’s Love screened at TIFF’s Lightbox 5 for an audience of distributors, sales agents, and international industry delegates. The film is scheduled for a Lagos premiere in early 2026 before embarking on a global theatrical tour, with a release timed to coincide with Mother’s Day.
Jerry Chiemeke is a Nigerian-born writer, film critic, journalist, and lawyer based in the United Kingdom. His writing has appeared in Die Welt, The I Paper, The Africa Report, The British Blacklist, Berlinale Press, The Johannesburg Review of Books, Culture Custodian, Olongo Africa, and elsewhere. Chiemeke’s work has won or been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Ken Saro Wiwa Prize, Diana Woods Memorial Award for Creative Nonfiction, Best Small Fictions, and the Quramo Writers Prize. He is the author of the critically-acclaimed short story collection, Dreaming of Ways to Understand You.