My memories of Dan Ibro – Carmen McCain

You’re quite famous in Kannywood, especially for your breakout role in ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’, where you played the titular wife. How was your experience working alongside Rabilu Musa, aka Ibro?Carmen McCain: This is where, if I were sitting with you in person, I would blush and hide in my mayafi. I don’t think I […]

You’re quite famous in Kannywood, especially for your breakout role in ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’, where you played the titular wife. How was your experience working alongside Rabilu Musa, aka Ibro?
Carmen McCain: This is where, if I were sitting with you in person, I would blush and hide in my mayafi. I don’t think I quite realized what I was getting into when I agreed to play the role. But you are right that when I walk on the street or into offices or other public spaces in northern Nigeria, (and even a few times in Lagos), people call out “matan Ibro” and ask me how my husband Ibro is. So, playing Ibro’s wife has definitely marked my public presence in Nigeria.
I was shocked and grieved last week when I received the news that he passed away. Since that time everywhere I go, people say “Yaya hakurin rasuwar Dan Ibro?” “Yaya hakurin rasuwar mijin ki?” Sometimes they don’t even mention Dan Ibro, they just look at me and look sad, “Yaya hakuri?”
The producer and director of ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’ approached me about playing the role in early 2009, about 6 months after I had arrived in Kano to begin doing PhD research. At that time, the censorship crisis was in full swing and there were very few movies being produced in Kano, so I spent almost the first year of my research more in editing studios than on film sets. When I had visited Kano for three months for pre-dissertation research in 2006, I had been in a few small roles, but I hadn’t been on a film set in years. I thought the idea of the film was funny, so I agreed.
Ibro was probably the most recognizable star in Kannywood and he seemed to attract people who would not generally watch Kannywood or even Nollywood movies. I know many Christians in Jos who do not necessarily watch the higher budget “sentimental” Hausa movies but who love watching Ibro movies. In fact 2008, when I was stuck in Jos during the crisis, I remember sitting with a house full of Christian refugees watching Ibro Dan Siyasa. People who had just been complaining about “the Hausa” or “the Muslims” were sitting there laughing their heads off at Dan Ibro. His comedy transcended all of these artificial divisions. I was excited when I heard about the Kenneth Gyang film ‘Karangiya’ he’d acted in, alongside great Nollywood comedians Aki and Pawpaw.
You’ve interviewed him before, for your blog and we gather you discussed his run-in with the then-infamous Kano State Censorship Board. Can you recall some of his responses?
McCain: Ibro was quite elusive, and so one of my conditions for doing ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’ was getting to interview him. However, we did the interview in the lunch break after arriving in the village in Jigawa State where we filmed in April 2009. The atmosphere was not ideal for an interview, so it was a little less than 7 minutes long. I haven’t yet translated it, and I’ve never published it, but maybe I’ll figure out how to make the audio and the Hausa transcript available on my blog.
He was reluctant to discuss his experiences with the censorship board—understandably since the censorship crisis was still going on and we had had to leave Kano State to film. He did emphasize that he and his colleague the now late Lawal Kaura, with whom he was arrested, had done nothing wrong. He told me that in his films he liked to focus on the culture of the village that people in the city had forgotten. He also emphasized that filmmaking was meant to entertain and to teach, and he wanted his audiences to pray for him.
Musa reportedly writes his own scripts. Do you know if that’s true of ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’?
McCain: No, he didn’t write the script for ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’. He was just brought in to play the role and it’s the only film set I have been on with Rabilu Musa (with the exception of a historical epic I saw being made in Jos, where he played an evil king), so I can’t generalize about all of his films. My understanding is that producers would come up with stories for him to act in and would hire him to act. I have not heard of him writing scripts before.
On the set of ‘Ibro Ya Auri Baturiya’, I was never given a written script, although the director and producer had one. From my observations, there was more of a scene list. The director would give instructions to the actors, and they are such good actors and so experienced at comedy that they are able to improvise to the director’s instructions. Many of the comedians, including Rabilu Musa, were originally stage actors, so they are very experienced at this sort of improvisational theatre with a community of actors they know well.
I think some of the reason the comedy is so funny is because of this improvisation. This is not limited to Kannywood comedies either. I have read that the late Robin Williams and other Hollywood comedians often improvise much of their comedy. Film editors and the director then determine what makes it into the final cut.
I guess you could say Rabilu Musa “wrote” his own scripts through improvisation, but I don’t know of him ever actually writing a script with pen and paper. I cannot generalize my experience on a few sets to all of them. I have heard from other well-known comedians that on other sets with directors like Comrade Umar Jalo there are written scripts.
You’ve written about not being too happy about your performance in that film. How would you rate Musa’s own performance?
McCain: That was a few days ago on my blog as a tribute to Rabilu Musa after I heard the news of his death. I’d not said much about it before because I was a bit embarrassed by my performance. I was an inexperienced actor overall, and except for a brief Theatre for Development class I had audited in 2005 with the late Esiaba Irobi and another introductory acting course I had audited in 2007, I had very little experience with improvisational theatre.
After we arrived in the village and ate lunch, I was taken to a small room and told to change from my Nigerian dress to “Western wears” that I had brought. About a minute later, before I had time to comb my hair from its flattened state under my headtie, they rushed me over to the place we were to start filming. The director gave us a few sentences of instruction (one of them being that I was to speak in English and then gradually begin speaking broken Hausa) and then started shooting.
Ibro was an expert at this, so I thought he was brilliant. I, on the other hand, was trying not to die of embarrassment. I kept thinking about my uncombed hair and how I didn’t know what to do. I just tried to follow his lead. I’ve seen much better Ibro comedies where he plays off of much more experienced actors, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Once I got over my own embarrassment, I really enjoyed watching him perform. And when I was able to get enough distance from it to watch the film, I realized that there is some great subversive political comedy there as well, which I briefly discussed in my PhD thesis.
Musa is known for a lot of improvisational performances. Can you tell us what his process was like when you worked together?
McCain: Yes, his process was very improvisational. Once he received a few sentences of instruction from the director, he took it there. He knew his character Dan Ibro so well, that he could snap into character and start making it up as he went along. Once I got used to the rhythm, this sort of acting became fun for me too, but what I enjoyed the most was getting to sit on the sidelines and watch the comedians banter among themselves.
What will you remember the most about Musa or his alter ego ‘Dan Ibro’?
McCain: Rabilu Musa was surprisingly quiet in person. When I met him, I was shy to meet such a big star, so I didn’t try to talk too much to him. I sat in the back seat while he drove to Jigawa, listening to music. He was very quiet. When we stopped on the side of the road to buy snacks, people would just pass by. But eventually some children did a double take when they recognized him and then they all started crowding around chanting “Ibro, Ibro.” It was amazing watching him transform from this quiet man with an unassuming appearance into the loud, brash Ibro once the camera was on.
Losing an actor who has been in hundreds of films means you don’t lose the memory of their face and voice in the same way that you do for people who are not public figures—because you always seen their characters again. They’ll haunt television screens for years to come. Ibro, in particular, was a fascinating case because as Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu has pointed out, singers like Sadi Sidi Sharifai and others can imitate his voice so that the character of Ibro sometimes said and did things independent of Rabilu Musa. Dan Ibro lives on in television screens and radio performances.
Would you act in any more Kannywood films in the future?
McCain: Sure. I love the camaraderie of the Kannywood film set and the challenge of turning myself into another character. I’ve missed it in the years that I’ve been gone finishing my PhD. I’d be delighted to come back if my academic work and location allows for it. What I have learned, though, is to be a little bit more careful about which director and producer I work with and to ask for a written script ahead of time. Acting is fun, once you get into the rhythm, but I am much more comfortable with a written script, because it gives me time to daydream about the story, rehearse, and get into character.
In the film ‘Mutallab’ directed by Aminu Saira and produced by Nasir Gwangwazo, which is the other film I am often recognized for, I had the script ahead of time. Jack Tocco, a fellow American who played Romeo, and I especially practiced a lot in the downtime on set, and Ali Nuhu was very kind and encouraging, so I felt much more comfortable in that environment than with improvisation.