The cinematic arm of the Slum Dwellers International and affiliates’ campaign to expose injustice wrought upon waterfront communities in Nigeria’s largest city of Lagos, the Agbajowo Collective––a group of young artists who have themselves endured the forced evictions committed over the past five-plus decades––has made good on an idea that began in 2018. The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos is the culmination of their pursuit to prove the naysayers wrong: that they could not only make a film about this ongoing tragedy, but also one that resonates beyond their own borders. It’s the story of a woman (Temiloluwa Ami-Williams’ Jawu) faced with the choice to save herself or protect her community.
As is the case in such tales of David-Goliath heroics, however, it’s not really a choice. Jawu’s community is her identity as much as it is that of her neighbors. This is their birthplace and they have no interest in leaving––thus the government enlists paid thugs to scare them away under threat of death while the bulldozers arrive to pave way for new high-rise developments meant to line the pockets of corrupt politicians. Jawu is positioned to make a difference because she happens upon one such politician (Adebowale Adedayo’s Abisoro) as he buries a bag of cash earmarked to bankroll construction while she’s returning home from pleading guilty to a charge of, literally, being poor.
Jawu can take it for herself and provide for a new life to be shared with her son Daniel (Kachi Okechukwu) outside of these slums. She can use it to leverage Abisoro and demand justice. She can purchase weapons to arm her community in a war against the thugs. The possibilities are endless in a world where survival is predicated on wealth. We see this truth in both the large-scale inequality of Lagos itself and the smaller-scale prejudices that lie in the interpersonal relationships of those affected by it. Because Jawu does decide to test-drive the money before any final decisions are made. And despite buying expensive clothes first, a jeweler still refuses to accept that someone like her has money worthy of their time.
It’s this scenario that allows Jawu to meet Happiness (Teniola Adelesi)––a woman used to having the type of money that opens doors. And it’s through her that Jawu comes face-to-face with Abisoro, but her new wardrobe and company make it so he doesn’t recognize her as “Sister J” from the slums. That doesn’t mean the cavalier attitude he and his friends possess doesn’t frighten her. Or that the potential of what that money was supposed to create doesn’t tempt her to skip town and never look back. But words remain hollow, no matter how desperate they make people––until someone acts upon them. Only when the violence becomes real do the choices thus dwindle; it’s only then that the cost of doing nothing gets revealed.
The collective of seven filmmakers do well to set the stage for numerous moving parts all heading towards an inevitable confrontation. Reductively speaking, it’s just Jawu against Abisoro, but those behind each side are also human beings with the autonomy to turn the tide. Amongst the thugs ready to kill for money might be someone reaching their breaking point. Amongst the community trying to hold things together might be a selfless leader who understands money––even when used to their advantage––is the root of the evil ruling their existence. Add the presence of a robed man and parrot haunting (or, perhaps, inspiring) Jawu, and the road to war becomes affected by every little act of greed and defiance.
We’re talking about a desperate group of many and an entitled group of few. It’s easy to preach unity and believe that strength in numbers can overcome even the most egregious forms of corruption; it’s difficult to remain steadfast when the latter has machetes, machine guns, and the immoral character necessary to use them on innocent souls. More than just a fictionalized account of true events centered upon Jawu’s choice to fight is also an in-film representation of The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos itself. It’s about the voice of the oppressed becoming the very weapon needed to defeat tyranny. Make it so the tyrants can’t hide behind their titles, so the world can no longer turn a blind eye.
As for the narrative: it’s an effective intersection of political drama and public-service announcement. If some of the machinations used to push and pull Jawu into action are convenient, they make sense. Legend‘s second half simply moves at a breakneck pace that renders events less about being authentically earned and more about being necessary to the conclusion. Jawu herself becomes a pawn to the finale in this way, exposition and introspection replaced by inspiration. The end is thus bigger than just her and Abisoro––it showcases a movement where message surpasses character. Maybe it will feel less impactful to cinephiles as a result, but the Agbajowo Collective never lied about the PSA being their main ambition.
The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival.