Chapter 8 A Man's world

In 2009, when I was on set shooting The Prince's I received a visitor. He was not my visitor, for he had come there to see someone else. By the end of his visit, however, I turned out to matter more to him than the person he had come to see. This august visitor, if I should call him so because of the retinue of security guards he moved with, derived his influence from the surname he carried. His name is Joel Duncan-Williams, the son of the founder and leader of the Action Faith Chapel International, Archbishop Nicholas Duncan-Williams.

Until that day, I hadn't known or heard about him, but I could not fail to notice his imposing presence when he showed up. Before he left where we were shooting the movie, he said he had fallen in love with me. The days and weeks that followed proved he was not joking. He would buy me lunch and visit me on set. I was amused by his security and the mini-convoy that followed him. I began to wonder what threats he encountered that warranted the kind of escort he moved with. While I was still unsure of what to tell him, his plans were far advanced for marriage. But something ended our friendship abruptly before it had the slimmest probability of developing beyond that. He paid me a visit one evening with the usual princely entourage that I had only seen in movies of nonstate officials. When the howling of his motorcade's siren had adequately announced to the neighbourhood that my household had received an important somebody, he came in and announced his plans. He said, before the marriage would proceed, I had to go to his father to be prayed for. The purpose of that prayer was to ensure that whatever demons or evil spirits were present in me or my family line would be cast out. In my head, I asked whether he didn't think my mother also needed to pray to cast out any potential bad spirits in him. Being the son of Archbishop Duncan-Williams didn't necessarily mean he was inhabited by the Holy Spirit and guarded by angels. And who told him that being an actress meant that I was a harbinger of malevolent spirits? At least, those who lived in our area would testify that the Manovia household used to be one of the most religious households around. My mother's sense of spirituality heightened after a motor accident she was involved in, and it was rare to miss morning devotion in our house. Those were the times, in my teen years, I used to interrupt prayer sessions with revelations from God. When I started my acting career, I made it a point to always pray before I started any movie role I was given. I am not one of those who wear their religion on their sleeves, but I believe in God and believe in prayers. I have seen the hand of God in my affairs many times and I have no doubt He comes through for me when I call on Him. I don't believe in just big pastors or men of God, some of whom are nothing short of entrepreneurs. I, therefore, found it funny that someone who was interested in marrying me and hadn't secured my consent thought I needed to be spiritually cleansed even before he proceeded. He didn't see the need for that cleansing to be mutual. Outside the realm of spirituality, that thinking betrays a certain mindset that I have come to see in a lot of men, especially in Ghana and Nigeria-terrains I'm familiar with. It is a mindset that reinforces the unfortunate reality that this is a man's world. It is an entitlement mindset that a woman must be subservient to a man and be subject to his wishes and dictates. It is an unwritten rule that expects a woman to be complementary to a man and that her own priorities and feelings must be subsumed by the overriding ambitions of the man. In the case of Joel Duncan-Williams, it was evident that he was thinking about one side, his side and his interests. Others have a cruder way of manifesting this mindset. It is the forceful entitlement to women's bodies. I knew it existed, but the movie industry opened my eyes to its pervasiveness and seriousness When a popular movie director in Ghana threatened not to cast me in a movie again unless I gave in to his sexual demands, I initially didn't take it seriously. I thought it was just an empty threat that was meant to put pressure on a fame-hungry young woman. But he meant it, and, for a year, he did not look my way in the movies that came from his stable. He had made the advances for a long time, and when it became clear to him that I would not yield, he wielded the ultimate trump card. He tossed a sack of juicy hay in front of a young woman foraging for the foliage of success and fame and all the trappings that came with it. I didn't accept the poisonous bait, so he carried out his threat. After a year, he was convinced that he had failed and because he needed my service, he came back to make peace with me. But I had to give something else to placate him. I ended up acting in a number of movies for him for free. In all, I have done about fifteen movies without charging a fee. I needed to stay visible, relevant and be in the trends. The more movies one shot, the more one stayed in the minds of people and had the potential of landing juicier offers. Producers know this, and women who are now looking for the opportunity to enter the industry are often required to exchange sex for roles. Was I shocked that this director went this far to punish me for something I had the right to refuse anyone I had no feelings for? Not at all. If what he did had any effect on me, it only confirmed that I was born into a man's world. I had to live with it and endure the consequences if I could not change it. That world influenced me a great deal even before I became conscious of it. As I've already stated elsewhere in this book, the male-dominated hiphop culture shaped my early life. It's the reason I grew up as a tomboy. I loved it. I also grew up naturally drifting more towards men than women. I felt more comfortable around men than women and that meant I learnt the ways of men very early in life. The more I knew, the more hopeless I became of the reality of women in a world they dominate only in numbers. I have always been around men, but I couldn't think like men or behave like them. I am a woman. And they are men. I feel if we got into the same trouble, society would judge them more leniently than me. Men get away with a lot of things, or so I think. They control a lot of things in the world and dictate the pace and sometimes the phases of women's lives. They vastly outnumber their female counterparts in every industry. In entertainment, a woman needs more than just talent to succeed. A woman needs to be mentally tough, principled and ever ready to suffer for not yielding to the demands of every Tom, Dick and Harry. Nature itself has placed uncomfortable and-sometimes disconcerting-restrictions on women. Think about menstruation. Think about menopause. (As if to remind us about men's dominance, those words begin with men.) Some women's periods are so painful that it is a dreaded monthly burden. At 60, a man can still have children. After 30, a woman who wants to have children begins to be restless and pressured because as she inches towards 50, her chances of conceiving begin to dim. Pregnancy comes with its complications. Sometimes, it is a life-or-death affair, which is borne by the woman. Nature's burden weighs disproportionately against women. Aside from the minority that are able to hire paid house helps and an even slimmer minority whose men help them at home, household chores still remain the burden of women. A man can go to work a day after the birth of his child, but a woman must first heal. She must breastfeed and act as the primary caretaker of the baby. In some instances, as in my case, the career of the woman must be put on hold when she's pregnant. She must watch helplessly and painfully as opportunities slip by or are taken away from her. This dominance finds a disturbing expression in marriage as well. A woman is often in the shadows of a man. It is becoming normal for men to cheat, but sacrilegious for women to do so, and I wonder the essence of marriage when the two parties are not held to the same standards of the so-called hallowed institution of God. Sometimes, I'm tempted to think men are wired differently. Being around men, I have realised that a man can be with 20 women in a given year, and that's absolutely fine with him. Many women who enter into relationships or marriages with their hearts often end up disappointed; and when they have to leave, a majority of them do not get a share of the property that is proportionate to their sweat. In all of this, my main frustration has been the sense of entitlement some men wield over women who are neither their children nor wives. As I grew in the industry, I discovered that despite the talent of a woman, the average producer or movie director would want to take advantage of her sexually before she is allowed to flourish. That is a disturbing reality, and not many women are able to turn their backs on the offers. I was fortunate that I entered the movie industry after the Miss Ghana contest, which had given me some clout before I starred in my first movie. I know, as women, we have our own issues, but if we had women in the majority as producers and directors, I don't think they would be making these demands of men. I can't imagine refusing to cast a talented actor because he will not sleep with me. Sadly, women who yield to the demands of their producers are not spared harassment by the entertainment media. When they appear for interviews, they are asked about it. Even their normal relationships are scrutinised and made to take the centre stage in discussions when they appear on media platforms for interviews to promote their work. In my case, I had been featured in a number of good movies and I was sought after. Besides my stubborn-spirited opposition to bullies, I had options so I didn't struggle to fend off the no-sex, norole rule in the industry. As I grew in the industry and basked in stardom, I learnt that the sense of entitlement was not limited to men who employed women. There were men who think by virtue of their position, wealth or influence, you should be at their beck and call. Some of them are men for whom society has the highest respect, men who are regarded as paragons of righteousness. There is a renowned pastor in Ghana who has made conquering me part of his mission. He is not out to conquer me for the Lord, but for himself. He is married. He has the influence and the money. And his main catchline has been that I should name whatever I wanted. He talks as if I cannot work for my own money. These experiences are not unique to me. They are routine in the industry. Female celebrities are suffering. If you do not yield, you will suffer. If you yield, you suffer all the same. Sometimes, the pressure and punishment, as in the case of the director who refused me roles because I declined sex, are designed to put fear in young women. But if I were in any position to advise young entrants to the movie or showbiz industry in general, I would say it pays to stand your ground. It pays to work hard and hone your craft and let it speak for you. If you like any man in the industry and you want to date or sleep with him, fair game. That man can even be your producer. You should have a say in whom you decide to get intimate with. It should be your decision. You must, however, learn to say "no" to demeaning demands. Giving yourself out cheaply for a role will eventually hurt you. The industry would soon know that you're malleable to the ravenous and insatiable vultures in there. And by the time they're done with you, you might not even recognise yourself. My experience with men hasn't been all negative. There are men who have influenced me positively and supported me without demanding sex in return. It isn't always about money or material support. There are people who add value to your life, through the richness of the conversation they share with you. They shape your thinking and challenge you to reach heights you thought were impossible. I met a man called Samuel Afari Dartey after Miss Ghana. It has been close to two decades and we're still friends. He has influenced my life immensely. Hanging out and talking to him is as if you're attending a career or life-coaching seminar. He has taught me to be focused, endure pain, and think differently. He doesn't understand why a man or woman should change and think the same way as their partners. To him, they are different individuals with different backgrounds. He opened my mind to different things. He is a male friend who did not come in to take advantage of me but has touched my life more than any educational institution has. I cherish and hold such men dear. Of course, he can be brutal. He holds certain weird perspectives that I find over the top, but his experiences and knowledge have shaped me a great deal. Men like Samuel Afari Dartey are in the minority. Whatever the case, a woman should not give up fighting and creating opportunities that would save other women from falling prey to debauched men who must have their way because they decide who gets featured in a movie or produced on a record label. Starting my own production company may not have crossed my mind had I not faced these challenges very early in my career. It's tough, but we have to fight on. Nigeria and Its Powerful Men Nigeria means many things to many people. To many Ghanaian actors, however, it means a career breakthrough. I am a living testimony of that breakthrough. Princess Tyra paved the way for me to enter Nollywood, Nigeria's movie industry. Ghana's Abdul Salam Mumuni and Nigeria's Kingsley Okereke of Divine Touch Productions were friends who sometimes collaborated in their productions. Because Princess Tyra was a huge success in Ghana, there was a decision to have a Nigerian version. It was titled Royalty and starred Oge Okoye as the lead actor. After that movie, I landed a role in a movie that had Genevieve Nnaji in the cast. It was a dream come true to be cast in the same movie with Genevieve, but I didn't have enough time to revel in that rare glory. A flurry of roles in Nollywood came knocking. At a point, I contemplated putting my education on hold in pursuit of money and fame. It was a thought I dismissed as soon as I formed it, but the fact that it crossed my mind meant the opportunities in Nigeria were extremely tempting. Beyond the well-paying roles in a much more developed and bigger movie industry, Nigeria presented me with a cultural shock. Ghana and Nigeria aren't supposed to be too different. As the two leading anglophone nations in the West African sub-region, we have a lot in common. We still fight over who prepares the best jollof rice and when our national football teams meet, we treat it like a World Cup final. This rivalry notwithstanding, the entertainment industry has become a melting pot for the two countries. You can hardly attend a party in Ghana without hearing a song by a Nigerian artiste. Ghanaian artists also enjoy considerable acceptance in Nigeria. On the political front, Ghana and Nigeria haven't been much different. We are dogged by the same issues of bad leadership, corruption and nepotism. Our countries have been hijacked by a few selfseeking and half-baked elites who dominate the political landscape from one election to the other. Corruption is our common denominator, and hopelessness among the vastly youthful populations of our two countries is an ever-growing phenomenon. For these and other reasons, a Ghanaian shouldn't feel too shocked when in Nigeria. But Nigeria shocked me to the core. In Nigeria, money rules. And everything else must obey without question. If you don't have money, they don't laugh at your jokes. Spray money, and that's when you get attention. Cars and houses define your status. I'm not suggesting that money is bad. And I'm not saying some of these things don't happen in Ghana. But if it is 100 in Ghana and you think you've seen the peak, you are likely to encounter 10, 000 in Nigeria. Nigeria operates on a different level. When my career took me there, I had to work within it even if I couldn't fit in. Opting out was no option. The movie industry in Nigeria is far bigger than that of Ghana, and no Ghanaian producer ever paid me anything close to what I earned in Nigeria. To keep my job and flow with the industry, I had to learn to appease my audience and hosts without losing myself and my values in the avalanche of demands that teemed my way. Nigerians understand hyping and would go to all lengths to invest in it. If there's hype around you, they'll come around. Money is the fuel that stokes the hype of people who have nothing much to offer. In such people, the followers do not look at the substance. If you have money but nothing up there, people will still worship you. As an actress in my prime, the quest for brand association made my work in Nigeria extra difficult. A budding actress once took my script and posed with me on set just to post on social media that she was shooting a movie with me, when, in fact, she was nowhere near the cast. I wondered whether her social media followers would not expect to see the movie. But in this make-believe industry, some people would do anything to court fame. There were people who held parties and were prepared to pay you to attend just to enhance their status or show their class. The array of celebrities that attended someone's party showed who they were. Being present at someone's birthday or some other celebratory event sometimes paid me more than acting in a movie in Ghana. What made life difficult was the pressure from my circle of friends, some of whom wanted to hang out with me at times I was too tired to party. I often worked deep into the night, and when I was burned out, some friends would want to hang out with me at nightclubs. Some of them would still be sleeping the following morning when I had to wash down and start shooting. I had to strike a difficult balance between my schedule and being able to live in such a way that I wouldn't be seen as snobbish or unsociable. Such tagging came with its own consequences. Aside from the random friends, especially females who just needed company, my days in Nigeria exposed me to its powerful men in politics, chieftaincy and the church. They were men who thought because of their wealth and influence, they were entitled to you. They mostly used your friends and people in your circles as points of contact. Call such intermediaries pimps and you won't be wrong. I had experienced some of these men in Ghana, but Nigeria is always a notch higher and sometimes scary. I encountered many of these powerful men in my acting days in Nigeria, but a few stood out. There is a very popular and powerful charismatic preacher in Nigeria who expressed interest in me. I cannot say how he knew I was in Nigeria at that time, but I suppose my actress friend who told me he wanted to meet me was perhaps feeding him with updates about me. She only said someone wanted to see me and when I went out to see who it was, I was greeted by this popular "man of God". He was calm and everything about him showed that I should have known what he wanted and kotowed to his wishes. I didn't give in. And he wasn't aggressive. After a couple of failed attempts, he gave up and I never heard from him again until I started reading hordes of stories about allegations of sexual assault against him. Another time, an actress friend told me his uncle wanted to meet me. I told her I had a long day and wouldn't close early, but she had all the patience in the world for me that day. She came and parked her Range Rover and waited until I finished shooting after 11 p.m. Nigeria was scary and driving that late at night was a risk, but she made it sound as though we were going for an important business gig, so I obliged. She picked me up and it was midnight when we got to the Eko Hotel, where the supposed uncle was. The said uncle of my friend was in the luxurious Signature Suite. She introduced him to me as a popular governor or senator of one of the states in Nigeria. She then went to the lounge of the suite and left me with him in the room. There was no chair in the room, something that seemed deliberate. I sat on the edge of the bed and the most awkward silence I can remember in my life ensued. He, perhaps, had the impression that I knew what to do or say, which I found ridiculous. That wasn't all there was to the drama. There was a fourth person in the lounge. The politician went to speak briefly to him and came back to tell me the man was his doctor, and that I should give him my blood sample for an HIV test. He said it was just a prick and that everything would be done in a short time. I found it disrespectful and shocking. Even if I wanted to sleep with him, that alone was enough to put any normal woman off. If he was interested in knowing my HIV status, why did he think I would not be interested in his? I told him that was not the reason I came there and that I wasn't going to do any test. I was calm but firm, though afraid. There were two men and two women in the suite, but the other woman was on the side of the two men, so I was alone. If things got out of hand, I was going to be on my own. I later found out that the man was not her uncle as she had claimed, but she knew why he wanted to see me. When he realised he wasn't going to have his way, he muttered something to my friend to the effect that I was acting weird. Soon, we were on our way out of the hotel. For our "transportation" back home, he gave my friend some dirty Naira notes he had produced from the briefcase that lay on the bed in the room. It was 1 million Naira and my friend gave me half of it. When I later googled his name and saw his photographs and association with a number of female actors and celebrities, I wondered what happened before or after those photographs. Years later, my curiosity about the politician I had met in the hotel piqued when a Nigerian friend in Ghana told me he had gone to him for a contract but failed to secure it. In the discussion, he revealed that the politician belonged to a cult and had insisted that joining that cult was a prerequisite to doing business with my friend. My friend said he couldn't join, so he cut all ties with him. I have since been thinking about whether the blood sample he wanted to take of me was actually for an HIV test or for something that had to do with his occult business. But that was not going to be my last encounter with powerful men in Nigeria. The one that turned out to be the scariest of them all was initiated here in Ghana and ended up in the palace of a powerful traditional ruler in Nigeria. I didn't know the traditional ruler who wanted to see me, but the man who told me about him said he knew me and would be instrumental in supporting my Glaucoma Foundation. The foundation was dear to my heart because my grandmother had lost her sight before she passed. I had loved her dearly, and, growing up, I thought she had not been given enough care. When she had glaucoma and went to the Korle-Bu Teaching Hospital, she didn't get enough education, so she used the eyedrop for a month and stopped. When she was almost losing her sight and went back for a surgery, we later learnt there was gross negligence on the part of those who carried out the operation. Her condition became irreversible. When she passed, I was in senior high school and felt I hadn't reciprocated the love she had shown me. It was one of the saddest days in my life. She was all I had as an extended family member. I felt my mother had not paid much attention to her eyesight. Later, my mother had a problem with her eyes and went to the hospital. When the specialists investigated our family history of glaucoma, they realised my mother and I had what they called high pressures in our eyes. Deep in my heart, the foundation was in the memory of the woman I dearly loved and I hoped that through it, many others would have their sights saved. When the man told me how the Nigerian traditional ruler was supportive of charities such as mine, I was happy to meet him and tell him what I wanted to do with the Yvonne Nelson Glaucoma Foundation. From Accra, we flew to Lagos and boarded another flight to the traditional ruler's home state. The turbulence on that flight is the most violent I have ever experienced. At one point, I thought the worst was about to happen. At that point, I began to regret embarking on the trip. When we survived what appeared to me like a near crash, I hoped something extra-ordinarily useful would come out of that trip to offset the torture I had endured. It steeled me against any possible nonsense before we got to the palace. The palace was a magnificent castle. One had to go through several halls before coming face-to- face with the ruler. Wait here. Come here. Go there. These were the instructions I heard until I met the powerful ruler, who was not so powerful in physique. He was a frail old man who looked like someone who could not survive another five years. The inner court I was ushered in to meet him had a magnificent royal bed, where he beckoned me to join him. Whatever the intermediary had told me did not happen. The traditional ruler was not interested in my foundation. He was not interested in my career or anything I was doing. He didn't even deem it necessary to strike up a conversation with me. It seemed, like the governor, this old man expected me to know why I was there. He expected me to go ahead and act on cue. I had prepared to resist anything untoward and his attitude fortified my resolve even more. When he asked me to join him on the bed, I wondered what he needed me there for. At his age, what was he up to? I didn't move. And when he realised he had made a wrong choice, he dismissed me. He gave the man who took me there a wad of dollar notes, who then gave me a share of $5000 as compensation for travelling to see the king. I was so angry with him that we ceased to be friends upon my return from that trip. He organises an awards ceremony that is wellpatronised and I wonder whether pimping for powerful men is part of his job. If it is, then in my case, he got the wrong target. I used to respect him because of the kind of people who patronised his programmes. I had known him back in my university days because he was dating my friend. In the encounters with the powerful Nigerian men, one thing surprised me above all others. The intermediaries did not ever tell me the expectations at the other end. Somehow, they assumed that once a big and powerful man wanted to see you, you were old enough to know what they wanted and should submit to them. It is one of the worst insults to womanhood and one can only imagine the rate of success that keeps them motivated to continue to explore. Genevieve Nnaji and the Rest There cannot be a movie industry without women. The Ghanaian and Nigerian movie industries have had women of different eras who defined filmmaking in different roles. I have plied my trade in these two countries and I know how instrumental women are to the survival of the movie industry. I also had a brief taste of the movie industry in Cote d'Ivoire. The Ivorian industry was much smaller than those of Ghana and Nigeria, and the language barrier cuts the Francophone movies almost completely from the Anglophone countries in West Africa. In my prime, however, I was privileged to attract interest from film producers in Ghana's western neighbour. In Cote d'Ivoire, it was difficult for me because I do not speak French. When I was cast in French movies, the other characters spoke French while I spoke English. Later, my lines were voiced over so that the entire movie came out in French. That was a short spell, and I don't have as many tales about women in the Ivorian movie industry as I do about Ghana and Nigeria. The movie industry is full of preys and predators. I have already spoken about how men who wield cash and influence tend to decide who rises to fame and who fails. As I progressed, however, I realised women in the industry were not only vulnerable prey in the hands of perverse men. Some were actually predators who terrorised mostly their fellow women, young women who looked up to them. I saw a bit of that in Ghana, but my worst experience was in Nigeria. Princess Tyra had opened doors, windows and chimneys for me, and Nigeria came knocking very early in that career. I cannot say enough how Nigeria's Nollywood was the mainstay of many actors from Ghana. It came with fame and exposure to a much bigger audience than Ghana, but the money was the real deal. I remember at a point, some Ghanaian actors moved to settle in Nigeria as roles upon roles beckoned them. The cash trapped them. I didn't want to be in their faces 24/7, so I made it a point never to relocate to Nigeria. I would go and work there and return. My decision was partly because I found Nigeria too hot for me. The cultural shock was something I couldn't deal with and the expectations of me were more than I could ever offer. My initial Nollywood experience was heartwarming. I was privileged to be cast in the same movie with Genevieve Nnaji and Chidi Mokeme. I call it a privilege because they were already heavyweights in the industry. They knew their craft. They had the name and fame everyone craved in the industry. If you were a woman entering the movie industry in those days in Ghana or Nigeria, you could not fail to notice Genevieve and yearn to earn a bit of what she had made for herself. Surprisingly, however, Genevieve Nnaji turned out to be one of the exceptional women I have worked with or known in the movie industry. Her fame did not get into her head. She did not see herself up there and expect the rest of us minions to suck up to her. She was kind and considerate. She treated new entrants like me with the respect and dignity one would accord colleagues. She made me feel at home the same way Jackie Appiah made me feel when I began here in Ghana. Chidi was equally nice. He even hosted Kofi Adjorlolo and me in his house when we were in Nigeria. Apart from Genevieve and a handful of actors, however, I do not have a very good account of the females in the industry. Most of them are predators. They make the lives of their colleagues miserable. Their superiority complex is obscene and they miss no opportunity to make others feel insignificant. In Nollywood, for instance, there was an actress who was always weeping in movies. If you knew her only in movies, you would develop a soft spot for her meekness. In real life, however, she was a lioness. She would verbally abuse whoever crossed her path. She did not mind slapping her personal assistant or literally spitting on her. They found such behaviour as a normal part of the job. They commanded their reverence and whoever did not conform had to suffer their wrath. I consider Nigerian producers and directors generally more efficient than their Ghanaian counterparts. They are able to make good use of their time and resources and get the best out of the cast. What often affected the smooth flow of proceedings were the egos of the big-name actors. There was a popular Nigerian actor who was shooting a movie and felt like visiting the washroom to pee. When she was offered a washroom, she rejected it even without inspecting it to see whether it met her so-called standard. She insisted on driving to her own home to use the washroom and return to the part of the city where we were shooting the movie. No amount of convincing worked. In the end, she had her way. We had to stop shooting until she returned. Some of the big names sometimes prevailed on the directors to shoot their close-ups alone. These were scenes they said their lines with others, but without their partners in that scene showing. Sometimes, you needed their cues and reactions to bring out the best in your supporting role, but they would shoot theirs and leave and you had to act alone, reciting your lines and pretending the one you were talking to was next to you. I later realised some of them were into drugs, which is not uncommon in the entertainment industry. They could get hyper even on set. There was this Nigerian actress who was always seen sipping something from an opaque bottle on set. I initially thought it was tea or some beverage, but it became common knowledge in the industry that it contained something stronger, something to enhance her performance. I also thought the sexual advances were only from men until a popular but older Nollywood actress started to have issues with almost everything I did. For instance, she complained that whenever I met her on set, I refused to greet her. This charge surprised me because I had never gone on set without greeting the cast and crew. Unknown to me, she wanted to be greeted separately. If I walked into a meeting and greeted everyone together, she expected me to walk to her separately and greet her. This was not something I was used to. One of the directors called me aside after one of her outbursts and told me not to mind her. "She is a lesbian and probably likes you," he told me. I found her behaviour repulsive and did not ever get close enough for her to tell me whatever intentions she had towards me. As a producer, I am conscious of how I felt about these things as a young actor. I try not to subject others, especially young women, to the bullying I resented when I joined the industry. Despite the fact that some women have their own share of predatory behaviour, the interest of women will be better served if we had more women as producers and directors. It is part of the reason I press on with production in spite of the challenges. I feel if I quit as a producer, I will let many young women down. As far as I am concerned, a young man or woman does not need to do anything untoward to be given a chance. Their talents are enough. I guess the average female producer will be different from an average male producer in that regard. In almost all the movies I have produced, I included new faces. In my latest movie titled all the major actors are new entrants. I appear in only four scenes, but the lead actors have up to 150 scenes each. I try to be the opposite of what I dislike about the industry. Of course, I would get mad with a cast when he or she is not taking the work seriously, but one can be stern without being bullish or predatory. As I grow in the industry, some of the motivations that used to drive me are giving way to new and more purposeful driving factors. I used to be fussy about awards, but I have come to see them as counterproductive. Awards are good, but they are someone's validation or opinion of you. If those people say you are the best actor this year and name someone else next year, it doesn't mean you cease to be the good actor that you are. I believe that if one allows awards to get into one's head, one will be enslaved by people's opinions. The danger here is that when the validations stop, you may think less of yourself and your capabilities. After 17 years in the industry, I am looking up to a higher calling. There are many young women who look up to me and I don't want to let them down. As long as they are good enough to be given the platform, I will do my level best to offer them the stage. A person's talent should be enough. They should not be exploited if they want to rise. And, as a woman who has been in a position of vulnerability, my prayer is that I should be a different kind of producer. If a story is ever told of Yvonne Nelson Studios, it should be dominated by testimonies of great actors who had their breakthroughs without having to suffer the indignities that come with attaining fame. An Entrepreneur Children learn from their parents. The first impressions they form from watching their parents could influence what they do in the future. This is why I believe my mother's influence is partly responsible for my entrepreneurial drive. I grew up watching my mother doing business. She was always counting money after the close of business each day. I didn't take an active part in her business, but I sometimes went around with her to her business contacts. I saw her buying and selling and making profit. She was a wholesaler of drinks and had a bar and provisions shop. On a few occasions, I took part in selling to customers. With this early encounter with commerce, doing business came to me naturally. My mother's shop, Manovia, became my first shop. I renovated it and launched my clothing business, YN's Closet in 2008. That same year, I added YN's Lace Wig to the clothing business. Acting presented me with those business ideas. The entertainment industry goes with fashion. Some people would dress a certain way because they see an actor or singer dress that way. What a favourite actor wears can influence the wardrobe of his or her followers. So, when I began to get compliments on my fashion sense, I decided to make a business out of it. I had to do something in line with my career and it would have been odd to venture into, for instance, the sale of car parts. I took an extra bag for shopping anytime I travelled abroad. When I had enough to stock a shop, YN's Closet was born. After a year, I experienced growth and Manovia was too secluded for my flourishing business. I rented a shop in a part of Dansoman that was more visible and at a vantage point. The shop was at Dansoman First Stop, near the Dansoman campus of Central University College. The Methodist University was also in the area and the location had the kind of clientele base that would be interested in an Yvonne Nelson clothing line. I was doing this business alongside acting. When I bought a house in Tema and had to leave Dansoman for good, it was difficult to keep the shop in Dansoman. I had employed someone to take care of the shop, but the distance was going to make it too difficult to monitor, so I closed the shop. My rent wasn't due so I handed the place to a friend who had expressed interest in continuing the business. Moving to the Tema area put the business on hold, but the idea was still alive. When I returned to Accra two years later, I revisited it. I rented a shop at Bawaleshie near East Legon and revived YN's Closet. Behind that shop, I had a small office that served as the nerve centre of my production company. I ran that shop for five years and had to put it on hold again when I became pregnant. The pregnancy stagnated both my acting career and business because I was no longer travelling. I didn't have the opportunity to explore and shop for the business, so I finally gave the shop back to the landlord. The second lady I hired to run the shop did not abandon me when the shop closed. She moved in with me and has been my God-sent nanny. Maanan Akoubor has been one of the biggest blessings of my life, and I dedicated my master's degree thesis to her. Without her, I couldn't have achieved what I did after I gave birth. I've been with her for close to six years and I cannot find the right words to express the profundity of my appreciation for her role in my life. She has become like a sister, and we live like a family. She amazes me with the extent she is prepared to go for my daughter and me. I remember Ryn once fell sick and could hardly breathe. Maanan pulled the mucus from her nostrils with her mouth, something I would have found difficult to do as a mother. She did it without any hint that she'd gone the extra mile for my daughter. Maanan is one of the people who give me hope in humanity and the assurance that there are still good and dependable people around. If YN's Closet stalled and remained as such to date, YN Productions didn't. I started YN Productions in 2010, the year I was banned and bullied by the Film Producers Association of Ghana. Beginning from the scratch was always going to be difficult, but when the motivation to succeed was far greater than just making money, I put in my all. I had learned quickly and was prepared to take on the world. That didn't go without opposition. I paid the price with the first movie I produced, The Someone broke into the editor's suite and stole the hard drives and other storage devices. I lost everything. Determined to continue, I reassembled the cast and begged them to reshoot. Due to budgetary constraints and the wane in enthusiasm, the reshoot didn't come out the way I had expected, but it had to be done. I had taken money from an executive producer to fund that movie and could not have gone back to tell him that I lost the project. The funder, who also owned Media GH, organisers of the Ghana Meet Naija annual musical concert, kept faith with me in those early years. Media GH funded my next two movies, Single and Married, and House of Gold. That company owned the right to my first three movies, which were well received. After the third attempt, I decided it was time to find my own money for my productions. The first output of that initiative was a sequel to Single and Married, which was Single, Married and I followed that up with If Tomorrow Never Comes, a movie based on the true story of a boy with cerebral abnormalities. My movies have been well-received in Ghana and in Nigeria. At one point, they were leading in popularity in the cinemas of the two countries. My next production was the series Heels and Sneakers, which I had to pause because I got pregnant in the third season. Bouncing back after pregnancy and childbirth was dogged by difficulty and uncertainty. I had been away for a while and had to restart as an actor and a producer. I was unsure how movie lovers were going to receive me. I had starred as the lead actor in a number of the movies I produced. Childbirth changed my looks and affected my confidence. But I was not going to allow uncertainty and self-doubt to hold me down further. Being a woman comes with a price. I had already lost a lot. If I waited further, the right time might never come. I confronted my fears and produced Sin City. That movie blew me away. It was as if movie patrons had been starved of my production for too long, so they came in droves. Sin City did better than any other movie I had produced. I soon learnt that if your patrons have faith in you, they will stick with you. I filled about 10 cinema halls the night the movie premiered. My most successful movie, however, has been The Men We Love. When that movie premiered, I said to myself that the movie industry wasn't dead. What people wanted were good movies. My next movie was Fifty Fifty. The premiering coincided with torrential rainfall in Accra, but moviegoers braved the rains and we managed to fill up to eight halls on the night. So far, YN Productions has produced 14 movies. They are: (1) The Price (2) Single and Married (3) Single, Married and Complicated (4) House of Gold (5) If Tomorrow Never Comes (6) Sin City (7) Heals and Sneakers-Seasons 1-3 (8) Fix Us (9) The Men We Love (10) Fifty Fifty (11) Summer (12) Kotoka (13) Tripping (14) Waiting for Ryn, a documentary series. As a producer, I have benefited immensely from the support of great friends in the industry. Of special mention is Majid Michel. He is one of the closest and most supportive friends I have in the industry. I do better with him and he has been one of the most outstanding backbones of YN Productions. If movie production is directly in line with what I do, there is a business I discovered in 2019 that is turning out to be something I'm not only passionate about but also have a sentimental attachment to. It began when I was looking for a school where I could be comfortable leaving my daughter. I needed a school where I wouldn't have to worry about what happened to her. The school I sent her to did not give me that assurance. She had returned from school one day with a bruise on her skin. When I asked, the school told me someone had opened the door and it accidentally hit her. No one had told me about it, an attitude I least expected from that calibre of school. In 2019, I registered Just Like Mama Day Care. I spent considerable time researching and learning to ensure that the school would take off without any hitches. I spoke to school consultants, principals and other experts on what I needed to have in a good school. I researched the potential challenges and how to surmount them. I started to research and learn on my own as I began to set up classrooms and took care of the artwork. I wanted to open it in 2020, but the Covid-19 pandemic turned the world upside down and stalled my plans. The school started in January 2021, and when I entered the school on the first day and heard a baby cry, I couldn't believe that a school I had set up was being patronised. It was surreal, and for a moment, I felt like joining the baby to cry. The school started with a creche, lower and upper nursery, and kindergartens 1 and 2. We are in our second year and we already have 50 amazing children. Due to my background as an entertainer, I harboured doubts about the readiness of parents to bring their children to the school. Some people believe everything they hear about celebrities. For those of us into acting, a movie role can take the place of your personality. There are people who see you play a thief in a movie and think you're a thief. Being arrogant in Princess Tyra stayed with the Yvonne Nelson name for a long time. For the first time, however, I am beginning to learn something new. It taught me that the faith in my brand is bigger than I had imagined. The feedback from parents who have seen great improvements in their children keeps pushing me to do more. Some parents have already started asking what is next for their children after Kindergarten 2. They are eager to have a continuation for their children in a clean and conducive environment, a school where their children will be pushed to the limits of their abilities as we do at Just Like Mama Day Care. Whatever I have set up as an entrepreneur may be considered a business, but with the school, I'm beginning to see a calling. The motivation is greater than any financial gain. It is a unique opportunity to shape minds and impact generations. I have ranted enough about what is wrong with our educational system. I find this the greatest challenge of my life, a challenge to create something that is different from grammar or memory and recall. It is a call to make a mark. And it is a call to which I am responding with all the dedication and devotion I can muster.