Enugu Video Casting Call (Africa Magic Original)

AFRICA MAGIC ORIGINAL – ENUGU VIDEO CASTING CALL

We are casting talented male and female actors between the ages of 13 and 65 years for an upcoming Africa Magic Original production.

⚠️ IMPORTANT LANGUAGE REQUIREMENT

Although the audition scripts are written in English, ALL AUDITIONS MUST BE PERFORMED IN IGBO LANGUAGE.

Applicants are expected to translate their selected script naturally into Igbo before recording their audition. Auditions performed in English may not be considered.

Each applicant should:

* Choose ONE character that best suits them.
* Translate the selected script into Igbo.
* Record a 1–2 minute monologue in Igbo.
* Introduce themselves by stating their full name, age, and the character they are auditioning for.
* Upload the audition video to Google Drive and set the sharing permission to “Anyone with the link can view.”
* Upload a recent headshot.
* Submit the application before the deadline.

Available Roles

* NKEM — Female (23–25 years)
* CHIDUBEM — Male (25 years)
* OMEOKACHIE — Male (60s)
* UREMMA — Female (50s)
* LITTLE NKEM — Boy or Girl (10–13 years)

Before You Read the Script

IMPORTANT: The scripts below are provided in English for reference only.

You must translate your chosen script into Igbo and perform your audition entirely in Igbo language.

Do not perform the script in English.

NKEM - Young Woman (23-25 years)

Nkem walks into the hut without greeting. Mama Ngozi looks up from sorting vegetables and immediately notices something is wrong. Nkem paces once, forces a laugh that quickly dies, then wipes her face with the back of her hand.

NKEM
Mama… when Papa sold our old goat, did he bargain or did he collect the first amount they offered him? I’m asking because I’m trying to understand how this happened. Did Okafo come here with money in his hand, or did Papa take me to him? Which one was it?
Every time that man came into this compound, I thought he was shameless. I insulted him. I chased him away. All the while, he already knew something I didn’t. He wasn’t chasing me. He was protecting what he believed he had already paid for.

She picks up a stool, turns it over absentmindedly and sets it back down.

NKEM (CONT’D)
This house suddenly feels strange. I learnt to walk here. Papa carried me on his shoulders through that doorway. So tell me… when did I stop becoming his daughter and start becoming something he could exchange?
People will say he had no choice. Hunger. Poverty. Suffering. Fine. But why was I the price?
Do you know what hurts the most? It’s not that Papa sold me. It’s that he still looked me in the eye every morning, blessed me, prayed for me and smiled at me while carrying a secret that would destroy me the moment I found it.
A daughter is not a goat. A woman is not a debt to be settled. They may have exchanged money. They may have shaken hands. But nobody owns me. Not Papa. Not Okafo. Not anybody. And if I have to stand before this whole village to prove that, then let them come.

CHIDUBEM - Young Man (25 years)

Chidubem walks into the obi. He stops before his father, opens his mouth to speak, then smiles to himself and shakes his head. He picks up a carved elephant tusk, studies it briefly, returns it, then faces his father.

CHIDUBEM
I’ve been rehearsing this conversation since yesterday. I told myself I’d be respectful. I’d choose my words carefully. I’d remember that before you’re Chief Ezenwa… you’re my father.
But the more I rehearsed it, the more I realised respect has become the safest place to hide the truth. Do you remember what you told me when I was a boy? You said when the time came to marry, I should find a woman whose presence would make my home peaceful. You never spoke about her father’s title or the wealth of her family. You spoke about the woman. Today… nobody speaks about the women anymore.
Every father comes here with a reason why his daughter should win. Every chief comes with an old friendship to collect. Everyone is fighting for Chief Ezenwa’s future. Nobody is asking what Chidubem wants.

He looks away briefly, gathering himself.

CHIDUBEM (CONT’D)
Do you know what frightens me? I no longer remember the contestants by their names. I remember them by their fathers. They’ve become prizes in negotiations between powerful men.
Father… I’ve defended you all my life. When people called you proud, I defended you. When they said power changes men, I defended you. Please don’t make me become one of the people I defended you against.

He bows his head for a moment.

CHIDUBEM (CONT’D)
If this contest ends with the happiest man in Umunnadi being Chief Ezenwa, then you’ve succeeded as a ruler. But if it ends with the unhappiest man being your son… Then you’ve failed me.

He bows respectfully, turns to leave, then stops at the entrance.

CHIDUBEM (CONT’D)
I’m not asking you to choose my wife. I’m asking you not to choose your ambition over my happiness.

He walks out.

OMEOKACHIE - Male (60s)

Omeokachie stands in the middle of the hut, his eyes moving from Nwakaego to Uremma and back again. He removes his red cap, stares at it for a moment, places it on a stool and walks towards his daughter. His eyes settle on her stomach before he turns away, rubbing both hands over his face.

OMEOKACHIE
Tell me this is a lie. Tell me the dibia made a mistake. Tell me somebody is trying to destroy my household. Tell me anything… but don’t stand there looking at me as though this is true.

He waits. Neither woman speaks. He nods slowly and rests one hand against the wall.

OMEOKACHIE (CONT’D)
All my life, I guarded this family like a shrine. I watched every step you took. I taught you right from wrong because I believed that when my name was mentioned in Umunnadi, people would speak of honour.

He points at Nwakaego.

OMEOKACHIE (CONT’D)
You were the pride of this household. Mothers pointed at you while teaching their daughters. Men praised me for raising you well. All the while… this was growing under my roof.

His gaze shifts to Uremma.

OMEOKACHIE (CONT’D)
And you knew. Every day you looked me in the eye. You cooked for me. You spread my bed. You listened while I boasted about my daughter… knowing she was carrying another man’s child.

He laughs bitterly, but it dies almost immediately.

OMEOKACHIE (CONT’D)
Tomorrow, men will lower their voices when I pass. Women will stop talking when they see me. Everything I spent a lifetime building… one secret has dragged into the mud.

He picks up his red cap, dusts it carefully and puts it back on.

OMEOKACHIE (CONT’D)
Take whatever belongs to you and leave this house. Both of you. From today, I have no wife. I have no daughter. If either of you crosses this compound again… you’ll meet me as strangers.

He points towards the door. His hand trembles.

OMEOKACHIE (CONT’D)
Go….Go!

He remains standing, his arm still outstretched, refusing to look at either of them.

URENMA - Female (50s)

Uremma stands in the middle of the hut, staring at Nwakaego. Her eyes drift to her daughter’s stomach before she looks away. She bends to pick up a wrapper but her trembling hands cannot fold it. Frustrated, she throws it onto the bed, walks to the door to make sure no one is outside, bolts it shut and rests her forehead against it.

UREMMA
Look at me… and say it again. Whose child is it? I’m your mother. I carried you for nine months. I know when you’re lying. Don’t punish me with silence. Tell me whose child it is.

She waits. There is no answer. She lowers herself onto a stool, her hands resting on her head.

UREMMA (CONT’D)
Do you know your father? Do you know the man you call Papa? This house knows him. Even these walls know him. If Omeokachie hears that his unmarried daughter is carrying a child…

She stops herself, fighting back panic. After a long moment, she rises and begins pacing.

UREMMA (CONT’D)
Every prayer I prayed for you… every sacrifice I made… every market day I returned home hungry so you could eat… was it all leading here?

She stops in front of Nwakaego. Her anger softens into heartbreak. She reaches out to touch her daughter’s face but withdraws her hand.

UREMMA (CONT’D)
You’ve been carrying this alone, haven’t you? Every smile… every greeting… every meal… all this time, you’ve been carrying this fear by yourself.

She sits beside Nwakaego and gently takes her hand.

UREMMA (CONT’D)
Listen to me. Your father must never know. Not yet. We will think. We will find a way. We will carry this burden before it carries us.

She pulls Nwakaego into a tight embrace.

UREMMA (CONT’D)
You’re still my daughter. No matter what you’ve done… you’re still my daughter.

CHILD MONOLOGUE - Boy or Girl (10-13 years)

Little Nkem sits beside the fresh mound of earth, hugging her knees. She picks up a handful of sand and lets it slip through her fingers, staring quietly at the grave before speaking.

LITTLE NKEM
Mama… they covered you with too much sand. How will you come out if you want to see me? Everybody keeps saying I should stop crying because you’re with the ancestors now. But I don’t know where the ancestors live. If they know the road home… tell them to bring you back. Even if it’s just for one night.

She plucks a small leaf and slowly tears it apart.

LITTLE NKEM (CONT’D)
I didn’t even tell you goodbye. Who’s going to call me “Nkem Oma” now? Who’ll tell Papa to stop shouting at me? Who’ll braid my hair? Mama… I don’t know how to sleep without you.

She places both hands gently on the fresh earth.

LITTLE NKEM (CONT’D)
Don’t forget me.

She stands and takes a few steps away, then stops and looks back one last time.

LITTLE NKEM (CONT’D)
I’ll come tomorrow.

She walks away.