Christian ‘Kaptin’ Saint is a Ghanaian filmmaker celebrated for bringing African stories to life through cinema. In a recent Instagram post, Saint recounts his journey from a childhood in Maamobi–Nima to screening his own films at an innovative art space in Tamale. His reflections trace the contours of Ghana’s cinematic culture and the emerging creative ecosystem in the country’s north. This article examines Saint’s narrative, placing it in context with Ghana’s film history and the new cultural ecosystem in Ghana’s north.
Saint’s fascination with film began in childhood, in the bustling Accra neighborhood of Nima. As he describes it, “missionaries came to Maamobi–Nima on Christmas Day” and showed Christian films on a huge outdoor screen, drawing hundreds of locals to watch in the street. Such experiences echo Ghana’s colonial film history, when mobile cinema units were used by the British and later by missionaries as tools to educate and entertain communities. After independence, Ghana’s founding president Kwame Nkrumah continued this emphasis on film as nation-building: his government nationalized the film industry and helped make Ghana’s film sector “one of the most sophisticated” in Africa. Though formal cinemas declined over the decades, outdoor and community screenings remained cherished. In fact, a recent documentary on Ghanaian film highlights Accra’s old Rex open-air cinema, though now dilapidated, as a “battered but beloved” venue where “film is revolution, not retreat”. Saint’s memory of being “electrified watching images move” in Nima fits squarely in this tradition of grassroots cinema.
Years later, Saint’s journey took him north to Tamale, where he screened his films at Red Clay Studio. This expansive complex founded by internationally acclaimed Ghanaian artist Ibrahim Mahama, is built almost entirely of local red brick and opened in 2020. It was conceived as a community hub for art, education and culture: “a dynamic art space” serving exhibitions, workshops, film screenings and public programs. The name Red Clay itself refers to the reddish earth of northern Ghana and reflects a deep connection to local environment and labor.
One of Red Clay’s most striking features is the Parliament of Ghosts; a repurposed legislative chamber constructed from reclaimed materials. A visitor guide explains that this installation “reconstructs a parliamentary chamber using repurposed materials, including 120 second-class train seats”. Today it functions as a meeting and performance space. By screening films in such a setting, Saint felt cinema literally merging with communal life, “returning cinema to lived space,” as he put it, breaking down the elitist distance of traditional art venues.
In practice, Red Clay’s design embodies the idea of “within art, through art.” The brick structures are open and porous, crafted by local labor and imagination. Artworks and archives coexist: for example, one gallery displayed the work of Ghanaian independence-era photographer James Barnor alongside a large Mahama installation made of stacked wooden boxes and random objects. Elsewhere, a repository held antique household items and school desks, turning “one man’s rubbish” into educational exhibits and artworks.
– Exhibitions & Archives: Red Clay regularly hosts art exhibitions (e.g. James Barnor’s photography) alongside installations showcasing local history and craftsmanship.
– Education & Engagement: The complex includes interactive learning spaces; from mini-libraries to repurposed classrooms that bring children and students into contact with art and history.
Community Events: The site is built for gatherings: film screenings (like Saint’s), workshops, and festivals often take place in Red Clay’s pavilions and courtyards, engaging local youth and residents.
Artistic Innovation: Mahama’s ethos of recycling and reinvention pervades Red Clay; everyday materials (jute sacks, scrap metal, old chairs) are transformed into massive artworks that stimulate creativity.
Each of these elements shows how Red Clay functions as more than a gallery. It is a community center and art school rolled into one. By situating his cinema screening amid these spaces, Saint experienced film in an environment where “film becomes a tool for gathering,” blurring the line between spectators and community.
Saint’s account emphasizes that the Tamale screening was a true community event, not a closed-off premiere. This reflects a broader philosophy of cinema as people’s art. As one writer noted, Red Clay’s Parliament of Ghosts was originally conceived to “invite reflection on historical narratives,” but now serves as a gathering hall; literally using an art installation for public dialogue. Likewise, a recent documentary on Ghana’s film heritage highlights Accra’s Rex outdoor cinema (long in disrepair) as a “battered but beloved” venue where “film is revolution, not retreat”. In other words, even modest local cinemas are remembered as cultural landmarks that unite audiences.
In Tamale, Saint found just such an eager audience among local youth and residents. His films, drawing on African myths and social themes, sparked animated discussions and questions. The act of watching cinema together outside, under the open sky, turned storytelling into a communal experience. Saint himself contrasted this openness with the exclusivity of some art venues; for him, the Tamale screening dissolved artistic elitism and made film “accessible” to all.
Saint’s post rightly highlights Ibrahim Mahama’s role in making this event possible. Mahama (born 1987 in Tamale) is an internationally renowned artist, but he’s equally famous in Ghana for reinvesting in his home region. In 2025 he became the first African to top ArtReview’s Power 100 list, a recognition that highlighted not just his monumental installations but also his work building artistic infrastructure. He is the founder of multiple Tamale institutions: notably the Savannah Centre for Contemporary Art (SCCA), Red Clay Studio itself, and the Nkrumah Volini artists’ village, which together have “become hubs for artistic experimentation, archival work, curatorial projects, youth training and community learning”. In short, Mahama has turned Tamale into one of Africa’s most dynamic artist-led cultural ecosystems.
Crucially, Mahama’s vision for Red Clay was never meant to be elitist or detached. Accoridng to some guides, Mahama planned to build “a school, a cinema, a greenhouse and a brick factory” at the site, investing in education and local industry alongside art. In fact, one building was turned into a stunning interactive installation: its floor is covered with old sewing machines mounted on school desks, chalkboards line the walls, and students can activate one machine in the center to hear its needle clatter. This creative reuse of mundane classroom objects, essentially merging school and art studio, exemplifies how imagination is being cultivated.
This grounded approach is precisely why the local impact is “deeply felt,” as Saint observes. According to Mahama’s university, the Tamale projects “form one of the most dynamic artist-led cultural ecosystems” on the continent. In just 48 hours, Saint shared layered conversations with Tamale’s young artists and community members on “invention, intentionality, cinema, community, and the future of Africa.” Such outcomes suggest that these cultural investments are paying off: they generate dialogue, skills, and inspiration that can ripple far beyond the studios.
Saint’s Instagram reflections blend personal nostalgia with advocacy for grassroots culture. On one level, this is a travelogue about Tamale; on another, it’s an argument. It underscores a new wave of Ghanaian creativity that honors traditional roots while building modern platforms. Ghana already has a storied film history (from colonial mobile cinemas to state-sponsored studios under Nkrumah), and today it sees filmmakers actively weaving local narratives into their work. This suggests Ghanaian cinema is entering a renaissance that values both heritage and innovation.
Initiatives like the Black Spectrum Programme, which Saint thanked, also illustrate how local efforts tie into global networks. Such programs bring diasporic and African artists together to share “stories across borders,” rooted in community and imagination. Saint’s emphasis on a “cultural export rooted in place” suggests he believes Ghanaian cinema should grow organically from local needs, even as it reaches international audiences.
Christian ‘Kaptin’ Saint’s post is a case study in cultural continuity. It shows how a filmmaker’s career can come full circle, from a wide-eyed child at a missionary film screening to an artist engaging young people in Tamale. His story reminds us that cinema’s true power is communal. Thanks to visionaries like Ibrahim Mahama, Ghana’s creative infrastructure now offers the spaces for that power to flourish. Saint’s journey proves that imagination can thrive in familiar soil; an ordinary Christmas projection in Nima can lead to revolutionary art spaces in Tamale. In Ghana today, the screen flickers not only on celluloid, but within communities themselves.