In this chat with Pulse, she talks life, children, happiness and her hopeful magnum opus, Labake Olododo.
Iyabo Ojo walks into the room with the ease of someone who has long learned to command her own space. There is an air of confidence about her, the kind that comes with years of fighting battles, winning some, losing others, but always walking away stronger.
Her presence is magnetic, the kind that makes you sit up and pay attention.
Iyabo Ojo keeps to time.
Teni’s “Money” plays in the background as Queen Mother—as Ojo is often called—settles into her seat, a warm smile on her lips.
Iyabo Ojo’s house smells like home: food, warmth, and comfort.
Tall portraits of the actress and her two children, Festus and the recently married Priscilla, fill the living area. Photos of her late mother, Mrs. Olubunmi Fetuga, watch over the room.
Another actor sits nearby. She fusses over him. “Have you eaten?” she asks. When he requests rice, she calls the kitchen to fix him a plate.
“I feel blessed,” she says when asked about her life at the moment. “I feel very blessed. It’s God’s doing. I’m grateful,” she reiterates, this time emphatically.
For a woman who has spent over two decades in an industry that can be unforgiving, the gratitude in her voice is unmistakable.
Her journey began in 1998 with an English-language film titled Satan, a time when Nollywood was still figuring itself out. She was much younger then, wide-eyed, ambitious, and, in her own words, lost most of the time.
“A lot of things happened suddenly in my life,” she recalls, her voice laced with nostalgia. “I was trying to navigate, making sure I kept correcting every mistake that came my way. I never blamed anyone for anything. I just took responsibility for everything and wanted to make the best of it.”
More than two decades later, she sits here, an actress, a filmmaker, a businesswoman, and a mother who has raised her children with a fierce sense of purpose.
“My achievement is not just monetary,” she says. “I don’t believe that having money in your bank account means you’ve achieved something. I feel that when you impact lives, when you change things in your society, that is a real achievement.”
She lists the things that bring her pride: raising her children with love and discipline, taking care of her parents until their last days, and supporting people who needed her, even strangers. “That’s my greatest wealth,” she says firmly. “That’s my greatest achievement.”
Halfway through our chat, a call comes in. She takes it with the same warmth she brings to the conversation. She is inviting someone to her daughter’s wedding, effortlessly switching between laughter and details about dates. The joy in her voice is contagious.
When she returns to the conversation, it is with the same intensity. Her latest project, Labake Olododo, a major epic film, is her biggest yet.
“The cost of making a film now is so high,” she admits, shaking her head. “I didn’t plan for it, but thank God for the people around me. I think I’m blessed to have people who show up for me, probably because I also show up for people. You cannot walk this earth alone,” she says with gratitude.
In the trailer for the film, there is a scene that has already caused a stir—she is bare, unclad, and vulnerable. She laughs when asked about it. “I can’t say, you have to see the movie.”
What she can say, though, is that her character, Labake, is a force of nature. A woman with powers beyond the ordinary, a warrior who invokes thunder and fire. It is, in many ways, a reflection of the woman sitting before me.
“The character of Labake is strong-willed,” this writer tells her. “Anyone who knows you knows you don’t take nonsense. It feels like you and Labake have a lot in common.”
She nods. “Yes. It was easy for me to get into the character because, like you said, it’s who I am. I’ve had this story in my head for eight or nine years. I’ve always wanted to shoot a female warrior story because I classify myself as one. But beyond that, I wanted to talk about vulnerability, about mistakes, and about the dangers of revenge and bitterness. I wanted to put all of that in one film.”
Her passion is evident. She speaks with the urgency of someone who has carried this story for years, waiting for the right moment to let it out into the world.
The interview is momentarily interrupted. Another actor, unaware of our ongoing conversation, is excitedly talking to a friend over at a settee.
“Oh shit! Your voice is all in my interview,” she exclaims, laughing.
When we return to Labake, she sighs, as if trying to find the right words to describe all that the character means to her.
“It’s a whole lot,” she finally says. “I wish I could sit down and expand more, but you’ll have to watch it. I love it when we have culture and tradition in films. But I also love breaking rules; in a positive way.”
As the conversation winds down, one thing is clear: Iyabo Ojo is more than an actress. She is a storyteller, a fighter, a woman who has carved her own path in an industry that has not always been kind.
And if Labake Olododo is anything like the woman who created her, then Nollywood is in for something truly special.
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