Anjali Nayar’s award-winning filmmaking and journalism work has explored myriad topics, ranging from climate change to political activism to pop culture. In her fractionally fictional documentary, “Just A Band,” Nayar chronicles the ambitious plans of an Afro-electric pop group that dreams of fleeing the pressures of superstardom by travelling to space. Her short film, “Kenya Rising,” which was broadcast under a pseudonym on Al Jazeera in 2012, documents the efforts of an award-winning Nairobi photojournalist who decides to set his camera aside and build a movement to fight political corruption in the East Africa country. (Press materials)

“Gun Runners” will premiere at the 2016 Hot Docs Film Festival on May 2.

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

AN: “Gun Runners” is a story about two dreamers from Northern Kenya who want something more than the hand they were dealt in life, which, in their case, consists of some cows and an AK-47 rifle. Although on the surface, the film is about guns and running, I’ve always seen the film as a kind of buddy story between these two friends, hustling their way through politics, community/family pressures, and their own flaws, to get ahead.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

AN: I met Arile and Matanda 10 years ago, on the finish line of a peace race in Northern Kenya. I’m not sure if it was Arile’s gap-toothed smile or the way Matanda rolled his Rs when he told me how he used to “rrrrrun away from police,” but they stuck in my life. We spoke every day for years — even during Kenya’s terrible post-election violence and before I knew we were making a film.

W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?

AN: I’ve always been drawn to personal stories, and I wanted this film to be just that, the story of these two men trying to change their lives with the odds stacked against them.

Social issues often dictate storytelling from the Global South — it’s where the most funding is — and while “Gun Runners” touches on a number of issues, the international gun trade and the politics of running, to name a couple, hopefully these issues come across only as the backdrop to understanding the paths of these two friends.

I’d love for the audience to leave their notions of Africa and the African at the door and just appreciate this film as an intimate story about two ordinary people navigating their way through life.

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

AN: The biggest creative challenge of the film was distilling eight years of material from two characters into a coherent narrative.

It’s interesting because, if you wait long enough, life invariably has these natural dramatic arcs to it, but within those arcs there can be a great deal of chatter, random ups and downs.

Figuring out how to streamline this chatter — understanding that certain concepts that are basic from a Kenyan perspective, such as cattle rustlers, warriors, and amnesty need to be explained for a global audience — made for an interesting edit!

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.

AN: Upon the advice of a friend, I called Ravida Din, who was at the time an executive producer of the National Film Board of Canada in Montreal, about the film. That scratchy Skype call from Nairobi was the informal beginning of the collaboration. I quit my job as a foreign correspondent and started making films.

The only tricky part was that the Film Board’s package for emerging filmmakers is only big enough to make a short film.

I had this epic eight-year reality story with two characters and didn’t want to simplify the narrative or change my vision of the film. There were a lot of checks and balances along the way over a period of three years before we all agreed we were making a feature-length documentary.

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

AN: Best advice: I was advised to not be afraid of failing. As filmmakers, we make things to be seen, experienced, witnessed — so there’s incredible pressure, especially if you spend 10 years on a project, to make things that conform to what people traditionally have enjoyed, what will be a “success.”

At the same time, when I think of all the filmmakers that inspire me — that push me to do better — very few of them conform to these pressures. I think that, ultimately, if you are passionate about a project, stick by it. Don’t make the film that might make more money or be more politically correct. Be true to what made you fall in love with the idea in the first place.

Worst advice: When I was moving into filmmaking, a friend advised me to start multiple projects at the same time “because you don’t know what will get funded.” Big mistake. I’ve been working on three feature documentaries almost full-time for the last five years. It’s all coming together now, but there’s something to be said about just doing one thing and doing it really well. You’ll be more creative and efficient in the long run.

W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?

AN: The statistics may be daunting, but there are a number of brilliant women in the industry that are both breaking boundaries and kind enough with their time to help build up young talent. In my short career, I’ve been generously surrounded by the wonderful women of Sundance, the National Film Board of Canada, Cinereach, Tribeca, Hot Docs, Docubox (here in Kenya) and Good Pitch, to name a few.

My advice to young female directors is to tap into this incredible group of mentors, collaborators, and supporters. And at some point, you’ll also be called on to build the network of support.

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

AN: “Paris Is Burning” (1990) by Jennie Livingston. I loved the film for all the usual reasons: the radiant, articulate, profound and beautifully flawed characters; the immersion into a world I’d never seen, in this case, the shade-throwing, fierce-voguing underground Harlem ballroom scene; and finally, the story’s thorny political landscape. The film is front row to issues of race, class, and sexuality in NYC at the height of the AIDS epidemic.

But beyond all that, I loved the conversations that surrounded the film in terms of representing cultures other than what you were born into — be it class, race, or gender. A Jewish girl from Beverly Hills was the lens through which a lot of people tapped into queer Latino and African American culture at the time of the film’s release. To some extent, that film helped elevate ball culture into the mainstream.

The person behind a camera can profoundly influence the perception of a community, a movement, an entire Continent to outsiders. It’s something that, living and working in Africa, I’m acutely aware of. Because although I’ve lived in Kenya my entire adult life — this is home, and “Gun Runners” was made with two men that I consider family — there will always be questions about the differences that separate us.