Adú is a movie shot in English, French, Arabic, and Spanish languages, across certain African cultures, and available on Netflix. The main plot was in Cameroon. I am Nigerian and a self-appointed evangelist of this movie. Of course, I’m Pan-African and #ProudlyAfrica. So I’m preaching the gospel for you all to see it. I am not critiquing the movie. I’d rather ignore the subtleties and take the message. The movie and its message has kept me awake, powerful enough to intercept my “missionary” break from blogging (I have you beloved readers in mind, and I have some story finished a while ago, coming up for you by the end of the month). The movie ended on a tragic note for me.
I want ADÚ to win every award in every category (including music 🎧😁 yes! Grammys and Headies too. Give everything to him). He’s such a phenomenal child. I could never act that good, even if I were raised to the power of 10. I could not stop thinking about how he must have ignored the entire crew as though they were absent. He carried every emotion and followed them through. He transported us into the movie. I expect every award ceremony to invite him and ship every award to his home. I need to thank him for electrocuting us out of our complacency, with just enough voltage to activate our senses without killing us.
Dear to my heart since the Yemen crisis started has been the kids of Yemen, and the IDP kids of Northern Nigeria, displaced by terrorism (I feel so guilty like I haven’t done anything). I have a couple of friends working in the troubled villages of Maiduguri, bordering Chad. They provide health interventions to these kids and their families, whose only offence was that they were born in a different geographical space – born just like us. The pictures are often very disturbing. Medical textbooks might not be inclined towards publishing them. Everytime I go under my duvet in a cold weather, I remember them – homeless, cold, hungry, probably ill. I can never erase from my mind, the picture of the Syrian kid that washed on the beach. I remember the colour of his outfit, and how that did not change the world. Rather, we became more obsessed with Forbes list, possessing Instagram with glamour, hailing ourselves as billionaires, while the economy of nations ailed due to no natural cause – just man-made policies, politics, and (in)actions. Perhaps, we can all sacrifice something for our world- sacrifice a Friday hangout, a vacation, some ambition, changing your phone every six months, buying that hair,… And I hope to God that the agencies we donate to help the people in need. We are just a war (fuelled by inhumane leaders), or a disaster away from ending up like them.
(The plot in Adú was neither Yemen nor Nigeria, but the message holds)
My heart broke when Alika died and fell off the sky. I wanted to grab her and give her a proper funeral at least. I could not stop imagining the effect of temperature and pressure at such heights. I could not imagine how some people are comfortable to introduce themselves as the leaders of nations that have a sizeable number of their children in distress. I was so excited when Massar and Adú survived the night sea. It was so ecstatic, I nearly got into the screen to join the hug. I wanted to enter the screen and fight when they took Massar away. I was so upset. Adú had gone through a lot, especially with Massar. They deserved to be together. Again, the scene reminded me of the reality of many kids, separated from their loved ones at borders by policies signed into law by the leaders we vote in. It was too much to allow my mind think about why black people are immigrants but white people, even when they are illegal are not. To wander into that would be to relieve the injustices of scientists who propagated scientific racism. However, we have learnt to not sit in the pains of history. We can forge a new trajectory and rewrite history for posterity. My feelings were sinusoidal all through. I wish every Congress and legislative chamber in every part of the world, especially Sub-Saharan Africa, resume every Monday by watching Adú. Maybe the next time they plan to embezzle our common wealth or buy themselves cars in hundreds of millions, Adú’s image would flash their minds. Or they would remember Alika falling from the sky.
And you, dear voter, the next time you are tempted to defend a corrupt leader, perpetrate violence, vote a bad leader, or insult the integrity of the electoral process, remember the many Adús your choices could create or avert.
While many Sub-Saharan Africans are often irritated by the dishonest representation of Africa by Western media and movies, I am more in my feelings by the fact that African leaders validate such representations. I look forward to a future where political leadership in Africa is a call to duty, and not a clarion call to morbidly amass wealth, and impoverish the nation. Quite alright, Africa is not all poverty and slum; but I’d rather we are more concerned about the quality of life of the black African in Africa, than how some people represent it. If the average African lived a decent middle income life, there wouldn’t be a need for representation or ill-representation. Glory speaks for itself.
While I can’t wait to read your views on the movie in the comments, I shall raise an e-glass to the success of Adú and the glory of Africa! 🥂