Kayode Kasum did a Thing with this.

Oh, the Igbo language is mellifluous.

I didn't realize how much I needed it in the skin of my ears.

And what a tight directing.

I actually stood after the closing credits began to appear, and clapped.

The story, too.

I have a thing for movies that do not just entertain but also educate.

I mean, who am I once I finish a movie or series? I always want to know.

I had never understood the Nwa-Boi apprenticeship affair. Or maybe I just dismissed it as a normal non-formal “help my son that can't be in school” exercise.

I did not realize it was this deeply layered.

This is filled with stories of heart and trust and good judgment, and kindness and justice.

In 2018, I lived in Imo state for over a year. Inevitably, I passed through Onitsha and even stopped there more than once to get clothes.

It stunned me, how easily and respectfully the men wooed me into buying from them—and how, when they didn't have what I wanted, they would swiftly guide me or accompany me to a different shop, all the time repeating: “My brother get am, no worry.”

I was charmed by it, but I did not know that I did not understand it. I attributed it to the popular story: one man has different shops and stocks each of them with different wares to run an inconspicuous monopoly in the market.

What a single story it was.

And how wrong I was.

This movie showed me.

I have always admired the Igbo for being insurmountable, for not knowing how to let life and a nation's injustice dictate their dignity and strong industry quality to them.

I have also loved their unselfish, unwhining attitude towards wealth, how they readily lift others in their community once they see grit and potential.

My Igbo students back in Imo, I used to catch them on slow, burning-bright Saturdays walking together to each other's parents' farms, hoes hooked across their shoulders, their elbows clutching baskets, an unquenchable glitter in their eyes.

I had to write about the little Igbo boys when I got back to the southeast. I remember slightly shivering with feeling as I wrote.

This movie gave me a flash of that emotional upsurge.

Afam's innocence, honesty and composure even in the wild world fate hurled him in left me almost transported.

And I have a newfound respect for Nwa-Bois.

I will not give spoilers for the rare few that have not seen it yet, but prepared to be blown away—particularly by the acting.

Gosh! It was too organic. Everyone gave me orgasmic delight with their performance.

I fell in love with Alex Ekubo. He literally made my mouth sag open. His delivery did not feel like he was acting at all—it felt like he had to reach into a core within him to emote a method verisimilitude.

Same for Atlanta. Same for Stan. And Segun.

My friends and I kept intoning: “Wow. Wow.”

Kanayo startled me because, for once, I connected empathetically to his acting. I saw no evil in him, and hello? That's way out of his range!

What a legend.

Every actor in this near-flawless masterpiece delivered a show I wanted for my soul.

And the storytelling soared.

One context-based sentence in the dialogue stood out for me:

“In Igboland, women do not serve men.”

It is from movies that we will gain or lose more layers of humanity and unity as different peoples.

And it is the collectively human things like love, jealousy, pain, anger, betrayal, death and courage that will always make us one—no matter what side of the compound we are.

I said “near-flawless” right?

Yes. It would have easily been a 10/10 in my book. But it won't be. The love subplot was too realistic and complicated for me to remain comfortable with it.

Here is my score: 9/10.

Kudos to the cast and crew!