I went into Rafiki expecting an African LGBTQ+ twist on Romeo and Juliet. It is that, but boiling it down to forbidden love across family lines undersells it. Wanuri Kahiu keeps the storytelling direct, spelling out the stakes with clarity rather than metaphor. The setting is no backdrop—it’s a Kenya where same-sex relationships are criminalised, and social conservatism is enforced as rigidly as the law.
Kena and Ziki’s romance blooms in bursts of colour and laughter, their flirtations shot in warm pinks and tropical light. Yet the world around them closes in: gossip, church sermons, and the threat of real legal consequences hang over every stolen glance. Kahiu’s style is deceptively light, letting the joy of first love shine even as she shows how precarious it is.
It’s a simple film in structure, but politically bold and emotionally resonant. More than a love story, Rafiki is a quiet act of resistance—proving that tenderness can be as radical as protest.