Dust clings to every surface, and silence says more than diagloue in Yaaba, a quietly affecting tale from Burkina Faso. A young g boy befriends an elderly outcast known as "the witch", much to the disapproval of his viallage. Their friendship is the heart of the film—understated, unsentimental, and the more powerful for it.
The story move with the rhythm of rural life—unhurried, circular, and marked by small, decisive moments. Squabbles, illness, suspicion, and tenderness unfold in long takes and sparse exchanges. Their's a folkloric quality to it all, but it's grounded in the dust and heat of a world that feels both real and gently mythic.
Not everything lands. Some emotional beats are a little too tidy, and the plot leans more on mood than momentu,. But Ouédraogo's eye is sharp, and his restraint admirable. Yaaba is slight, yes—but also quietly absorbing, offering a rare window into childhood, community, and compassion etched into the landscape itself.