I couldn’t help but think of one of my all-time faves, Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, when I saw the trailer for Netflix’s Valentine’s Day rom-com, Namaste Wahala.
Stanley Kramer’s 60s iconoclast classic starring screen revolutionist, Sidney Poitier, set the benchmark for all future interracial romance films as it tackled the hard-hitting, and very much illegal, issue of a black man marrying a white woman in a pre-Loving vs. Virginia era.
Like that classic and its many, many successors, the core of Namaste Wahala lies in a interracial romance between two leads and the volatile ripple effects it has on their families. Raj (Ruslaan Mumtaz), a lovable Punjabi munda based in Lagos, and Didi (Ini Dima Okojie) , a stunning Naija businesswoman, have a meetcute at a beach in Lagos one sunny morning and instantly fall in love. As expected, a shitstorm ensues soon thereafter.
Much to our chagrin, unlike Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner or any other interracial romance film honestly, the film does not want to tell us why the families vehemently oppose their children’s union. Instead, we get “he’s not Nigerian” and “she’s not Indian” arguments which hold little to no heft. Colorism and classism which are deeply entrenched into both the Asian and African psyche could have been the catalyst but perhaps that would have been too sensitive a topic for debutant, Himansha Ahuja, an Indian Nigerian herself, to dip her toes into.
“In a time when Bollywood is peddling a faux woke agenda while simultaneously refusing to cast a non-fair skinned female lead, Namaste Wahala presents us an Indian man with a black female. To Indians and Bollywood fans worldwide, that is indisputably groundbreaking.”
Would Raj’s traditional Indian mother for example have an issue with Didi if she was a gora, a fair-skinned woman? Probably not. Indian mothers tend to list “fair skin” as a job requirement for prospective daughters in law.
There are other bumps along the joyride – an irrelevant subplot involving a domestic abuse case and a cringe climax in which the Indian mother finally accepts her Nigerian daughter-in-law because she is told that Nigerian women are feminine and can maintain a household. Umm, regressive much?
Still, hesitancy to be even be remotely provocative and less-than-assured directorial footing aside, there is a lot to celebrate about Namaste Wahala. In a time when Bollywood is peddling a faux woke agenda while simultaneously refusing to cast a non-fair skinned female lead, Namaste Wahala presents us an Indian man with a black female. To Indians and Bollywood fans worldwide, that is indisputably groundbreaking.
There’s also the comic relief sidekicks who animate the screen every time they’re in frame. Angie (Anee Icha), Didi’s gal pal, is life. I love her! She’s sassy, vivacious and fucking hilarious. When she’s not giving you the side eye, she’s destroying you with her fiercely wicked bon mots. Raj’s boy, Raymond (Frodd) may not be able to keep up but he puts his lighthearted everyday African man shtick to very good use.
The two add pizzazz whenever the leading two relatively bland protagonists falter – one is a lawyer, the other is an investment banker, nuff said.
Namaste Wahale‘s greatest pull however is that its a celebratory ode to modern-day Nigeria – its culture (references to mythological succubus, Mami Wata, and iconic singer-songwriter William Onyeabor), cuisine (sumptuous shots of fufu and jollof rice) and history (the residual divide between Nigeria’s once warring tribes – the Igbos and Yorubas). These references might fly over the heads of those unfamiliar with Nigeria , but what won’t is the film’s portrayal of Lagos as the metropolitan economic juggernaut it is.
This is in stark contrast to the world’s overall infantalizing depiction of Africa as a barren, economically codependent dustbowl thus making Namaste Wahala important, nay essential, viewing for an international audience.
