Doris Naulapwa

On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (2024) throws you headfirst into the messiness of family secrets, grief, and the absolute chaos that erupts when the past refuses to stay buried. The story centers around a woman who comes back to Zambia after her uncle dies—yeah, the kind of return nobody really wants to make. You’ve got relatives coming out of the woodwork, old dramas resurfacing, and this thick, suffocating atmosphere of things left unsaid for way too long. The film doesn’t tiptoe around pain or awkwardness. Instead, it plops you right into the thick of it, forcing everyone to reckon with truths they’d rather keep swept under the rug. What’s wild here is how the movie juggles humor and sorrow—one second you’re snorting at some dry, biting joke from a family member, and the next you’re hit with this wave of sadness. It's that raw, honest depiction of grief that doesn’t get all sentimental, but just feels... real. The visuals stick with you, too; the Zambian landscape isn’t just a backdrop, it’s practically a character—lush, vibrant, and always watching. As secrets unravel, it’s not just about the dead uncle anymore. It’s about generational wounds, guilt, and how silence can be so much louder than words. Doris Naulapwa totally nails the tangled, jittery energy of someone trying to make sense of chaos while holding herself together. In the end, you’re left wrestling with your own questions about family, honesty, and who gets to decide what’s remembered.