Original subtitles

I was born with the songs of Zulu rainmakers in my ears.

They sang to end the great drought...

...which burned the land of South Africa for 10 years.

My mother gave birth to me three weeks after my father died.

He was trampled to death by a bull elephant in the bush.

She gave me his name. Peter Phillip Kenneth Keith.

But from the first day, she called me by my initials, P.K...

...just as she called my father.

"--and never breathe a word about your loss.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew...

...to serve your turn long after they are gone...

...and so hold on when there is nothing in you...

...except the will which says to them, 'Hold on'...."

I remember my mother telling me that she was a child of England...

...where she grew up with books and music.

But I was a child of Africa and woke to the smell...

...of jacaranda blossoms...

...and fell asleep to the sound of the weaverbirds...

...nesting for the night.

"--you'll be a man, my son."

Nanny's son, Tonderai, was my best friend.

From the time we were born, we did everything together:

Games, chores and lessons.

Mother taught us about England.

Nanny taught us about Africa.

Mother said life was perfect...

...except it never rained.

Madam! Come quickly! Come!

It's bad! The cattle. The cattle dying.

My father was a farmer. My mother was not.

Because she loved us so much, she tried hard to be one after he died.

But when the plague killed our cattle, something inside her broke...

...and never mended.

Nanny said the doctor insisted my mother have complete rest.

He said I must go to boarding school.

For the first time in my life, I felt afraid.

I'd never been away from home before...

...away from my mother, away from Nanny.

I wanted to cry, but I held it in.

I was afraid it would hurt my mother even more.

P.K.

Mommy's giving you the bracelet Daddy gave Mommy when we first fell in love.

I love you, P.K.

She gave me the ostrich shell bracelet...

...my father gave her when they first fell in love.

Be a good boy, darling.

Bye-bye.

Be good, P.K.

We were poor.

The only school we could afford was run by Afrikaners...

...the oldest of the two white tribes in Africa...

...the other being my people, the English.

The English drove us into the wilderness...

...but we returned stronger than before.

They spilled our blood across the land...

...but we returned stronger than before.

Because this land is ours...

...given to us in holy covenant by Almighty God!

It is our responsibility...

...to rise up and push out the English!

To put down the black!

For the Holy Scripture tells us, Joshua 9:20:

"The children of Ham turned black for their sins.

They shall be unto the rest, hewers of wood and drawers of water.

They shall be as servants unto you."

It is our responsibility to redeem that covenant...

...to repossess the land...

...to be stronger than before!

Let us pray.

I remember my first lesson.

In 1896, the Afrikaners had tried to overthrow...

...the government of the English...

...but the English army was too strong.

The English locked up 26,000 Afrikaner women and children...

...into what they called "concentration camps."

Many of them died...

...from malaria, typhoid, blackwater fever.

As the only English boy at school, I took the blame for all those deaths.

This was made clear to me by the oldest boy at school...

...Jaapie Botha.

But deliver us from evil...

...for Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory...

...forever and ever.

Amen.

Know what "P.K." stands for?

Piss Kop!

Piss Head.

No, it doesn't. It stands for Peter Phillip Kenneth Keith. That's my name.

Let's piss on the Piss Kop.

Piss on the Piss Kop.

Let's go.

The Englishmen love to be pissed on. Lovely Piss Kop!

He's ready! Aren't you, rooinek?

We've been saving this all day for you.

-Tasty, eh, rooinek? -Look up, mate!

Come on! He's had enough.

Don't feel bad, Piss Kop.

We'll give you some more tomorrow. Won't we?

Whether it was fear or shame, or both, I don't know...

...but just after the bullying in the shower...

...I began to wet my bed.

Your mother is dead.

I never should've left.

I should've stayed to help take care of Mother.

Then she would've been better. I know she would have.

Since my only other living relative, my grandfather...

...was away in the Congo...

...it was decided by our solicitor that I return to boarding school.

A decision which terrified me.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

I confided in Nanny what had happened...

...and how I'd become a bed wetter.

She did what any good Zulu mother would do.

She called on the greatest medicine man of her tribe.

A man who, Nanny said, could make sick men well...

...and scared men brave.

I had never seen anyone like him before.

I said a silent prayer...

...that his magic was stronger than my trouble.

His name was Dabula Manzi.

Dabula Manzi said my troubles came from fear deep in my heart.

He would send me on the journey to discover courage...

...and bury my fear.

He drew three circles of magic powder on the ground...

...placed a chicken in each one.

He said the chicken who broke out of the circle was the bravest.

He would be my guide on the journey to find my courage.

Dabula Manzi said the spirit of the great Zulu warriors lived in me.

I'd faced the most powerful creature on earth.

A creature I'd feared since hearing about how my father died.

I'd earned his respect for my courage.

There'd be no more problem with night water.

Dabula Manzi said I was a man for all Africa, bound to her by my spirit.

Bound to her by my dreams.

He said I was no longer a Piss Kop.

He gave me back my name...

...and he let me keep the chicken.

I named my chicken Masibindi.

In Zulu, that means "Mother Courage."

During the day, she would hunt for bugs outside.

At night, she would nest above my bed and keep a sharp eye.

She was my best and only friend.

A month later, war broke out in Europe.

This caused me more problems than bed-wetting ever had.

Hitler had vowed to crush Great Britain and drive the English from South Africa.

The Afrikaners waited for that day with excitement.

I said Dabula Manzi's words over and over to myself:

"Try not to be afraid."

We have the rooinek!

Silence!

Silence!

Piss Kop.

God has sent Hitler to deliver us from you English bastards...

...who stole our country and killed our people!

Heil Hitler!

You will swear a blood oath.

When Hitler comes, we'll rise up...

...and kill the verdomde rooineks!

We swear allegiance to Adolf Hitler!

Death to all Englishmen in South Africa!

Heil Hitler!

God bless the Fatherland!

For crimes committed against the Afrikaner people...

...I, Jaapie Botha...

...the judge and Überführer...

...sentence your rooinek Kaffir chicken to death. Heil Hitler!

Not my chicken! Not my chicken! No, no, no!

Now!

Not my chicken!

Silence!

Hang him up!

Hang him up!

Hang him up!

You will pay for the deaths of our grandfathers and grandmothers.

All English will pay.

And you will be first.

Heil Hitler!

Silence!

In the name of Adolf Hitler and the Fatherland...

...I sentence you to die, Verdomde rooinek!

Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!

You dumbkopf!

I buried Masibindi the very next day.

It seemed I was to lose everyone I'd ever loved or had ever loved me:

My mother, my chicken, and now Nanny.

Tonderai and Nanny had to return to their family...

...in Southern Rhodesia.

I knew I'd never see them again.

Loneliness birds seemed to fly into my heart...

...and lay large stone eggs.

My whole body hurt with sadness.

My grandfather came home from the Congo to his house in Barberton...

...where English people lived.

I was sent to live with him.

Children, he said, were a complete mystery to him.

I did not think I'd ever feel better again.

I did not know how to chase the loneliness birds away.

Then one day, Grandfather sent a friend of his to see me.

You know, my donkey, Beethoven, once told me a remedy...

...of curing sadness in little boys.

Would you like to try it?

Good. Stand up.

That's a boy. Here.

On one leg.

Good, good.

Close your eyes.

Say three times, "Absoloodle."

Absoloodle, absoloodle, absoloodle.

Wonderful. Feel better?

No?

I guess it proves one thing.

What's that?

Never take advice from a donkey.

Much, much better. Yes?

Would you like to meet him?

Yes, please.

Let's go.

What-- What is your name?

P.K.

Oh, very interesting name.

I will introduce you to the Beethoven.

That was how I met Doc, who collected cacti...

...played piano and showed me how to talk to his donkey, Beethoven.

He likes you. He likes you very, very much.

My old friend, you have a very bright grandson. Very bright.

Yes, I just wish I knew what to do about it.

His mother, God rest her soul, was qualified.

Taught him to read. Taught him to play piano.

Music is important in a young man's education. Don't you agree?

How could I not? I'm a musician. Music is my life.

What do you think of this?

You take young P.K. under your wing. You teach him the piano...

...and he will be chief assistant in your cactus garden.

He pays you. You pay him.

With great pleasure.

He reminds me so much of Eric.

Your grandson, how old is he now?

He would be 7 now.

Doc was a famous pianist who gave concerts all over the world.

While he was in South Africa, the war broke out.

He couldn't go home.

In Germany, Hitler killed Doc's whole family...

...because they believed in peace.

Doc's grandson was killed too.

He was only 7. Just like me.

Doc was all alone in the world.

Doc said a person needed two things in life:

Good health and good education.

He said my health was good...

...but my education needed immediate attention.

Doc showed me Africa.

He made Africa my classroom.

I even learned how to drive Beethoven.

My lessons began every day at sunrise.

Doc showed me how to look at things differently than I ever had before.

And so, the brain, P.K., has two functions.

It's the best reference library ever, which is a good thing to have.

But also from it comes original thought.

In school, you will get all filled up with the facts.

Out here, your brain will learn where to look...

...how to look and how to think.

Any question you ever have...

...the answer you will find in nature...

...if you know where to look and how to ask.

And then, you'll have for yourself...

...all the brains that have ever been.

One by one, the loneliness birds flew away...

...with the stone eggs they'd laid in my heart.

Doc said there's so many things to learn...

...that we couldn't waste even one second.

Mother used to say the same thing.

Mother would've liked Doc.

Everything in nature is cooperation. Even moonlight.

Without the sun, the moon would be a dark circle.

But there's cooperation...

...moonlight.

-Bit heavy, isn't it? -That's a big one.

-That's a big one. -That's a big one.

Beauty one. Hide its roots.

That's good.

Looks like we have visitors. What do you think?

Maybe we offer them tea, huh?

Maybe a cactus.

Yes, maybe both, eh? Or breakfast.

Let's un-plant one and give it to them.

That's a good idea.

How are you today, captain?

-Cup of tea? -Professor von Vollenstein?

By order of His Majesty's Government...

...for failure to register as an alien citizen, you're remanded to prison...

...for the duration of the war with Germany.

You will come with me.

I realized then that the Afrikaners were not the only ones...

...to hate and fear others.

The English were in for their fair share as well.

The loneliness birds began to circle again.

Come on! Come on! Let's go!

While the English saw Doc as the enemy...

...the Afrikaner prison authorities saw him...

...as the perfect example of German culture...

...something they admired.

I allow you to put your garden across on that side.

You can plant all your cactuses there.

Every day after school...

...my grandfather would walk me down to the prison...

...and fetch me home at sundown.

I would bring my bucket with a cactus wrapped in a tobacco leaf...

...to keep it moist.

Kommandant Van Zyl brought Doc's piano into the prison...

...and allowed me unrestricted visits.

Open the door! And don't drop this bloody piano!

All right, now turn it on its side then, man! Damn it!

Come on! Don't you know how to move a bloody piano?

Doctor, I will get this in there for you, so help me!

The tobacco leaf, leave in the bucket.

So...

...soon is your school evaluation.

It was today, actually, wasn't it?

What are your marks?

What marks?

What marks! Grammar.

Satisfactory.

Satisfactory.

Mathematics?

Satisfactory.

Science?

Satisfactory.

Geography?

Satisfactory.

That's a shame.

The P.K. I know is a lot more than just a satisfactory. He's a brain.

In my school, you get beaten up if you're a brain.

P.K., to have a brain, it's not a sin.

To have a brain and not use it, that is a sin.

Come.

I'll take you to someone who'll show you...

...how to use your brain to keep from getting beaten up.

Who?

It's a very smart man. Come.

I will introduce you.

I asked Doc if it was the lieutenant.

He said the lieutenant would say he's too busy.

That's it. Keep moving.

Sergeant!

I have the permission to come in.

All right, professor.

Come on! Move, move, move your feet!

Keep moving. Come on.

Keep your left up! Left jab.

Okay, come out.

Would it be too much trouble for my friend...

...to learn some boxing?

I'd really like to help...

...but we're all busy preparing for the prison championships.

Both junior and senior divisions.

How about the old man?

All right. Hey, Kaffir!

-Come here! -Yes, meneer.

Listen, teach this boy the basics, and teach him good.

Or I knock your black head flat, you hear?

Right.

Hello.

So?

You want to be a boxer?

I think I'm too little.

Not to worry, kleine baas.

Little beat big when little smart.

First with the head...

...then with the heart.

You can remember that?

Yes, sir.

No!

No, little baas.

You must never, never call me "sir."

Because of the guards?

What should I call you?

Piet. I am Geel Piet.

I'm P.K.

So!

When I first met Geel Piet...

...he'd spent 40 of his 55 years...

...in one prison or another.

He told me he'd been a thief...

...a con man and lots of other things.

Now he was my teacher and my friend.

There now. You see how it can work, hm?

You see how little beat big?

Can't catch you, can't hit you.

Can't hit you, can't hurt you.

After only two months, you're a wizard!

But when do I get to punch?

Punch?

Oh, man, you not going to just punch.

You going to combination.

One, two!

One, two! One, two!

Go on, punch!

One, two. Yes. One, two. One, two.

Do we have a boxer here!

Ja, man.

We going to build for you...

...eight-punch combination.

The Geel Piet Eight.

The Geel Piet Eight?

Then, my Jong, you catch fire.

Come now. One, two! One, two!

One, two! One, two!

Very strong!

Good punching! Very strong.

-That's good, little baas. -Bravo!

You look like a champion already.

One, two! One, two!

What a boxer we have here!

I'm going to learn the Geel Piet Eight!

But now you have to learn the Beethoven 9th for one hour...

...so we can get to the cactus...

...before it's too hot to plant.

Between the two of us...

...we make from you a champion and a brain.

Your lesson...

...wonderful.

Thank you.

Let's go.

Excuse me, meneer professor.

Every time I see the little baas bring the cactus...

...inside the bucket is some tobacco leaf.

Yes. It keeps the roots wet. That's the reason.

So, ja?

You know...

...little smoke late at night only pleasure we have in this hard life.

They make it difficult for us to have the tobacco.

-I understand. -Why won't they let you have tobacco?

Because when it is a person's job to punish...

...it's all they know how to do.

I smell something not right here.

Hey, Kaffir!

No, meneer sergeant.

Everything okay here.

It's enough, sergeant! That's enough, sergeant!

It's enough!

In here, we say what is enough, professor. Not you.

If you're up to something...

...I'll find out.

Here, man.

This old Kaffir, he okay. He okay. Everything okay.

Sorry to make trouble. Sorry, little baas.

Now on, we just stick to the boxing.

Sorry.

Sorry, man.

Geel Piet!

I leave my bucket on the side of the piano when I practice.

See it is cleaned out every day.

Yes, baas. Ja.

Nice, P.K. Nice.

-Give me the bucket. -I don't like that schweinhund either.

Yes, that's right. Let's go.

Okay, Doc.

To survive in prison...

...Geel Piet became an expert in camouflage.

A master of the invisible.

His goal was to draw as little attention to himself...

...while getting exactly...

...what he and his fellow prisoners needed.

Good!

Good, little baas. Faster!

Faster!

Five years passed before I knew it.

While outside the prison everyone waited anxiously for the end of WWII...

...inside, everyone was concerned with just one thing:

The outcome of the inter-prison boxing championships.

Break! Break!

That was great!

Under Geel Piet's constant tutelage...

...I became champion in my weight class.

Very good, little baas.

Doc's garden grew as he planted and fertilized the cacti...

...I continued to bring him...

...setting aside the tobacco for Geel Piet and the other prisoners.

I also became the unofficial letter-writer...

...at Geel Piet's suggestion.

You really have the gift of the language.

That song about the rainmaker...

...why are they always singing it around me?

All right, then. Time's up! Nab it!

All the tribes believe, little baas...

...that when there is drought...

...it is because...

...the people are in conflict.

Inyanga ye Zulu, the rainmaker...

...cools things down:

The earth, the sky...

...the people.

He stops the conflict.

He brings the rain.

He brings the peace, man.

Okay, fine. But what has it got to do with me?

Well, kleine baas...

...you like Inyanga ye Zulu.

You cool things down, man.

You write the letters for all the tribes.

You bring the tobacco for all the tribes.

Naturally, they think...

...maybe you are the one from the myth.

They sing to honor you.

Did you have anything to do with this?

I say to a few people how you...

...treat all the tribes equally.

How you not show favoritism for one tribe over another.

How you cool things down. Something like that.

Why?

Well, little baas, little hope never hurt no one.

Yeah, but it's false hope.

Better than no hope at all.

Time for Beethoven, P.K.

Thank you.

It's my pleasure.

You're a good man. Enjoy the tobacco.

See you tomorrow, rainmaker.

Empty the bucket, Kaffir.

Yes, baas.

You are a bunch of shit-eaters. Aren't you, Kaffir?

No, baas.

What you say?

-Yes, baas. -Bloody right.

Now, get eating.

Eat it.

Eat it.

You can't hide from me forever, Kaffir.

Your day will come.

It'll be as black as your bloody soul. I promise you.

You all right?

Not to worry, little baas.

In the Tronk...

...we eat shit every day.

All of us.

If the sergeant had found the tobacco...

...all the prisoners would have been beaten severely.

And so the other prisoners sang to honor Geel Piet's courage.

But it still broke my heart to see a man I loved so degraded.

And it also made me angry.

Angry that it was done.

Angry that I couldn't do anything to change it.

They sang into the night, knowing they'd be locked in for 3 days...

...with no water.

They sang to honor Geel Piet's dignity.

Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance.

Down. Down.

They....

They look confused.

They are confused, little baas.

They are confused. They are afraid.

They are cowards.

Let us get these towels to the laundry.

Good news!

The Americans have crossed the Rhine. The war...

...the war is almost over!

That's brilliant! Let me see.

-Isn't it wonderful? -Good news.

-You will be free, professor! -At last, I go home to Germany!

-Home to Germany? -Yes, I go home! I go to Germany!

-Let's be happy! -Isn't it wonderful, little bass?

I suppose so.

But he doesn't think it's so wonderful, eh?

If you go back to Germany, I'll never see you again.

I don't think that's so wonderful.

Yeah, you're right. It's not.

But sometimes we must try to take...

...what's not wonderful and make it so.

Professor!

I just heard the news.

Here. We were just discussing it.

Professor, we are going to miss you.

Thank you.

-I wonder if I can ask you a favor? -Of course.

Soon the commissioner will pay us his yearly visit.

Can you organize a concert in his honor?

A concert?

-A concert here? -Here.

A concert--?

Ja. I....

I will arrange something for the commissioner.

You're a good man. Thank you.

We are going to miss you.

Why should I give a concert for these people?

No, professor, not for them.

For us, man. Yes!

You can write the music. Little baas can write the words.

And the people's voices, professor....

The people's voices can be your instruments.

They'll never guess who it's for. He's a genius.

The tribes don't talk to each other. To sing together, it will never happen.

It will if the little baas say so. Remember the myth?

You mean the one you invented?

What you talking, little baas?

I didn't invent it, man.

The myth is as old as Africa.

To the people, myth is stronger than love.

Stronger than hate.

It gives them reason to do what they would never do.

You ask. You'll see.

The myth. You are a genius.

You are the smartest of us all, Geel Piet.

Doc! Doc!

Here!

I've just finished the lyrics.

They're about the guards.

Wonderful. Let me hear.

In English, please. English, please.

They run this way They run that way

They are confused They are afraid

They are cowards

That's excellent.

Excellent! It fits in perfectly.

It's from something Piet said.

Even better!

But will it fit in with the music?

Oh, let's see. Let's see.

Something is wrong?

No, it's beautiful.

But....

But do you like it like this?

Having obtained the cooperation of all the tribal groups...

...as Geel Piet predicted...

...I set out to instruct them.

A handful of men from each tribe were chosen to learn their tribe's part.

They taught others...

...who taught others, until everyone knew his part.

What are these monkeys singing about?

I don't know. I only play piano.

Have you seen Geel Piet? He hasn't arrived yet.

Don't worry. It's his night, his creation. He'll come.

Boy, believe me.

Professor.

Evening, Kommandant.

Kommandant, P.K. is excellent translator.

-You can speak their babble? -Yes, sir.

I always have.

Right. Now, I want you to tell them...

...that the only reason I'm allowing this concert...

...is to honor the visit of the commissioner and his lovely friend.

And also out of respect for the professor.

Even if he's in prison, he's not a dirty criminal like the rest of them!

He is a man of culture, learning.

Tell them that.

The Kommandant welcomes you...

...and looks forward to the great singing.

For such a man, I am prepared to do this.

But one hair of trouble, just one...

...and it's finished. Tell them that.

He hopes each tribe will sing its best...

...and bring honor to its people.

One wrong move! Just one...

...and they'll be the sorriest Kaffirs in Africa!

Tell them that.

Tonight let us be one under the African sky!

What are they clapping for?

They respect strength, sir Kommandant.

Well done, P.K. Well done.

But Geel Piet is still not here.

He will come. He will come. Believe me.

Now the music, P.K. Now the music.

This concert was your idea, wasn't it?

You tricky bastard.

No, baas.

Don't lie to me.

Your friends can't help you now.

And you're going to tell me all your secrets, starting with the song.

What are they singing?

I don't know, baas.

Tell me.

Tell me.

They run...

...this way.

They run...

...that way.

They are...

...afraid.

We are afraid?

We are afraid?

You are...

...cowards.

You bastard!

No, Piet.

Little baas.

Piet.

No, please.

All the tribes together.

First time.

Because of you.

Rainmaker.

No, please.

Little defeat big.

When little is smart.

First with the head...

...then with the heart.

Hearing the tribes singing together...

...Geel Piet dropped his camouflage and defied Sergeant Bormann.

For that one brief moment...

...he was a free man before he died.

"The war ended. Doc went home.

And once again, I was left alone...

...fending off the loneliness birds.

Trying, as Doc and Geel Piet had taught me...

...to turn my sadness into something wonderful.

Because no matter how much I wanted to believe I could...

...my heart would never let me."

Very evocative.

Singing, dying.... Powerful images.

Well done.

Any ideology that needs to attack the thing that least threatens it...

...is an ideology that will not outlive its own generation.

Inclusion, not exclusion, gentlemen, is the key to survival.

Something our new Afrikaner government should take heed of, eh?

Next week we have...

...Mr. Guilbert, who'll enlighten us on the subject of--

Sports and wager in Imperial Rome, sir.

Very apt, Mr. Guilbert.

We shall look forward to the experience.

Gentlemen.

One moment, gentlemen.

On my recommendation...

...Oxford University has agreed to consider you both as candidates...

...for matriculation.

Thank you, sir.

In light of your financial situation, P.K...

...I took the liberty of making an application for you...

...for a government scholarship. Sign here, and we'll file it immediately.

Thank you, sir. Thank you.

Your mother will be pleased.

She'll be surprised, sir.

Thank you.

One thing more.

Was justice ever served?

Sir?

This man, Bormann. Geel Piet.

It was, sir. Sergeant Bormann was found a month later...

...hanging from a rope in Geel Piet's cell.

What happened? You were killing him.

That girl. Find out who she is.

Are you bonkers? We've bet every pound we have.

You lose, we're paupers.

Find out who she is.

We thank the native population for...

...the spirited display.

In the interest of good sportsmanship...

...I must insist--

Get out there!

Get back at him!

Thank you, God.

He's out! He's out!

The winner, Prince of Wales School...

...P.K. Keith!

Come on, let's go.

That's it. That's it.

That's very kind of you. Thank you.

Any more?

Sorry, sir.

Tomorrow at his gym. Hoppie Gruenewald himself.

-And the girl? -Forget her.

I'm not gonna forget.

Her father's Dr. Daniel Marais.

It makes no difference at all.

He's the intellectual darling of the Nationalist Party.

He's got as much use for an English boy rutting after...

...his Afrikaner daughter as the Queen has for balls.

Maria Elizabeth Marais. Senior's quarters...

...room 22, Devilliers School.

Fortress virgin. Ten-to-one you don't get in the place.

Oh, no, please!

You can't be here.

I didn't know how else to meet you.

I could be expelled.

You could be expelled for attending boxing matches.

We went on a dare.

Did you like it?

It was exciting. You were very good.

Thank you.

Will you see me?

I can't. Father would never give me permission to see an English boy.

-How about your permission? -What about my father?

P.K.! They'll hear you.

I don't remember telling you my name.

And I don't remember telling you mine.

Johann gave Margaret a ring!

I'll be there in a minute.

Your father. Saturday. May I call on him?

-Good night. -Good night.

Be careful.

I knew she was different.

I'll find a way.

There's no way. She's a waste of time.

You don't know what you're talking about.

Don't I?

Your future father-in-law.

If he could, he'd get rid of us too.

-Your problem is lack of confidence. -Lack of confidence?

What are you staring at? Move on!

Come on.

Please!

Help!

Bloody country's gone to hell.

Come on.

Wish we were at Oxford yesterday.

I must've made the right impression.

He takes no one on. You know that?

Go ahead.

You know who that is?

Yes, it's Andreas Malan.

He signed to fight Joe Louis.

Let's go say hello.

Mr. Gruenewald?

Mr. Gruenewald?

You boys lost?

It's me, sir. Morrie Guilbert. I came here yesterday.

About my man.

The champion, right?

-Yes, sir. -And who are you?

I'm his manager.

You train in this gym. It's not like these schoolboy fights.

Yes, sir.

What's it cost for you to train him?

For my personal attention, Mr. Manager, I'd say...

...15 pounds a month.

That's 90 pounds. That's very reasonable.

Here's six months in advance.

Six months? I don't know he's gonna last six minutes.

There's only one way to find out, sir.

All right, let's find out then.

All right. Time out.

Eight-punch combination?

-Where did you learn it? -In prison, sir.

-You trying to be a comedian or a boxer? -A boxer.

Right. Come on.

Manager!

You come to my office.

We'll talk terms.

Mr. Champion...

...you go get showered.

Come see me. We'll talk training. Any questions?

Yes, sir. How do you get away with this?

Get away with what?

The mixing.

Well, we Afrikaners are funny people sometimes.

Outside the ring, a black man is not equal. Inside, he is.

But not in public. Only in private.

It's crazy, eh?

You're good. An eight-punch combination.

It's good.

Thank you, sir.

How do you do?

-I'm Professor Marais. -Pleased to meet you, sir.

-Admiring the art? -Yes, sir.

It's Maria's family history, from 1688 all the way to the present.

My great uncle, Jan Pete.

He led a commando at 22, until your people caught him and hanged him.

You mean the English? I'm a South African.

So am I. So are the Zulus, the Xhosa, the Ndebele, the Sotho.

We're all South Africans. Just from separate tribes.

Some say our troubles would end if we didn't think in terms of separate tribes.

Separation is not coincidental.

You think the Zulu wants to see his culture, his sense of identity...

...replaced by someone else's...

...any more than I do mine?

No, sir. But I don't think a Zulu wants to be denied the rights...

...you and I enjoy.

Laws define rights.

I agree, sir. But do they always define justice?

Justice, young man, is only relative to who is in charge.

Quite true, sir. But perhaps how long they stay in charge...

...is relative to how well they dispense that justice, no?

You come for permission to see my daughter.

Knowing who I am and what I stand for...

...you believe disagreeing with me serves your cause?

I thought with your intellectual reputation...

...you wouldn't want her with someone who didn't think.

Intellectual reputation or not...

...I'm in the first place a Marais, a member of my tribe.

If you want to impress me, don't do it by espousing liberal ideas...

...procured in an English private school.

I'm sorry, I won't give you permission to see my daughter.

For the record, sir.

I procured my ideas long before I began English school.

From an English expert on race relations, no doubt.

Actually, from a German expert on cacti.

But that's a long story. Good day.

You wanted to see us?

Come in.

This is Mr. Elias Mlungisi.

He promotes fights in Alexandra Township.

He's come to propose a fight with one of his boxers.

Gideon Duma.

Mixed fights are illegal. Where would it be held?

In Alexandra.

So we won't be arrested for the fight but for being in a township.

You endorse this, sir?

There are risks, but...

...strictly talking boxing, it's a match I'd pay to see.

You were at the championship, eh?

Yes. You're a good boxer.

Why were the people singing?

I don't know.

Morrie's right. This fight's not for us. Will that be all, sir?

That'll be all.

Thank you.

You're both a slice short of a loaf.

Hello.

There was no phone listed. I was going to leave this.

What is it?

Since Father wouldn't give you his permission to see me...

...I decided I would give you mine.

How do you do? Morrie Guilbert. The level-headed one.

How do you do?

Actually, I could do with some fresh air. Shall we?

-I thought race mixing was illegal. -It is.

-So how does he get away with it? -We keep wondering the same thing.

-You train there? -For a couple of weeks.

With the natives?

Mr. P.K.

Excuse me, Mr. P.K.

I did not mean to be dishonest in my answer.

But I did not want to make public things you have kept private.

Tell me about the singing.

In bad times, people do what they know.

They know the myth of Inyanga ye Zulu, the Rainmaker.

Mr. Mlungisi, listen to me. I'm not that person.

This was all made up by a man at Barberton Prison.

Yes. Geel Piet.

I know you, don't I?

I worked in the laundry.

Yes, of course! Then you know what I'm saying is true.

Geel Piet made this all up.

That's why you must fight me. I'm Gideon Duma.

My people lose everything under this damn Apartheid.

They can't put their hope in stories.

Hope doesn't come from a myth. It comes from here.

We make our own hope. Our own future.

They must see that because you beat an Afrikaner schoolboy...

...does not mean you are anything but a schoolboy yourself.

I must beat you to teach them.

But what if he beats you?

I become his number one supporter and use the myth to get everyone moving.

I will do anything to help my people. Use anything. You understand?

What's this here?

Family servants, officer. I called them in.

My gear needs mending.

Papers, man. Come on, be quick!

-Where are you coming from? -The gym, sir. I train there.

-Almost curfew and a long way to go. -Yes, sir.

You've got a problem with that?

You black bastard!

-No, baas. -Then get moving!

Duma!

Let me know when I should come collect it.

Don't take too long!

You hear?

Yes, baas.

-Are you all right? -You lied! He doesn't work for you.

I had no choice.

-I've never been so scared. -Me neither.

I thought they were going to do them over.

-I meant the natives. They scare me. -Not as much as we scare them.

They have nothing to be afraid of from us.

They don't? Really? Do you know many?

Natives?

I don't really have the opportunity, do I?

If you did, would you take it?

I would.

Even if it meant going against your father's orders?

What do you call this?

Checkmate, old boy.

Last bus.

You're extraordinary.

There's a young man. English.

Prince of Wales School. I'd like you to have a look at him.

I'll get back to you soon as I have something.

Do that.

And this is the best part of town, miss.

You never do get used to it.

Let's go. We can't be late.

Maria?

My name is Miriam Sisulu.

Hello. I'm Maria Marais.

You look cold. Please take my blanket.

-I'm fine. -To keep you warm.

-No, really. I don't need it. -It's all right.

I'll return it after the fight.

-Keep it. Really. -No, I couldn't.

It's my pleasure.

Miriam?

Thank you.

You're welcome, Maria.

You listen to me, please. When I say break...

...you must break at once.

No hits below the waist.

Fight clean, or I am giving penalty points!

Touch gloves. Good luck, boys!

Look, you don't try to fight the man.

You box him, hear me? Don't let him set the pace.

You go in by the left jab. Box him! Box him!

On you go!

Two! Three!

You box with your head, mate! You're not listening.

Now, look for his weakness. You must find his weakness!

-I can't find one. -You must!

Look! He's taking water.

Where that water goes, you go. Right down to here!

Put your punches there, you win.

You don't, you lose.

Remember the stomach.

That's it!

Get up, son! Get up!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine!

One! Two! Three!

Four! Five! Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine! Ten! He's out!

He's out!

Nice knowing you, Hoppie.

The Rainmaker!

Inyanga ye Zulu!

Now we are in business.

Business? What business?

The myth business.

My nanny who raised me...

...she lived in Alexandra.

Rachel.

I really loved her.

But I never thought about who she really was, though.

Where she lived.

How she lived.

I always thought when she went home, it was to a house like ours.

Just smaller.

Just smaller.

Who'd want to imagine someone you love living in Alexandra?

Come on. Quick!

I'd better go.

Yes. Of course.

I'll never forget tonight as long as I live.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Good night.

Good night.

The Senior Ball is next Saturday.

I'd like very much if you escorted me.

What about your father?

I'll talk to him. He'll understand.

He will.

You'll see.

Just say yes, and let me worry about the rest.

Yes.

Thank you.

Good night.

The Rainmaker is coming!

Duma, the Rainmaker is coming!

The Rainmaker! Good morning, Rainmaker.

How you doing this morning?

Gideon, I'm not really comfortable doing this.

Doing what? You are training, anyway.

I too. People see us doing it together.

Maybe some of your magic rub off on me.

-There is no magic. -Look who's here.

-Good morning. -Please, sit.

This my new friend, P.K. This is Miriam Sisulu and her new class.

-Hello. You fought well last night. -Thank you.

I see he got you too. He has me convinced...

...to teach these sweet children, even though I don't know how.

Come on, Miss Sisulu, you are a natural teacher.

They say she's a very good teacher.

You speak Zulu.

-Give my regards to Maria. -I will.

See you. Bye-bye.

Watch out for him. You are shameless, Gideon Duma.

He can convince snakes to walk.

-She knows you. -She should.

-We are to be married next month. -She'll have her hands full.

Come on.

What's the queue for?

-The toilet. -Toilet?

The government allows only one for every 200 people.

The law says only two percent of us can go to school.

And you know what you learn there? Enough bloody Afrikaans...

...to be maids, street sweepers or mine slaves.

We can't even read the bloody Apartheid signs...

...to tell us where we aren't allowed to go.

You know, we hope for a good tomorrow in South Africa.

But if we don't learn to do for ourselves as equals...

...that hope will disappear. Disappear!

And my people will grow tired. The tired will grow angry...

...and the angry will grow violent.

And there will be no good tomorrow in this country for blacks or whites.

What are you saying?

I want you to teach my people to read and write English.

Look, Gideon. I said yes to this running together.

But I can't teach people to read or write.

You taught singing to many at prison, by teaching a few.

-That was different. -What was different?

Tribes sang together because of the myth.

They came last night because of the myth. They'll come again!

A myth you and I don't even believe!

Damn belief! Damn belief! I believe in Africa.

I believe in my people and in the future.

What do you believe in, P.K.? Tell me!

Mind your mouth, Kaffir.

Blacks better stay back when whites walk by.

What do you believe in, P.K.? Tell me!

What do you believe in?

Any question you ever have...

...the answer you'll find in nature.

We can hold the class Saturday night in the study room. No one's around.

With your permission, sir.

-We're living under Afrikaner law now. -We're aware of that, sir.

You're asking me to break that law.

And possibly jeopardize the survival of the school.

You teach us that inclusion, not exclusion, is the key to survival.

How can they be included if they don't know English?

I quite agree with you, P.K.

But it's only about a dozen people you are talking about teaching.

How much difference will that really make?

A waterfall begins with only one drop of water, sir.

Look what comes from that.

How clever of you, P.K.

Thank you, sir.

-Have a good weekend, miss. -Thank you. You too.

-Great news! -I'll talk to my father...

...about the ball tonight. He won't have time to say no.

I have a speech prepared. Do you want to hear?

Duma asked us to start a school.

We're starting tomorrow night in the study room.

Will you join us?

Tomorrow night? The Senior Ball's tomorrow night.

Maria, this is important.

The Senior Ball's important to me.

Look, I thought you'd understand.

I only understand I'm not going to the ball...

...because you want to change the world!

-Listen to me. -No!

Thank you.

I wish they could be here without being here.

That might be tolerable.

Friends!

Before my daughter...

...and Jacob and Anita's handsome son...

...go to their Senior Ball...

...I'd like to mark the occasion by wishing them both...

...happiness and a bright future.

And who knows, maybe a common future.

Phillip and Maria.

Speaking about the future...

...I'd like to take a moment to announce that...

...after careful consideration, I've decided to leave the university...

...and accept the Prime Minister's offer to join the Cabinet.

He agreed to your residential permit plan in full?

Without one revision.

-Why shouldn't he? -The only Kaffirs...

...allowed in the townships are the ones we need.

The rest should go where they belong. That's what the homeland's for.

Just by getting rid of the children, the slums will empty.

Exactly.

We should create a homeland for the English too.

Good idea. I'll take it up with the Prime Minister.

A toast...

...to the Marais Residential Permit Plan.

To Apartheid.

That doesn't seem fair.

I beg your pardon, Maria?

That doesn't seem fair.

What doesn't?

The homelands are hundreds of miles away.

I wouldn't want the government telling me I couldn't live with you...

...if you worked in Capetown and I didn't have a permit.

Maria, the plan doesn't apply to us.

It shouldn't apply to anyone, I think.

When you know nothing about a subject, it's best to say nothing.

I know what I've read. I know what I've seen.

So what have you seen?

I've seen Alexandra.

With that English boy?

Answer me!

Yes.

When you're not at school, you will be confined to this house.

You're no longer allowed outside unaccompanied.

You are forbidden to see him!

Now excuse yourself! You'll pay a price for disobeying!

If so, what's the price for seeing a Jewish one?

I won't tolerate this! Go to your room!

Or a black? What's the price for that?

I won't hate like you! I won't!

Maria....

Is it all right?

Absolutely.

-Lovely weather we're having. -It is.

Come on. You'll get wet.

Despite efforts to keep you from learning to read or write English...

...you few have managed to do so. That's no small accomplishment.

What we hope to do here is to take your knowledge one step further...

...and to teach you to teach English to others.

So that one day, each one of you...

...will be standing in front of a class...

...doing what I'm doing here tonight.

Now, there are two types of letters. Consonants and vowels.

Morrie is pointing to the vowels.

A, E...

...I, O...

...and U.

Each vowel has a long sound and a short sound.

We'll start with the long sound.

If you'll repeat after me.

I thought you might need some help.

Come in.

You wanted to see us, sir?

Yes, come in. Close the door.

This is Colonel Bretyn of the police department.

And his aid, Sergeant Botha.

He's come to deliver an order to close the Saturday school.

Can they do this, sir?

We can have the school closed and leveled in 24 hours, boy.

Come now, meneer headmaster, let us end this now.

I have a full day ahead of me still.

The Saturday school will be disbanded until further notice.

Permanently, meneer.

Yes, permanently.

Thank you, meneer.

Your cooperation in this respect will be noted in my report. Good day.

Is that really the end of it, sir?

Well, for the moment, I'm afraid it is.

Sir, if we let them get away with it on our own grounds...

...it will never change.

History disputes you.

History takes too long.

Yes, I know it does.

But it's never kind to those who try to hurry it.

Will that be all, sir?

Yes, thank you.

Oh, one more thing.

I know this may be no consolation to you...

...but these arrived this morning.

You're both accepted to Oxford.

Full scholarship to you, P.K.

Congratulations.

Thank you, sir.

That'll do. Thank you.

That was him, wasn't it? Botha.

Yes. Is your uncle still vicar at Saint Martin's?

Still vicar and liberal as ever. Why?

Get back! Get back!

Piss Kop!

I owe you something, you little bastard!

I was beaten by my father for the shame of being expelled.

I was made to live in the barn.

I wasn't allowed to go to school! My life was shit!

You can't be serious. You tried to kill me.

I was branded an idiot by everyone who knew.

They knew you well.

Gideon, no!

Bloody Kaffir!

No more!

No more!

You may be the heavyweight champion of our country...

...but you're a disgrace to it!

I'm going to see this race-mixing hole closed down.

You want to close this place down?

You go ahead and try. I don't need animals here.

It's already full of animals.

I'm not finished with you or the Marais girl.

I went to your room at school.

I was so worried. Where have you been?

I'm being sent to my aunt's in Pretoria.

Father said if I see you again...

-...he'd ruin your life. -He can't ruin it.

I've been accepted to Oxford. Come with me.

To England?

Yes, to England.

Away from here.

I go to Pretoria tomorrow morning.

I graduate from school in a month. I'll come fetch you.

You promise?

I promise.

It was my mother's.

My father gave it to her...

...when they first fell in love.

I love you.

Black and white together.

They won't like that.

To hell with what they like.

I don't train fighters who pretend there's no trouble...

...if they can't see it.

I train them to dare their opponent to get the better of them.

I can't teach one way and behave another.

Not anymore, I can't.

You know how to paint?

A bit.

Go on.

Take your hands off me, man!

Take your hands off!

Take your hands off me, man!

Mr. Gruenewald!

Get back, sonny!

-Everybody out! -No!

Bastard!

Be a man, sonny! Don't let them break you!

No! Don't be rubbish!

Bloody rubbish! Follow your heart!

You do what you think is right!

You bloody Kaffir boetie!

You're rubbish, Botha! You're a shame on our people!

Piss Kop!

You're rubbish!

Rubbish!

-Good evening! -Come in, everyone.

Come in. Gideon...

...did you get the report from the doctor?

He said one works as good as two.

They came for me. If I could give you my eye, I would.

I know, I know. Don't worry.

I think 20 teachers are more important than one eye.

I mean it. I mean it. I'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

You see, you've got a job to do.

Do it.

I want to thank you for having the courage to come.

Maria? Will she be coming?

No. Her father sent her to Pretoria.

We'll start with verb conjugation.

Joshua, please start.

"To be."

It's probably my uncle.

Continue, Joshua.

"I am.

You are. He is."

It seems we have a visitor.

I thought you might be able to use these.

You're mad!

There's work to be done.

Maria! I can't believe it!

-I brought some pencils. -Oh, how wonderful!

Ask and you shall receive.

Amen!

Now that Maria's back with us, we'll start again.

Joshua, if you will, please.

"To be."

You're violating church sanctity!

You are, rooinek! With your damned race-mixing ideas!

I'm Daniel Marais' daughter! Leave us alone!

-Take the girl. -No, stop!

Get off me!

At least let the women go!

Want to be equal, why not the women too?

No, wait. We'll leave.

You shouldn't have come, boy.

Take you hands off me!

P.K.!

Daniel!

Daniel!

No!

Let it be.

Maria's death shattered me like nothing had before.

I no longer had the will to resist. I was defeated.

I had to tell Duma I was leaving for Oxford.

Very good, children.

Now we shall do the short vowels.

Listen to this.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident...

...that all men are created equal...

...that they are endowed by their creator with certain...."

Unalienable.

It works.

What did I tell you?

"--among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

-Well done, Miriam. -"That to secure...."

And it will work in Durban, in Pretoria, in the Cape.

We leave in the morning.

Gideon, no. I can't.

Rainmaker, what will it be? Oxford or a good tomorrow?

Did Maria die for nothing?

Tell me.

What will it be? Tell me.

I thought so.

They're coming for P.K.!

They're coming for you!

-They're coming for P.K.! -Come on!

P.K.! They're coming for you!

Stay where you are!

You're under arrest...

...for violating Locations and Regulations Act!

This way! This way!

This way! Come on!

Listen to me. I won't let this happen! They want me!

It's not about you. It's about all of us!

Giving them what they want won't make the struggle any shorter.

Go! Go! Go!

Where's the white boy? Tell me!

-Where is he? -I don't know.

Hurry, children!

-Have you seen P.K.? -No, I haven't.

Look, I must get the children away! Find him before they do!

Come children, come!

Where's the white boy?

Tell me where he is.

You can't hide him.

We are the law!

You break the law, you pay, Kaffir!

Where is the little bastard?

You want to learn English?

I'll teach you English.

This is a bullet.

The bullet goes in the gun.

It's over, Botha!

You've caught me.

Call them off. Take me in.

I'll take you in...

...when I've finished with him.

No!

But you...

...I'll take you in when you're dead.

You Kaffir-loving shit!

Now, Piss Kop...

...let's box, eh?

You ruined the country, you bastard!

Get up!

Get up!

You and that Maria bitch!

Come on!

Come on!

I remember how my nanny would tell me...

...that if I listened to the wind, I would hear the voices of my life.

I listened and heard Doc talk about justice.

I heard Geel Piet talk about hope.

I heard Dabula Manzi, the old medicine man, talk about courage.

I heard Maria.

These are the voices of my life. The voices of Africa.

These are the voices I'll carry with me...

...as Duma and I set out together...

...to help bring our country closer to a good tomorrow.