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No!

No!

This is the English
language service

of Radio South Africa.

Here is the news,
read by Magnus Randall.

Police raided Crossroads,
the illegal township near Capetown,

early this morning,

after warning the squatters

to vacate the area

in the interest
of public health.

A number of people were
found without work permits,

and many are being sent

back to their
respective homelands.

There was no resistance
to the raid,

and many of the illegals

voluntarily presented
themselves to the police.

The Springboks ended their...

I think you ought
to have a look at him.

Give me his charts.

Were you listening
to the radio?

If they'd caught him,
we'd have heard.

Hi.

If the police have got Steve,

especially with
the posters in the car,

you don't think that--
Is that mine, sister?

Uh-huh.

Wouldn't that be
item one on the news?

No. If the people
know they have him,

they have to be careful

about the way they treat him.

They think he's here.

I must get back.

Let's have some coffee, Tenjy.

If the police had taken him,

that lot would be
the first to know.

I think he's hiding.

He was with Peter Jones,

and Peter has no pass problem.

If Steve was arrested,

Peter would have phoned me.

Pass the milk.

Finished, Mr. Woods?

Yes, thanks.

How'd you get these?

Ah, we have ways.

Do we dare print them?

For these, I'll risk it.

Ask Tony to come in.

I'll even give you a byline.

If they put me away,

yours'll be the first name
on my lips.

What about Mr. Biko?

Shall I use his name
in the story?

His picture was everywhere.

Do you think
there was a meeting?

There must have
been one recently.

Biko couldn't
have been there,

but one of his people,

mad enough about
black consciousness,

that's almost a certainty.

I've rejigged it a bit.

No. Leave him out of it.

I want the police
blamed for that raid.

I'll take care of Biko
in an editorial.

Yeah. Yeah, OK.

One bunch of lunatics saying
white supremacy justifies anything,

what we need is
some black nutcase

saying black supremacy's
going to save the world.

I would like to know
who's responsible for this.

May I ask you--

Dr. Ramphele.

Dr. Ramphele.

I'll leave you.

I've read this paper
long enough to know

you're not one of the worst,

so it's all the more baffling

that you would try to pass
this vicious fiction off

as reasoned fact.

Uh, well, Doctor...

Ramphele.

Ramphele.

I've stuck my neck out
on this paper

to take a stand
against white prejudice,

but if you think
I'm going to go soft

on some sensationalist
pushing black prejudice,

you've brought your complaint
to the wrong man.

Black prejudice?

That's not what Steve's
about at all.

Your Mr. Biko is building

a wall of black hatred
in South Africa.

I will fight him

as long as I sit
in this chair.

What you do in that chair

is put words in his mouth,

and you know he can't answer

because he's banned.

I believe I understand
what Mr. Biko is about.

Well, you believe wrong.

And he can't come to you.

If you were the honest newsman
you claim to be,

you ought to go and see him.

Look...

where are you from?

From South Africa...

but I was one of two

to be granted a scholarship

to natal medical school.

I'm a token of your
white paternalistic concern

for the natives of this land.

Well, I'm glad
we didn't waste our money.

I know you're not a fool,
Mr. Woods,

but you are uninformed.

Steve Biko is one
of the few people

who can still
save South Africa.

He's in King William's Town
right now.

That's his banning area.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Mr. Donald Woods?

Yes, I'm Donald Woods.

I'm Steve's wife.
Please, come in.

He's expecting you.

Thank you.

Hmm.

We're glad you could come.

Father Russell
got this for us.

You see,
we're trying to make

a kind of community center

where black people can meet,

maybe have classes.

The new dyes have
arrived at last.

Good. Tell Tsinki.

This way.

Who's this one?

Oh, he's just a little rascal
like his father

and even more trouble.

You'll find him out there.

Steve Biko?

Are you Steve Biko?

I am.

I would have met you
in the church,

but, as you know,

I can only be
with one person at a time.

If a third person
comes into the room,

even to bring coffee,

that breaks the ban...

And the system--

the police--

are just across the road.

But, of course,
you would approve of my banning.

No. I think your ideas
are dangerous,

but, no, I don't
approve of banning.

A true liberal.

It's not a title
I'm ashamed of,

though I know you regard it
with some contempt.

I just think
that a white liberal

who clings to all the advantages
of his white world--

jobs,

housing,

education,

Mercedes--

is perhaps not the person
best qualified

to tell blacks how they
should react to apartheid.

I wonder
what sort of liberal

you would make, Mr. Biko,

if you were the one

who had the job, the house,
and the Mercedes,

and the whites
lived in townships.

It's a charming idea.

It was good of you
to come, Mr. Woods.

I wanted to meet you
for a long time.

They follow you everywhere?

They think they do.

So, this is it?

Yes, this is it.

A clinic for black people,

staffed by black people,

run by a black doctor.

Was this her idea or yours?

Come on.
Let me show you around.

It was a collective idea,

but we were lucky
to have her.

And a white liberal doctor

doing the same thing

wouldn't serve your purpose.

When I was a student
trying to qualify

for the jobs you people
will let us have,

I suddenly realized

it wasn't just good jobs
that were white.

The only history we read

was made by the white men,

written by the white men.

Televisions, cars, medicines,

all invented
by the white men.

Even football.

Now, in a world like that,

it's not hard to believe

there's something inferior
about being born black.

We grow most
of our own food here

for the patients
and some of the staff.

The church?

Oh, that was here
long before us.

But I began to think
this idea of inferiority

was an even bigger
problem for us

than what the Afrikaners
were doing to us.

A black man had to believe

he had as much capacity
to be a doctor,

a leader,
as a white man,

so we tried
to set this place up.

My own mistake was to put

some of those ideas on paper.

The government banned you.

And the fighting liberal editor
started attacking me.

I attacked you
for being racist.

How old are you,
Mr. Woods?

Forty-one, if that makes
any difference.

Eh. A white South African,

41 years old,

a newspaperman.

Have you ever spent any time
in a black township?

I've been to many--

No. Don't be embarrassed.

Except for the police,

I don't think one white
South African in 10,000 has.

You see,
we know how you live.

We cut your lawns,
we cook your food,

clean your rubbish.

How would you like
to see how we live,

the 90 percent of
your fellow countrymen

who have to get off
your white streets

at 6:00 at night?

Jane.

Yes, Mom?

Put the strawberries
in the fridge.

Make sure Dad stays there

till I come down.

All right, dear.

What time did you get back?

I'd given up on you.

Half an hour ago.
I've already had a swim.

Mommy! Mommy!

Hello, sweetheart.

Look what Alison gave me.

Isn't that nice.

And what did you give her?

Nothing.

You terrible girl.

Well?

You were right.

What was he like?

They've built a damn clinic
up there.

Stop it!

Dillon!

Boys!

She's the doctor.

You should see it.
People come from miles.

How did they raise the money?

There was some local money
from the community,

church money from overseas,

and even mining companies
threw a few pennies in.

South African mining companies?

Yes. Apparently
someone important

heard him make a speech
that impressed him.

Thanks, Evalin.

Thanks, Evalin.

He is impressive.

Master?

Mm-hmm.

He hasn't talked you
into black consciousness?

No, but I'm
letting him take me

to a black township.

He's going to educate me.

He's banned. How could he?

I'm not sure.

You really think
this is worth the risk?

The education of
a white liberal?

If you get caught
out of your banning area,

well, all he might have to do

is write a letter
to his board of directors.

I don't want them
to get you in a jail.

Tell David he promised
to finish that table.

I won't get caught.

No tea till he does.

I need some money
from the cash box.

No, you won't get caught

if some paid informer
doesn't run to the police.

It's in the drawer.

Uh-huh.

We'll make a working man
of you yet, Steve Biko.

How do you want to do this?

Ask Thabo to come over.

I'll turn on the desk light.

Mapela will occupy the system

for a couple of minutes.

I'll slip out.

Thabo will sit in my seat.

I'm glad
I wasn't your mother.

You know, look. Look.

I was born in a tribal
homeland, Transkai.

My dad had a store there.

I'm not half as uncomfortable
as you think.

As a liberal,
if you had your way,

you'd be riding buses,
taxis, just like us.

You tell me my days
of white privilege are numbered,

so I'm enjoying them
while I can.

Run, son, run.

It's a miracle a child
survives here at all.

Most of the women
who have work permits

are domestic maids,

so they only get
to see their kids

for a couple of hours
on Sundays.

The place is full
of drunks and thuggery,

people so desperate
for anything,

they'll beat a kid bloody

if they thought he had five rand.

Was that kid you
a few years ago?

Yeah.

Maybe more scared.

But if you do run fast enough,

if you do survive,

you grow up in these streets,
these houses.

Your parents try,
but in the end,

you only get the education

the white man will give you.

Then you go to the city
to work or shop,

and you see their streets,

their cars, their houses,

and you begin to feel

there is something not
quite right about yourself...

about your humanity.

Something to do
with your blackness,

because no matter how dumb or smart
a white child is,

he is born into that world.

But, you, the black child,

smart or dumb,
you're born into this,

and smart or dumb,

you'll die in it.

I thought that most
Shebeen queens were informers.

Yeah. They are.

If they weren't,

the police would
close down this place.

But it's only some things
they inform on.

Others they don't bother.

Anyway, we're OK here.

This one's wild about Steve.

You see, he has
that way with women.

He's very articulate.

Where did he
get his education?

He's never been inarticulate,

but his father died,
and when he was 17,

he was taken
into a mission school.

You know...

most of these guys,

they're living in a bed
out there on their own.

No work permit,
no residence permit.

A man and wife

who can't find work
in the same white town

are not allowed to live together

in the same black township.

You split up black families

so that for thousands
of husbands and wives,

to see each other
once a year is lucky.

You keep saying you.

You're talking about
the Afrikana government.

Don't blame all the whites
for apartheid.

How many live-in maids
do you have, Mr. Woods?

One. But she doesn't--

Don't pick on him.
He's here to have fun.

Drink up. Cheers.

I'm not defending
what's been done,

but he's the one
who's against the liberals.

We're moving
towards integration.

You want to give us

a slightly better education

so that we can get
slightly better jobs.

At first maybe, but--

We don't want to be forced
into your society.

I'm going to be me
as I am.

You can beat me,
jail me, or kill me,

but I won't be
what you want me to be.

The best you want for us

is to be allowed
to sit at your table.

Using your silver and your china.

And if we can learn
to use it like you do,

then you will kindly
let us stay.

We want to wipe
the whole table clean.

It's an African table.

And we will sit at it
in our own right.

You must remember,

before you arrived
we had our own culture.

We had many villages...

small.

You know our language,
Mr. Woods.

The word we use for nephew
is ''my brother's son.''

Tenjy calls my wife,

not Aunt,

but ''mother's sister.''

We have no separate words

for members of the family.

All begin with ''brother''
and ''sister.''

We took care of each other.

We got a lot of things right

which your society
never solved.

You did have tribal wars

in this land of yours?

What do you call
World Wars I and II?

You use words very cleverly,

but there's something about it
that scares me.

Of course there is,
because in your world

anything white is normal,

the way the world
should be.

And your real genius

is that for years
you've managed

to convince most of us
of that, too.

Just tell him to come in.

Ken, this is Tenjy Mtinsto

and Mapetla Mahapi

from King William's Town

where we recently met.

Yes, sir?

Come in.

I'm glad to say that yesterday

the board approved
their appointments to the staff.

Brief them on our copy rules.

Take them upstairs
to see Bob.

Come this way, please.

Tell him to give them

their assignments
for tomorrow.

Thanks.

Teach them about our cameras.

I, uh, where, uh,

where are they going to work?

In the news room.

Does this Biko practice
black magic as well?

I'm not sure,

but I think
this is worth a try.

They'll cover
the real black news,

things we've never reported.

Nothing illegal.
It'll bring us new readers.

The white readership
will be delighted.

And when they start ranting on
about black consciousness...

Yeah, yeah.
Just remember,

my blue pencil still determines

what goes in this paper.

Yes, of course it does.

Yah, boss.

Ken?

Yeah?

You like football,
don't you?

And sure...

sure as hell...

he's paying people

to stir up trouble
between us.

Because when we fight
amongst ourselves,

he can say, ''See?

They're unfit
to run their own lives.''

Then he can go on
telling us where to live

and how to live.

He can pay us nothing

and pass his laws

without listening
to one word we say.

And remember...

they killed over 400
black students last year.

We've got to stick together.

As one people, we have
to make the white man know

that his free ride

on the back of black labor

is over, finished,
enklar.

Now...

now we've got
a surprise for you.

He's a little modest,

but you listen
to what he has to say.

Mamelan.

This is the biggest
illegal gathering

I've ever seen.

I've heard what the last
speaker had to say...

and I agree.

We are going
to change South Africa.

All we've got to decide

is the best way to do that.

And as angry
as we have the right to be,

let us remember

that we are in this struggle

to kill the idea
that one kind of man

is superior
to another kind of man.

And killing that idea

is not dependent on the white man.

We must stop looking to him

to give us something.

We have to fill
the black community

with our own pride.

We have to teach
our children black history...

tell them about
our black heroes...

our black culture.

So they don't face
the white man

believing they are inferior.

Then...
we'll stand up to him

any way he chooses.

Conflict if he likes,

but with an open hand, too.

To say that we can all

build a South Africa
worth living in...

a South Africa for equals--

black or white.

A South Africa

as beautiful
as this land is...

as beautiful as we are.

That's the one
who made the speech.

Sit down.

You know I don't
advocate violence, De Wet,

but don't make the mistake

of treating me
without respect.

Don't tell me
what to do, Kaffir.

Out of your banning area,

talking to a crowd.

You won't be a witness
at that trial.

You'll be up there
on the stand

with your friends,

inciting racial hatred.

On whose words, hmm?

What's his name?

Captain De Wet,

you're not sending me

to a Pretoria court

on the evidence
of a paid informer

in a cardboard box, are you?

Everyone knows
those kind would say

whatever you
wanted them to say.

You're a bit of poison, Biko,

and I'm going to see
you're put away.

Not on that kind of testimony,
you won't.

Don't.

Nee manne! No!

He has to appear

as a witness for the defense.

We don't want it

to look like
anything happened to him.

You're lucky, Biko...

Lucky.

I just expect to be treated

like you expect to be treated.

You and your
big-headed ideas.

If you're afraid of ideas,

you'd better quit now.

We'll never quit.

Come on!

What are you so afraid of?

Once you try, you'll see
there's nothing to fear.

We're just as weak
and human as you are.

We're going to catch you
red-handed one day.

Then we'll see
how human you are.

I quote,

''I believe that South Africa
is a country

in which black and white
should live together.''

Those are your words.

What does it mean?

It means that I, and
those gentlemen in the dock,

believe that South Africa
is a plural society,

with contributions to be made

by all segments
of the community.

Mm-hmm.

Are you familiar

with the language
in some of these documents

the accused have discussed
with black groups?

Yes, since some
of those documents

were drawn up by me.

The one ''noting
with concern and disgust

the naked terrorism
of the government''?

That is correct.

You say ''naked terrorism.''

Do you honestly think that
is a valid statement?

Well, I think it is
a far more valid statement

than the charges
against these men here.

Really?

Yes, really.

I'm not talking about words.

I'm talking
about the violence

in which people are baton-charged
by police, beaten up.

I'm talking about police
firing on unarmed people.

I'm talking about
the indirect violence

you get through starvation
in the townships.

I'm talking
about the hopelessness,

the desolation
of the transit camps.

That, all put together,

that constitutes more terrorism

than the words these men
have spoken here,

but they stand charged.

And white society
is not charged.

When you and others in
black consciousness speak,

you say,

''Our true leaders
have been banned

and imprisoned
on Robben Island.''

Who are you referring to
specifically?

Specifically, we referred
to people like Mandela,

Sobukive,

to people like Govan Mbeki.

And is it not true

that the common factor
with these people

is that they have
advocated violence

against the South African
government?

The common factor with these people

is that they have selflessly
pushed forward

the struggle of the black man.

So your answer to this
so-called naked terrorism

is to provoke violence
in the black community?

No. Our movement
seeks to avoid violence.

But your own words

call for direct confrontation!

That's right.
We demand confrontation.

Isn't that a demand
for violence?

You and I
are in confrontation,

but I see no violence.

But nowhere
in these documents

do you say that
the white government

is doing anything good.

Well, it does so little good,
my lord,

that it's not worth
commenting on.

But surely that approach

inflames racial hatred
and anti-whiteism.

My lord,
blacks are not unaware

of the hardships they endure

or what the government
is doing to them.

We want them to stop
accepting these hardships...

to confront them.

People must not just give in
to the hardships of life.

They must find a way--

even in this environment--

to...to develop hope.

Hope for themselves...

hope for this country...

Now I think that

is what black consciousness
is all about.

Now without any reference
to the white man,

to try and build up

a sense of our own...

humanity...

our legitimate place
in the world.

En die telefron ook.

Gann, help
hulle klaarmaak.

Dit sal die donders wys.

Yera dis warm.

Donald, go to Kruger.

He's always saying he'll
fight police illegality.

We'll take him up on it.

Kruger? He'd probably
give them a medal.

Now, Mampela, whatever
his personal prejudices,

he won't condone
this sort of thing publicly.

Oh, won't he? I'll bet you

he'll find an excuse for it.

You're positive it was
Captain De Wet?

lgin usekile
Captain De Wet?

Ndimbonile.

Where's Steve?

He went to the clinic

to draw off
the security police.

He didn't want anyone
seeing Dilima talking to you.

Donald, fly to Pretoria.

The local police
will only laugh at you here.

Ah, Mr. Woods,
you found your way.

Good morning, sir.

The minister of police,

and I walk right
into your grounds.

Not a soul in sight.

Perhaps not in sight.

How do you do?

Come in.
I'm just having a drink.

Will you join me?

Yes, thank you.
What are you having?

I'm on a whiskey.

That'll be fine.

Thank you for seeing me
at the weekend.

Ah, it's nothing, man.

I always like to
help the press if I can.

What did you want
to see me about?

Gesondheid.

Gesondheid.

Sit down.

Thank you. It's, um...

It's a matter
concerning Steve Biko.

Biko!

My God, man,
I know all about Steve Biko.

Minister, I don't understand
why he's banned.

You need a black leader
you can talk to.

Look, I don't need to tell you

this country has
a special kind of problem.

Shit, man,
do you think I like

banning and detaining people
without trial?

I'm a lawyer.
It goes against the grain.

Come...

come.

I want to show you something,
Mr. Woods.

We Afrikaners
came here in 1652--

200 years before there was

any such thing as a camera.

And yet look at this.

The trek across
the wilderness...

the homesteading,

the concentration camps
the English

put our wives and children in

during the Boer War,

the working of the land...

the building of the cities.

And any Afrikaner family

could show you the same thing.

We didn't colonize this country,
Mr. Woods.

We built it.

Grandfather Johannes,

a formidable drinker.

Do you think

we're going to give that all up?

That's what Mr. Biko wants.

This is a black country,
he says.

God, what's here was built

as much by Afrikaner toil

as ever it was by the blacks,

who came to us for work,
remember.

We didn't force anyone to labor.

They had very little alternative

since you'd taken over
most of the land.

And wouldn't you say
their cheap labor

And wouldn't you say
their cheap labor

has aided the success
of our economy?

I know what you're saying.

Don't think I don't understand
their argument.

I do.

We know there has to be a way

to work together
and live together.

We're trying to find one.

Maybe too slow
to suit some of them,

but it's no use your Mr. Biko

filling them
with false expectations.

We're not just
going to roll over

and give all this away.

Listen...trust me.

Let's sit in the shade.

I know much more about
Mr. Steve Biko than you do.

Is that what you
wanted to see me about?

Well, no, actually. It's--

But if that's
your recommendation,

if you think
it's really worth it,

I'll certainly
consider meeting him.

How's your drink?

I'm fine.

I really think you should.

You'll find him
more moderate

and more intelligent
than you believe.

But what I've
really come about

is an incident that occurred

at a sort of community center

Biko was putting together.

The place was smashed up
the other night.

Yeah, I know about that.

My police
are investigating it.

Your police are the ones
who did it.

What makes you say that?

An eyewitness saw
a security police captain

and some of his men

smashing the place up.

Would he testify?

He's afraid to.

But I felt it would
be more effective

if you took some
action internally.

You've always stated

you were against any illegality
by your officers.

My God, I am.

I appreciate your attitude,
Mr. Woods.

I assure you,
this is something I'll pursue.

I want no thugs in my department.

Don't be surprised.

We're not really
the monsters

we're sometimes
made out to be.

It's all right, Evalin.

I'll get it.

Get back, Charlie.

Mr. Donald Woods?

I'm Donald Woods.

You made a complaint
to the minister of police.

Yes.

That's right.

Come on, Charlie.

That's prompt.

I only saw him yesterday.

You had a witness
to the crime?

That's right.

I explained to Mr. Kruger

that I couldn't name him.

You reported a crime.

And the law states
you must name the witness.

You don't understand.

You must name the witness,

or you'll go to prison
until you do.

That is the law.

I don't want to go back
to Mr. Kruger

and report that two--

Report to whoever you like.

Our orders, Mr. Woods,
come from the very top.

Kruger.

I didn't say Mr. Kruger.

I said from the top.

Next time, you'd better
have a warrant.

The law's on our side.

Justice is on mine.

We'll see how we
make out in court.

And tell Mr. Kruger

to come to my house
for a whiskey.

Steve...

stay still.

Stay in the middle
and we'll cover you.

It's OK.

It's OK, boys.

You're a dirty player, Biko.

I was taught
by a Catholic priest.

What do you expect?

Are you alone?

Yeah.

Who told you I was here?

Your wife.

She didn't tell me where
the police thought you were.

We planted a phone call

saying I was going
to spend the afternoon

going over the books
at the clinic.

Got my summons today.

They're actually
going to prosecute.

Six months

for withholding
the name of a witness.

They're trying to break up
our friendship.

A few months in jail
might be what you need

to prove your credibility

as a budding activist.

Yeah, well, I got
my old law professor to defend me.

- He's the best there is.
- Want one?

Yeah, thanks.

I'm not going to name Dilima,
whatever happens,

but Kruger obviously
means business.

They've always meant
business against us.

Someday we'll be the damn system

in this country.

A lot of us
will die for nothing

if our system
turns into nothing

but black versions
of theirs.

I could accept that.

A bent policeman
is a bent policeman.

He breaks the same heads
for the same reasons.

To substitute a black one
for a white one...

it's not worth one child.

Never mind
six months in jail

for Mr. Woods.

Are you sure this
is the right house?

Ja, it is.

We have reason to believe
you are in possession

of subversive documents.

We're ordered to search here.

Do you have a warrant?

Good.

Well, bring it
to the window over there

and I'll read it.

Psst!

Put Mapetla's article
with them.

OK.

Could you hold it up,
please?

Fine.

Just turn the page,
please.

Could you read
a little faster?

It appears
to be in order,

but you won't find
such papers in my house.

We'll see.

All right. As soon as my wife
is properly dressed,

I'll let you in.

In there.

Stoffle.

Let's go.

I told you
you wouldn't find anything.

We'll be back.

I think we should
rescue them now.

Datu.

Datu.

Finally,
the prosecution finished,

and the courtroom
thought I was as good

as in jail.

Are you going to prison, Dad?

You'd like that,
wouldn't you?

No, you see,
then Uncle Harold

began his cross-examination.

He began by pointing out

that the wording
of the charge itself

was not proper,

that the dates were inaccurate,

that the precedents
they'd cited all applied

to totally
different situations.

Quiet, Charlie!

We need to check your pass.

Just leave your door open.

Donald.

They're after Evalin.

It's the police.

They're after Evalin.

What are you doing?

Jane,
go upstairs to Mary.

Charlie!

Donald!

Dad!

Why the hell are you here?

We want to see her passbook.

At this hour?

That's when they
have their boyfriends in.

You're talking to a married woman,
and I resent--

I'll find it.

We've asked this
Bantu female to--

Woman!

Bastard.

She's a woman,

not a Bantu female.

We can question Bantu anytime.

There may be
an illegal male in there.

You're on my property.

Yeah.

You think you're a big editor

who can get away
with anything.

I think I'm a man

who's found two intruders
in his back yard.

Master.

Come, Kobus.

We'll see about this.

Go on, piss off.

Are you all right?

Yes, master, thank you.

Tell Sipo to bring
the children here

whenever you
want to see them.

You're mad, Donald Woods.

I'm also shaking
like a leaf.

Why didn't you get
your own strawberry?

Because if I did,

you wouldn't be able
to taste my chocolate.

I was just being considerate.

You have a little of mine.

I'll have a little of yours.

What's the matter?

Ken!

Ken, be careful!

They may just beat him up

to try and scare him
off the paper,

but it's more pressure
they're putting on.

I'm afraid they might try

and use him as an example--

God, Steve,
what are you doing?

I want to know about Mapetla.

Coming into a white area?

This is my country.
I go where I like.

He's heard about Mapetla.

Oh, yes.

Did you drive yourself here?

Peter's driving.

I put Harold Levy on it.

They told him nothing.

Sit down.

All being well,

I'm going to Capetown
in a couple of days.

When I come through,
I'll drop off something

about the arrest.

Maybe you'll publish it.

Capetown, Steve.

You must be out of your mind.

Well, it's...

it's a meeting
of black students there.

An important one.

And before they take a stand,

I want them to hear
what I have to say.

We'll print the news
of Tenjy's arrest.

We'll put it
on the front page.

What's up, boss?

Mapetla's dead.

They claim he hanged himself

in his cell.

We're going to remake
the front page.

Donald Woods.

Hello, Donald.

A piece of news.

The day before Mapetla died,

the police showed another prisoner

a puppet of Mapetla
hanging from a string.

Steve, I don't know
what to say.

Just say that someday
justice will be done.

And let's hope it will not
be visited on the innocent.

You shouldn't go to Capetown.

It's too dangerous.

It's a dangerous country.

Keys and papers, hey.

I can't get
the bloody thing open.

What you got in there?

Nothing.

Wat makeer?

I think they got
something in here.

Out.

Papers.

What's your name,
Kaffir?

It's there in the book.

Say it!

Say your name!

Bantu Steven Biko.

I think...

I think he should
see a specialist.

Could he be shamming?

The extensor plantar reflex

indicates a possible
lesion on the brain.

Could he be shamming?

You can't sham a reflex, sir.

And the lumbar puncture
that Dr. Hersch took

revealed an excess
of red blood cells

in the spinal fluid.

Well, that also points to...

Well, it's a possible sign

of serious brain damage.

Has he eaten, Sergeant?

Gone to the toilet?

No, not today.

He must be seen
by a specialist.

We'll take him to the police
hospital in Pretoria.

But that's 700 miles.

He might escape
from the hospital here.

I want him
in a police hospital.

Maak oop.

Go by way of Soweto.

And when you take breaks,

one man stays
with Biko all the time.

Goodbye.

So Biko's death leaves me cold.

He died after a hunger strike.

Mr. Chairman?

Mr. Chairman?

Mr. Chairman...

I commend the minister
for being so democratic

that he gives prisoners

the democratic right
to starve themselves.

I suppose one feels sorry
for any death.

I suppose
I would feel sorry

about my own death.

How did you get permission?

I didn't.
It would tip them off

and they might move him.

I checked the law.

I don't think
they'll dare stop us.

This is a special case.

There's been no inquest yet.

There's no possibility--

Not special at all.

The law is quite clear.

Next of kin have a right

to see the deceased.

Now, Mr. Biko's death
has caused enough uproar

in the press already.

If you'd like to create

another front page issue,

I'll be happy to comply.

Steve...

Steve...

What have they done to you?

We must hurry, Ntsiki,

before he
notifies the police.

Don't let them
frighten you, Mr. Woods.

All right.

From every angle.

His whole body.

You and Wendy will come

to the funeral, won't you?

Well...

would his other friends...

Would we be welcome?

Yes, Donald.

You and Wendy
are our brother and sister.

We are here to mourn

one of the great men
of Africa...

Amandla!

Amandla!

I loved Steve Biko,

but I hate the system
that killed him.

- Pasina!
- Pasina!

Even today, the day
of Steve Biko's funeral,

in their white arrogance,

they have turned back thousands

who sought to come

simply to pay
their respects to him.

But we are here!

I hate the system.

But I welcome
all South Africans

who join with us today

in mourning the man
who gave us faith

in the kind of country
South Africa could be.

The kind of country
South Africa will be

when all men are judged
as human beings,

as equal members of God's family.

And towards this day...

when the isolation
that creates hostility

becomes the closeness
that permits

friendship and love,

let us all join
in the song of Africa

that Steve Biko
cherished as we do.

Do you understand the words?

Yeah, it's...

God bless Africa,
raise up her name,

hear our prayers,
and bless us.

Amandla!

The fact is that

Biko had gone on a hunger strike.

We tried to feed him
by intravenous drip

with a tube in his arm.

I don't know about these things.

I'm not a doctor.

That was the minister of police

Mr. J.T. Kruger...

Yes, hello.

Is that you, Donald?

All right, you traitor,

you black-loving bitch.

We know you're alone.
We're coming to get you.

Mom...

I can't sleep.

Was that Dad?

No.

More threats.

Police?

They're the only ones
we know are doing it.

When Daddy returns
from Johannesburg,

we should put a tape recorder
on the telephone

and print what
they say in the paper.

There'd have to be
a lot of blanks and dashes.

Well, I'm going downstairs
to make some coffee.

No, don't go!

Yeah, until 9:00.

Mom.

What is it?

Mom, shall we call--

You just stay up here.

Believe me, 30 years
in the police force,

and you know one
when you see one.

Tell Donald--

Here's another one.

All from a.32.

One of us will stay here.

I'll prove
my ex-colleagues did this.

What good will that do?

None. But it'll make me feel better
that they know we know.

Look, Mom, one went
right through your window.

Dead right, me old mate.

They're mad enough about
the speeches you're making here.

Read the Afrikaans
press in Capetown.

You start stirring up
trouble overseas,

they'll come down on you
like a ton of bricks.

You know my opinion--
It's madness.

And even if they do let you out,

they'll arrest you
the minute you get back.

I would have, Don.

Look,

we'll force them
into an inquest.

They can't arrest me there.

A U.S. lecture tour
will stir up pressure

they can't ignore.

If you were a lawyer

getting support for the law,
that's one thing.

But you're going
to talk about Biko,

and they won't stop
at niceties.

Look...

Kruger lied.

If we expose it,

they'll have to admit
how Steve really died.

I'm going.

If you'll stay with
Wendy and the kids,

I'm not worried.

In fact,
the more publicity I get,

the safer I'll be.

Phone you when I get there.

Donald Woods?

That's right.

We're from security.

Come with us, please.

This is the final call

for passengers traveling
on British Airways.

Don't worry.
You won't be on the flight.

But my cases are--

We've taken them off.

You, Donald James Woods,

are declared a banned person

in terms of
the internal security act.

Henceforth,
for a period of five years,

you are forbidden to associate

with more
than one person at a time

or be in a room

with more
than one person at a time,

except for the members
of your immediate family.

You are forbidden
to write anything,

whether privately
or for publication.

You are forbidden
to enter any printing

or publishing premises
of any kind.

You are restricted
for that five years

to the magisterial district
of East London.

Kruger's really gone crazy.

You reckon you know
what happened

to Steve Biko, eh?

I saw his body.

And those pictures
you've confiscated--

Fourteen sets have already
been released

to the world press.

Arresting and banning me
is a stupid thing to do.

Now your minister of police

has guaranteed a world spotlight
on the Biko inquest.

I have two small children,
Mr. Woods,

and I think about the future.

So tell me,
what would you do?

I have children, too.

But the days of a few whites

running a black country
are over.

It's going to change.

In partnership or bloodshed.

For your white children
and mine,

I hope it's in partnership.

Huh, with the likes of Biko?

God, I hope
with the likes of Biko.

I would have met you
in the church,

but I can only be
with one person at a time.

And the system-- the police--

are just across the road.

You're playing with fire.

You know
the house is bugged.

One slip of the tongue,

a surprise raid and then--

What you've written
about Steve is treason.

If I get caught
smuggling it out,

we both get what
Nelson Mandela got

or what, you know,

what happened to Steve,

and no one would ever know.

You think I've
done it for nothing.

I think you should destroy

what you've written now

or get yourself out
of South Africa

with that manuscript.

Not just for, well...
for their sakes, too.

Leave here...

permanently.

In actual fact...

In actual fact...

one or the other.

What do you mean,
we got to leave?

Bruce contacted
a publisher in England.

They want my book.

Father Kani is right.

When it comes out,

the government
will see it as treason.

We can't stay.

I don't believe this.

Because you want
a book published,

you're going to rip the kids

from their schools...

their grandparents,
their whole life.

Don't you even bother

to find out what I'd like to do?

We may hate the bastards
that run this country,

but this is still our home.

Do you want me to
just accept Steve's death,

what this
government's doing,

is going to go on doing?

What do you want?

You forced the inquest.
You're banned.

Are you so grand

you can change them alone?

I won't sit home bound and gagged

for five years and do nothing!

Where do we go?

We've got five children.

We couldn't take a penny
out of here.

I know you.

You're willing
to tear our lives apart

just to see ''Donald Woods''
on a book cover.

And you're using Steve's death
as an excuse.

Bloody hell.

Jane, can I go in again?

Mary, go and get dry.

Could we talk about this?

I'm sorry I was so cruel.

No, you were right.

I want a book published.

I do.

But if Steve...

if Steve died for nothing...

if we let them
just bury his name--

Who do you think
you are, God?

No, but there's
just no other writer

who knows Steve's story
like I do.

It's just a fact.

There are seven of us.

Donald,
you're 43 years old.

What will one book do?

Do you think they're
going to let us walk out?

We could get killed
even trying to escape

or thrown into prison

and still you wouldn't
get your book printed.

The kids will
be worried about us.

I'm not God...

but we know what
this country's like now,

and we can't accept it,

and we can't wait for God

to come and change it.

We have to do what we can,

and this book is what I can do.

Morning.

Thanks.

It's for us!

Mommy, Daddy, it's a present.

Can we open it?

If it's addressed to you.

What's all this noise?

It's got a picture of Steve.

What is it, T-shirt?

Here, Mary.

I bet it fits.

Wendy...

is there a return address
on there?

No, Dad.

He's becoming a legend.

Aah! Aah!

Mommy! Daddy!

What is it?

Get it off her!

My eyes!

Call Dr. James.

Yes.

Quick.

It's OK.

Mom, my hands are itching.

Aah!

It's all right.
It's all right.

What is it?

Some kind of burn.
I don't know.

Get it off.
Get it off.

My hands are burning.

Duncan, go upstairs
and rinse them!

lzandla baleka bhuti.

You heard what Evalina said.
Now go!

Aah!

Aah!

That was Don on the phone.

He says he has proof
beyond doubt

that the security police
sent those T-shirts.

How could they do this to her?

I think that book
should be published.

Bruce!

God, you scared me.

I was expecting you
the other way.

If I go there,

they'll know where I am

and who I'm with.

They didn't see me.

You ought to report them
for neglect of duty.

You're cheerful.
You've got good news?

Yeah. It's out of date,

but we doctored that.

It wouldn't get you
out of Jo'burg.

In the sticks,
it ought to work

as identification.

''Father David C. Curren.''

Irishman.

How did you get it?

Father Kani lifted it.

He said he felt sure
Father Curren would agree,

but for safety's sake,

he'd explain to him later.

''Black hair.''

If the light wasn't too good,

I suppose it could work.

You sure those buggers
aren't behind us?

Yeah. It's all right.

Good.

This looks like a logical place
to get lost.

Let's look at the map.

Flying you to Botswana is out.

But we have to.

We can't get a plane

with the amount of fuel needed

without tipping our hand.

We're going to take you out

via Lesotho instead.

We think New Year's Eve
is the best time.

Everybody's drunk.

You turn yourself
into Father Curren

and get up here,

north of Queenstown.

Kani will meet you

and drive you toward
St. Theresa's Mission.

That's a bunch of nuns
on Lesotho's border.

Two priests-- It's perfect.

Once you're there,

the border's only a river.

You can wade across it.

I'm a priest wading
across the border?

You do it at night,

and once you're across,

I'll be here
to drive you to Maseru

before the police
know what's going on.

From there, you can
fly out to Botswana.

The airline
is run by a Canadian

with an Aussie

and two New Zealanders
as pilots.

If I get out,

I'll regret giving you
your biggest scoop.

I've had bigger scoops
on an ice-cream cone.

Why do I have
to go so far north

before I meet Father Kani?

Arms are arriving
on roads near the border.

Don't worry about them.

Any car registered
out of district

is automatically checked.

He's going there
to get a local car.

He's a hell of a bloke, Kani.

For a black guy to do this...

I know the risk he's taking.

How do I get past Queenstown?

It's a long way.

You hitchhike, Father Curren.

You bloody hitchhike.

That way,
if you do get caught,

you won't take Wendy
and Kani down with you.

By 5:00, New Year's Eve,

all the white police
will be off for parties.

You hitchhike
to the rendezvous point.

It should be easy

if you don't leave too late.

What if someone phones me,

and I'm not there?

The plan's--

In actual fact,

New Year's Eve you've
gone to bed quite drunk.

Nobody will question that.

The next morning,
Wendy drives off to the beach,

only she really goes
to her parents in Umtata.

If you make it,

you phone her the minute
you are in Lesotho--

10:00 or whatever time
you've arranged.

She takes the children
north to the border

before they have time
to pick her up.

If you don't make it,

and there's no phone call,

she turns right around

and goes straight back home.

So that she can't be accused

of being a party to it.

If I make it,

they're going to suspect
your involvement.

Oh, probably.

But as a man of the cloth,

it's proof they'll be missing.

In my case,

I think they'll want it.

Can we stay up tonight?

Why don't you ask Mom?

Mary, come on!

Can we stay up
on New Year's Eve?

We'll get undressed first.

Just wait and see.

Let's all get
in the car first.

In you go, Charlie.

Get in?

Duncan,
your ice cream's melting.

Charlie, don't lick me.

If you do get ready,

I've rented a film
and some cartoons,

and you can watch
till midnight.

Is Dad going
to watch with us?

I thought you'd like
to ask Alan and Greg.

So Dad will have to skip it.

You know his thoughts
on your movie choices.

Daddy doesn't know
what good movies are.

Yeah.

We're home.

We're home.
We have ice cream.

Take off your jacket.

I saw Alice and Larry
at the beach.

I must phone him.

Maybe he'd come over

and play chess with me
next week.

Did you, uh,
pick up the projector?

Damn. The kids
wanted ice cream,

so I came home the other way.

We even talked about it.

I'll have to pick it up later.

Stupid.

Happy New Year.

Donald?

God, they're so predictable.

Gavin, it's my turn.

No, it's not.

Come on, Duncan.

Ahem.

No, no, no, Duncan.

I keep telling you all.

Now watch-- watch this,
Gavin, Mary.

You bend the back
low on the table,

your hand flat.

If they see you
and say one word...

I can't do that.

Where's Evalin?
Is she in her room?

No. I sent her
over the road

to get hamburger buns.

She wasn't too pleased.

Well, if I've got to pick up
that damned projector

I might as well do it now.

Any chance of a lift
to King William's Town?

I'm just dropping him.

Thanks.

No goodbyes, Father Curren.
Off you go.

And take care of yourself.

Thank you for the ride,
Mrs. Woods.

Wendy...

don't forget to pick up
the projector.

The what?

The projector.

Oh, my God.

Thank God you reminded me.

I had completely forgotten.

I'll see you soon, eh?

The military, the police,

yes, of course, I take risks...

all the time.

But that's only unusual

if you think
we're a land at peace.

You see, in a war,
people take great risks

as a part of life.

Well...

we're at war.

You need a ride?

Dankie, Meneer.

Maar hoever gaan jy?

Ampter tot
King William's Town.

This side of King William's Town
is fine.

I'm going towards Queenstown.

Oh, don't mind him.

He just makes noise.

He doesn't do nothing.

I tell you, Father,

it's very hard to see you
in those dark clothes.

I couldn't tell
what you are at first.

I should stand under a light
next time.

Maybe you could let me off
in Stutterheim.

As long as you ride with me
through King William's Town.

Those white kids
will be drunk tonight.

Maybe they give me trouble,
but with a white father...

Certainly when it's not
New Year's Eve, it's a fine town.

I've met some good people
from King William's Town.

Yes, so have I.

The findings of the court
are as follows.

One-- that the deceased,
Bantu Steven Biko,

a black man, aged 30,

died on September 12th,

and the cause of death
was brain injury,

which led to renal failure
and other complications.

Two-- that on
the available evidence,

the death cannot
be attributed to any act

or omission amounting
to a criminal offense

on the part of any person.

Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Hey, hey, I'm a priest.

Get away from this truck.

Get off.

Get off,
you stupid bastard.

I'll break your goddamn neck.

I'll have to say some penance
for that outburst.

Oh, yes, sir, you're going to.

But you got me through
King William's Town,

so I think
God must be with us.

Oh, look at those red balloons!

Mind them bubbles, Evalina.

You're having champagne?

Look at that lady.

Twelve seconds to go.

Mum, can Daddy come sit
in the other room?

No. He's upstairs asleep

where you should be
in 15 minutes.

- Seven...
- Seven...

- six...
- six...

- five...
- five...

- four...
- four...

- three...
- three...

- two...
- two...

- one...
- one...

Happy New Year!

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

There you are.

Happy New Year, Evalina.

Happy New Year.

Happy New Year.

Happy New Year.

In you go, Father.

But why? I was just--

The locals told us
you were going to Queenstown.

We're covering that road.

If we don't run into trouble,

you'll get there in two hours.

Well, great. Bless you.

You're going to the mission?

That's right.

If it's not an emergency,

I'd spend the night
in Queenstown.

I'm sure I can
find a lift there.

You might find some
black terrorists, too.

Here?
In the Eastern Cape?

Of course.

Charlie, be quiet.

Shh.

Get in.

Move over, Father,
will you?

Still want to go
past Queenstown?

But why do you use a phrase

like ''black is beautiful''?

Because black is commonly
associated with negatives--

the black market,

the black sheep
of the family,

anything which is
supposed to be bad.

Then why do you use the word?

Why call yourselves black?

I mean, you people are
more brown than black.

Why do you
call yourselves white?

You people are
more pink than white.

Precisely.

Ufunuk' blika ap' mfundis?

This is fine.

Nkoskakuku undincedile.

I expected you
three hours ago.

Hurry up. Get in, man.

It will be light soon.

In actual fact,
it does change you.

What's changed me
is getting here.

When I wasn't shit-scared,

I was waiting to be.

Well, come on.

When do you
have to make the call?

10:00. If I'm late,
she'll go back.

You'll get ten years in jail
if you're seen,

so get out.

Hayibo!
I didn't come--

OK. There's Lesotho.
I'll get across.

Go before we're seen.

Easy!
Don't get me nervous.

Shit! The bag's split.

In actual fact,

it's turned out to be
a balls-up, hasn't it?

You've done all right.

There must be some way across.
Just go.

When you get desperate,

go to one of us.
Use Steve's name.

Amandla!

If there is no more rain,

there'll be places
to cross tonight.

I can't wait till tonight.

I've got to go now.

How far is the Telle Bridge?

Likude. Nine, ten miles.

You cannot cross there.

I have a false passport.
Maybe I can.

Is there someone we trust
who's got a car?

I trust me.

And I have a car.

You...

Master Editor
Donald Woods...

escaping.

Ama-bhula azakunya!

The boers will shit themselves.

You're going to make it.

The boers
will shit themselves.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Kruger will shit himself.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Vorster will shit himself.

Ha ha ha ha!

Botha will shit himself.

Ha ha ha!

Well, I got you here.

Where's the border?

It's down there.

This will help.

Thanks.

You must not lose one page.

Someday, when things have changed,
I'll come back.

We'll have a beer together.

I'll wait for you.

It's locked.

Yes.

It should be open.

It's 7:00.

Well, not quite.

Jesus.

Oh. Sorry, Father.

Oh, that's all right.

What are you doing
on foot, Father?

Well, a friend
brought me here,

and another's picking me up
across the river.

I'm going to Maseru
for 10:00 mass.

You'll be lucky.

The rain's ruined
the roads there very bad.

Put your bag in the cab.

I'll give you a ride across.

Thank you.

It's very kind of you.

I'm Father Wo-- Curren.

My name's Moses.

Moses.

Yes, of course,
it would be, wouldn't it?

Say goodbye to Evalin.

But why?

To be polite.

Bye, Evalina.

Be good.

If that dog stays
away from me today,

I may make a cake for you.

Thanks.

Gavin.

I've told you--

Why can't we take Charlie?

Because I say so.

Come on, boy.

So long, Evalina.

Bye-bye.

Like the Americans say,

''Have a nice day.''

Hlamba.

Get out.

If I do make a cake,

I'll put marzipan on it

so you won't eat any of it.

You OK, Mum?

Yes, fine.

What sandwiches have we got?

Cheese and tomato.

Bye-bye, Evalina.

Bye-bye.

See you when we get back.

Evalina.

I can't find my bat.

You looked
behind the television?

No.

Give Evalin a kiss

and tell Dillon to open
the garage door.

Don't get sunburned.

Yes, Evalina.

Come, Charlie.

Charlie's staying here.

Tell Dillon
to open the garage door.

Charlie, sit. Sit.

Dillon, you got to open
the garage door!

The master's still sleeping.

He had too much
to drink last night.

If there are any calls,

just take the number.

And he's not
to be disturbed.

Evalin, don't be cross
with me about Charlie.

He's just such a nuisance
on the beach.

I can't read or do anything.

He's always gone before.

Well, I'd just like a day
without him,

that's all.

I'm sure he'll be good.

Won't you, Charlie?

Goodbye, Evalin.

See you later.

Let me have it!

Come on!

Give it here.
It's not yours.

Let me have it!

Come on!

Give it here!

No!

Give it here!

Die muder en kinders
het die huis per motor...

Take the father here first, sir.

Hey, we are both in a hurry.

You're always in a hurry, Moses.

Fill in this form.

It takes a letter four days

to get from Queenstown
to Maseru.

You got to spend
so much time

sitting outside your gate.

The telex is working again, Jan.

Good.

According to Fenton,

there's more rain
heading our way.

We've got to check
our instructions, Moses.

The security police
might be looking

for a certain Lesotho
postal inspector.

That's what takes
the mail so long.

Your security police
got to read half of it first.

We know what's going on.

We know.

Father.

You're a brave man
to drive with him.

Is this your bag, Father?

Yes.

It-- lt's just some clothes,

shaving things, and a Bible.

Yes, I thought I felt
a book of some kind.

Bless you.

Hello, Moses.

Ja reg.

Hey, Moses! Moses!

Stop!

I won't be long.

There's been some trouble
with the roads.

Here's a message for you.

Donald, the important thing

is not to accept
their restrictions.

That's why those kids in Soweto

refusing to be taught
in Afrikaans

are taking chains off their minds

that no one can ever put back.

I made it.

I learned it as a boy.

Daddy's been
traveling all night.

But why are we going
to Granny's, Mommy?

I haven't got my pajamas.

They're in the boat.

If he crosses safely,

he'll phone us there,

and we'll join him
and fly to England.

What will happen to Charlie?

I've left a note for Evalin.

She'll take him
to the Bricelands.

But what will happen
to Evalina?

I don't know.

Daddy left her
all the money he could find.

Niks nie?

Nee man.

Charlie, come on.

Hey. Hey.

Bless you, my son.

Wake up,
you sleepy Aussie bastard.

Jesus Christ.

I'd given you up.

What happened?

It's all right, Moses.

Good luck, Father.

Hope you make it.

Shit. It's 8:30.

Yeah. Let's move.

It took me two hours
coming down yesterday.

I really pushed this thing.

Now, where
is that child's doll?

She'll never sleep tonight

if she doesn't find it,
will she?

We're never
going to make it.

We can't get stopped
by the police.

Something very wrong here,
Charlie.

It's 9:15.

I haven't gone this far

just to turn around
and go back.

For God's sake,
move them out of the way!

Please! Move them.

Come on! Soo! Soo! Soo!

Excuse me, sir.

Which is nearer,
the British or American embassy?

We are a commonwealth country,
Father.

It's the American embassy
and the British high commission.

But which is nearer?

The British high commission
is there on the right.

Thank you. Thanks!

Excuse me. I have to see
the high commissioner immediately.

My name is Donald Woods.

I'm editor of the Daily Dispatch
in South Africa.

There's a Father Donald Woods--

No, no, no.
I'm not a father.

An editor to see
the high commissioner.

Yes, sir.

The high commissioner
is in London,

but the acting high commissioner
will see you.

Thank you.

I had no idea
you were a priest.

I'm not,

but I desperately
need your phone.

Please.

We understood you were banned.

I was.

Is there a code?

No, no. Dial direct.

Would you care
for a cup of tea?

Ha ha ha.

I've come to ask
your government

for political asylum.

Our pleasure.

Hello?

Oh, Donald.

Yeah.
That was good timing.

She's just arrived.

She's just pulled
into the driveway, dear.

Wendy.

Wendy.

Donald, you haven't quarreled,
have you, dear?

She's got all the children.

No. You better
not say anything.

She's just coming.

Oh, darling!

Hi, Granny.

Dear!

It's Donald.

Isn't that a coincidence?

Well, go on, Mom.

Answer it.

Hello, Donald?

Wendy, I'm...

I'm where I expected to be.

Come as quick as you can.

He's there.

Hello, Donald?

Yes.

Shall we still make for
the Telle Bridge crossing?

Yes. From where you are,
you should have good roads.

But just hurry, before...

Just hurry.

We're on our way.

I love you.

I'm a priest.
You can't speak like that.

Just hurry.

All you kids go to the toilet.

Have you got biscuits, fruit?

Regina, come along quick.

I don't know what's happening,
but help's needed.

I'll drive you, dear.

Thanks.

You'll have to overfly
South African territory.

They demand all planes
land in South Africa

before going on.

They can't stay here.

They'd never be safe

from the South African police.

Look.

We had hoped
to fly to Botswana.

The sooner the better.

Two-and-a-half hours flying?

Would they force a landing?

They have no shortage
of military planes.

Anyway,
my wife and children

will be at the Telle Bridge
in two hours.

We should meet--

In this rain? lmpossible.

They'll have to stay
in a hotel overnight.

We'll have them met
at Telle Bridge.

Yiess?
Wat gaan hier ann?

I can't see.

I'm just taking the children over

for a little holiday.

They all under 18?

Yes.

You can put their names
on your form.

You picked good weather
for a holiday.

They say the weather changes

every half hour.

By the time we cross,
it might be fine.

That's for sure.

You've got
my birthday wrong.

Never mind.

You haven't put down
your husband's name.

James.

Middle initial?

D.

Have a good holiday.

Thank you.

Come on, boys.

I wish they'd get
the bloody signal straight.

They're trying to
tell us something.

Got it.

Wonderful.

Don't leave anything in the car.

Here. I found this.

I wasn't prepared for rain.

Take this. It's not much.

You can't arrive in England
with no money.

Oh, Mum.

We must hurry.

Write to us, my darling.

Bye, Mum.

Be careful, my dear.

We love you.

Goodbye, Grandpa.

See you soon, Granny.

It suits you, Janey.

Look after yourself,
Granny.

God bless you.

Mummy, it's running
down my neck.

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

Is that too heavy?

I'll manage.

Mummy...

Bruce!

- Daddy!
- Daddy!

Hello!

Daddy!

I thought you'd never get here.

Daddy, are we
going in the plane?

Welcome to exile.

I've got to go phone in
that scoop now.

Make you a hero.

I'll pay you later.

Ha! What with?

An Australian
news report has stated

that the banned editor
of the Daily Dispatch,

Donald Woods,
has escaped into Lesotho

by swimming the flooded
Telle River by night.

His family had preceded him,

crossing into Maseru,
the Lesotho capital...

This is a moment
you'll want to remember.

So look happy!

Now get out of here.

Mr. Woods.

Donald.

Make sure my bag's safe.

Mr. Woods!

South Africa's told
the Lesotho government

they refuse transit
for the plane.

They'll force it down

if you fly anyway.

I think they're bluffing.

With the media attention,
they'd look very bad.

They don't care about the press.

They've shown that.

Have we got a chance?

With clouds,

Ritchie's a clever pilot.

I'd say a chance,

but the longer you wait,

the longer they
can plan something.

If Ritchie goes,
we'll go.

Oh, shit.

Trouble.

Good afternoon.

Mrs. Woods, Mr. Woods...

we arranged to get
United Nations passports for you.

The prime minister has decided
I should accompany you.

We must get aboard at once.

Good luck.

Bye-bye, Bruce.
Take care.

Send us a postcard!

We hope these passports
and my being here

might make
the South Africans hesitate,

but we're not sure.

It's the best we can offer.

Strapped in?

A friend of Steve Biko's

is a friend of ours.

How long before we're--

How long before we're over
South African territory?

About 30 seconds.

I won't be going
where they expect,

but they'll expect that, too.

Roger, hang on.

They've picked up
the flight.

They're demanding
to know who's aboard.

McElrea thinks we
must give some answer.

Tell them one Lesotho official

and seven holders
of United Nations passports.

Mac...

Have you heard the news?

Yes. Remember you're
on the telephone.

I know. But tell me,

what are your sources
telling you?

The schoolchildren
in Soweto are on strike...

Hmm.

Citing something
called black consciousness.

They have refused
to study Afrikaans,

refused to be trained

simply as servants
to the system.

The name Biko...

has been uttered
here and there.

Beginning of the end,
Donald.

Change the way
people think,

and things will
never be the same.

What's the government's
reaction?

Tense.
Troops have been sent in

to restore order.

Hell.

They're kids.

They may shout a bit,
break a few windows,

but...

Now stop!

Stop right there!

This is an illegal gathering.

I'm giving you
three minutes to disperse.

Go home!

I'm warning you!

Sergeant.

Get ready to fire!

I'm warning you.

I'm warning you!

Sergeant!

Fire!

But you, the black child,

smart or dumb,

you are born into this,

and smart or dumb...

you'll die in it.

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