All language subtitles for Daughters of the Dust (1991) 720p

- I am the
first and the last.

I am the honored one
and the scorned one.

I am the whore and the holy one.

I am the wife and the virgin.

I am the barren one

And many are my daughters.

I am the silence that
you cannot understand.

I am the utterance of my name.

- I can't believe it.

I had no idea.

Cousin Mary.

Praise the lord, Mr. Snead,
my dear cousin, Mary Peazant.

This has turned out to
be a very special day

for the Peazant family, indeed.

- Viola.

- Pleasure to meet
you, Mary Peazant.

- Yellow, they call
me Yellow Mary.

- Our
fathers were brothers.

Of course, compared
to some people,

Yellow Mary's not all
that lightskinned, but...

Yellow Mary, I'd
like you to meet

my photographer, Mr. Snead.

I've commissioned Mr.
Snead to photograph

our family crossing
over to the mainland.

What's past is prologue.

I see this day as their
first steps toward progress,

an engraved invitation
to the culture

and education and
wealth of the mainland.

Yellow Mary, wouldn't you agree?

- My
story begins on the eve

of my family's migration north.

My story begins
before I was born.

My great-great-grandmother,
Nana Peazant,

saw her family coming apart,

her flowers to bloom
in a distant frontier.

And then, there was my
ma and daddy's problem.

Nana prayed and the old souls

guided me into the New World.

I came in time for
the big celebration,

to be among my cousins,
my aunties, and uncles.

I can still see their faces,

smell the oil in
the wicker lamps.

I can hear the voice
of Auntie Haagar

calling out for her
daughters, Iona and Myown.

And teasing the newlyweds.

- Kalos, beautiful, eidos, form.

Skopein, to view.

If an object is placed
between two mirrors,

inclined at right angles, an
image is formed in each mirror.

Then, these mirror
images are in turn

reflected in the other mirror,

forming the appearance of four,

symmetrically-shaped objects.

Oh, I think it's just
a wonderful discovery.

It's beauty,
simplicity, and science

all rolled into one small tube.

I think the children
will enjoy it.

- Yellow Mary, look!

Uncle Spikenard
used to live there.

Do you remember him?

Oh, I guess not.

I was just a young
Miss, too, then.

He was from Africa,
and just after the war,

he moved from the plantation to

that little house
on the waterfront.

Remember how when
Uncle Spikenard

got excited or angry
he'd talk funny

so the children
couldn't understand him?

He'd speak in
African words and sounds.

You know, just before the
war, Uncle Spikenard told me,

they'd keep boatloads
of fresh Africans

off on some secret
islands around here.

- Viola, our government banned
the transporting of Africans

for slavery 50 years
before the Civil War.

- Not back off on
these islands, no.

Just before the
war, they were still

running and hiding
saltwater Africans,

pure-bred, from the Yankees.

- "Mistress Iona Peazant,

"Dahtaw Island, August 18, 1902.

"Iona, with the greatest respect

"for yourself and
the Peazant family,

"I beg that you stay by my side

"here on this island.

"Please do not leave me in
this flood of migration north.

"I feel if I lose you,

"I will lose myself.

"Consider the memories we share

"of growing up together.

"We are the young,

"the eager up from slavery,

"eager to learn a trade,

"eager to make a better
life for ourselves

"and our children
who will follow.

"Our love is a very precious,

"very fragile
flowering of our most

"innocent childhood association.

"If fear clouds your decision,

"together we must call
out to higher forces

"that they might guide us.

"Iona,

"as I walk toward the future,

"with your heart embracing mine,

"everything seem new.

"Everything seem good.

"Everything seem possible.

"Signed, St. Julian Last Child,

"son of the Cherokee Nation,

"son of these islands
we call Dahtaw,

"Coosa, Edisto,

"Sapelo, Dafuskie,

"Ossabaw, Kiwa,

"Wassaw, Paris,

and Santa Helena."

- Iona, you have to
go North with us.

Auntie Haagar
won't let you stay.

We all have to leave.

We all have to leave together.

- Who's that?

What's your children up to now?

Get on with you, son, and help
me clear away these weeds.

- Just 'cause we crossing
over to the mainland,

it doesn't mean
we don't love you.

It doesn't mean we're not
going to miss you none.

And it doesn't mean
we're not going

to come home to visit
with you soon.

- Eli Peazant, if you don't
stop grinning at me...

It ain't right to
tease old folks,

especially your
great-grandmother.

You're lucky I've got breath
in me yet, you old Goober Head.

Goober Head.

Your name used to be called
Goober Head, remember that?

Goober means peanut.

- What is this?

Something seems to
be stuck in here.

- You know, your
grandaddy Shad ain't like

to see no woman chewing tobacco.

Ain't that so?

You know that's so.

- No, ma'am.

- I visit with old
Peazant every day

since the day him died.

It's up to the living to keep
in touch with the dead, Eli.

Man's power don't
end with death.

We just move on
to another place,

a place where we go and
watch over our living family.

Respect your elders.

Respect your family.

Respect your ancestors.

You're worried that
baby Eula's carrying

ain't yours because
she get forced.

You won't have no baby
that wasn't sent to you.

The ancestors and the womb,
they're one, they're the same.

Those in this grave, like those

who're across the
sea, they're with us.

They're all the same, the
ancestors and the womb.

Call on your ancestors, Eli.

Let them guide.

You need their strength.

Eli, I need for you
to make the family

strong again, like
we used to been.

- How can you understand
me and the way I feel?

This happened to
my wife, my wife!

I don't feel like
she mine no more.

When I look at her, I feel I
don't even want her no more.

- You can't get back
what you never owned.

Eula never belonged to
you, she married you.

- Why didn't you
protect us, Nana?

Someone put the fix on me.

Was it the conjure or bad luck?

Or were the old souls too
deep in their graves to give

a damn about my wife while
some stranger was riding her?

When we was children,
we really believed

you could work the
good out of evil.

We believed in the
newsprint on the walls,

your tree of glass
jars and bottles,

the rice you carry
in your pockets.

We believed in the
frizzled-haired chicken.

The coins, the roots,
and the flowers,

we believed they
would protect us

and every little thing
we owned or loved.

I wasn't scared of
nothing and no one

because I knew, I knew
my great-grandmother

had it all in her pocket
or could work it up.

- Never forget who we is

and how far we done come.

- I have to leave here.

I don't have no other choice.

- Eli, Eli!

There's a thought,
a recollection,

something somebody remembers.

We carry these
memories inside of we.

Do you believe that
those hundreds and
hundreds of Africans

brought here on this other side

would forget everything
they once knew?

We don't know where the
recollections come from.

Sometimes we dream them.

But we carry these
memories inside of we.

- What are we supposed
to remember, Nana?

How at one time we were able
to protect those we loved?

How in Africa
world we were kings

and queens and built
great, big cities?

- Eli, I'm trying to learn you
how to touch your own spirit.

I'm fighting for my life,
and I'm fighting for yours.

Look in my face!

I'm trying to give you something
to take north with you,

along with all your
great, big dreams!

Call on those old Africans, Eli.

They'll come to you when
you least expect them.

They'll hug you
up quick and soft

as the warm, sweet wind.

Let them old souls come
into your heart, Eli.

Let them touch you
with the hands of time.

Let them feed your
head with wisdom

that ain't from
this day and time.

'Cause when you leave
this island, Eli Peazant,

you ain't going to no
land of milk and honey.

Eli, I'm putting
my trust in you,

to keep the family
together up north.

That's the challenge facing
all you free Negroes.

Celebrate our ways.

Nana prayed for help.

I got there just in time.

- Come, child, come!

- Fresh and sweet like a
baby's breath.

- Eula.

Who done this to us?

- Nothing good can
come from knowing!

- Everything good done gone.

Our dreams are all gone.

- God as my witness...

when I leave this
place, I'm never

again going to
live in your land!

- Oh girl, you're so silly.

What are you looking at?

- Oh, I love you, oh!

Now, this means--

- Gumbo!

- Pot called?

- Sojo.

- Water, water.

- Deloe.

- Fire.

- Diffy!

- Yeah!

Now, that's all what
grandma remember.

- They the last of the
old and the first of the new.

The older I get, the
closer I get to the ground.

This was the worst place to
have been born in slavery time.

Their hands scarred with blue
from the poisonous indigo dye

what built up all them
plantations from swampland.

We spirit numb from the sting
of fever from the rice fields.

We back bend down
while we did planting

and the hoeing and
the Sea Island cotton.

I was an elder, and
many, many years back,

when I lay in my mother's arms,

I saw Africa in her face.

- It was an age

of beginnings, a
time of promises.

The newspaper said it
was a time for everyone,

the rich and the poor, the
powerful and the powerless.

- Eula say, we the
bridge that they cross over on.

We're the tie
between then and now,

between the past and the
story that will come.

- Old Man Peazant
granddaughter done come home.

- Oh, she got ruined.

Yellow Mary gone
off and got ruined.

- What's that she got with her?

- Iona!

Iona!

You go warn Nana Peazant.

It'll most likely kill her to
see this heifer done returned.

- But Ma, I don't think...

- All that yellow wasted.

- Ah, is this the
same little girl

I used to rock in
Gussie's yard?

- The shameless hussy.

- Look, Trula, this is Eula.

- Eula, nice to meet you.

- What is this?

- Store-bought
biscuits, Haagar.

- Bread from a store?

You know, Yellow
Mary, they say a woman

who knows how to cook
is mighty pretty.

- Ma, can I taste one?

- You know, I don't like
messing around in no kitchen.

- I wouldn't eat them no
how if she touched them.

- You never know where
her hands have been.

I mean, I can just
smell the heifer.

- Buzzards don't circle
in the air just for fun.

That gal's come back
here for something.

- Girl, what are you
doing with those things?

- Just make sure
ain't no dead crabs.

Ain't nobody wanna
eat no dead crab.

- Why're you making them crawl?

- Girl, you need to be
plucking this chicken.

- Throw one of them
things on Haagar.

- No, no.

- The Earth, O Lord, is
swelling with fruitage

and reminds us that this

is the seed time of life.

That not today, not
tomorrow will come

the true reaping
of the deeds we do

but in some far-veiled

and mighty harvest,

not deceiving ourselves with
the apparent ease of evil,

looking to that harvest

when the earth
belongs to the Lord,

not us and the fullness thereof.

Put that down.

Now, you know, when
I left this island,

I was a sinner and I
didn't even know it.

But I left these islands,

touched that mainland,

and fell into the
arms of the Lord.

- What they got
out there, Auntie Viola?

- Life, child, the
beginning of a new life.

- Who's out there?

- Jesus Christ,
baby, the Son of God.

- Heard you was coming.

I've been waiting to
see you since daybreak.

- I heard the drums
but I didn't know

they were talking
about me, you know.

- I wanted to
surprise you, Nana.

It's a hard thing to
do in Ibo Landing.

- No surprises
here, Yellow Mary.

What's that you wear
around your neck?

- St. Christopher's charm,
for travelers on a journey.

- What kind of belief is that?

He protect you?

- I see your family
sticks to the old ways.

- Yeah, yeah, we stick to them,

but times is a-changing,
and you know, Mr. Snead,

you have to change
with the times.

- Mr. Hail, you know
any of those old

Africans from your
plantation days?

- As much as I like to fish,

I'll never put a
pole in that water.

That's the spot where the
girl got drowned by her owner.

- Isn't this Ibo Landing?

- That don't mean
you can't drown here.

Say again how they
say water in Spanish.

- Agua.

- Agua, agua.

My Ma came to me
last night, you know?

She took me by the hand.

- Your titty's been
dead a long time, Eula.

- I needed to see my Ma.

I want to talk to her.

So I wrote her a letter,
put it beneath the bed

with a glass of
water, and I waited.

I waited, and my Ma came to me.

She came right away.

- Eula!

You're a real back-water
Geeche girl!

This must be the most
desolate place on the earth.

You know, I think
what I would do--

- No, Mary,
it's beautiful.

- Here it is folks, Ibo Landing,

reflecting the muddy
waters of history.

Me, myself, personally,
I don't look for

my reflection in no
muddy water, you know?

The only way for things to
change is to keep moving.

People sitting still,
men sitting still,

don't get it with me, you know?

Wish I could find
me a good man, Eula.

Somebody I could depend on.

Not that I'd want
to depend on him.

Just to know that I
could if I had to.

- Eula!

- Mind now, Yellow
Mary, you'll be itching soon.

- A little face powder never
hurt Yellow none, y'know.

It's these blood sucking gnats

is going to drive me back
over to the mainland.

You live like savages
back over in here.

Oh, you know,

I sure hope they're
fixing some gumbo.

It's been a long time since
I've had some good gumbo.

I had some in
Savannah, you know,

but they didn't put
everything in it.

I've haven't had some
good food in a long time.

- I found her.

I found her fetching her
parasol by Ibo Landing.

What kind of woman she is?

Yellow Mary's no family woman.

She's a scary woman.

- She's a new kind of woman.

- At the same time, the
raping of colored women

is as common as fish in the sea.

You didn't tell Eli
who did it, did you?

You've got a good man, Eula,
somebody you can depend on.

He doesn't need to know what
could get himself killed.

There's enough uncertainty
in life without

wondering what tree your
husband's hanging from.

Don't tell him nothing.

- I
remember how important

the children were to
the Peazant family,

and how I had to convince my
daddy that I was his child.

- Hold it.

- If you want to know
about them African people,

you need to talk to Bilal.

- Salt
water negroes.

- They stole Bilal from Africa

when he was just a little boy.

He came over on the
very last slave ship.

Bilal came over on The Wanderer.

- My baby was born dead...

and my titty was full of milk.

We needed money, so I hired
out to a wealthy family,

some big, supposed
to be, muckety-mucks,

off Edisto Island,
high-falutin' buckra.

They go to Cuba, I go.

I nursed their baby and took
care of their other children.

That's how I got ruined.

I wanted to go home
and they keep me.

They keep me.

So I fix the titty,
they send me home.

- Iona, Iona!

Iona, Iona!

Where's that girl?

I don't know why
Nana Peazant won't

come sit herself down over here

near where we can
watch over her.

Snakes off in that high grass.

- Old people think they have
all the answers, you know?

Carrying around that
tin can.

I don't think I ever
see her without it.

- We ought to
save this one for Eula.

She's about as strange
as Nana Peazant.

Sometimes, I think that old
woman isn't in her right mind.

- Haagar Peazant, you're
laughing at an old woman,

and just like Eula, you
married into this family,

but she's our grandmother.

There's nothing wrong or harmful

in that tin can she
carries, just some old--

- Scraps of
memories!

- Now, I'll be
the first to admit

that Nana is carrying
a lot of luggage,

and she needs to put her soul
in the hands of the Lord,

but she built her life
around this family.

She's old and she's frightened.

What does Nana know
about the world outside?

Nothing.

Nana was never educated.

All she knows are simple things,

things people told
her a long time ago.

- That's why I say Nana
Peazant needs to pack

her things like the rest
of we and come along.

She doesn't need
to stay here like

she's somebody with no people.

- I might not have
been born into

this family, but I'm here now,

and I say let Nana
Peazant stay behind.

That's what she wants.

We're moving into a new day.

She's too much a
part of the past.

- Don't let Daddy Mac
hear your mouth!

- I'm a fully grown woman,

and I don't have
to mind what I say.

I done born five
children into the world

and put two in the ground
alongside their daddy.

I worked all my life and
got nothing to show for it.

And if I can't say
what's on my mind,

then damn everybody to hell!

- Mind now, the
Lord is listening!

- I'm an educated person,

and I'm tired of
those old stories,

watching her make
those root potions.

Hoodoo, she be talking!

Washing up in the river
with her clothes on,

just like those old Salt
Water folks used to do.

My children ain't gonna be like

those old Africans,
fresh off the boat.

My God, I still remember.

- And look at that
old crazy Bilal.

- Bilal Muhammed is a heathen.

- But he does

strange things, just like Nana.

- Hush, she's
our grandmother!

- Those old people,
they pray to the sun,

they pray to the moon,
sometimes just to a big star!

They ain't got no
religion in them.

No, this is a new world
we're moving into,

and I want my daughters to grow
up to be decent somebodies.

I don't even want
my girls to have

to hear about all that mess.

I'll lock horns with anybody and

anything that tries
to hold me back.

Now I say, if Nana Peazant
wants to live and die

on Ibo Landing, then
God bless her old soul.

- I think it's going to rain.

- My
time was running out.

The women were
arguing and fighting.

I can still see the fear and the

hope in the eyes of our fathers.

They were the sons of drums,

who could only speak
of their future.

Everyone was just as
scared as Nana Peazant.

- Solomon's in town, got
a colored lady with him.

Says she's a newspaper woman.

- Cousin!

- We're working on the
anti-lynching law again.

Maybe you want to be with us.

- Maybe...

I still be leaving with
the rest come morning.

- Maybe when we go north,
you'll take with you

more than Eula and your dreams.

- I ain't got no more
dreams, cousin.

- You've been practicing.

- In
this quiet place,

years ago, my family knelt down

and caught a glimpse
of the eternal.

We left our markers in the soil

in memory of the families
who once lived here.

We were the children of
those who chose to survive.

Years later, my Ma
told me she knew

I had been sent forward
by the old souls.

- That's mine,
that's me, no wait,

this one, this one,
wait, that one's you.

I was travelling on a spiritual mission,

but sometimes, I
would get distracted.

- I wish I had this doll,
I wish I had this doll,

I wish I had this bed
to go inside my house.

- You ain't got no house!

- I wish I did.

If I did, I'd put this
bed inside my house.

Then I wish I had a rabbit.

- What'd
you wish for, Ninnyjugs?

- Everything!

- Ninnyjugs, you
can't have everything!

You've got to go like this.

Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,
catch a piggie by his toe,

my mother said to pick

this one right over here.

Wish for the one right
where my finger stopped.

Now, put that wish book away.

It's time to eat.

- I hear they
done opened up the old

Seminole Creeklands for
the white homesteader.

The only thing left is scrap
iron stills and tenant farming.

Listen to what I tell you, man.

If Roosevelt does
anything at all,

it will be for Northern
industry and not for we.

- Supper's
ready, Mr. Snead.

We'll be taking our
places right up there.

- Wish books, saltwater negroes,

gold earrings, to sharpen
your vision?

- Oh, they spoil their children

with dreams, wishes, magic.

But then, they're the most
important members of the family,

the children and the old souls.

Come.

Gather up those
kids on Ibo Landing!

Bring them over here!

- Let's go and get them.

Come now, no!

- Hey, Yellow Mary, they
say you're a rich woman.

- My Ma said
she could feel me by her side.

I remember the call of my
great-great-grandmother.

I remember the journey home.

I remember the long
walk to the graveyard,

to the house that I would be
born in, to the picnic site.

I remember, and I recall.

- It's 50 years since
slavery, Mr. Snead, but here,

we still give our
children names like

Myown and Iona, Unita,

Iadora, Euadora.

We even have a Pete
and Re-Pete.

Sometimes, these Islanders
name their babies

the day of the week or the
season in which they were born.

Not to mention,
everyone has several nicknames,

Goober, Boy Rat, Hail,

Harvest, Winter,
Pidgeon, Hardtime,

Fantee, Cudah, Ocra, Yono,

Cish, Alexmine, Jackiemine,

Jaspermine, Cornhouse,

Binah, Shango,

Obatala, Oya-yansa,

Yemonja,

Eshu Elegba.

- We're here today to show

our respect to our family elders

and to celebrate our family's
crossing to the mainland.

But we're also here today
to honor the old souls,

many, who from the
very, very beginning

of our creation
guided our journey

from one world to another.

We're here today because our
parent took we by the hand

and teach we to swim the current
surrounding these islands.

And they teach we to--

- I recollect
how we lived in the time

before freedom come,
in the old days.

They didn't keep good
records of our births,

our deaths, or the selling
of the slaves back then.

A male child might get took
from a mother and sold at birth.

Then years later,
the same person

might have to mate with
his own mother or sister

if they was brought
back together again,

so it was important
for the slave,

theyself, to keep
the family ties.

Just like the African Griot,

who would hold these
records in his head,

the old souls in each family

could recollect all the births,

deaths, marriage, and sale.

Those 18th century Africans,

the watchers, the keepers,

the ancestors.

- We Peazants, we
come from a long,

long line of creation and hope

begun by those
first-captured Africans.

And Nana, Nana, she
carried them with her,

four generations of Peazants.

And we, we must
carry them with us,

wherever we go.

- It was here they brought them.

They took them out of the boats
right here where we stand.

Nobody remembers how
many of them it was,

but there was a good
few, according to my
great-grandmother.

She was a little,
little girl at the time.

The ship had just come
from the deep water.

It was a great big
old ship with sails.

The minute those Ibo
were brought ashore,

they just stopped and
took a look around.

Not saying a word, just
studying the place real good.

And they saw things
that day that you

and I don't have
the power to see.

Well, they saw just
about everything

that was to happen
around here that day.

The slavery time, the war my
grandmother always talks about,

those Ibo
didn't miss a thing.

They even saw you and me,
standing here talking.

When they got through sizing
up the place real good

and seeing what was to come,

my grandmother said they turned,

all of them, and walked
back in the water,

every last man,
woman, and child.

Now you wouldn't think
they'd get very far

seeing as it was water
they were walking on.

Had all that iron upon them,

upon their ankles
and their wrists,

and fastened around their
neck like dog collars.

But chains didn't
stop those Ibo none.

They just kept walking, like
the water was solid ground.

When they got to where
the ship was,

they didn't so much
as give it a look.

Just walked right past it

because they was going home.

- I'm especially proud today

to bless the coming child of

our Eli and Eula Peazant.

Our first child that's
going to be born up north,

we child of the future.

- Just counting stumps,
don't clear the field.

Let's eat.

- Once, I saw a pink satin case,

for jewelry, for rich
women in a shop window.

And it had a thing on the side

and you turned it
and music came out.

I couldn't afford
that case for myself,

and I didn't ask nobody to
buy it for me, you know?

But in my mind, I put
all those bad memories

in that case, and I
locked them there,

so that I could take them out

and look at them when
I'd feel like it,

and so I could study
them when I want to,

and figure it out, you know?

But I didn't want
them inside of me.

I didn't want them inside of me.

I don't let nothing in that case

or nobody outside that
case tell me who I am

or how I should feel about me.

- Bilal, Bilal!

Bilal Muhammed, come join we.

Come wash away your sins
in the blood of the lamb.

- Let him go, Deacon.

He's a saltwater negro.

He has no shame!

He's the master of
the sun and the moon.

- When I
leave here, you know,

I'll be heading up for
Canada, Nova Scotia.

I like the sound of it,
you know, Nova Scotia.

- No-va Scotcha.

- Nova Scotia.

- I never had too much
trouble making a dollar.

Never needed nobody
to help me do that.

I can't stand still.

Got to keep moving.

New faces, new places...

Nova Scotia will be good to me.

- Come closer together,
closer, come on.

- Mind now, Mr. Snead, there's

gators back off in these waters.

- I don't think about
those old days much lately,

but when I start to study them,

lots of things come back to me.

- You're a natural
fool, Haagar Peazant.

Nobody ever said
that the old souls

were living inside
those glass jars.

The bottle tree
reminds we of who

was here and who's gone on.

You study upon the
colors and the shapes.

You appreciate the bottle
tree each and every day,

as you appreciate
your loved ones.

- Mr. Snead!

- Can you take me to
the old man, Bilal?

- That old heathen?

He's not important.

- Is he family?

- Oh, I guess so.

Everybody back off on
these islands is family.

Unfortunately, so many like
Bilal are so backwards.

They believe everything
that happens is caused by

conjure, magic, or
their ancestors.

They don't leave nothing to God.

- Where we're headed Nana,
there'll be no need for trees

covered with glass
jars in our yard.

We'll have gardens
of fresh flowers,

vegetables for the dinner table.

Where we're headed
Nana, there'll be

no need for an
old woman's magic.

- Look, look up!

And remember Ibo Landing!

Hold!

- Can't complain none about
them horseflies worrying you.

Stop putting that
lard on your head.

- The Lord will
carry us through, Nana.

Trust in Jesus.

Nana, we don't need no charms
of dried roots and flowers.

- When I was a child,
my mother cut this

from her hair before she
was sold away from we.

Now, I'm adding my own hair.

There must be a
bond, a connection,

between those who go North
and those who remain,

between us who are here and
those who are across the sea.

A connection!

We are as two
people in one body,

the last of the old

and the first of the new.

We will always live
this double life,

you know, because
we're from the sea.

We came here in chains,

and we must survive.

We must survive!

There's saltwater in we blood.

- Mister,
for many years,

I've not spoken those
words with no one.

What I remember,
I'll tell you in

this language that I
learned to speak here.

I come here on a ship
called The Wanderer.

I come with the Ibo.

Some say the Ibo flew
back home to Africa.

Some say they all joined hands

and walked on top of the water.

But, Mister, I was there.

Those Ibo, men, women, and
children, a hundred or more,

shackled in iron,
when they go down

in that water, they
never came back up.

Ain't nobody can walk on water.

- We'll be fine, Nana.

Now, Nana, don't
you go worrying.

We're going to be just fine.

Mind now, Nana Peazant.

Don't go work yourself up.

It's too hot out
here for no mess.

Get a hold of yourself, Viola!

- I remember what my father
teach me before he passed on.

It was the same as
his father teach

him on the day he become a man.

He said, "Women are
the sweetness of life.

"They're sweet to the eye
because they're beautiful.

"They're sweet to
the ears because of

"their lovely voice
and the way they sing.

"Woman is the
sweetness of life,"

and that's what I remember.

- I've been on my own
since I was a little girl.

I've been on my own
for such a long time,

I thought I wanted
it to be that way.

- Lord knows, you've
done worked hard, gal.

- You know, I'm not like
the other women here,

but I need to know
that I can come

and hold onto what I come from.

I need to know that
people here know my name.

I'm Yellow Mary Peazant!

And I'm a proud woman,
not a hard woman.

I want to stay.

I want to stay with you here.

- Oh, now how's
she going to come

and put her shame
upon Mother Peazant?

- I can't understand...

how me and Peazant
put you children

here on Earth to fight
among yourselves.

How you can leave
this soil, this soil.

The sweat of our love,
it's here in this soil.

I love you
'cause you're mine.

You're the fruit of an
ancient tree.

- Hush, hush, hush!

Hush, all of you.

Some of us aren't forgetting
how Yellow Mary sent the money

to get Cousin Jake out
of jail last spring.

- Now, Nana, we aren't talking
about no Cousin Jake here.

A dog don't get mad
'cause you say he's a dog.

- Say it!

- If you're so
ashamed of Yellow Mary

'cause she got ruined,
what do you say about me?

I'm ruined too?

- Whatever's to be said,
just say it now, Eula!

- As far as this
place is concerned,

we never was a pure woman.

Deep inside, we believed
that they ruined our mothers

and their mothers who
had come before them,

and we live our lives
always expecting the worst

'cause we feel we don't
deserve no better.

Deep inside, we
believe that even God

can't heal the
wounds of our past

or protect us from the world

that put shackles on our feet.

- My God loves me and protects
me and watches over me.

- Even though you're
going up north,

you all think about
being ruined, too.

You think you can cross
over to the mainland

and run away from it?

You're going to be sorry,
sorry if you don't change

your way of thinking before
you leave this place.

If you love yourselves,

then love Yellow Mary,

because she's a part of you,

just like we're a
part of our mothers.

A lot of us are
going through things

you feel you can't
handle all alone.

There's going to be all kinds
of roads to take in life.

Let's not be afraid
to take them.

We deserve them because
we're all good women.

Do you understand who we are

and what we have become?

We're the daughters
of those old dusty

things Nana carries
in her tin can.

We carry too many
scars from the past.

Our past owns us.

We wear our scars like
armor for protection.

Thick, hard, ugly scars that

no one can pass through
to ever hurt us again.

Let's live our
lives without living

in the fold of old wounds.

- Shad, how can
we plant in this dust?

- We plant 'em each and every
year, or we're finished.

- My life is almost over,

and yours is just starting.

And I'm not going
to live long enough

to see what becomes of
all you free Negroes.

- We're gonna
be watching from heaven, Nana.

- No, I'm not going to be
watching from no heaven

while there's still soil
here for me for planting.

We've done took old Gods

and given them new names.

This hand, it's
from me, from them,

from us.

Same soul as you all have.

Come children, kiss
this hand full of me.

- Lord, have mercy, have mercy.

- Take my hand.

I'm the one that can
give you strength.

Take me wherever you go.

I'm your strength.

Take my hand.

Take me wherever you go.

I'm your strength.

Wherever you go.

- Old folks are supposed to die!

It ain't right!

They're supposed to
die and go to heaven!

It ain't right!

It ain't right!

- Hoodoo!

Hoodoo!

Hoodoo!

Hoodoo mess!

Ain't no roots and herbs
going to change nothing.

Don't go and spoil everything.

Old Used-To-Do-It-This-Way
don't help none today!

- Come, come child, I
love you 'cause you're mine!

- Mama, please!

- Look at that, see?

In this quiet place,
simple folk kneel down

and catch a glimpse
of the eternal.

Morning would begin a new life

for my children and me.

They would carry my spirit.

I would remain here
with the old souls.

- Iona, Iona!

Iona!

- And
so, on the 19th day

of August, 1902,

they left these islands.

And set out for the North,
having said farewell,

perhaps, never to see us again.

My Momma and Daddy stayed
behind with Yellow Mary.

Some say Eli got
himself all involved

with the anti-lynching issue.

Some say Eula saw too much
of herself in Nana Peazant

and wanted her children
born on this island.

They say Mama was
always peculiar,

and Nana's roots and
herbs set her off.

All I know is, I was born
here before Nana passed on.

We remained behind,
growing older,

wiser, stronger.