Vazante

Diamantina Mountains, Minas, 1821.

Push, push.

Push, push.

Push, push.

Push, push, missus.

Push, push, missus.

Push, push.

Push, push.

So sad, Missus Zizinha. So sad.

What'll become of my mistress?

What, dear Lord?

Manuel! Manuel!

Bring me the linen chest!

Open it.

Damn it. Hell.

Hell.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Hell.

Joana gets it clean, Master Antonio.

She rubs it on stone, bleaches it in the sun. The stains will be gone.

No. it must be clean and white when we get there.

- We'll wash it. - Sire?

Call the best ones. André, Benguela, Sebastião.

Whoever won't destroy my son's gowns. Move it, man!

Hey.

What's this?

Missus Zizinha! Ma'am!

Get away! I want to go to the veranda.

Away! Naninha, my child!

I'm so happy you're back!

Naninha suffered so waiting for you, Mr. Antonio.

Go fetch her, Joana.

- She ain't here no more, ma'am. - Go call her, nigra.

Call her, Joana.

Naninha's gone.

She passed, Manuel.

She and the baby died.

What are you saying, Joana?

Come on in, ma'am. Come, come on in.

Morning, sire. Morning, ma'am.

Where is my mother? And your master Antonio?

Praised be our Lord, Jesus Christ.

How's my dear mother doing today?

Just as God is served.

How have you been, Mother? Calm?

Very calm.

Your blessing, Grandma.

You, who are you?

Maria Joaquina, Missus Zizinha. Your granddaughter.

Joana.

We came to speak to your master, Antonio. Can you call him?

He ain't here no more, sire.

But he only arrived yesterday.

He did, sire, but he's gone already.

But I saw his trunks in the storehouse... and the blacks from his caravan.

Did he go alone? Did he say when he'd be back?

No, sire.

Sire Bartholomeu, Sire Bartholomeu!

What is it, Porfírio?

It's down at the cabins, sire.

Some of the new blacks stole some mules and ran away.

And the ones in the yard are getting rowdy, pestering Manuel.

But... what about your master, Antonio?

He ain't come back to the farm no more.

Quiet.

I don't know what you're saying. I don't know.

My master's coming. My master's coming.

Quiet!

The white man is coming.

What's he saying?

I don't understand you, negro.

Dear Lord. What's that African saying?

I don't know, sir. It ain't Bantu. I don't know.

Tell him I'm not his master. His master isn't here.

- Tell him, Manuel. - Your master ain't here.

- Tell him, Manuel. - Your master ain't here.

Dear Lord.

Dear Lord.

Where is their master?

Bartholomeu.

Do you see yourself deep in the woods, fighting off Indians?

Are you out of your mind?

For God's sake. Do you want to make me a widow?

How else will I support all of you?

What will you eat? What will you sell?

There are no more diamonds, Ondina. They're all gone. Gone.

I'll take the drover's wares to the buyers. That's all.

Manuel has done that before.

The caravan can't travel without a white man.

That's not your problem.

Bartholomeu, let's go to Serro.

Let's leave this cursed farm, this hell.

You want to be a beggar in Serro?

Isaías, you can head to the main house.

God be with you, my child.

Take good care of your mother and sister.

And pray that I may return soon and safe.

Father!

Father... take me with you!

I want to go with you.

Not today, my child. God be with you.

- Manuel. Manuel. - Sire?

Let's stop a bit.

We'll stop here.

Get the guns, get the guns!

Don't shoot!

Don't shoot!

Unchain them!

Unchain them!

The keys, Manuel!

The keys, Manuel!

Benguela!

The keys, Manuel!

Master Antonio, good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Sire.

This is the freedman, Jeremias.

At your service, sire.

Is this the planter, Porfírio?

That's him.

Sire, if you allow me...

it's good land you have here.

Not just dry dirt and gravel.

I see.

There's thick bush... good musty soil.

Good soil... but useless.

It might as well be a desert.

Sire, if you allow me...

Nothing grows around here. Nothing.

The only thing the blacks on this farm know is mining gems. Nothing else.

I don't mean to brag, Mr. Antonio.

But I can change all of this.

And it won't take long.

What's your name again?

Jeremias.

I've never found beauty in written words.

God forgive me, but not even in His words.

All these tiny letters, these little ants...

I saw some beautiful books in the big house. From your father's time.

It started me thinking.

Now that it's been a month since Naninha's death...

shouldn't you get a part of the things that were hers?

No, Ondina.

We have to accept our lot, my wife.

It is your right, Bartholomeu. I know it is.

My Ondina.

It all went into Naninha's dowry. All of it.

My father handed over the farm and everything in it to the drover.

I know. I know. Believe me, I do.

But Naninha died. You're the only surviving brother.

Just accept it, Ondina.

Accept it.

And be grateful to Antonio for not claiming the slaves,

the mules, the cargo I lost.

I owe him.

He owes me nothing.

And I thank him every day for not taking my life as payment.

Or this house, or my family.

Resign yourself, Ondina.

And thank God we are still here.

No.

Forgive me, but I won't die here.

And I will get your unlucky daughters out of here.

Bartholomeu!

That's it. On the other end too. Pile up the branches.

Ain't that fire a beauty?

Sire.

Beautiful fire, ain't it?

- It's not too much? - No.

We dug around it so the fire don't spread.

Green grass will spring from the ashes.

Fire stirs up the womb of the earth.

What is it?

Oh, my sweet Jesus. it's the drover.

Maria Joaquina, get away from the window.

I'm honored by your unexpected visit, Mr. Antonio.

Please forgive the humbleness of our house.

Do come in, please.

Would you care for some liquor?

This is from my father's time. He always sang its praises.

I hope it pleases you.

Francisca!

Is something the matter, Mr. Antonio?

I don't know. Maybe my shoes.

Or maybe I didn't bring them. I don't know.

But that's not possible.

It's better this way. Shoes pinch my feet.

Francisca!

When I find the shoes, I'll have them sent to your house.

No later than today, for sure.

I never wear shoes.Thank you for the meal.

Good day.

What was that about?

I don't know.

Good afternoon, Mr. Antonio.

Just a little discipline.

The miners are finding it hard to adjust.

Can you believe it?

There are chains in the cellar.

Yes, sire. I'll send for them.