Daughters of the Dust

- 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.

(man chanting in foreign language)

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.

- (laughs) 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. (laughs)

- 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.