Blood Legacy

- -

- -

All you got to do is this.

Go on. Put pen to paper. Do it.

Sign!

- -

Ah, the man!

Think you can maybe talk some sense into this bastard?

He's stubborn as a mule.

Brother.

Please.

This can only be cleared by you.

Those two friends of yours there

seem confident that I will eventually break.

But no, Bheki.

I cannot be broken.

Because I come from the struggle.

A struggle that you and I once shared.

Together.

But now everything has changed.

You started to get what you wanted and forgot all about us.

You left me behind.

Bheki.

Do you think I don't know what you've got in those containers?

Could it be for that friend of yours?

Hmm?

-My brother... -Oh, fuck off, man, Bheki.

I'm not your damn brother.

- -

He only has himself to blame.

All he had to do was sign.

My brother.

Your strength, your integrity,

your passion, your convictions.

- -...will be with me forever.

Gone but not forgotten.

Now rest.

Is there any viable solution

to the corruption we are seeing in government?

We need integrity and transparency

in all facets of business and government.

Strong words, considering Spear,

one of the most controversial companies in Africa, belongs to your family.

I'm not my family.

- Thank you for your time. -Thank you.

Up next, sports.

And cut.

Don't fucking ever ask me about my family ever again.

Khanyi, look, I never meant any...

-Fuck off. -

Have you seen the news?

You just shoved it right in front of my face, Sean.

Huh. In other news,

remember the customs official they found floating in the harbor last week?

-Tumi Mashishi? -Mmm.

Guess who they're linking to his murder.

I don't know, Sean, but I trust you're going to tell me.

I'll give you a clue.

He spearheads the biggest sugarcane fields in KZN

-and happens to be your father. -

What?

I'm on my way.

Uh...

I got a green light to investigate.

I thought you should know, as a courtesy.

We both know, Sean, you don't do courtesy.

Well, I'd love a comment from the CEO's estranged daughter.

-Would you like my comment, Sean? -Yes.

Fuck off.

I'll quote you.

Hello. I'm looking for my daughter.

Oh, I see. So no one's gonna help me.

- -Hello!

Hey, hey! You gonna talk to me like that?

Um...

I'm trying... My daughter, Amahle.

Hey, spare me your Xhosa. You suck at it.

If you raise your voice here again,

I'll toss you in the cell just like your daughter. Got it?

I'm just trying to find my daughter.

Amahle Adesina. She's just 17.

Just take a seat. I'll help you when I'm ready.

I think, Officer, that you will release her now.

Or you would rather find yourself on the front page?

"Local police inhospitable to foreign nationals"? Hmm?

Fine, have a seat. I'll see what I can do.

Aw, thank you.

You are so hot right now.

I aim to please.

Why are you guys even still angry?

-He didn't press any charges. -Only this time, Mahle.

If you don't take action, how will anything ever change?

And how has destroying your teacher's classroom changed anything?

Substitute teacher.

And at least now he knows we won't accept his bigoted comments.

Mahle.

If you want to change the world, sweetheart, study law.

And you owe us 500 bucks.

Yes. That's what your message cost us.

DAD

Here are your pills.

Thank you.

Shouldn't you try to get some sleep, Gatsheni?

How many days has it been since you've slept?

You could have a heart attack. It's just not good for you.

Honey...

You know...

...ever since Tumi's death,

something is different. It's just not like you.

That phone of yours... Just ringing all day and all night.

And you think I can't see the stress?

I mean it. I'm worried about you.

You know Tumi was a reminder of the youth we shared together.

We had youthful convictions and passions.

We thought we could change everything that is wrong with our country.

Mmm.

That's the privilege of youth.

Yes, but that responsibility grows harder with age.

-Mmm. -Mmm.

Please come back home. It's urgent.

I must see you.

You think it's his heart again?

That's what it was a year ago.

If it's gotten worse, maybe this is him reaching out.

Wanting to fix things.

There's nothing to fix.

-It's who they are. -I know,

but who knows how many more chances you'll have with him before...

If Grandpa is sick, then I wanna go too.

Please, Mom.

It's been ages since I've seen Njabulo too.

Maybe you can ask your brother if he ever intends on returning home

while you're there.

Khanyi.

Khanyi.

-You will be back before you know it. -

This may be the last time you get to see him. Look.

Look.

Khanyi.

Gatsheni.

Dad, we are going to go under, and it's all your fault.

Even the people have turned on us.

Then let them turn. I'm tired of spending money to satisfy greedy people.

Greedy people threatening to void our contracts.

Then let them.

Our containers have been inspected.

And they have already been cleared.

We have everything we need to start building now.

But you're going to sit on your hands and deny me this?

I don't care about the damn containers. And for you, they're off-limits.

Dad...

tell me.

I'm curious.

Tumi's involved in this somehow, isn't he?

I'm only asking because I can see that something's not right here.

Is this cold feet?

Have you changed your mind about this?

But don't forget

decisions you make affect us all.

This is for the best.

Trust me.

Dad, I need to submit this payment.

Everything I do is for the family.

I assure you.

And you will always have my deepest respect.

Thanks to you, I am the man I am today.

You say that like it's a good thing.

I have a meeting to attend. Can I go?

We will find him. Don't you worry.

Uh, Thulisile, have you booked the jet to Cape Town yet, like I asked you to?

I'm headed to the airport right now.

I'm sorry, Dad. I tried calling you earlier,

but it looks like the family jet won't be available today.

Uh, what do you mean?

It does look like Granddad arranged for Auntie K to fly in today.

I'm not sure, but she should be arriving sometime later.

Whoa.

The jet isn't there because it's out for Khanyi?

Fuck.

Well, here we go.

-Hello, Brother. - What brings you here?

So much for "Hello, how do you do". I've missed you.

Let's not fool each other, Sister.

You're obviously not here on holiday.

Why don't you just tell me why you're coming.

Our father called me. Didn't seem like himself.

Mmm.

Absentminded at times, but he's doing fine.

Honestly, there wasn't much need for you to come.