Stories of a Generation - with Pope Francis (2021–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - Episode #1.4 - full transcript
By chance, I opened it.
In my opinion, it's the most beautiful
of Nino Costa's poems.
It's called Rassa Nostrana.
"Most of the time a lost crop
or a fever or an accident at their job
condemns them to a normal grave,
far away, in a foreign cemetery."
What a beautiful ending.
The poem is dedicated to the people
of Piedmont who went to work abroad.
Your father did the same, right?
My dad moved to Argentina
when he was 22 or 23.
I don't remember exactly.
He used to work at the Bank of Italy.
He was an accountant.
At a certain point, you felt
the call to priesthood, right?
Before that,
what job did you have in mind?
Yeah, I was into chemistry.
♪ If I wanna doo-doo
Doo-doo-dn-doo-doo, I will ♪
♪ I shall, I can ♪
♪ You see a face
But I see butterfly wings ♪
♪ A song is time that sings ♪
♪ I want a place in the sun
That shines in the rain ♪
♪ A song is time explained ♪
♪ I can get everything everywhere ♪
♪ I can get everything everywhere ♪
May I tell you a personal anecdote?
When I finished elementary school
at 12 years old, my father told me,
"You will have one month of vacation
to spend with your grandparents."
"But the other two months
you are going to work."
And he sent me
to the hosiery factory of a friend.
And he didn't send me to work at the desk,
but to clean.
So I experienced work
as a source of dignity,
without realizing it gave me dignity.
My full name is Oyenike Monica Davies-Okundaye.
I'm 70 years old.
I'm an artist known over the world.
Each one of my dresses is made by me,
because I have to wear what I made.
I come to Lagos to do several exhibitions,
which I don't even know,
it's more than 100.
Wow.
That is how my work gets recognized.
I have gone through hell,
and I was able to come out
because my work is what gives me…
independence.
I
always go home every year.
It's good for the eye.
It's also good for the memory.
Almost 50-something years ago,
compared to now, Nigeria has changed!
In those days, especially women,
they don't travel much like men,
they only go to farm.
I must come back and pay my homage
to the goddess of the river.
To thank Osun for what she has done for
me in the past and to ask for a new favor.
We were born with a gift.
No one taught us.
Before anything happened,
I dreamt about how I'd do it.
In the dream, there was a pregnant woman.
I was afraid. "How am I going to do this?"
A tall woman.
The pregnant lady lies down,
and the woman tells me,
"This is how, Natalia."
And I got to work.
My name is Natalia Echeverría Fuentevilla.
I'm 72 years old.
I'm a midwife.
I can't remember
how many deliveries I've done.
More than 3,000, but I don't keep count.
- Is it moving?
- Yes, it's moving.
Sometimes, when it's like this,
we don't know what it is,
but we always know that
when it's on the right side,
that it's a boy.
Sara is already strong. She looks healthy.
Her feet aren't swollen.
Her heartbeat is fine.
I'll visit twice a day
to see how she's doing.
Every day she's getting ready
for the baby,
and now she's a few days away.
It came to mind,
and I'll say this with gratitude,
the midwife who delivered me
and my five siblings, all of them, all.
At home, we used to keep the basin,
shaped like a bedpan,
that she used to deliver us.
And if the baby was fine,
she'd cut the cord, care for the mother,
and let the baby cry.
She'd leave him there.
I remember that woman, who…
when I was 17 years old,
she celebrated her 5,000th delivery.
And I remember, when I was a child,
she'd come with her tiny suitcase,
and I'd tell my brother,
"Palanconi is here!"
Her name was María Luisa Palanconi.
"Palanconi is here.
We're going to have a new brother."
This woman, who was the first
to hold me in her hands,
she gives life,
receives life, respects life.
There is something sacred about a midwife.
Is it possible, at work,
to combine fantasy,
perspective and tenacity?
If you want your work to be fruitful,
you have to combine those things,
otherwise, it won't be.
And, somehow…
I was going to say, balance them, no…
harmonize them.
Today,
my health is very important…
because my job is taxing.
Goodbye.
I'm Trinh Ngoc.
I'm a talented Vietnamese shoemaker.
NGOC SHOES
I think every man needs to work,
work like ants, like bees.
They work all their lives.
My beautiful profession
requires five elements.
The first is passion, the heart.
Second is creativity, the brain.
Third is the eyes, for observation.
The fourth is the hands.
And the fifth is the will.
Five. Five elements.
In the 1950s, I went to Cambodia…
GLORIOUS CAMBODIA
HAIR SALON
…to open a shop
in the center of Phnom Penh.
We had European customers.
French, American,
English, and even Russians.
I worked during the day and evenings.
Month after month,
I achieved good success.
The king, one day, sent a car
that stopped in front of my shop
to order shoes.
Here it is.
This is modeled after the king's foot.
King Norodom Sihanouk.
In 1970,
was…
was the coup.
Many Vietnamese people were slaughtered.
They made 29 arrests, but me…
I'm, out of 29, the only survivor.
The only one.
And everything changed. Everything.
My village is a small village
surrounded with mountains.
I was born into poverty.
Hardly I ate more than once in a day.
My mother died when I was six years old.
My great-grandmother, that raised me,
put a thread on the calabash for me
to start teaching me how to weave
at the age of eight years old.
She teached me
how to remove seed from the cotton,
how to spindle it, how to turn it
into cotton before we put it on the loom.
♪ Nike
our valuable and esteemed one ♪
♪ Highly respected woman of honor… ♪
I was 13, going to 14.
My father needed some money.
He now wanted to marry me off
to a junior minister.
You know, sometimes,
we are born to submit.
We are not even allowed
to look at your parents' eyes
when they're talking to you.
The minister looked at me.
He said, "In another two or three years
you will be in love."
I told him, "I want to go pee."
In our place, you don't have toilets,
so you just pee outside in the bush.
That is how I ran away.
Freedom is everything.
I'm taking the biggest risk of my life.
I know I can work
and I know I can make it in life.
What did you want to do
when you were a kid?
We come from a tough place.
But it was a real… Like, a village.
Three butcher shops in the same street,
funeral parlors everywhere, flower shops,
pasticcerias, where the incredible Italian pastries were made.
It was just wonderful in that way.
ITALIAN BOOKSTORE
But it was scary.
You're in the streets
and literally on the Bowery, uh,
with the homeless people,
the… the alcoholics,
kids running in the streets,
playing, fighting.
I had to be very careful
because the tough guys
were really tough, the kids.
Along with all that, I was always sick.
Some of my fondest memories, oddly enough,
are of my father getting
my asthma medication, allergy shots.
My mother helping me breathe
when I had asthma attacks.
I couldn't join any of the other sports
or anything like that.
So, the movie theater
became something like a… a refuge.
The other place that was
fairly safe was the church.
The church had contemplation.
The church had a kind of meditative state.
I started thinking that the priesthood
would be a fast lane for saving my soul.
Really?
You know.
This one's a classic.
It's been around for generations.
- Is that from the '30s, '40s?
- That's correct.
Can I order this model?
- You like this one?
- Yes.
TOE MORE OFF-WHITE
In 1970, there was a coup in Cambodia.
The night it happened,
I remember some Cambodian soldiers
knocking on the door of my shop.
They kept knocking for five minutes.
And that night,
they arrested many of my friends.
And after that, they all died.
They all died.
And that's why
I had to go back to Vietnam.
It was really hard on me
because I left everything in Cambodia.
The leather, the materials,
the customers, the machines.
I thought my time making shoes was over.
But deep down in my heart…
Shoes.
Shoes.
Facing the post-war period…
I remember what Dona Concetta told me.
She was a Sicilian lady who…
whose job was helping…
my mother wash her clothes.
This woman, who didn't know how to write,
had to give birth to her second son
while her husband was away at war.
She had to walk
along the railroad to the hospital,
kilometers away.
The failure of being at war.
The failure of being a widow.
Two children with her.
She took the first ship
to America to start again.
She was 91 years old when I saw her die.
I was the Archbishop of Buenos Aires.
She'd known me since I was little.
Let this memory be a tribute
to the many men and women
who didn't stay down,
but asked for help,
and got up again after failure,
and kept going.
And she never lost her joy.
I remember I left, uh, 5th of May, 1966.
I was afraid because I don't know
what could happen to me.
Either I make it or die.
I
came to Osogbo in July.
I opened my first gallery in my bedroom.
I put the clothes on the floor.
I was selling my art at the Bar Beach,
one dollar, one naira,
one shilling, two shillings…
And that is how I was able to survive.
My first husband is an artist.
We have 14 other wives.
We are three wives living in one room.
It's very difficult
because if the husband is
with somebody here,
you have to just pretend
you are sleeping!
You have to pretend you are sleeping,
so you don't know what is going on.
Because sometimes,
when you talk at him…
…he will say,
"Ah, you are jealous!"
The first time was very bitter.
But later on, I decided to teach
them the adire.
So, that is how we become friends.
Adire,
that is the name of the textile.
We do it and we dye it.
It's what adire means.
We have to mold the indigo into a ball.
They put it inside the bowl,
it will stay for seven good days
before it becomes fermented.
-Every day, you have to be stirring it.
Keep stirring.
Every day,
you have to stir it for three hours.
This one is going to take three days
of dyeing before it's ready.
We're going to leave it inside the dye…
for it to go very dark.
I love training people.
It is just like you are sowing a seed…
and that seed will grow.
You studied to become a priest.
What made you change
your mind and your path?
What happened with that was,
there was this young priest who came in
and became part of the parish,
Father Francis Principe.
He started giving us books
written by Graham Green,
The Power and The Glory,
The End of the Affair.
James Joyce, A Portrait of the
Artist as a Young Man, The Dubliners,
all of these things.
I also brought books into the house,
one on the Russian Revolution by
Alan Moorehead and the other on Greek art.
Yeah, 'cause I was
fascinated by the ancient world.
My parents looked at me strangely.
But they were
very concerned about all that.
Well?
Is that all for today? Now, listen,
could I put my furniture back?
- What furniture?
- Things in here.
- Is he still taking this?
- No.
Oh, Marty, you won't get out
of this house alive!
Father
Principe became a mentor.
He would look at us and say,
"You don't have to do it
the way your parents did."
"It doesn't work that way now.
The world is different."
"Experience."
"Learn."
And it made sense.
It really made sense.
First time that the Academy Awards were televised,
we just loved watching it.
Father Principe came in
to talk to the kids,
"I want you to remember one thing."
He said,
"Do you see the idol behind them?"
"That's Moloch."
"That's a graven image."
And we said,
"Oh, he's spoiling all the fun."
But then he said,
"No, what I mean is don't go for that."
"Don't let that…
Don't let that take over."
Don't go for the wrong value,
he's talking about,
'cause creativity
is a… a grace and a… and a blessing,
and it's a responsibility.
And keep that… keep that protected.
The work itself is the reward.
And so the passion and the obsession
that I felt with the vocation,
for the wrong reasons,
was placed into the creativity.
So, I didn't make it as a priest.
Creativity.
There's a Greek word
that describes it well.
Poetry, right?
Creativity is poetry.
We believe that a poet just daydreams
and says things.
A creator is a poet.
When you create anything, you are a poet.
I mean, you make poetry.
There's no dignity without creativity.
Dignity leads to creation.
Because there is no selfishness
in giving life to something.
One always works for the other,
the company, the world, the family.
But there's always otherness in work.
Hallelujah!
I'm Moshe Basson,
chef of The Eucalyptus
restaurant in Jerusalem.
I'm 70 and making biblical food.
This is what we're doing, really.
The food that was served
in the time of Jesus.
We are making risotto from freekeh, or
carmel as it's mentioned in the Bible.
And this is the food that young David
carried to the battlefield
as a takeaway for his brothers,
and then he's killing Goliath.
The horseradish is strong.
It's spicy, yes?
I believe in each
of these stories that it's true.
I love the tradition
because it's involving everything.
I'm named after Moses because
my grandfather was Moses, Moshe.
His grandfather was Moshe,
and his grandfather was Moshe.
Every first-born in the family
for generations was Moshe.
I was born in Iraq.
Till June '41, Jewish in Iraq
were very safe and free.
June '41 was the first-ever pogrom
in the Jewish of Iraq,
arranged by the Nazi ambassador
to Baghdad and the Mufti of Jerusalem,
a friend of Hitler that went there
to urge them to attack the Jewish.
In this pogrom a lot of people
were hanged, killed, raped.
That's what made my parents decide
to leave the good life in Iraq
and to move to this unknown destination.
So, I arrived in Jerusalem
when I was, like, nine months.
I was a baby refugee.
Natural lemonade. It's cold.
Natural lemonade. Lemonade, anyone.
Natural lemonade.
My children aren't here.
They live far away.
They left years ago.
The sea is drying up, so there's no work.
WELCOME TO SAN MATEO DEL MAR
That's why no one has money anymore.
Well, there were fishermen.
There used to be the sea.
There used to be lots of fish and shrimp,
but now, it's disappearing.
And without water, we can't stay here.
How can we live?
Here, the midwives don't have any gauze
or scissors to cut the umbilical cord.
Sara, I think that she is doing very well.
Her face looks very good.
The water's broken.
It'll be time soon.
That movement is the baby
getting ready to be born.
It won't take more than 24 hours.
Okay, I'm finished.
Leave the rest in the fridge for me.
I'm full for now.
- You're heading upstairs?
- I'll go up and change.
Here in Saigon, I tried to survive.
I went back to designing,
making drawings and decorations
for high-end shops and exhibitions.
Seventeen years went by,
and it was time to retire.
It was in 1991.
♪ Love, love, love… ♪
But my passion pulled me…
♪ We always talk about… ♪
…back to making shoes.
I was already 60.
♪ Is a timid spring ♪
♪ A tender light ♪
♪ Or often a downfall ♪
♪ Love… ♪
On the one hand, there's automatic work,
and then there's the work
you put your soul into.
And the idea of the work
you put your soul into,
where you leave your mark,
is the idea of the craftsman.
Even if it's not handmade,
you still put your heart into it, right?
You don't go on autopilot, do you?
When work is automatic, it's dangerous.
That's why
a good worker is always creative.
They're not automatic.
They bring a gift to others.
Try walking back and forth.
- Ah, it's perfect! They fit?
- Yes. Thank you so much.
Thank you. I really hope to see you again.
- Of course.
- Yes.
Goodbye.
If you're passionate
about your work,
you can work all your life.
I'll work until my last minute.
How are you?
My family arrived in Israel
in this refugee camp…
with small aluminum shacks.
Electricity wasn't even in our dreams.
The toilet was for 5,000 people.
A hole in the woods, stinking.
My parents, one of the first things
they did when they arrived is
putting seeds in the ground,
growing vegetables.
Tomatoes and courgettes
and a special sort of winter squash.
A small farm in the desert.
It's written in the old books,
"In the future, the non-fruit trees
of Israel, they will carry fruit."
Cooking, it's not a talent. It's a memory.
And then, for cooking,
you need one of the senses
that we… we are not using today,
smelling and sniffing.
Blessed are Thou,
O Lord, King of the Universe,
Thou who creates the variety of aromas.
Amen. Amen.
You smell if the food is rotten,
if it's a poison,
and you can smell the danger.
It's a matter of life or death.
When I was 13,
they took me to the Holocaust Cave.
I was smelling the death.
It was there.
JEWS, GO TO YOUR LAND
JEWS ENTER AT OWN RISK
JEWS NOT WELCOME
UNWANTED GUESTS
All my perspective of...
On life and the world
came from this shock
of these things that I have seen.
When we went out,
I am smelling the spring and freedom.
Sara is getting ready.
The baby is coming.
She's about to have her baby.
The midwife will stay for a while,
until she's done with labor.
She has to be strong. She has to be there.
It's a huge commitment
midwives choose to make.
Sometimes, some days,
I'm awake all night, till morning.
I have to wait and see
if labor is progressing.
9:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m.,
11:00 p.m., midnight,
1:00 a.m., 2:00 a.m., till 3:00 a.m.
I see she's in more pain than before.
I can see she's already dilated.
The baby's coming.
It's going well.
You told
a very interesting story
about a man coming to look at your work
when you were young
and rejecting it outright.
What happened?
I think it was the late '60s.
I made my short films. Pretty successful.
Shown at the New York Film Festival.
They had received awards.
So, I was always hustling to put together
some money to make a feature.
That was the idea, make a feature.
We're gonna roll.
There should be some silence.
- Uh, Marty…
- Yes?
- Do you want us to roll now?
- Certainly.
Rolling. Quiet, please.
There was this, uh,
very wealthy gentleman,
who was so devoted to the art of cinema,
that he would occasionally write checks.
My producer and I were waiting
outside the screening room.
This gentleman who was in there,
older man, little, uh, uh…
little glasses, sort of round glasses,
bowler hat, velvet collared coat, uh…
beautiful suit…
He came out of the screening room,
and he was smiling.
And we figured, "Great. This is great!"
And so my producer said,
"Well, what d'you think?"
And the man said, "I didn't like it."
And said, "If I saw one shred of talent
in there, I would tell you."
We were stunned, shocked.
And the only reaction we had was to laugh.
The only thing we could do is...
That immediately made us say,
"Okay, let's go on."
"Let's continue."
Let's hold our horses a little,
okay?
Lights, guys, please.
Lights. Lights. Lights.
No matter what, how many times
pictures have been rejected,
pictures have been criticized…
Ultimately, the only thing that mattered
was if you needed to make another one,
you had to make another one.
That's who you are.
You're impelled to do it…
and you get to do it,
it's… it's an extraordinary gift.
That… That's the gift, doing it.
Osun
River is a traditional grove.
That river is the one that keep our life.
I have come today to thank you.
You've granted all I asked for.
Benevolent Mother.
Benevolent Mother of Osun!
I came to Osun first in 1967.
I came to ask a favor from Osun.
I promised that if she could make me
a famous artist in Osogbo,
I'd sing praises
of Osun all over the world.
I also ask for a long life
and good health,
to live out the rest of my life.
Osun, I thank you, Goddess of Osun.
Goddess of Osun!
Goddess of Osun! I've come to you.
The secret is patience.
They said if you have patience
you will eat a meat
that is bigger than an elephant.
You take this dough…
Just… Just look at me.
I make a face with this.
As the time runs
and you become older,
you start to understand
what you learned from your parents.
Blessed are You, O Lord,
our God, King of the Universe,
who blessed us with Your commandments
and have given us, in love and goodwill,
Your holy Shabbat
as a heritage of the creation…
"When you're giving,
you are not losing, you are getting more."
- Amen.
- Shabbat shalom.
Shabbat shalom.
When you have this,
eh, chain of generations,
you'll go higher and higher and higher.
God willing.
To beautiful days all the time.
Beautiful days.
Elderliness is maturity.
It ages like a good wine.
The more time, the better, if it's good.
Elderliness is something
that has a tendency to…
like all good things,
get out of itself and grow.
So, old men and women
are men and women with open minds,
open hearts,
open hands for work.
- It's a boy?
- It's a boy.
♪ The sky ♪
♪ The land ends, and the sky begins ♪
- ♪ The sky ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Near and far I always see the sky ♪
- ♪ I remember, I remember ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ The same color deep down in your eyes ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ You can fly beyond the clouds ♪
♪ But, but you'll always see it up there ♪
- ♪ The sky ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
♪ The sky ♪
♪ I'm lost in thoughts
When I look at the sky ♪
- ♪ And here, here ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
♪ My sweet memory of you is back ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ You can fly among the stars ♪
♪ But you'll always see it up there ♪
- ♪ The sky ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪
♪ And to the sky ♪
- ♪ Each of us can always ask a prayer ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪
- ♪ Oh sky, oh sky ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪
In my opinion, it's the most beautiful
of Nino Costa's poems.
It's called Rassa Nostrana.
"Most of the time a lost crop
or a fever or an accident at their job
condemns them to a normal grave,
far away, in a foreign cemetery."
What a beautiful ending.
The poem is dedicated to the people
of Piedmont who went to work abroad.
Your father did the same, right?
My dad moved to Argentina
when he was 22 or 23.
I don't remember exactly.
He used to work at the Bank of Italy.
He was an accountant.
At a certain point, you felt
the call to priesthood, right?
Before that,
what job did you have in mind?
Yeah, I was into chemistry.
♪ If I wanna doo-doo
Doo-doo-dn-doo-doo, I will ♪
♪ I shall, I can ♪
♪ You see a face
But I see butterfly wings ♪
♪ A song is time that sings ♪
♪ I want a place in the sun
That shines in the rain ♪
♪ A song is time explained ♪
♪ I can get everything everywhere ♪
♪ I can get everything everywhere ♪
May I tell you a personal anecdote?
When I finished elementary school
at 12 years old, my father told me,
"You will have one month of vacation
to spend with your grandparents."
"But the other two months
you are going to work."
And he sent me
to the hosiery factory of a friend.
And he didn't send me to work at the desk,
but to clean.
So I experienced work
as a source of dignity,
without realizing it gave me dignity.
My full name is Oyenike Monica Davies-Okundaye.
I'm 70 years old.
I'm an artist known over the world.
Each one of my dresses is made by me,
because I have to wear what I made.
I come to Lagos to do several exhibitions,
which I don't even know,
it's more than 100.
Wow.
That is how my work gets recognized.
I have gone through hell,
and I was able to come out
because my work is what gives me…
independence.
I
always go home every year.
It's good for the eye.
It's also good for the memory.
Almost 50-something years ago,
compared to now, Nigeria has changed!
In those days, especially women,
they don't travel much like men,
they only go to farm.
I must come back and pay my homage
to the goddess of the river.
To thank Osun for what she has done for
me in the past and to ask for a new favor.
We were born with a gift.
No one taught us.
Before anything happened,
I dreamt about how I'd do it.
In the dream, there was a pregnant woman.
I was afraid. "How am I going to do this?"
A tall woman.
The pregnant lady lies down,
and the woman tells me,
"This is how, Natalia."
And I got to work.
My name is Natalia Echeverría Fuentevilla.
I'm 72 years old.
I'm a midwife.
I can't remember
how many deliveries I've done.
More than 3,000, but I don't keep count.
- Is it moving?
- Yes, it's moving.
Sometimes, when it's like this,
we don't know what it is,
but we always know that
when it's on the right side,
that it's a boy.
Sara is already strong. She looks healthy.
Her feet aren't swollen.
Her heartbeat is fine.
I'll visit twice a day
to see how she's doing.
Every day she's getting ready
for the baby,
and now she's a few days away.
It came to mind,
and I'll say this with gratitude,
the midwife who delivered me
and my five siblings, all of them, all.
At home, we used to keep the basin,
shaped like a bedpan,
that she used to deliver us.
And if the baby was fine,
she'd cut the cord, care for the mother,
and let the baby cry.
She'd leave him there.
I remember that woman, who…
when I was 17 years old,
she celebrated her 5,000th delivery.
And I remember, when I was a child,
she'd come with her tiny suitcase,
and I'd tell my brother,
"Palanconi is here!"
Her name was María Luisa Palanconi.
"Palanconi is here.
We're going to have a new brother."
This woman, who was the first
to hold me in her hands,
she gives life,
receives life, respects life.
There is something sacred about a midwife.
Is it possible, at work,
to combine fantasy,
perspective and tenacity?
If you want your work to be fruitful,
you have to combine those things,
otherwise, it won't be.
And, somehow…
I was going to say, balance them, no…
harmonize them.
Today,
my health is very important…
because my job is taxing.
Goodbye.
I'm Trinh Ngoc.
I'm a talented Vietnamese shoemaker.
NGOC SHOES
I think every man needs to work,
work like ants, like bees.
They work all their lives.
My beautiful profession
requires five elements.
The first is passion, the heart.
Second is creativity, the brain.
Third is the eyes, for observation.
The fourth is the hands.
And the fifth is the will.
Five. Five elements.
In the 1950s, I went to Cambodia…
GLORIOUS CAMBODIA
HAIR SALON
…to open a shop
in the center of Phnom Penh.
We had European customers.
French, American,
English, and even Russians.
I worked during the day and evenings.
Month after month,
I achieved good success.
The king, one day, sent a car
that stopped in front of my shop
to order shoes.
Here it is.
This is modeled after the king's foot.
King Norodom Sihanouk.
In 1970,
was…
was the coup.
Many Vietnamese people were slaughtered.
They made 29 arrests, but me…
I'm, out of 29, the only survivor.
The only one.
And everything changed. Everything.
My village is a small village
surrounded with mountains.
I was born into poverty.
Hardly I ate more than once in a day.
My mother died when I was six years old.
My great-grandmother, that raised me,
put a thread on the calabash for me
to start teaching me how to weave
at the age of eight years old.
She teached me
how to remove seed from the cotton,
how to spindle it, how to turn it
into cotton before we put it on the loom.
♪ Nike
our valuable and esteemed one ♪
♪ Highly respected woman of honor… ♪
I was 13, going to 14.
My father needed some money.
He now wanted to marry me off
to a junior minister.
You know, sometimes,
we are born to submit.
We are not even allowed
to look at your parents' eyes
when they're talking to you.
The minister looked at me.
He said, "In another two or three years
you will be in love."
I told him, "I want to go pee."
In our place, you don't have toilets,
so you just pee outside in the bush.
That is how I ran away.
Freedom is everything.
I'm taking the biggest risk of my life.
I know I can work
and I know I can make it in life.
What did you want to do
when you were a kid?
We come from a tough place.
But it was a real… Like, a village.
Three butcher shops in the same street,
funeral parlors everywhere, flower shops,
pasticcerias, where the incredible Italian pastries were made.
It was just wonderful in that way.
ITALIAN BOOKSTORE
But it was scary.
You're in the streets
and literally on the Bowery, uh,
with the homeless people,
the… the alcoholics,
kids running in the streets,
playing, fighting.
I had to be very careful
because the tough guys
were really tough, the kids.
Along with all that, I was always sick.
Some of my fondest memories, oddly enough,
are of my father getting
my asthma medication, allergy shots.
My mother helping me breathe
when I had asthma attacks.
I couldn't join any of the other sports
or anything like that.
So, the movie theater
became something like a… a refuge.
The other place that was
fairly safe was the church.
The church had contemplation.
The church had a kind of meditative state.
I started thinking that the priesthood
would be a fast lane for saving my soul.
Really?
You know.
This one's a classic.
It's been around for generations.
- Is that from the '30s, '40s?
- That's correct.
Can I order this model?
- You like this one?
- Yes.
TOE MORE OFF-WHITE
In 1970, there was a coup in Cambodia.
The night it happened,
I remember some Cambodian soldiers
knocking on the door of my shop.
They kept knocking for five minutes.
And that night,
they arrested many of my friends.
And after that, they all died.
They all died.
And that's why
I had to go back to Vietnam.
It was really hard on me
because I left everything in Cambodia.
The leather, the materials,
the customers, the machines.
I thought my time making shoes was over.
But deep down in my heart…
Shoes.
Shoes.
Facing the post-war period…
I remember what Dona Concetta told me.
She was a Sicilian lady who…
whose job was helping…
my mother wash her clothes.
This woman, who didn't know how to write,
had to give birth to her second son
while her husband was away at war.
She had to walk
along the railroad to the hospital,
kilometers away.
The failure of being at war.
The failure of being a widow.
Two children with her.
She took the first ship
to America to start again.
She was 91 years old when I saw her die.
I was the Archbishop of Buenos Aires.
She'd known me since I was little.
Let this memory be a tribute
to the many men and women
who didn't stay down,
but asked for help,
and got up again after failure,
and kept going.
And she never lost her joy.
I remember I left, uh, 5th of May, 1966.
I was afraid because I don't know
what could happen to me.
Either I make it or die.
I
came to Osogbo in July.
I opened my first gallery in my bedroom.
I put the clothes on the floor.
I was selling my art at the Bar Beach,
one dollar, one naira,
one shilling, two shillings…
And that is how I was able to survive.
My first husband is an artist.
We have 14 other wives.
We are three wives living in one room.
It's very difficult
because if the husband is
with somebody here,
you have to just pretend
you are sleeping!
You have to pretend you are sleeping,
so you don't know what is going on.
Because sometimes,
when you talk at him…
…he will say,
"Ah, you are jealous!"
The first time was very bitter.
But later on, I decided to teach
them the adire.
So, that is how we become friends.
Adire,
that is the name of the textile.
We do it and we dye it.
It's what adire means.
We have to mold the indigo into a ball.
They put it inside the bowl,
it will stay for seven good days
before it becomes fermented.
-Every day, you have to be stirring it.
Keep stirring.
Every day,
you have to stir it for three hours.
This one is going to take three days
of dyeing before it's ready.
We're going to leave it inside the dye…
for it to go very dark.
I love training people.
It is just like you are sowing a seed…
and that seed will grow.
You studied to become a priest.
What made you change
your mind and your path?
What happened with that was,
there was this young priest who came in
and became part of the parish,
Father Francis Principe.
He started giving us books
written by Graham Green,
The Power and The Glory,
The End of the Affair.
James Joyce, A Portrait of the
Artist as a Young Man, The Dubliners,
all of these things.
I also brought books into the house,
one on the Russian Revolution by
Alan Moorehead and the other on Greek art.
Yeah, 'cause I was
fascinated by the ancient world.
My parents looked at me strangely.
But they were
very concerned about all that.
Well?
Is that all for today? Now, listen,
could I put my furniture back?
- What furniture?
- Things in here.
- Is he still taking this?
- No.
Oh, Marty, you won't get out
of this house alive!
Father
Principe became a mentor.
He would look at us and say,
"You don't have to do it
the way your parents did."
"It doesn't work that way now.
The world is different."
"Experience."
"Learn."
And it made sense.
It really made sense.
First time that the Academy Awards were televised,
we just loved watching it.
Father Principe came in
to talk to the kids,
"I want you to remember one thing."
He said,
"Do you see the idol behind them?"
"That's Moloch."
"That's a graven image."
And we said,
"Oh, he's spoiling all the fun."
But then he said,
"No, what I mean is don't go for that."
"Don't let that…
Don't let that take over."
Don't go for the wrong value,
he's talking about,
'cause creativity
is a… a grace and a… and a blessing,
and it's a responsibility.
And keep that… keep that protected.
The work itself is the reward.
And so the passion and the obsession
that I felt with the vocation,
for the wrong reasons,
was placed into the creativity.
So, I didn't make it as a priest.
Creativity.
There's a Greek word
that describes it well.
Poetry, right?
Creativity is poetry.
We believe that a poet just daydreams
and says things.
A creator is a poet.
When you create anything, you are a poet.
I mean, you make poetry.
There's no dignity without creativity.
Dignity leads to creation.
Because there is no selfishness
in giving life to something.
One always works for the other,
the company, the world, the family.
But there's always otherness in work.
Hallelujah!
I'm Moshe Basson,
chef of The Eucalyptus
restaurant in Jerusalem.
I'm 70 and making biblical food.
This is what we're doing, really.
The food that was served
in the time of Jesus.
We are making risotto from freekeh, or
carmel as it's mentioned in the Bible.
And this is the food that young David
carried to the battlefield
as a takeaway for his brothers,
and then he's killing Goliath.
The horseradish is strong.
It's spicy, yes?
I believe in each
of these stories that it's true.
I love the tradition
because it's involving everything.
I'm named after Moses because
my grandfather was Moses, Moshe.
His grandfather was Moshe,
and his grandfather was Moshe.
Every first-born in the family
for generations was Moshe.
I was born in Iraq.
Till June '41, Jewish in Iraq
were very safe and free.
June '41 was the first-ever pogrom
in the Jewish of Iraq,
arranged by the Nazi ambassador
to Baghdad and the Mufti of Jerusalem,
a friend of Hitler that went there
to urge them to attack the Jewish.
In this pogrom a lot of people
were hanged, killed, raped.
That's what made my parents decide
to leave the good life in Iraq
and to move to this unknown destination.
So, I arrived in Jerusalem
when I was, like, nine months.
I was a baby refugee.
Natural lemonade. It's cold.
Natural lemonade. Lemonade, anyone.
Natural lemonade.
My children aren't here.
They live far away.
They left years ago.
The sea is drying up, so there's no work.
WELCOME TO SAN MATEO DEL MAR
That's why no one has money anymore.
Well, there were fishermen.
There used to be the sea.
There used to be lots of fish and shrimp,
but now, it's disappearing.
And without water, we can't stay here.
How can we live?
Here, the midwives don't have any gauze
or scissors to cut the umbilical cord.
Sara, I think that she is doing very well.
Her face looks very good.
The water's broken.
It'll be time soon.
That movement is the baby
getting ready to be born.
It won't take more than 24 hours.
Okay, I'm finished.
Leave the rest in the fridge for me.
I'm full for now.
- You're heading upstairs?
- I'll go up and change.
Here in Saigon, I tried to survive.
I went back to designing,
making drawings and decorations
for high-end shops and exhibitions.
Seventeen years went by,
and it was time to retire.
It was in 1991.
♪ Love, love, love… ♪
But my passion pulled me…
♪ We always talk about… ♪
…back to making shoes.
I was already 60.
♪ Is a timid spring ♪
♪ A tender light ♪
♪ Or often a downfall ♪
♪ Love… ♪
On the one hand, there's automatic work,
and then there's the work
you put your soul into.
And the idea of the work
you put your soul into,
where you leave your mark,
is the idea of the craftsman.
Even if it's not handmade,
you still put your heart into it, right?
You don't go on autopilot, do you?
When work is automatic, it's dangerous.
That's why
a good worker is always creative.
They're not automatic.
They bring a gift to others.
Try walking back and forth.
- Ah, it's perfect! They fit?
- Yes. Thank you so much.
Thank you. I really hope to see you again.
- Of course.
- Yes.
Goodbye.
If you're passionate
about your work,
you can work all your life.
I'll work until my last minute.
How are you?
My family arrived in Israel
in this refugee camp…
with small aluminum shacks.
Electricity wasn't even in our dreams.
The toilet was for 5,000 people.
A hole in the woods, stinking.
My parents, one of the first things
they did when they arrived is
putting seeds in the ground,
growing vegetables.
Tomatoes and courgettes
and a special sort of winter squash.
A small farm in the desert.
It's written in the old books,
"In the future, the non-fruit trees
of Israel, they will carry fruit."
Cooking, it's not a talent. It's a memory.
And then, for cooking,
you need one of the senses
that we… we are not using today,
smelling and sniffing.
Blessed are Thou,
O Lord, King of the Universe,
Thou who creates the variety of aromas.
Amen. Amen.
You smell if the food is rotten,
if it's a poison,
and you can smell the danger.
It's a matter of life or death.
When I was 13,
they took me to the Holocaust Cave.
I was smelling the death.
It was there.
JEWS, GO TO YOUR LAND
JEWS ENTER AT OWN RISK
JEWS NOT WELCOME
UNWANTED GUESTS
All my perspective of...
On life and the world
came from this shock
of these things that I have seen.
When we went out,
I am smelling the spring and freedom.
Sara is getting ready.
The baby is coming.
She's about to have her baby.
The midwife will stay for a while,
until she's done with labor.
She has to be strong. She has to be there.
It's a huge commitment
midwives choose to make.
Sometimes, some days,
I'm awake all night, till morning.
I have to wait and see
if labor is progressing.
9:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m.,
11:00 p.m., midnight,
1:00 a.m., 2:00 a.m., till 3:00 a.m.
I see she's in more pain than before.
I can see she's already dilated.
The baby's coming.
It's going well.
You told
a very interesting story
about a man coming to look at your work
when you were young
and rejecting it outright.
What happened?
I think it was the late '60s.
I made my short films. Pretty successful.
Shown at the New York Film Festival.
They had received awards.
So, I was always hustling to put together
some money to make a feature.
That was the idea, make a feature.
We're gonna roll.
There should be some silence.
- Uh, Marty…
- Yes?
- Do you want us to roll now?
- Certainly.
Rolling. Quiet, please.
There was this, uh,
very wealthy gentleman,
who was so devoted to the art of cinema,
that he would occasionally write checks.
My producer and I were waiting
outside the screening room.
This gentleman who was in there,
older man, little, uh, uh…
little glasses, sort of round glasses,
bowler hat, velvet collared coat, uh…
beautiful suit…
He came out of the screening room,
and he was smiling.
And we figured, "Great. This is great!"
And so my producer said,
"Well, what d'you think?"
And the man said, "I didn't like it."
And said, "If I saw one shred of talent
in there, I would tell you."
We were stunned, shocked.
And the only reaction we had was to laugh.
The only thing we could do is...
That immediately made us say,
"Okay, let's go on."
"Let's continue."
Let's hold our horses a little,
okay?
Lights, guys, please.
Lights. Lights. Lights.
No matter what, how many times
pictures have been rejected,
pictures have been criticized…
Ultimately, the only thing that mattered
was if you needed to make another one,
you had to make another one.
That's who you are.
You're impelled to do it…
and you get to do it,
it's… it's an extraordinary gift.
That… That's the gift, doing it.
Osun
River is a traditional grove.
That river is the one that keep our life.
I have come today to thank you.
You've granted all I asked for.
Benevolent Mother.
Benevolent Mother of Osun!
I came to Osun first in 1967.
I came to ask a favor from Osun.
I promised that if she could make me
a famous artist in Osogbo,
I'd sing praises
of Osun all over the world.
I also ask for a long life
and good health,
to live out the rest of my life.
Osun, I thank you, Goddess of Osun.
Goddess of Osun!
Goddess of Osun! I've come to you.
The secret is patience.
They said if you have patience
you will eat a meat
that is bigger than an elephant.
You take this dough…
Just… Just look at me.
I make a face with this.
As the time runs
and you become older,
you start to understand
what you learned from your parents.
Blessed are You, O Lord,
our God, King of the Universe,
who blessed us with Your commandments
and have given us, in love and goodwill,
Your holy Shabbat
as a heritage of the creation…
"When you're giving,
you are not losing, you are getting more."
- Amen.
- Shabbat shalom.
Shabbat shalom.
When you have this,
eh, chain of generations,
you'll go higher and higher and higher.
God willing.
To beautiful days all the time.
Beautiful days.
Elderliness is maturity.
It ages like a good wine.
The more time, the better, if it's good.
Elderliness is something
that has a tendency to…
like all good things,
get out of itself and grow.
So, old men and women
are men and women with open minds,
open hearts,
open hands for work.
- It's a boy?
- It's a boy.
♪ The sky ♪
♪ The land ends, and the sky begins ♪
- ♪ The sky ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Near and far I always see the sky ♪
- ♪ I remember, I remember ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ The same color deep down in your eyes ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ You can fly beyond the clouds ♪
♪ But, but you'll always see it up there ♪
- ♪ The sky ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
♪ The sky ♪
♪ I'm lost in thoughts
When I look at the sky ♪
- ♪ And here, here ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
♪ My sweet memory of you is back ♪
- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ You can fly among the stars ♪
♪ But you'll always see it up there ♪
- ♪ The sky ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪
♪ And to the sky ♪
- ♪ Each of us can always ask a prayer ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪
- ♪ Oh sky, oh sky ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪