THE TWINS
To the son
-Let's go. -Wait.
You know about our father.
But your secretary was my mother.
And that job, a whole other matter...
I know it's very unusual,
but your mother wasn't crazy, Jeanne.
What's ridiculous is to challenge the inevitable.
You have to know...
She studied French at Daresh University.
If she studied, there's hope.
Saïd Haidar.
You'll pay a visit to Saïd Haidar.
An old friend who teaches in Daresh.
You can trust him.
Mom?
What happened?
Where's Jeanne?
No, she's never confused.
Let go of my sister.
Where are you going, son of a refugee?
You'll stay with your Uncle Charbel in town.
I promise you, Grandma.
I promise you.
I'll find you again one day. I promise you, my love.
She studied here about 35 years ago.
You're kidding, right? I wasn't born.
The Nationalists support the Christian right,
who openly threaten the refugees.
The refugees are armed
and have the support of most of the Muslims in this country.
There's gunfire.
And the newspaper?
Don't worry.
The paper can survive without us for a while.
Ideas only survive if we're there to defend them!
Exactly, Rafqa.
Exactly.
I want to find him.
-Nawal what? -Nawal Marwan.
Where are you going?
The South.
It's always been a girls' orphanage?
The boys moved to Kfar Khout three years ago.
My daughter! My daughter!
THE SOUTH
Hi, Simon. It's me.
I'm in Mom's village. I wish you were here.
Listen.
Ahmed loves you! Ahmed loves you!
I'm Jeanne Marwan.
Thanks for helping.
Marwan? There are lots of Marwans here.
I'm looking for Souha.
She was born here.
Yes, we know her.
Her mother is a disgrace!
...but you don't know who your mother is.
I arrived after the massacre at the Deressa camp.
Everything was smoldering.
I searched for my son among pools of blood.
I never want to forget what I saw and heard.
You say you oppose our enemy.
That does not make you our friend.
Why should Chamseddine trust you?
My son's father was a Deressa refugee.
My son was swallowed by the war.
I have nothing left to lose.
I have only hatred for the Nationalists.
That's not what you wrote in Charbel's newspaper.
My uncle believed that his words and books would promote peace.
I believed him.
Life taught me otherwise.
What do you want now?
To teach the enemy what life has taught me.
Very good.
Very good. You just forgot this.
Goddamn whore!
This is the women's section.
The cells are bigger.
Some prisoners were kept for 15 years.
After the massacres.
Right after war started.
You can go in. I'll take a picture.
Do you know her?
Hello.
I've been the school janitor a long time.
I'm the school janitor. End of story.
I need someone who knew her...
She shot the leader of the right-wing Christian militias.
They made her pay a high price.
Very high.
Fifteen years.
"The Woman who Sings."
She sang all the time.
You're sure it's her?
I spent 13 years watching her.
Have you ever spent 13 years watching someone?
They did everything to break her.
At the end she still stood tall
and looked them in the eye.
Never seen anyone like her.
She wouldn't break.
They were enraged.
So they sent Abou Tarek.
Who's that?
Abou Tarek.
They waited until
she gave birth in prison.
Then they let her go.
I believe he went crazy.
Others say he has a restaurant in Tel Aviv.
She lives in Daresh.
In Daresh.
THE WOMAN WHO SINGS
Turned out he had three wives.
Here,
in Miami and in Honduras, where he did business.
So now...
Death is never the end of the story.
It always leaves tracks.
To find your brother, you have to retrace your mom's past.
Jean, I want to find my sister. That's all.
I'm on it.
I have a few quick things to wrap up.
Pack your stuff. We'll leave in...
My passport!
We?
Haven't you done enough?
Exactly. I can't pull out now.
Grow up, Simon.
Now sing.
That's it. That's it.
The baby's coming.
I can see its head.
Push.
Go on, dear.
The first one is out.
Rest a bit now.
I'm proud of you.
Get ready for the second.
You did your duty. You threw them in the river.
I'll look after them.
They're the babies of the Woman who Sings.
You're very kind, but with the jet lag,
we'll look at it later.
In brief, for the father it's complicated.
There's no death certificate.
-For the brother... -Excuse me, what's this about?
I asked for help, Simon.
Mr. Maddad agreed, to speed things up.
I told you, we're here to find Jeanne.
Your sister's the easiest family member to find.
Jeanne, it's enough.
Just shut up and come with me.
It's your job to find our brother.
If not for her or yourself, do it for me.
She's in hospital.
I'm glad you're here.
Me, too, dear. Me, too.
If she's sleeping, you'll come back.
Mrs. Maïka?
You know Nawal Marwan?
Madame, we're looking for the child she had in jail.
Can you help us?
She worked in Kfar Ryat prison.
She assisted her during delivery.
She safeguarded the babies.
-Ready? -Ready.
At my request, Mr. Maddad did research
to find your brother and father.
In May 1970,
the midwife of Der Om, Elham,
gave up a male child for adoption.
The only boy placed at the orphanage that month.
Look, he was registered under the first name of Nihad.
We must ask who destroyed Kfar Khout
to learn what happened to the children.
Between you and me, given what occurred in the region,
there's little hope.
He's probably dead, too.
I didn't say dead. I said we lost his trace.
There's one path left,
but it's somewhat radical.
The warlord who razed the orphanage is still alive.
He may know what happened to Nihad and the others.
It's been an eternity.
You must understand, those years saw a series of reprisals
that set off each other with merciless logic.
Like an equation.
A warlord is precisely the kind of man with a long memory.
He'll remember, believe me.
Wallat Chamseddine. That's his name.
Where do we find him?
You don't find him, he finds you.
We can try something.
Do you like tea, Mr. Marwan?
It's your turn.
Know where we're going?
No idea.
What brings you here?
I'm with some foreign visitors who asked me to bring them here.
He asked me why you came to Deressa.
To find someone, Nihad of May.
My mother's from Der Om in the South.
My mother's the Woman who Sings.
Yeah, it's done.
Wait for what?
We've come to offer our help.
You'll be back in an hour.
-Can I tell my sister? -No, only an hour.
That's a promise.
I'll put on a shirt. One sec.
He's calling.
That's okay.
Already? Don't worry, you can go with them.
In the South, one spark sets everything off.
All right.
You helped us. Now it's our turn to help you.
You'll leave the country.
It will be simpler.
You must go with your children.
I know they're alive. Take them with you.
Your children will help you, you'll see.
You can't ask that of me.
I'm looking for a man named Nihad of May.
Why do you want Nihad of May?
He's my brother. My mother asked me to find him.
How can you say that Nihad of May is the son of Nawal Marwan?
My brother was placed at the Kfar Khout orphanage.
We found the birth records.
The dates, everything fits.
Nihad of May is my brother.
...to avenge the aggressions against our brother refugees.
There was an orphanage in Kfar Khout.
I spared the children
and I took them with us.
Nihad was among them.
We trained them, prepared them to fight alongside us.
Nihad had a gift.
He was special.
He quickly became a formidable marksman.
But
he wanted to find his mother.
He searched for months.
I don't know what he saw or heard.
But I refused.
He went back to Daresh.
He would shoot at anyone.
And then there was the enemy invasion.
And one morning,
they captured Nihad.
He'd killed seven soldiers.
You okay?
Can I help you, madame?
Nihad of May is Abou Tarek.
We know he's living in Canada under a new identity.
Nihad Harmanni.
Mr. Harmanni?
Yes.
Letter to the father
Through them, I want to tell you that you are still alive.
Soon you'll turn silent... I know.
For all are silent before the truth.
Signed...
Whatever happens,
I'll always love you.
I looked for you all my life.
I found you.
You couldn't recognize me.
You've a tattoo on your right heel.
l saw it.
I recognized you.
You are beautiful.
I wrap you in tenderness, my love.
Take solace,
for nothing means more than being together.
You were born of love.
So your brother and sister were born of love, too.
Nothing means more than being together.
Your mother,
Nawal Marwan,
Prisoner No. 72.
"When the envelopes have been delivered..."
My loves,
where does your story begin?
At your birth?
If so, it begins in horror.
At the birth of your father?
Then it begins in a great love story.
To Our Grandmothers