In black-and-white, water rushes to the shore. Martika stands in a tent, her arms wrapped around her chest. A passport sits on the table.
A fiftysomething man holds up a birdcage by an arch. Doves fly into the sky. An airplane takes off on the runway. She fills in the marks underneath “Tuesday” written in her notebook with her pencil. She sits in an airplane.
She sits in a church, her feet against a pew.
A child holds two buckets over his shoulder as he passes by a cross. The child holds onto the rope of the bell and swings. A bucket is pulled down into the well.
Three sixtysomething women kneel at the pews, their rosaries between their fingers.
A young woman carries a basket of fruit on her head. A child throws a net into the water. Rain falls onto the fish sitting on the boat. Martika blinks at the rain falls on her face. “June started” is written in the notebook.
Some people eat some fruit as Martika peeks through the window. She erases underneath “July” in her notebook. Several children hang out by the dock. She sits in the kayak as one of the children rows her. She runs her hand through the water.
While at the beach, a fiftysomething writes at his desk. She looks out the window of the bus. She sees a father walking with his ten-year-old son and the soldiers heading towards a building. One of the children jumps off the cliff and into the ocean.
Wrapped in the sheets, she stands outside as a her boyfriend swims in the water. They cuddle on the blanket.
The father eats dinner with his son in the corner and takes him the barbershop.
As she stands on the beach, the sheets covering her body, the fiftysomething man releases a dove.
The summer abroad was to shop and relax on the beach. She had sipped wine as she slept beside her wealthy boyfriend. They held hands and averted their gaze from the homeless people lying on the sidewalk while they were in the capital. She spent her days shopping at the designer stores and evenings dancing at the club. In the afternoon, she called her parents and assured them she was learning something. She told them about the festivals she attended and gave them a vague history of what they were about. Her parents told her to take her time and reminded her to renew her visa if she planned longer.
A visit to a church, though, had renewed Martika’s faith. Piecing the little bit of the language she knew, the priest was asking for help in the village. One woman, who had heal the people, was ill herself. Some families couldn’t afford to eat. A few pews ahead of her, the sixtysomething women nodded and raised their hands.
She returned home and got out her tapes. While sitting at the table, she repeated back familiar phrases. Her boyfriend laughed and told her there was no need to bother with the language. Taking off her headphones, she told him she’s been here since May and knows nothing about the country. He kisses her on the forehead and tells her time to get ready. She says she doesn’t want to go the club tonight. He shrugs and then asks where she wants to go. She says she wants to talk to the locals and get to know them. Her boyfriend rolls his eyes and says that’s not going to happen.
Returning home, she holds her boyfriend’s hand as they sit together on the plane. She stares out the plane window and thinks of the poor living in the villages. She asks her boyfriend if he’ll go to mass with her when they get home. Her boyfriend asks what happened to her. She says she can’t be with him anymore and avoids his gaze as she continues to look out the window. They both had enough to help yet did nothing. She could no longer pretend the poor didn’t exist.
Director: Michael Haussman Year: 1991