Women with Stories March 21, 2013

Liisa Ojakõiv on Red hair and Black coffee
The camera zooms in on a dirty little village where young children run around muddy streets naked, being resourceful at inventing toys. Everything is made of use, from old shoes to an ax. There is splashing in the puddles and old wheelbarrow racing. The village is a wide playground for children with no restrictions and all mischief is commited at their own risk. Their mothers are busy with cooking and breastfeeding, sometimes telling a story in a low voice. At dawn, as the kids and women are still sleeping, a man offers a cigarette to his wife, who has just opened her eyes. She smiles. A woman with red hair is proudly telling stories of her ancestors as she swiftly rips a page out of the Old Testament to roll a fag. Priorities are set: faith is in the heart not words in the pages of books. Ancestors'  spirits are sacred, they are remembered and honored, kept alive by telling stories about them. Coffee and cigarettes, music and humour [u added to humor - I'm British after all :)]. Life is harsh and has no mercy, but the women don't give in and their children have a sharp spark in their eyes. Only the strong, who have support from others, survive. The formula for happiness consists of simple things: to give birth to plenty of kids, so there would be offspring and positive young people and to enjoy the simple little good things in life. For bad things will happen anyway, but life won't stop for it. Life will go on and leave new stories to tell for the future generations. Maybe it's wiser to escape from the rough reality to the world of stories. Why not?