The Moth - The Moth Radio Hour: The Wisdom of Elders

Episode Date: April 12, 2022

In this hour, stories of learning from our elders. A mechanic, a teacher, a patriarchy-busting grandmother, and Star Wars in translation. This hour is hosted by regular Moth host Angelica Lindsey-Ali. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media. Hosted by: Angelica Lindsey-Ali Storytellers: Ishmael Beah is separated from his beloved grandmother during the war in Sierra Leone. Rose Saia feels understood by her new 4th grade eacher. Charlotte Mooney helps a man wandering on the highway. Manuelito Wheeler wants to help preserve the Navajo language by dubbing Star Wars.

Attention Houston! You have listened to our podcast and our radio hour, but did you know the Moth has live storytelling events at Wearhouse Live? The Moth has opened Mike's storytelling competitions called Story Slams that are open to anyone with a five-minute story to share on the night's theme. Upcoming themes include love hurts, stakes, clean, and pride. GoodLamoth.org forward slash Houston to experience a live show near you. That's the moth.org forward slash Houston. From PRX, this is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, Angelica Lindsay Alina.

I'm a storyteller and frequent host for the Moth's live events in Phoenix and around the country. In this hour, we'll be exploring stories about our elders. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have been preparing to be a grandmother since I was about eight years old. My earliest best friend and role model was my grandma Bessie, a smiling woman from Montgomery, Alabama. I spent hours with my grandmother at her flat on the west side of Detroit looking out the window at her weeping willow tree while she stirred something in the pot, as she shared life secrets. Always keep a quarter in your purse in case you need to make an emergency call,

invest in a good slip in girdle, and always, always bet on the Detroit Tigers. To this day, you can still find me sitting with an elder, whether it's someone's great out at the family dinner, a stranger on a park bench, or my husband's 96-year-old grandmother. I have always been attracted to the walking libraries and life lessons that exist in the minds of those who have lived long lives. Our first story is told by Ishmael Baya.

The Civil War that tore apart Sierra Leone was long and brutal, and it had a devastating effect on the population, especially the elders. Ishmael's award-winning book, A Long Way Gone, details how he was recruited into the army at 13 and became a boy soldier. In this story, he gets to meet his extraordinary grandma. Here is Ishmael Bayah. and gets an extraordinary grandma. Here is Ishmael Bayer. Applause. At the end of the Civil War, 11-year Civil War in my country, Sierra Leone, everyone

was looking for somebody they knew before the war, before that madness. Family, friends, neighbors, somebody to be able to remind them of what their lives had been before that violent horrific time. I was 12 years old when the war started and my grandparents were really instrumental figures in my life, especially my grandmother. My grandmother always did whatever she wanted.

She didn't conform to anything at all. This was very uncommon in the community that I grew up in. In fact, she was one of the only women who owned her own farm, a plot of land where she grew cassava rice and any other crop that she wanted. I would watch her do it from scratch. I will come along not necessarily to help, because my help was not really much. And I would stand back and admire my grandmother

with a machete and axe in her hand when she would literally attack a jungle and cut down humongous trees fiercely and with ferocity. And then she would come from under the bushes and she would say to me, now that's how you brush. Make me proud, my grandson. And I would look at her. She had looked at this jungle that the sun couldn't even

penetrate in before. I was now flattened. She would look at it, she's sitting just to catch her breath a little bit. And of course, just by holding the machete, my hands were already blistered. I had not already started cutting anything. And then I would go in there to do whatever little walking I needed to do. My grandmother also, you know, even though she was doing this

uncommon thing, she remained quite feminine. Whenever we were going to the farm or to brush to do this really difficult work, she would dress elegantly, she would tie her hair, she would come out looking as if we were going to festivity. Now, I always look at the thing to say, well, we're going, but then we're going to the farm or to brush. One afternoon, why we were brushing, some man was walking down the path and sent his greetings to us. I guess the sound of how the brushing was going out, the trees were being cut down and falling into the forest he assumed that my grandmother, or the person who was doing the brushing, could only be a man. So he sent his greeting as if he was

greeting a man. My grandmother came from under the bushes, she arranged a headcloth, tied her shirt properly, put her wrapper around, and look very dissonant step onto the path. The man froze. My grandmother walked up to him and slapped him really hard and said, you know, don't you have any training? Do you think all these bushes are only cut by men? And then the man, after a wickling from this stupor of unbelief, ran down the path, looking behind him, my grandmother was really just down. And my grandmother looked at me and smiled a little bit

and on did some of us stop again. It went under the bushes and started swinging, machete, and ask these trees again. This was my grandmother. And she had that same smile that she cast it, my whenever she came to visit my older brother and I, we were living with our father after our parents had separated.

And so whenever my grandmother was coming, my father would get really nervous. He wasn't somebody who was afraid of anybody, but he would talk in his shirt, and he would pace up and down. He would sit down, he would stand up, and we knew our grandmother was coming. And when my grandmother arrived, we took advantage of these moments to ask for things that we would not necessarily ask of our father.

Because he would say yes in front of our grandmother. And so my grandmother also had left my grandfather. She was the first of three wives in a village called Bandavulau. And one morning, she decided that she was done. She was just packed a stuff, took her children, including my mother, five of them, all women, and just left the town of Bandavulau to another place called Kabati,

where she would be able to do her business, but also she wanted to get away from the gossip and inquisitiveness of all the other women. Now, traditionally, no woman was doing this. To do this required a lot of ceremony. The elders mostly men would agree to it, they would sit down and they would talk to women out of it, but not my grandmother. She just left one day and said to my grandfather, if you want to be with me, you will come to where I'm living now, if you want to see me. And this meant my grandfather would have to walk from when the sun rose in the morning to when it was in the middle of the sky to be

able to do so. So she went there and started living there. So she would travel, she would make soap, she would travel and buy fish, she would paddle her own canoe and go to villages that were miles away. Sometimes she would hire a motorboat and she would put all this palm oil that she would bring to sell at the market. So every now and then why she was gone, a stranger would come and would exchange small talks with my grandfather and would say, well, I've seen your wife a week away from this village. And my grandfather, he was a very nice man,

soft spoken, really nice to my grandmother. My grandmother was just a very independent, natured person and very just on our own thing. She didn't care what anybody thought. And so through this conversation, my grandfather would say to some of the people that, you know, she lives by her own rules. And she does whatever she wants.

The only thing I know is that she loves me and her family deeply. And that's enough for me. I remember watching my grandfather whenever my grandmother returned, he was ready. And he would open up. He had this old suitcase. I was old as the world. It was dark and he would open up. He had this old suitcase, I was old

as the world, it was dark like the color of earth and he would open it inside, it was very new and he had books and pens, he had a small perfume bottle he would take and he would dress very nice and he would spray it. And now watch him and I look at him and he would turn to me and say, you know I have an advisor, you my grandson. And man, it's only as good as his ability to make his woman loved all the time. Remember that, and I would say, OK. And then he would come back on the veranda with his cassette tape

and he would press play, and he would sit, and he would play that music that my grandmother would love. The traditional music would begin to fill the air. And my grandmother would be sitting in the yard resting, and she would look, and my grandfather's eyes would be ready to meet her. And she would look at it, and then grandmother would be sitting in the yard resting and she would look and my grandfather's eyes would be ready to meet us. She would look at her and then she would get up and she would go into the room and when she returned she was elegantly dressed and my grandfather was waiting to hold her hand. She would refuse at first, be reluctant and then they would start dancing

and they would start dancing and I would admire it and this was one of the last memories I had of my grandmother before the war began, where we lost everybody and a lot of people died during that time. At the beginning of the war, everybody was separated from their families. I didn't know what had happened to my brothers and my mother. Eventually, I found out that my brothers, my two brothers, and my immediate family, my two brothers and my mother

were killed in the war. And so it happened to so many other people in Sierra Leone. During this war, also, children were being sought after and recruited to fight soldiers. And at that time, these children were forced to inflict violence upon their elders. In my community, you couldn't speak back to somebody who was older than you.

But the war used this as a way to terrorize the structures that had existed. So all through this time when I was running from the war, this as a way to terrorize the structures that have existed. So all through this time when I was running from the war, I kept thinking about my grandmother whether she had survived because she was an elder. Eventually I was recruited to fight as one of those children that was used as a soldier to fight in this war. I came out of that war locally for me alive and I thought about my grandmother. I spent 10 years going back home to Kabatih, to Syria, looking for my grandmother. I spent 10 years going back home to Kabat, to see her looking for my grandmother constantly.

But each time I would have leads, and I would follow them, and they would come to her dead end, and I would lose her. I didn't know when I was something with them, they always believed that my grandmother survived. That if anybody could survive, she was the one who did it because of how she was before the war. I'd been going around back and forth every now and then one day, I was back in Sierra Leone in my country,

and I went to the village and someone told me that my grandmother had returned. I didn't want to believe it because I've done this so many times. Yet, nonetheless, I began to walk back to the house that I knew my grandmother had lived. When I began to approach it, I saw somebody sitting on the veranda. And I recognized from afar that this was my grandmother.

She was looking somewhere, I was lost in her thoughts. And as I got closer, she raised her head and she saw me. And she stood up, as strong as she had been when she attacked those bushes. And she began to web wept as I came closer She shook my hand she held me closer to her and she tried to pick me up But she couldn't do it. And so she said to me what has happened to you?

How come you've done so heavy and she looked at my height and she looked at my face and I said grandma That's been many many years, you know, so I'm an adult now The last time my grandmother saw me, I was 12 years old, so she was still thinking of me in that way. So we sat down to talk, was she tried again to see if she could pick me up, and she couldn't do it. So we sat on the veranda, and we started to talk about what that happened during the war.

So I asked her, how did you survive? This madness that was difficult for even a young person to survive, let's just say an older person. She looked at me and said, first of all, I am not old. Secondly, what happened was that when the walk into my village, I ran to my farm because I knew that there I would be able to have access to food and stayed there for a little bit until I decided what to do. But I knew eventually people would come to the farm looking for food

and it would be people with weapons. So she left that place and began going to towns and villages that she knew all the pathways, the waterways, and she would get into Cano and Padu, Cano after Cano weeks after weeks, she would walk in swamps, she slept standing in swamps and made her way to this island called Bunk, which was one of the places in the country that the warden reached, was very difficult to get to. As she was telling me these stories, I thought to myself, I wish I had the strength and the wisdom to go to that place and escape all the madness that I record during the war, but I was a child and I hadn't gone anywhere as my grandmother had traveled. After she finished

telling me, she asked me what my story was and I told her that I now lived in New York city, that I had written a book about my experiences in the war because I fought and is as a child. And she thought about it and she said to me, where is this land that you talk about in New York? And how does one get there? And I explained to her the time it would take, the plane, and everything. And she said to me, Adya, and I asked her, would you like to come and visit or perhaps stay with me in this land called New York City. And she

thought about it for a little bit, and she said, will there be elders that I'll be able to exchange thoughts with? And I said, well, it's not the same up here. You don't see many old people wandering around just like that. She was quiet for a bit. And she said, you know, I will stay here in my beautiful village at home, and you will come and see me every time I say so. She pointed at me and I said, yes of course I do so. And I remember her face just as it was when I was a boy.

It was very calm as if she had slept for centuries. And so we sat and talked. I stayed with my grandmother for weeks and weeks, close to a month, just exchanging things. But it was very difficult to do so because at the end of the war, when you found somebody that was close to you and you were exchanging pleasantries with them, our world life had been, sometimes you could not do it in front of your neighbors. Because people who walked by, seen this, reminded them of people they could not be able to find.

So we had to hide,, we would go for a walk along the path, long walks, where we would be able to laugh about things, where we would be able to perhaps I would cry. My grandmother never cried, she remained strong for me. I knew she was trying to hold it. So we would do all of these things. And then I left, at some point I came back to New York.

My next door neighbor to my grandmother had a cell phone so I would call my grandmother sometimes and I would speak to her and often she would borrow the phone and she would call me. My grandmother did not understand that I was on a different time zone so she would call me any time she would call me. Mostly it was around 4 a.m. in the morning and she would call me and she would say to me, why do you sound so sleepy? Is middle of the day, or something like that? And I was just a little tired, so I was just sleepy, I didn't want to explain anything to her. So then we would talk about all sorts of things. So one time she called me, it was again 4 a.m. I picked up the phone and she said, you cannot believe what happened. And I said, what? She said, I was just minding my own business sitting on the veranda of my house. And these white

people came by and they had this book that had your picture in the back. And they wanted to take a picture with me. So I went inside and dressed very nicely and I took pictures with them. And then a few weeks later, all the skin, and they just keep coming and I just keep taking pictures with them. You must be a really, really big chief over there where they are. And I said, well, you like, I'm just going to call you last week.

And I said, well, you know, I told you earlier, I read the book, she was like, really, okay, okay. And so we were talking, then of course, every time I spoke to my grandmother, she would ask me the question, have you found yourself a good woman that you're going to make some family of yourself? Better yet, I want you to make me great, right children,

so that I can teach them everything that I've learned about life. And I'll say to her, well, you know, I'm walking on an issue, say, well, if you need any help, you know, I'll definitely, I can help you. And I said to her, grandmother, throughout your entire life, and my childhood already taught me how to do that, just based on who you are. And so, as she said this, and the phone line began to break a little bit, and I lost the phone hang up. And so I said to her, you know, I whispered to myself that I would talk to you soon on grandmother and I knew it was

the same thing that she was thinking. Thank you. Ishmael Bayer is an award-winning author and human rights activist. The memoir he mentioned in the story about his time as a child soldier, a long-way gone, earned critical acclaim and has been a part of school curricula all over the world. He's also the author of two novels, Radiance of Tomorrow and Little Family. Ishmael did finally fulfill his grandmother's wishes and he and his wife are the parents of three children. No doubt he shares his grandmother's wisdom with them frequently.

When you have a grandmother as awesome as Ishmael's, it's almost impossible not to share. With a wisdom like hers, you gotta pass it down. In a moment, kids at a Catholic school are excited to get a teacher who isn't a nun, and a woman sees something very out of place on the highway. That's when the Moth Radio Hour continues. The The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX. This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Angelica Lindsay Ali. And this hour, we're talking about being guided by the wisdom of elders.

One of my favorite elder tips is when my mentor once told me that it's totally okay to go to bed angry. She said it's amazing what a good night of sleep can fix. Or my auntie Elaine, a former model and patent queen who once told me to always wear lipstick even when taking out the trash. You never know when or where you'll meet your destiny. I guess I might as well look good when I meet my fate. Our next story is from Rose Sayah, a self-described Boston-born Southie girl. She told this story at a Moss story slam in Boston at

the Oberon Theatre where we partner with PRX and Public Radio Station WBUR. Here's Rose. Applause. It's the first day of school, of fourth grade. And I am standing out in the playground, hot in my Catholic school uniform, nervous with all the other kids, because we're waiting to find out who our nun is going to be as our

teacher next year. Mother Superior comes out on the front steps and her long black habit blows a silver whistle. We all come to attention and grade by grade where called up to the front, a nun meets us, walked inside the school. This is really nerve-racking because none were people to be feared. And at that point I was just hoping I got one that smiled and not one that like threw erasers or you know hit kids with rulers. And when my great-got called up to the front, I heard a boy showed Jesus Mary and Joseph, she has legs and sure, standing in the front, there was not a nun. But there was a woman and a flower dress with her hair styled. And yes, stockings on.

And as we walked into the school, you could hear her high heels clicking on the floor. She went up to the class, chalkboard, while we were sitting down, to write her name in perfect, Palmer penmanship. She turned around and one of the boys actually fell off of his chair and swooned and said, Miss Egan, I'm in love. She turned to him and I held my breath.

All the kids were holding their breath because we thought she was going to hit him. And instead, she put a book down in front of him and said, well, I hope you like reading, because that's what I want you to love. So Miss Egan was really enthusiastic and loved teaching. That was clear from the very beginning. She once taught us about energy by pretending to be a windmill, and she let us make paper mishave

volcanoes where baking soda lot came out. But her enthusiasm for teaching really wasn't able to break. This malaise that had settled on me in fourth grade. I got to school late a lot. I would sit in the back of the class and doodle or just look out the window. I turned in quizzes blank. Sometimes I didn't go down and eat lunch with the other kids and I didn't go out to recess. So

Miss Egan took each of these challenges one at a time. She brought me up to sit in front of the room so I couldn't drift off. She tried to encourage me. And then she just started asking me, why was I doing these things? Why were these things happening? And I didn't answer her. And one day I turned in a spelling test blank. So she told me I had to stay after school. And after school, she said to me that since I hadn't taken the test, I could grade all the other tests.

So I waited for the answer key and she said, oh, no, no, just grade them. You can do it. So I did. And when I was done, she handed me a blank piece of paper and told me to write down every word from the test. And I did. And she took the red marker and she went 100 on the top. And she said, next time if you take the test at your desk, I'll let you grade more papers

with me. So I did. And I graduated from grading, spelling papers to English composition. And one day she said, you know, you're kind of good at this. Do you think you might want to stay after school in tutor one of the other kids? So I said yes.

And then the St. Bridgid's School Tutoring Club was born, and it started with me, with one girl by my side, and then other students, with other students by their sides. And one afternoon, Ms. Egan said that we should just have some fun instead of working. So she took out these big sheets of art paper and said we could draw or paint whatever we liked. So the girls started painting and drawing hills with flowers on them.

And the boys started doing the same with hills, with army men and tanks on them. And I started coloring my paper with all different colors of crayon. And then I covered it, started covering it with black paint. And the seat came up and sat down and said, I don't understand. What is wrong here?

I mean, is this supposed to be you? Is this how you feel? And I didn't answer her. So she left the room and came back in a long while with mother superior and came in next to me. And I think told me to stop, but I just put my arm around the painting I had. And mother superior blew her whistle.

And so everybody stopped and folded their hands on their desk because it was Catholic school. And that's what you did. And when they looked down at my painting, they saw that I had taken the blunt edge of some kitty scissors, and I scratched out a rainbow and sun and flowers and the crayon colors came popping out of the black paint. And Miss Egan asked me, where did you get the idea for this? And I said, well, I love

the stained glass in the church. I love the pictures of the saints in Jesus shining through the colors of the stained glass. And when I looked at Mother Superior, she didn't look too happy with that answer. And I thought, I really thought in my non-year-old brain, I'm in so much trouble now. I've desecrated stained glass. It's supposed to be saints in Jesus.

And I've done flowers and a rainbow. Oh my God, I am in so much trouble. And I started to shake and cry and put my head down. And my tears just fell on the paper, making a river of black. And Miss Egan picked me up and put me in her lap and hugged me until I stopped. And when I stopped, I saw all the other kids were gone. Mother Superior was gone.

And she told me I could just paint the black again and carve out the flowers and no one would ever know. And she stayed late so I could do that. And that's when I gave her all the answers that she wanted. My dad was in jail in a state far away. My mom got up early for work in the morning and came home late at night. And sometimes she left me a peanut butter and jelly,

so she went for lunch, but sometimes there wasn't any bread. So I didn't go to lunch or recess on those days. The next day when I got to school, my painting was up on the cork board, next to the courtroom. And this eagin saw me and pulled me aside to the front of the room and she turned her back so the other kids couldn't see me.

And that's when she handed me a brown paper lunch bag and inside there was a big red apple and a fat sandwich that she had made just for me. Thank you. That was Rose Sayah. She's the executive director of a food relief agency in Boston. She's also a volunteer and has prepared over 10,000 meals for a local community supper, where her guilty pleasure is sampling donated broken cookies. She hopes every kid out there gets to have a teacher like Mrs. Egan. To see a picture of Rose around the time of her story

and one of her straight-A report cards from St. Britted School, you can visit themoth.org where you can also picture own story. I believe every person has at least one good story inside of them. We want to hear yours. Pitch is a story right on our site, or call 877-7999-Moff. That's 877-7999-Moff. [♪ Music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, music playing in background, from our London story, Slam. Here's Charlotte. I was driving home. I'd been away from home for about a week, working in Portsmouth, and it had been a really hard week, so I was desperate to get home. I had my four-year-old daughter a'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r i'r iwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r gwaithio'r ymwch y And a car came, whoo, between me and him, my daughter was in the back wide eyed,

and I tried to reach to him and call to him, but by that time he was off, he was weaving a line up the A3 through the cars. I drove home as quick as I could, I left my daughter with my partner and I rang the police and they said that they'd send out a car, but it'd be about 15 minutes. And when I called them back, 15 minutes later,

they said, oh yeah, we couldn't find anyone matching that description. He's probably wandered off. So I got back in my car, and I drove back up the A3, really hoping I wasn't going to find him. But almost immediately, I saw him walking down a parallel road. And by this time, I had sung the car around and parked and got out. He was literally about to step his foot back onto the A3. i'n gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gweithio'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw' yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith yw'r gwaith y Battersea, is that right? As I sat him down in my car, his legs gave way and I thought, he might have walked from

Battersea. I had a bottle of water in the footwell which I gave to him and he drank and the only other thing I had was apples. So I said, would you like an apple and he said, if you got a knife to peel it and I said, no. He didn't like the peel and he did something I've never seen anyone do before. He nibbled off every single shred of peel before he took a single bite. It took him bloody ages.

And meanwhile I went and called the police. They said find out his name will send a car and I called my friend whose mum had dementia and she said just talk to him Charlotte, make sure he doesn't get distressed. So I hunkered down on the curb next to him and introduced myself. His name was Leslie. He had three children, Poppy and two sons, but their names changed as we talked. He used to be a mechanic in Dagonum. He was a good mechanic and he had a good car and Mercedes. And if I asked him anything else, he'd start to get a bit twitchy and anxious, like, why are we talking, why aren't we going? So I would go back to the boot and fiddle around for a bit, and then I'd come back and we'd have the same conversation again,

Poppy, Dagonum, Mechanic, Mercedes. And as long as I stuck to that, he didn't get distressed. He sat there, straight back, nibbling bits of apple peel, and just't get distressed. He sat there straight back nibbling bits of apple peel and just watching the traffic pass. As far as he was concerned, I was finding the address and we were going to be leaving any minute. Eventually, after about three hours, the police rang back. They said there's no one lost by that name taking to local police station. The moment I started the engine, it's like he came to life. He was literally stroking the dashboard. He said, this is a good car.

This is a quiet car. I used to have a good car. I had a Mercedes. And then he said, Charlotte, a'r gael, yw'n gael ymwch, yw'n gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch,

a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, a'r gael ymwch, and he reached out his hand and put it on my shoulder and said, you're very tired. When we got to Kingston Police Station, I helped him out of the car. His legs pretty much didn't work by this point. I noticed for the first time that he had odd shoes on,

one suit, shoe, and one trainer. And he tucked into me as we walked across the road as if we were old friends. He kept saying, this is a good day, this is a fine day. I took him into the police station and the police officer took one look at him and she said, right, cup of tea. And she took him from me and sat him in a chair. I left and on the way out I could still see his silhouette through the frosted glass. He was sat straight back on a plastic chair waiting. And I got to go back to my good quiet car and I got to start the engine and I got to go home.

Thank you. That was Charlotte Moonie. Charlotte has told stories on stages at around campfires across the UK and is currently working on a piece about the myth, folklore, and science of crows. As an update to her story, the police sent Charlotte a letter thanking her for her help. Charlotte says she hasn't seen Leslie again, but she still keeps an eye out for him every time she drives on the A3. When we return, a story from the Navajo Nation about preserving an ancient mother tongue in a galaxy far far away when the

Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by the Public Radio exchange, prx.org. You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Angelica Lanziali. This hour, we're talking about things passed down from our elders. One of the things I cherish the most are my children's names. A family elder and Molly gifted my children's names. A family elder and Molly gifted my children beautiful names.

Amatige, Yabara, Yakinii, and Abara. Their names are tiny prayers that remind me of the power of language every time I say them, which is often because for kids. Our final story is told by Manuelito Wheeler, who was born and raised on the Navajo Nation. He's currently the director of the Navajo Nation Museum in Wendell Rock. Mani told his story in Arizona, where we partner with the Mesa Art Center. Here's Mani. Thank you. And Yacht A. Manuelito Tahuila Renatia,

Sitna Janine, Shlong, Yai Tachini, A. Bosh's Chin, Tuhedlinie, A. Chai, Kiaani, A. Dushin, Nala. So I have just introduced myself in Navajo. And language. language, language equals culture. So it's the late 1990s and my wife has gone to grad school and she left me with my R3 year old son at the time and so she started school and she got a apartment and tempi. We had a small apartment. Then I came down three, four months later. And you know I had a three-year-old son and I needed a job and I'd always found myself in the museum world. So where do I go to look for work right away?

So, where do I go to look for work right away? The Heard Museum. You may have heard of it. No pun intended. So, I go apply for a curatorial type job there. And do great on my interview. Think I have it in the bag. Get it called. Sorry, you didn't get it.

It wasn't that cold, but, you know, sorry, I didn't get it. But, you know what? The Heard's expanding. And they need some help in the carpenter's shop. And I'm like, okay, I need a job, I'll take it. So I was a carpenter's assistant and then I moved up to the exhibit installer and then I moved up to the design manager there at the herd museum. So during my time there, my wife has finished her masters and now she's on to her doctorate in English lit and all the while she's

teaching Navajo. So she's teaching Navajo to high school students here in Phoenix area. And we would always have this discussion of how do we make our language relevant? How do we get these young people to connect to our language? And this is something that's very close to both of us. It's close to me because I'm not fluent in Navajo. And that's a secret shame that I carry with me. That's a secret shame that people of my generation we carry with us. And it's like there it is something that's part of us and it's fading and we're trying to figure out how to save it. So we're sitting around the dinner table

and we talk about, man, it would be really cool to have our own movies in the Navajo language. And so they're like, yeah, yeah, that would be cool. So we toss some ideas around. She maybe have said, we should do the steel magnolias in Navajo. And I thought, eh. But then I say, think about it for a while.

We should do Star Wars. Maybe you've heard of it. And the reason I thought about Star Wars and it stuck is like it's such a timeless classic. And there are themes in the movie that I've really felt connected with Navajos slash native people. This idea that their the universe is connected. And if we do something that affects this side of the universe, it's going to ultimately affect this side of the universe.

The idea that there's good and there's bad and how we choose to use it is up to us, but it will have its consequences. So I really felt that those ideals would really stick with Navajo people, especially our traditional elders. So this is a time when the internet was brand new, and there was that thing that's like, AOL, and you've got mail, and the computers were huge,

and you would clock away on them. And so I get on the internet, I find the script to Star Wars episode four for those of you that need some clarification. And it comes in the mail and I look at it and I put it on the shelf and forget about it for a few weeks. And then, I find it again, I look through it and there's my wife and I tell her, like you think you could do these five pages and translate them in Navajo?

And she's like, yeah. And I'm thinking, I'm not going to get this back until a few days or a week or so. She comes back in like about 30 minutes. And it's all typed up and she hands me the papers. And I'm like, whoa, that's when I had the moment, that light bulb moment of this can be done. This is real.

So again, I research Lucasfilm, of course, and send emails. And this process goes on for about 10 years of going to different parts of Lucasfilm. There's the emails, there's the 800 numbers. And I'm not a pest. I'm not emailing Lucasfilm every day or anything like that It's just like a couple times a year and then The position opens up at the Navajo Nation Museum to be the director. I apply I get it We move our family back to where back to our beloved res and Then I the idea could research is again and And I'm like, I'm going to try this other door. Send the email off again. And one day, you know, the email pops up. And

it's from Michael from Lucasfilm. And he's pop, and just email says, we got your message. And this is something that we're interested in. And then of course I call my wife first. I'm like, guess who I got an email from. It's like Lucasfilm, they're on, they want to do this. They're the stipulation though, is that we would have to fund the production. The Navajo Nation would have to fund this production. So, you know, I gather myself, I go up to my boss, go up to his office. And he's a cool guy. I've always gotten along with him. And I tell him, hey, this idea about Lucasfilm, and they're interested in putting Star Wars

in the Navajo language. And it's going to be great. And it's going to be the best thing that ever happened to the Navajo Nation. And he's just kind of nodding his head. And he's like, that's nice, Manny. I just felt this sinking feeling. feeling like he doesn't get it. He doesn't see the vision that I have.

And so he's like, well, put a budget together and we'll see if we can find some money for you to do this. And of course, there are much bigger problems on the Navajo Nation. People actually live without running water and electricity there. So my project was gonna have to take a back seat for a while. But I'm not discouraged.

I go to various Navajo Nation programs. And I'm like, great project. No, sorry. Great project. We should do this. No, sorry. And so, you know, this is over, I would say, six to eight months.

And at that time, you know, it's something that you feel like, you have lightning in a bottle, but nobody wants to buy it. And then finally, I come across another person that I know. And he oversees the fares for the Naloh Nation. And he's like, you know, I'm trying to look for something that's entertaining, something that would bring a lot of people together, and I'm like, I've got a project for you.

And I explain my idea about putting Star Wars dubbing it Navajo into over a Star Wars movie. And he's like, yeah, that sounds pretty good. Like, let's do it. And I'm like, oh, I'm like trying to be cool on the inside of it. He said, I need something for the Fourth of July fair. And I'm like, oh, okay he said, I need something for the 4th of July fair. And I'm like, oh, okay, yeah, I can do it. And so I rush over to my team.

And my team was very small. It was a team of about 10 people. And I'm like, okay, we got to do this. And we had to put together a press release. And we send it to Lucasfilm for their approval. They approve it. And then it goes out to the internet. And then it takes off like wildfire. My phone starts ringing every day, you know, at least every hour maybe, and it's the BBC,

it's NPR, it's CNN, like all of these different major media outlets. They want to talk to me about how this project's getting done, why it's getting done, and I couldn't believe it. And I'm like, oh, and then I get a call from my friend who lives in Los Angeles. And he's like, man, your, this story Navajo Star Wars is trending at number seven on Yahoo. And I'm like, oh, cool.

What does that mean? And so he's like, well, let me put it this way. The Olympics are trending at number eight. And I'm like, wow, so that's when it hit me. And we started to get rolling. The people from Burbank, they came out and gave us a tutorial on how does get things rolling. So we auditioned for Star Wars in two days.

And we had over 400 people come over those two days auditioning to be a part of this. And we had five translators in a room and they translated the whole script in 36 hours. And then we go into production and it was just one massive, amazing blur. But let me put it this way. We started on April 12th, and we premiered the movie on July 3rd. And one of the things I'm most proud of

is it was mostly done by now, I hope people. We really got together and made this happen. So here we are. We are. Applause. Here we are. We're premiering it and guess what? A rodeo arena, classic Navajo style.

And it wasn't just a rodeo arena. A rodeo had actually happened less than an hour prior to us doing this premiere. So imagine if you will, and here comes a giant semi driving into the rodeo arena. And my people, they had built a movie screen on the side of the semi truck, and it pulls into the middle of the rodeo arena. And people, the stands are filled. There are over 2,000 people over there,

and they're all waiting for this movie to start. The cast and crew is there. People from Burbank are there. People from Hollywood are there. Everybody is excited to see this. And my wife, she's sitting right next to me. And then the lights go down. People's, the plot, cheer, kind of. And then it happens, those light blue, that light blue font a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It appears on the screen, but it's in Navajo.

And then the crowd goes, while they cheer, and it's like, it's almost like a frenzy. And here comes the crawl, the crawls in Navajo, and my wife and I are sitting there. And I squeeze her hand, and we're just sitting there. And I squeezed her hand and we're just sitting there. And she's crying. Tears are coming down her eyes. But I'm not crying.

Maybe I was crying. It was a rodeo arena. It was dusty and dust getting in my eyes. So, and then here comes the big imperial cruiser descending upon Princess Leis ship. And it goes C3PO, C3PO, others of first words, and C3PO is in Navajo, and then here comes Darth Vader, and he lifts up the rebel, and he's like, where is the Princess? Where are the plans? And it's in Darth Vader's voice in Navajo, and the crowd is going crazy.

And I'm there sitting there squeezing my wife's hand. And I'm thinking of our grandmothers that have gone on to the next world. I'm thinking of our grandfathers that have gone on to the next world. Our uncles that have gone on to the next world, our aunts that have gone on to the next world, our uncles that have gone on to the next world, our aunts that have gone on to the next world, that I wish they were here to see this. This is our culture, it's living on. This is our culture, and now there was a new hope. That was Manuelito Wheeler.

To see pictures of Navajo voice actors in the studio dubbing the film, visit themoth.org where you can also download the story. Star Wars, Doug and Navajo is now available to stream on Disney+. Here's a bit of the dialogue in the Navajo language. The Batihin Age Yadda Adidas Aro Donjpera Hosen Adidas Your Hines Dojo Bupin Yein Na Shdand E

Na Adanest E Na Chee Yadda Mistla Aishin J Yaya Yaya

Hain Hula Hade Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase

Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Hase Since Star Wars, the Navajo Nation Museum has gone on to dub two other classic films in Navajo, finding Nemo and the fistful of dollars. At the start of this hour, I said that I've always wanted to be a grandmother. Well, I'm still not there.

I consider myself more of a young elder, but at 46, that time is approaching soon. In the meanwhile, I like to consider myself a grandma in training. I go by the name Village Auntie and I share advice I've gleaned from elders with women around the world. I hope you've gotten a bit of useful advice from our storytellers.

That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time, and that's the story from The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, and Katherine Burns, Jennifer Hickson, and Angelica Lindsay Alley, who also hosted the show. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, Associate Producer Emily Couch. The stories were directed by Jennifer Hickson. The rest of the most leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Oestin Gines, Mae Bowles, Kate Teller's Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluche, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Gliddowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Kaza. Most stories are true, is remembered and

affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour are from Wolfpack, Okinja Afrozo, Steve Fawcett, Dustin O'Halloran, and Ben Dan Productions. We received funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX for more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org. you