Ernesto Bravo hands his wife a cup of rooibos tea, cradling the hot mug gently as she takes it from him. “What are you saying to these young people? Are you embarrassing me?,” he asks and turns to wink at me.
Ernesto Bravo hands his wife a cup of rooibos tea, cradling the hot mug gently as she takes it from him. “What are you saying to these young people? Are you embarrassing me?,” he asks and turns to wink at me.
After 58 years of marriage, the acclaimed documentary film-makers, Estela and Ernesto Bravo, believe that their personal relationship is at the core of their ideas, their work and is the reason for their illustrious career.
They have produced over 40 films and despite wanting to settle down and digitise their archives, they are still bubbling with ideas for new works to show to a global audience.
“I do whatever he says. That’s how it’s always been,” says Estela.
“Hmph! Surely you don’t believe that,” he says to me.
On many of the films, Ernesto (a former student movement leader in Argentina) writes the scripts and helps to edit the footage which his wife has put together. They have travelled the world, met figures such as Nelson Mandela, Fidel Castro and Malcolm X and despite a seemingly infinite capacity to talk about their work, they are more than just notable film-makers.
“Our eldest child will be 55 this year. We really can’t believe it. Our younger daughter is 49, but she looks about 30. She’s into exercise and weird juices,” explains Estela.
The love affair – to use their own words – started when the pair were students at Brooklyn College in New York. Estella’s Sri Lankan room-mate had her eyes set on the strong-willed Argentinian, but a chance meeting brought them together and has kept them inseparable since.
“I’ll never forget. The first words he said to me were ‘shit down!’. I’ve been laughing ever since,” she explains.
“You always tell that story,” he says.
Despite their light-hearted attitude, the pair have witnessed and been at the centre of many conflicts around the world. They have encountered violence, injustice and have even had equipment taken from them, but they are united in the belief that the stories of the underdog must be told.
“My father was a union leader. He dreamed of a world where we could all be brothers,” says Estela.
Although this dream has not been realised in the lived experience of their subjects, Bravo Films has portrayed the universal emotions and responses to tragedy which people may face, regardless of their political convictions. They both believe in allowing the subject to speak, rather than the narrator.
“We are very fortunate. We see life through the same lens,” says Estela.
“She is my wife and my partner. We have created works and a family together and we are together in everything we do,” says Ernesto.
The pair left Pretoria at 5am to travel to Grahamstown and endured a full schedule with remarkable vigour. Nevertheless the reality of growing older has forced the pair to re-imagine their role as film-makers.
“My health is not really number one at the moment. We have to look after ourselves,” explains Estela.
The couple does not intend to film in any conflict-zones and has instead turned their attention to digitising their footage and preserving their legacy. They have amassed an enormous amount of footage, much of which is as yet, unpublished.
“We have a great interview with (Walter) Sisulu. We want to edit that and send it here. It’s important for this generation to see; especially you guys who are the new creators,” says Estela.
The Bravos are adamant that the new generation of South Africans have the responsibility to tell the story of political transition.
Estella is particularly concerned with how this new, multicultural society operates after such a long period of racial separation.
“I mean, what are the attitudes? Is your grandfather still a racist?,” she asks the white photographer.
Ernesto leaves us, tired of waiting for Estella to join him for tea. She leans in to me, holding my shoulder.
“It’s interesting. I notice different people here in different roles. The cleaning ladies where we’re staying seem so nervous, but I’m sure they’re not like that with their friends. You need to tell that story!”
She gives me an affectionate hug and unexpectedly asks for my contact details. She asks me to walk with her for a moment. This is the moment where she speaks to me, not as a journalist, but as a person. She leans in close, as if to share a secret.
“Screw money. It is temporary and it is the worst motivation. You need to do the things which make you happy and bring you joy," she says. "Ernesto and I have built our whole lives on just that and we wouldn’t have done it any other way”.
