Original subtitles

The mashed potatoes are delicious.

Bob made them.

Well, Betty Crocker made them,

but Bob added the water.

Gee, thanks, Mom.

Oluwa mi o.

Just put some butter and salt on 'em.

Yeti is dead.

Auntie Yeti? How?

Heart attack during water aerobics.

That is horrible.

No one should die wearing water wings.

I am so sorry about your sister.

Wait, you two are sisters. Isn't she your sister, too?

No, she was my cousin.

Oh.

I don't understand.

Mummy and Auntie Olu have the same daddy.

Mummy and Auntie Yeti

have the same mummy.

Mummy and Auntie Olu's daddy

was related to Auntie Yeti's daddy.

Maybe you could draw it up like a football play.

DOTTIE: It's not that hard.

A couple has baby Yeti,

then, for some reason, the dad is out of the picture.

I'm figuring maybe he cheated

or he has a secret second family.

No, that's allowed over there.

He died of a staph infection.

But he did have a secret second family.

So, Mom marries into a happy harem,

spits out Ebun,

one of the other wives

drops an Olu, and ta-da!

Now do you understand?

No, I just regret asking.

I just learned more about my family in five minutes

than I have in 15 years.

("Ifanla" by Sola Akingbola playing)

Abishola, tell Bob I want to fly to the funeral

in business class. I cannot grieve in economy.

Mummy, Auntie Yeti's funeral is in Toronto.

They are not flying her body back to Nigeria

to be revered and honored?

When you die,

I will put your body on a plane to Nigeria

while it is still warm.

Thank you. I raised you well.

It will be cheaper for Bob to fly me to Toronto,

so make it first class.

You are here from Nigeria on an American family visa.

It does not permit you to leave the country.

I am sure there is a way.

Does Bob still have his boat?

I am sorry, Mummy.

If you were an American citizen, you could go.

You are a citizen.

I am.

Then you will go.

We are manufacturing our first socks this week.

I did not know you ran the machines.

This is a big moment for Bob.

He wants to slide the first sock

on my foot like Cinderella.

You will go.

I am also needed at the hospital.

You will go.

Yes, Mummy.

Dele,

you'll be going with me

to Auntie Yeti's funeral.

But I have school.

You will go.

Kofo. Goodwin.

I expected you to crawl in behind Mr. Wheeler.

He's finishing up a call.

He asked me to set up.

Well, then, set up.

I no longer take orders from you.

But I am setting up.

Well, thank you very much.

I've got some socks headed your way.

You sound like a medium.

Yeah, it's a gift.

All right, bye now.

(sighs) Immigration lawyer.

I'm trying to get my mother-in-law

out of the country.

I know she's difficult,

but you don't have to deport her.

Ebun wants to go to a funeral

in Canada. GOODWIN: Oh.

Immigration law is very confusing.

I have a cousin I helped get a visa,

and it was not easy.

And I have a cousin who will never let me

forget it.

I don't understand, it's just Canada.

I didn't even think we cared about that border.

You would have never gotten a visa unless I gave you a job.

Mr. Wheeler gave me the job.

Maybe I'll give Ebun one of your jobs.

I do not know if that would solve your problem.

Oh, it would solve one of them.

There's got to be a palm I can grease.

Be careful accepting help.

Some people may hold it over your head forever.

Perhaps if some people showed a little gratitude,

then the other people would not.

Remember the days when I would come to you for advice

and you'd make fun of me in Yoruba?

Can't we just go back to that?

We have a new admit

coming in half an hour.

She requested a room with a view.

Hmm.

Put her in 402.

She can see the parking lot behind the Chipotle.

Hello, ladies. Hey.

Hello, Kemi.

Cancel your plan for the week.

I have something you will enjoy.

Ooh. Is it a funeral?

That's your guess?

It is a funeral. That's the answer?

A Nigerian funeral

is a cannot miss event.

Lavish meals, dancing.

It is like a birthday party,

except you don't have to bring presents

because the person is dead.

And I'm guessing no candles on the cake.

Mm-hmm.

Who passed away?

My Auntie Yeti.

Oh, that's terrible.

No, it's not.

When Abishola and her ex-husband first came from Nigeria,

they stayed with Yeti.

It forever changed her.

I know it is hard to believe,

but this one used to be funny.

Really?

Auntie Yeti forced me to clean her house,

cook her meals,

and wait on her hand and foot.

I felt like a prisoner.

So, how'd you escape?

Tayo and I moved to Detroit.

I never spoke to her again.

Oh, sweetie. That's too bad.

Yes, it is.

But a funeral,

what a wonderful surprise.

Neil Armstrong walked on the Moon,

Steve Jobs invented the iPhone,

and now the Wheelers have brought sock manufacturing

back to the good old U.S. of A.

Whoo!

There was a Goodwin Olayiwola involved as well.

I couldn't have done this without all of you guys,

which is why I want you here

when we pull the first sock off the line.

Oh! I haven't been this excited in years.

Oh, my God, that's actually true.

Okay, Kofo, record this so I can show Abishola.

I am already livestreaming to our legion of sock fans.

Hello, John and Michael.

If you like what you see, smash the subscribe button.

You didn't tell me we were gonna be on camera.

Hold on.

Okay, I'm ready.

All right, let's make sure these meet

the MaxDot seal of approval.

The Lycra, spandex and cotton

should all be playing their parts

like a great jazz band.

KOFO: Yes, and no part of the sock

should be more bossy or egocentric than any other.

Mmm, fresh baked sock.

Good elasticity.

The graduated compression levels are off.

And I'm not feeling it taper.

But it is still a good sock.

Good isn't enough.

Really? "Good enough" is

the best compliment I've ever gotten.

Have you smelled the sock, Bob?

We can't afford to waste time trying to figure this out.

If we don't have socks ready to ship, we're screwed.

Oh, we lost Michael.

Kofo, stop the video.

Everybody out.

As you can see, perfection is the only

acceptable standard here at MaxDot.

Kofo, I swear to God...

Perfection and blasphemy. I'm turning it off.

(indistinct chatter)

Too bad I am not single.

Men are so sexy when they are sad.

Why did they not use a picture of her smiling?

That is her smile.

Since this is your first funeral,

you should follow my lead.

If people are solemn,

I am solemn.

If they are happy, I am happy.

Welcome, everyone.

Hello.

Hello, Yinka.

I am so glad you are here.

We are so glad to be here.

You are a natural.

My mother sends her condolences.

Thank you.

Ah, you lived with Mummy for a while.

That must have been a wonderful time for you.

My mother sends her condolences.

Excuse me.

There are so many people to speak to.

As you know, my mother was a beloved woman.

I know you feel that way.

(sighs) That is done.

Let us go back to the hotel.

Abishola,

we must be respectful.

She was your family.

She never treated me like family.

And now she is dead.

You have won.

AUNTIE OLU: You can pretend

to have loved her for a couple of days.

KEMI: Yes.

I despised my husband,

but you should have seen the performance

I put on at his funeral.

(crying): How will I go on?

You took the wrong person.

Why, God, why?

Thank you.

You see? Easy.

She was a horrible, bitter woman,

and I did not like her.

I doubt anyone here did.

They are just here for the food.

Mum. What?

Oh, Y-Yinka...

This is why I love a funeral.

You never know what is going to happen.

I have a good feeling about this one.

I hope so.

If these socks don't come out right,

we'll all be looking for jobs.

My good feeling is going away.

(phone rings)

I got to take this.

Hello.

Yeti is ruining everything.

The dead lady?

Yes.

And she's your mom's cousin?

My mother's sister.

But not your mother's sister's sister.

Yes, Bob. How hard is it?

Honey, if you're not happy,

get in the car and go.

The woman in the box won't notice.

I cannot.

I have to set a good example for my son.

Do you want me to start the oven?

Don't touch the oven.

I know you are busy. I should let you go.

BOB: Look, I don't know everything

that went on with this lady,

but this is the last time you're going to see her.

Why not take the high road and move on with your life?

That awful woman does not deserve my forgiveness.

Low road it is. Love you.

What did I say about the oven?!

I am making a soup.

There is no reason to devour cold cuts like a wild dog.

If you weren't here,

I would have squirted mustard in my mouth.

Bobby, at my funeral,

I want an open casket and an open bar.

I'm sorry, did I miss some news?

It's important you know my wishes

in case I snap my neck in the shower tonight.

I got a lot on my plate. Just take a bath.

The only way to honor a dead relative

is to make sure

all their last demands are met.

I want to be buried in that dress I like.

The low-cut one that was the talk of my graduation?

Oh, that was a crowd-pleaser.

No, the silver chiffon number.

Well, if it didn't scar me for life, I don't remember it.

I'll go get it.

No, don't get it now.

Be thankful you will be able to attend her funeral.

I cannot even say goodbye to my sister

without being tackled by border patrol.

I'm sorry, Mama Ebun.

It is fine.

I will see her again in heaven.

If they let me in with my American family visa.

You know what, why don't you come to the factory tomorrow,

help me figure out these socks?

I do not need you to babysit me.

I'm not babysitting.

I need someone who can tell me the truth about things.

That mustache is not doing you any favors.

Let's stick with socks,

but your head's in the right place.

What do you think?

Looks good, right?

We should not be in here.

It is a viewing.

I have to view what she's wearing.

It is bad luck

to be matchy-matchy with a dead person.

Oh.

She looks nice.

Lovely silk blend.

They are burying good material.

I can hardly look at the woman.

I know you despise her,

but in a way,

the two of you are very similar.

I am nothing like her.

Don't you think it was hard for her

being a single mother living in a different country?

Well, I did it without being a monster

to everybody around me.

Eh, that depends who you ask.

But you were not alone. You had me,

and Auntie,

and Uncle, and me.

She had nobody, and yet she still made room for you.

Tayo and I slept on a broken futon.

She refused to replace it until we left.

Ah-ah.

Her shoes look more expensive than mine.

I have to go shopping.

I will not be upstaged by a corpse again.

Give me a minute.

Are you going to put a curse on her?

Kemi, please.

You are right.

Let's save our curses for the living.

I suppose all these years,

I never considered the situation

you were in when I arrived.

It must have been difficult.

(sighs)

It was for me when Tayo left.

Yes, we divorced.

I know you are delighted to hear that.

I was so sure my life

would turn out a certain way,

and when it didn't, I blamed you.

That was not fair.

You were unkind to me.

But I would not have been happy with anything you did

because I was not a happy person.

But I am now.

I have a great career,

and a wonderful husband.

I am not the same woman I was when you knew me.

I deserved better.

But so did you.

(ghostly voice): I forgive you, Abishola.

What? I didn't say anything.

You can hang out in my office

if it's too hot out here.

I like it. The humidity reminds me of Nigeria.

Great, that's what I was going for.

(alarm beeps)

I think the sock is finished.

Yep, just saying a little prayer for good thread density.

I will join you.

Oh, good, it's better

if he hears a familiar voice.

Amen.

Amen over here, too.

Okay, let's see how trial 35 did.

This is 36.

35, you overdid the rayon

and had split seams.

My daughter's future depends on these socks.

Hey.

Hey, here we go.

All right, tight toe.

Perfect stitching.

I think you're my good luck charm.

There is no such thing as luck.

This was God.

And you.

I guess I had something to do with it.

Every morning, I see you

leave early and come back late.

You would not stop

until you got the sock that you are holding now.

Took Heinz 57 batches.

Only took me 36.

You take great care of the things you love.

I am glad my daughter found you.

Thank you, that means a lot.

I know.

Hey, you want to go out for a celebration dinner?

Split a bottle of bubbly?

For one sock?

We will eat,

I will take the champagne home,

and you will come back here

and continue building our empire.

Kaale, Yinka. May I speak with you, please?

I think you said enough yesterday.

I am so sorry.

I wish your mother and I could have known each other

under different circumstances.

I regret not reaching out over the years,

but I had no idea what to say.

You have given her a wonderful service.

Yes, well...

...thank you for being here.

Your mother would be proud.

Next time, muster up a couple of tears, hmm?

(singing in Yoruba)

(all singing)

Abishola, have some fun.

You're at a funeral.

(singing in Yoruba)

BOB: "The Homegoing of Oluyeti Olusegun."

Your aunt, your mother's sister,

and Auntie Olu's cousin.

Winner, winner, jollof dinner.

EBUNOLUWA: Look at all those people who loved my sister.

(dialogue inaudible)

And the flowers I sent are up front.

I put them there myself.

(woman sobbing)

That is Auntie Bola.

They had to pry her off the casket.

She is drawing attention away from my flowers.

Will you wail like that when I'm dead?

You got it, waterworks,

open bar and your silver chiffon.

You do listen to me.

(sobbing)

Captioning sponsored by CBS

and TOYOTA.

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org