Cameroon: Behold the Dreamers

Behold the Dreamers

by Imbolo Mbue

Behold the Dreamers is primarily set in the United States, but tells the tale of two young immigrants who come to New York full of hope for their future and who ultimately learn to love and respect their home country of Cameroon.  This is the reverse of the main focus of my blog; instead of the American experience abroad, it tells of the foreigners' experience of America, a country they alternately idealize and disparage.  As the story progresses, they shift from fully denigrating their homeland of Cameroon to slowly coming to appreciate their families, their history, their culture, and their way of life.  It is a classic tale of "all that glitters is not gold" and a deconstructing of the notion that "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."  Throughout, the characters ... Jende and Neni from Cameroon, Clark and Cindy who employ them in the United States, and a cast of immigrant characters from many places around the world ... are thoroughly delightful, earnest, and funny.  

Having the unexpected luck of receiving a visitor's visa to the United States, Jende comes first to seek his fortune, moves into a group home with other immigrants, and immediately overstays so he can earn and save enough to bring his family.  Two years later, his wife Neni and their little boy arrive.  Enamored with New York City and all of its promises, they dream of beating the immigration authorities at their own game and finding a way to stay permanently.  When Jende lands a job as a chauffeur for a Clark Edwards, a Wall Street executive, it seems their dreams will come true.  The Edwards family seems to have it all ... money, education, prestige, glamour, a beautiful home, an active social life, and two children.  In stark contrast, Jende and Neni have so little ... a tiny, one bedroom, cockroach infested apartment in a dangerous neighborhood; long hours in their workdays; constant financial worries: and no sense of security or permanent.  But as Jende and Neni become involved and entangled with the Edwards's personal lives, they realize that beneath the glittering facade lies much pain, disappointment, and sadness. 

This serves as a clear metaphor for perceptions of the United States and its proverbial streets paved with gold that are really substandard housing, low pay, heartbreaking sacrifice, and oftentimes, little reward for those who come in search of a better life.  Yet, the dream still exists, and those who are willing to work hard are often lucky enough to find a leg up to opportunity.  Jende and Neni are very willing, but their luck runs out when the recession hits and Jende is faced with a decision for which there no good outcome.  Throughout the story, Mbue weaves a critique of how we treat immigrants in this country and of how much we, as Americans, take for granted about our lives of good fortune.  Jende and Neni learn that there is more to life than what they ultimately find in the United States.  

Cameroon looms large in the story, almost functioning as a character by informing who Jende and Neni are, what they seek, and where they eventually land both physically and morally.  Although very little of the plot takes place in Cameroon, I finished the book feeling that I had at least a little sense of who Cameroon may be.  Just as in the United States ... and any other country in the world ... there is positive and negative, something to be despised and much to be cherished. 

Cambodia: The Disappeared

The Disappeared

by Kim Echlin

I'm writing this from my hotel room in Sardinia, an incredibly lush and beautiful island off the western coast of Italy in the Mediterranean Sea.  Apparently, this is where many European elite take their holidays.  The beauty is all around ... the sea is alternately deep royal blue and turquoise, majestic hills of rock stretch against a cerulean sky, bright purple flowers crawl up the sides of every building.  You cannot help but feel pampered and special here, whether or not you've actually done something to deserve it.  We are here for a business trip with my husband's employer, and I feel lucky to be riding on the coat tails of good fortune as I soak up this lovely space and the opportunity to relax, laugh, play. 

More than once, I have wondered ... what did I do to deserve this experience, and more broadly, this life that allows me to have good things, see the world, enjoy my days, and think about what I want as often as about what I need ... when so many others do not have even a carefree moment unencumbered by worry and fear?  I know the answer.  Nothing.  I have done nothing to earn this other than to be born in a certain country at a certain time to certain parents who had hopes and dreams for me that they were lucky enough to be able to pursue on my behalf.  But I am no more deserving than any other human being from any other place in the world ... the refugees fleeing war-torn countries, the migrants risking everything to cross the border, the mothers and fathers who selflessly do whatever they must to protect their children so they may have a chance to earn enough money to feed, clothe, and educate them.  Or those who don't leave their countries but remain there and struggle each day to survive.  Any one of us could easily be walking in their shoes if not for events that have nothing to do with how good or deserving we are.  I am humbled and grateful and perplexed.

Kim Echlin's mesmerizing novel, The Disappeared, depicts the stark contrast between a life lived comfortably and a life lived with nothing but uncertainty.  The story  begins in Montreal, Canada with hazy scenes in smoky bars, where 17-year old Anne falls in love with Serey, an older college student from mysterious, far away Cambodia.  Despite her father's quiet but persistent objections, Anne and Serey spend all of their time together, mostly alone, trying to plan a future together.  But Serey is not free to fully contemplate the future.  His mind and heart are in Cambodia, which, under the dictatorship of Pol Pot, had closed its borders and shut out all communication with the outside world just months after Serey arrived in Canada on a student visa.  Serey has heard nothing from or about his family in several years.  His suffering and guilt are tangible.  Anne knows this but cannot fathom the power these feelings hold over Serey until suddenly the border reopens, and he disappears into Cambodia, determined to find his family.

Twenty years later, Anne has failed to truly move on, and when she thinks she sees Serey on televised coverage of protests in Cambodia, she gives up her easy, comfortable life and goes in search of him.  With little to go on, she arrives in Phnom Penh and miraculously, finds him in yet another smoky bar, much like the one in Canada where their love story began.  Their passion rekindled, Anne settles into a life in Cambodia, one that is in sharp contrast to the comforts and ease she had known at home.  Not deterred in the slightest, however, Anne is simply happy that they are together and accepts without question the little mysteries surrounding Serey's work, where he spends his time, and what his life was like before their reunion.  Eventually, through her friendship with an American journalist, she begins to understand what happened in Cambodia, both during Serey's time in Canada and since his return.  As she gains insight about Cambodia's political strife and its people's suffering, she also becomes aware that the life she has built with Serey may not be as simple as she imagined. 

This is a love story about a man and a woman, a man and his family, a man and his country, and ultimately, humankind and the dream of a good, safe life that does not cost more than one actually has to offer.  It is a long and beautiful elegy for what has been lost and can never be regained.  And it will remind you to be grateful for everything.

Burundi: The True Sources of the Nile

The True Sources of the Nile

by Sarah Stone

I don't often read books more than once, but this one I have now read three times.  Most recently to include it as my selection for Burundi.  I first read it not long after returning from my first overseas assignment with the Foreign Service.  I recall greedily devouring the aspects of the story that resonated with my own experiences ... especially the feeling of being energized and alive by the challenges of living in a developing nation, then overwhelmed and dismayed by the ease and abundance of life back home in the United States.  This is something not easily understood by anyone without a similar life experience.  That first foray into a U.S. grocery store is complete sensory overload ... row after row of bright, colorful produce; dozens of freezer cases with frozen, fully-cooked convenience meals; anything you want whether it's in season or out of season; 25 different kinds of toothpaste instead of the two or maybe three that were available where you'd just come from.  The excess, not previously even noticed, was shocking and unappealing for a long time after re-entry.

The second time I read it, I had been back home for a while, and the reading was poignant and bittersweet.  It made me wish to be overseas again, to be among those with sharply different lifestyles and to be keenly aware of things we often take easily for granted in the United States.  This recent time, the third reading, my Foreign Service years are pretty far back in the rearview mirror, and perhaps it is only now that I have actually absorbed the plot of this remarkable story. 

Anne, our protagonist, is an American who goes to Burundi during a peaceful time, first to work on public health and later, on human rights.  She is aware of the great divide between the rich and poor, the long history of violence and resentment between the Hutu and Tutsi tribes, and the significance of that particular moment in Burundi's politics, when democracy was bubbling up with fair elections that resulted in a Tutsi coming to power for the first time.  There is much she does not know, however, about the real implications of these things.  She naively falls deeply in love with Jean-Pierre, a Burundian government employee who does something with the Ministry of the Interior, ... something he never defines and about which she never inquires.  Their romance is intense and passionate, and Anne is prepared to fully embrace Burundian society and culture in order to marry and stay with Jean-Pierre.  Just as Jean-Pierre overcomes his hesitation about announcing their plans to his very traditional family, the unimaginable happens and nothing can be the same again.  Anne is returning from a work trip to a remote area in Burundi's countryside, and finds herself in the aftermath of the Hutus' brutal massacre of Tutsis through the country.  Fearing for their own lives, she and her co-workers race through village after village, witnessing the horrors of what is later characterized as a genocide, not understanding and not able to help anyone.  A brief few days later, Anne is whisked to safety by the U.S. Embassy, returning home to her family in California to process the trauma and the guilt of surviving such horror. 

Jean-Pierre comes later, but he is deeply changed.  He has lost many family members and is despondent, grieving, and unfocused.  Anne, too, is deeply changed.  Struggling to settle back into ordinary life near her family and with the comforts and safety that the American suburbs provide, she nonetheless cannot fathom returning to Burundi and wants him to stay with her in California.  But Jean-Pierre feels more responsible and committed to his country than ever before.  As they work to resolve this question of geography, Anne learns that Jean-Pierre has many secrets ... about his work, his past, and most importantly, his ideological beliefs about his country and the great divide between the Burundian people.  The True Sources of the Nile is about our human inability to truly escape where we come from and our equally human tendencies to seek the safety and comfort of home, no matter how good or less good we may assess home to be in other moment of our lives.