This book is subtitled - "nine lives in the world's largest refugee camp" - which clearly describes both the number of people the author followed for a period of several years; and the "nine lives" everyone in the camp seems to need to survive.
Rawlence, a researcher for Human Rights Watch in the Horn of Africa, made multiple visits over a span of years to Dadaab refugee camp in the northern Kenyan desert. He must have spent countless hours interviewing and observing residents to put together this detailed and fascinating account of life in the camp.
Most of the residents of Dadaab are Somalis who have been fleeing both drought (and the attendant famine) and civil war since the early 90s. However, there are also Sudanese, Ethiopians and those from a handful of other African countries who have escaped hardship there. The camp was supposed to be a temporary solution but has grown into one of the largest "cities" in Kenya - those who leave to return home or for better lives in Nairobi, Europe, Australia or North America cannot make up for the birth rate or the constant influx of new refugees.
It is illuminating to see the ingenuity of the residents who have no official status in Kenya yet have developed a sophisticated black market economy, have been educated by the Kenyans and the UN in some cases and, against impossible odds, many remain hopeful. Of course many do not and return to danger at home or in Nairobi or turn to suicide.
The book also manages to educate on the state of the Kenyan government - and the level of corruption involved in it as well as its tense relationship with Somalia even before al-Shabaab terrorists became an issue.
This is not an easy read but it is well written and the author manages to personalize the story through following several residents which makes it easier to digest a complicated tale of war, history and politics.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Saturday, May 14, 2016
My Name is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Strout
This book was just plain weird. It was about a writer and one of the lessons she had been taught by a fictional writer/teacher is that "you only have one story". Maybe Strout's one story was the Pulitzer Prize winning Olive Kitteridge, because there sure wasn't much story in this one.
The basic premise is the narrator reflecting on several weeks she spent in the hospital as a young mother, when her mother, with whom she had very little contact as an adult, comes to spend 5 days at her bedside. Their interactions are awkward with the unspoken reminisces of a poverty stricken and abuse filled childhood. But we never really hear the extent of the abuse, or even whether it was just at the hands of her father or the mother was also involved. We also hear a little about her adult siblings, including a brother who still lives at home and is likely gay but was shamed for it as a child so has not come out.
We also learn a little of the narrator's troubled marriage (which ends a few years after the hospital stay) and the strain her separation places on her relationship with her daughters.
I guess we are meant to learn about the nature of troubled human relationships and how the shape adulthood, but mostly I was bored and kept reading on to see if eventually anything would happen. It didn't.
The basic premise is the narrator reflecting on several weeks she spent in the hospital as a young mother, when her mother, with whom she had very little contact as an adult, comes to spend 5 days at her bedside. Their interactions are awkward with the unspoken reminisces of a poverty stricken and abuse filled childhood. But we never really hear the extent of the abuse, or even whether it was just at the hands of her father or the mother was also involved. We also hear a little about her adult siblings, including a brother who still lives at home and is likely gay but was shamed for it as a child so has not come out.
We also learn a little of the narrator's troubled marriage (which ends a few years after the hospital stay) and the strain her separation places on her relationship with her daughters.
I guess we are meant to learn about the nature of troubled human relationships and how the shape adulthood, but mostly I was bored and kept reading on to see if eventually anything would happen. It didn't.
Monday, May 2, 2016
When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
This is the second autobiography that I've read in a row and this one was completely different in some ways - here terminal illness was the enemy rather than an autocratic state. Yet, it was similar in that it showed the absolute strength of the human spirit when it is most severely challenged.
Paul Kalanithi, who succumbed to lung cancer in 2015, was a brilliant neurosurgeon/neuroscientist who was just about to complete his specialty when he was struck by the cancer. Prior to medical school he had studied English literature and the history and philosophy of science and medicine so had also dreamed of eventually writing a book. He was originally moved to study the brain in order to understand how something as complex and language and communication could be physically explained. With his patients he was always fascinated by the process of dying and how the patient and the families came to terms with it.
So, when faced with his own mortality he set out to write a book that would document his dying process and serve as a guide for others facing the same circumstances (which he recognized is everyone at some point - they just don't always know when). Personally, not being that philosophical, I found myself skimming some of the more esoteric sections, but I was fascinated by Kalanithi's personal story. I also enjoyed how he wove in applicable passages from literature. The epilogue by Kalanithi's wife, which outlines his last few days and his literal deathbed request that his family see his book through to publication, was also extremely moving.
At times depressing, at other times hopeful, this was a very interesting read by someone with a perspective that we don't often get to share. This is not an easy read and I don't recommend it for mere entertainment, but it does contain some insights that are helpful, if not pleasant, to share.
Paul Kalanithi, who succumbed to lung cancer in 2015, was a brilliant neurosurgeon/neuroscientist who was just about to complete his specialty when he was struck by the cancer. Prior to medical school he had studied English literature and the history and philosophy of science and medicine so had also dreamed of eventually writing a book. He was originally moved to study the brain in order to understand how something as complex and language and communication could be physically explained. With his patients he was always fascinated by the process of dying and how the patient and the families came to terms with it.
So, when faced with his own mortality he set out to write a book that would document his dying process and serve as a guide for others facing the same circumstances (which he recognized is everyone at some point - they just don't always know when). Personally, not being that philosophical, I found myself skimming some of the more esoteric sections, but I was fascinated by Kalanithi's personal story. I also enjoyed how he wove in applicable passages from literature. The epilogue by Kalanithi's wife, which outlines his last few days and his literal deathbed request that his family see his book through to publication, was also extremely moving.
At times depressing, at other times hopeful, this was a very interesting read by someone with a perspective that we don't often get to share. This is not an easy read and I don't recommend it for mere entertainment, but it does contain some insights that are helpful, if not pleasant, to share.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Until We are Free - My Fight for Human Rights in Iran by Shirin Ebadi
Shirin Ebadi is a human rights activist from Iran - and the first Muslim female to win the Nobel Peace Prize. This book is the story of her life of fighting for the rights of women, political activists, Bahai and other oppressed minorities in Iran.
Prior to the Iranian revolution, Ebadi was a judge. When the Shah was overthrown the new Islamic regime stripped all women of their judgeships, feeling women were too emotional to make legal decisions. Ebadi didn't let this deter her - she took up the cause of human rights law, working through the courts and political channels to try to uphold the rights of the oppressed. She went about it in a very intelligent and systematic way, even using Islam to her advantage in arguing her cases. Because she would never back down, she became a regular target of the Islamic regime - they tried everything to intimidate her. Her situation worsened with the "election" of Ahmadinejad - she was stopped from appearing in court, holding events, speaking her mind and even spent some time in Evin prison. However, the government stopped short of killing her or permanently imprisoning her - likely because it feared the international backlash of treating a Nobel prize winner in this way.
On the eve of Ahmadinejad's second term, Ebadi was traveling outside the country (she would not be intimidated into abandoning speaking on the world stage - even when her daughter was used as a pawn). She has not been able to return to Iran due to threats against her and she continues her work from the UK and the US (she has one daughter living in each country). After she left the country and continued to speak out against the regime, the government used her husband to try to silence her, eventually wearing him down and breaking up what was a very solid marriage. She does hold out some hope of improvement under Rouhani, but it sounds like there is still a long way to go.
The book is well written, easy to read and highly educational. While I was aware of the oppressive regime in Iran, it was still eye opening to hear it from the perspective of someone who has lived through it. Some of the stories she tells are unimaginable. I recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in international human rights.
Prior to the Iranian revolution, Ebadi was a judge. When the Shah was overthrown the new Islamic regime stripped all women of their judgeships, feeling women were too emotional to make legal decisions. Ebadi didn't let this deter her - she took up the cause of human rights law, working through the courts and political channels to try to uphold the rights of the oppressed. She went about it in a very intelligent and systematic way, even using Islam to her advantage in arguing her cases. Because she would never back down, she became a regular target of the Islamic regime - they tried everything to intimidate her. Her situation worsened with the "election" of Ahmadinejad - she was stopped from appearing in court, holding events, speaking her mind and even spent some time in Evin prison. However, the government stopped short of killing her or permanently imprisoning her - likely because it feared the international backlash of treating a Nobel prize winner in this way.
On the eve of Ahmadinejad's second term, Ebadi was traveling outside the country (she would not be intimidated into abandoning speaking on the world stage - even when her daughter was used as a pawn). She has not been able to return to Iran due to threats against her and she continues her work from the UK and the US (she has one daughter living in each country). After she left the country and continued to speak out against the regime, the government used her husband to try to silence her, eventually wearing him down and breaking up what was a very solid marriage. She does hold out some hope of improvement under Rouhani, but it sounds like there is still a long way to go.
The book is well written, easy to read and highly educational. While I was aware of the oppressive regime in Iran, it was still eye opening to hear it from the perspective of someone who has lived through it. Some of the stories she tells are unimaginable. I recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in international human rights.
Friday, April 1, 2016
The Age of Reinvention by Karine Tuil
I have very mixed feelings about this book. I found the story itself really interesting. Sam Tahar is a very successful New York litigator who seems to have it all - great job, rich wife with connections into all aspects of society, plenty of affairs... The only problem is it is all based on a lie. Sam is really Samir Tahar - raised a poor Muslim in a Paris slum. He works hard and does well in law school but when he is unable to get a job, he changes the name on his resume to Sam and is immediately hired by a Jewish lawyer in Paris who assumes he is also Jewish.
Sam lets the assumption continue and, when he is asked to move to New York and open an office there, he carries it further. He adopts the past of a law school friend, Samuel Baron, who really is Jewish and manages to marry into one of New York's elite Jewish families.
The only thing Samir was unable to take from Samuel was the woman he most wanted, Nina. Samir and Nina have a brief affair during law school (while Samuel is off burying his parents which tells you a lot about Samir's empathy). When Samuel returns he is devastated and attempts suicide so Nina chooses him over Samir. At the start of the book they are barely getting by. Everything changes when they read about Samir and realize what he has done. They decide to contact him - Samuel wants to test Nina's resolve. This ends up having disastrous consequences for all three. But, surprisingly, though Samir lets his guard down in order to be with Nina, she is not the ultimate cause of his downfall - but I don't want to give the book away so I will not describe the events that lead to his life unravelling (and Samuel's simultaneous rise in fortunes).
What I didn't like about the book was the writing style. I found it very pompous - one of my pet peeves is footnotes in fiction and these were used liberally. There were also many passages where alternate thoughts were expressed with back slashes. I just found it annoying - like the author was attempting to show off her wide vocabulary. I will give credit to the translator - if the author's annoying pomposity could come through in translation, I think the translator must be top notch. I don't remember, but I must have heard about this book in the New York Times as it is exactly the kind of writing style the Times always praises; like the book editors must show how smart they are by relating to this "high brow" writing.
In the end I don't strongly recommend this book. I made it through because I wanted to see how Tahar's life unravelled but I wouldn't say I truly enjoyed the read.
Sam lets the assumption continue and, when he is asked to move to New York and open an office there, he carries it further. He adopts the past of a law school friend, Samuel Baron, who really is Jewish and manages to marry into one of New York's elite Jewish families.
The only thing Samir was unable to take from Samuel was the woman he most wanted, Nina. Samir and Nina have a brief affair during law school (while Samuel is off burying his parents which tells you a lot about Samir's empathy). When Samuel returns he is devastated and attempts suicide so Nina chooses him over Samir. At the start of the book they are barely getting by. Everything changes when they read about Samir and realize what he has done. They decide to contact him - Samuel wants to test Nina's resolve. This ends up having disastrous consequences for all three. But, surprisingly, though Samir lets his guard down in order to be with Nina, she is not the ultimate cause of his downfall - but I don't want to give the book away so I will not describe the events that lead to his life unravelling (and Samuel's simultaneous rise in fortunes).
What I didn't like about the book was the writing style. I found it very pompous - one of my pet peeves is footnotes in fiction and these were used liberally. There were also many passages where alternate thoughts were expressed with back slashes. I just found it annoying - like the author was attempting to show off her wide vocabulary. I will give credit to the translator - if the author's annoying pomposity could come through in translation, I think the translator must be top notch. I don't remember, but I must have heard about this book in the New York Times as it is exactly the kind of writing style the Times always praises; like the book editors must show how smart they are by relating to this "high brow" writing.
In the end I don't strongly recommend this book. I made it through because I wanted to see how Tahar's life unravelled but I wouldn't say I truly enjoyed the read.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
The Reason You Walk by Wab Kinew
This was a difficult but important book to read - I think every Canadian should read it to gain greater understanding of our Aboriginal population. Kinew is the son of a residential school survivor. His book is really the story of his father, the survivor. While it covers the period of his father's childhood, adulthood and beyond, the focus is on the relationship the men develop in the year leading up to his father's death from cancer.
Kinew's father, Tobasonakwut or Ndede (Ojibwe for my father), was plucked from his parent's home at the age of five. He was forced into a residential school where he was emotionally, physically and sexually abused by both nuns and priests. The leaders of the school took seriously their goal of beating the Indian out of these children. Ndede told horrific stories of a friend who was beaten to death while the priests looked on, or being beaten for not kneeling at his father's grave (the Ojibwe tradition is to stand rather than kneel). Miraculously, after a bout with drinking and fighting, Ndede stayed away from alcohol and focused on his education. He also had three children from a first failed relationship. Unfortunately his anger and inability to show love continued - and one of these children committed suicide. A second was killed young in a car accident.
While in Toronto, Ndede met the woman who would become Kinew's mother, an upper middle class white woman whose open minded family accepted him better than most might have. She moved to a reserve and then Winnipeg with him and together they had two children, Kinew and his sister, Shawon. He did stray one more time and had another daughter, but remained married to Kinew's mother until his death.
Kinew himself struggled with alcoholism and fighting in his twenties but pulled himself together for his sons - and became a very successful journalist. But his honest account of his family life showed how the residential schools have a lasting effect on generations of families. Children taken from their homes do not have role models for parenting, and are angry and have been abused. They thus have difficulties showing love and raising their own children - who then, sadly, can carry that experience to the next generation.
Kinew describes incredible native traditions (especially the sundance) which he shares in with his father and other family members. He also captures the paradox of his father's continuing interest in the Catholic traditions - there are amazing scenes of his father giving the Pope two Eagle feathers - which the Pope accepted and Ndede took as a sign of reconciliation; and a ceremony where he adopts the Archbishop of Winnipeg as his brother. Though the most poignant scene was his forgiveness of the Archbishop on his death bed.
One of my favourite stories was a legacy Kinew has left for all Canadians - when he was a young journalist at CBC Winnipeg, the ethics committee sent a memo saying residential school survivors should not be called survivors as they did not fit the definition. Instead they should be called "former students". Kinew sent a memo reasoning with the ethics committee - saying in fact they did fit the definition and, moreover, it would do a disservice to merely call them students which in future generations would convey the wrong message. He was initially rejected and threatened to quit his position over it, but ultimately with the support of more senior reporters successfully changed the CBC's official position on the use of the word survivor.
While occasionally the writing style was hard to follow - I sometimes forgot who various players were and there were a lot of Ojibwe expressions which are explained but are difficult words to parse for non-Ojibwe speakers - this did not detract from the readability of the book and, as I said above, I think this is a really important book to read too.
Kinew's father, Tobasonakwut or Ndede (Ojibwe for my father), was plucked from his parent's home at the age of five. He was forced into a residential school where he was emotionally, physically and sexually abused by both nuns and priests. The leaders of the school took seriously their goal of beating the Indian out of these children. Ndede told horrific stories of a friend who was beaten to death while the priests looked on, or being beaten for not kneeling at his father's grave (the Ojibwe tradition is to stand rather than kneel). Miraculously, after a bout with drinking and fighting, Ndede stayed away from alcohol and focused on his education. He also had three children from a first failed relationship. Unfortunately his anger and inability to show love continued - and one of these children committed suicide. A second was killed young in a car accident.
While in Toronto, Ndede met the woman who would become Kinew's mother, an upper middle class white woman whose open minded family accepted him better than most might have. She moved to a reserve and then Winnipeg with him and together they had two children, Kinew and his sister, Shawon. He did stray one more time and had another daughter, but remained married to Kinew's mother until his death.
Kinew himself struggled with alcoholism and fighting in his twenties but pulled himself together for his sons - and became a very successful journalist. But his honest account of his family life showed how the residential schools have a lasting effect on generations of families. Children taken from their homes do not have role models for parenting, and are angry and have been abused. They thus have difficulties showing love and raising their own children - who then, sadly, can carry that experience to the next generation.
Kinew describes incredible native traditions (especially the sundance) which he shares in with his father and other family members. He also captures the paradox of his father's continuing interest in the Catholic traditions - there are amazing scenes of his father giving the Pope two Eagle feathers - which the Pope accepted and Ndede took as a sign of reconciliation; and a ceremony where he adopts the Archbishop of Winnipeg as his brother. Though the most poignant scene was his forgiveness of the Archbishop on his death bed.
One of my favourite stories was a legacy Kinew has left for all Canadians - when he was a young journalist at CBC Winnipeg, the ethics committee sent a memo saying residential school survivors should not be called survivors as they did not fit the definition. Instead they should be called "former students". Kinew sent a memo reasoning with the ethics committee - saying in fact they did fit the definition and, moreover, it would do a disservice to merely call them students which in future generations would convey the wrong message. He was initially rejected and threatened to quit his position over it, but ultimately with the support of more senior reporters successfully changed the CBC's official position on the use of the word survivor.
While occasionally the writing style was hard to follow - I sometimes forgot who various players were and there were a lot of Ojibwe expressions which are explained but are difficult words to parse for non-Ojibwe speakers - this did not detract from the readability of the book and, as I said above, I think this is a really important book to read too.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Niko by Dimitri Nasrallah
Though I had ordered this book from the library some time ago, I almost didn't read it since I have read so many refugee stories lately and I wasn't sure I felt like another one. But I'm glad I decided to go through with it. The story was written in a very different style than the others. Firstly, it was written from several points of view - Niko, his father, his aunt and uncle... Moreover, when the book begins Niko is only about 6 years old so we see the action (particularly the Lebanese civil war and the death of his mother) from the perspective of a child.
After Niko's mother is killed by a car bomb and his father's store is also destroyed, Niko and his father flee Lebanon. Unfortunately they don't have a very well developed plan and literally drift from Cyprus, to a Greek island to Athens. When his money begins to run out and the father is unable to renew his passport (it is never totally clear whether this is because of the turmoil in Lebanon or because he is a Palestinian refugee rather than a Lebanese citizen), he sends Niko to Montreal to live with an aunt and uncle who he has never met. The aunt is his mother's estranged sister, married to a much older man who was her father's employer.
The narrative continues for the next decade or so as Niko is unable to fit in with his new family and peers in Canada as he holds back a bit in the hopes this is temporary and he will be reunited with his family. We also see his father struggle to make something of himself before he can get to Niko - he works odd jobs on ships from Marseilles and Libya and eventually ends up in Chile. But fate intervenes and he is unable to connect with his son for years.
I think this was so interesting as it shows the lengths a father will go to in order to improve his son's life, but how his efforts are at least part in vain because his son feels abandoned by the one person he has come to count on. It also shows yet again how hard it is to establish oneself in a new country when the comfortable life you used to know is shattered by war.
After Niko's mother is killed by a car bomb and his father's store is also destroyed, Niko and his father flee Lebanon. Unfortunately they don't have a very well developed plan and literally drift from Cyprus, to a Greek island to Athens. When his money begins to run out and the father is unable to renew his passport (it is never totally clear whether this is because of the turmoil in Lebanon or because he is a Palestinian refugee rather than a Lebanese citizen), he sends Niko to Montreal to live with an aunt and uncle who he has never met. The aunt is his mother's estranged sister, married to a much older man who was her father's employer.
The narrative continues for the next decade or so as Niko is unable to fit in with his new family and peers in Canada as he holds back a bit in the hopes this is temporary and he will be reunited with his family. We also see his father struggle to make something of himself before he can get to Niko - he works odd jobs on ships from Marseilles and Libya and eventually ends up in Chile. But fate intervenes and he is unable to connect with his son for years.
I think this was so interesting as it shows the lengths a father will go to in order to improve his son's life, but how his efforts are at least part in vain because his son feels abandoned by the one person he has come to count on. It also shows yet again how hard it is to establish oneself in a new country when the comfortable life you used to know is shattered by war.
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