89 pages • 2 hours read
Clemantine Wamariya, Elizabeth WeilA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
In 2006, 18-year-old Wamariya and her older sister Claire prepare to appear on The Oprah Winfrey Show with Holocaust survivor, writer, and activist Elie Wiesel. Wamariya, a junior in high school, is one of 50 winners of an essay contest. A Rwandan refugee, Wamariya lives with her foster family, the Thomases, during the week. On weekends, she lives in Claire’s public housing apartment with Claire and her three children.
In the studio, Wamariya and Claire are stunned when Oprah announces that their parents, whom they haven’t seen since leaving Rwanda in 1994, are there. With them are Claire and Wamariya’s younger sister and a sister and brother they have never met. Their older brother Pudi has died. Later, Wamariya thinks how her “joy and pain” are “consumed by the masses” (7).
A limousine takes the family back to Claire’s apartment, where they awkwardly attempt to reacquaint themselves. Though Wamariya has frequently imagined reuniting with her family, they struggle to connect. Wamariya feels that the “gap” between her and her younger siblings, who “replaced” her and Claire, is “a billion miles wide” (7).
For the next couple of days, her family and the Thomases visit tourist attractions in Chicago. The awkwardness remains. On Monday her family returns to Rwanda.
The narrative begins in 1994, when Wamariya is a six-year-old girl in Kigali, Rwanda. Claire, nine years older, is business-minded from an early age. Wamariya enjoys climbing a mango tree in their front yard with her brother Pudi. Her mother is an accomplished gardener.
Wamariya’s mother dresses modestly under the “Catholic-Rwandan-postcolonial ethos” that “[y]ou want to stay as invisible as possible” (12). She discourages Wamariya’s curiosity, for girls “were supposed to be reserved, contained, nearly opaque” (13).
One day Wamariya’s mother’s friend dies, or “respond[s] to God” (13). Wamariya wonders whether people can “say no thank you” (14) and remain on Earth. She enjoys listening to the stories told to her by her nanny, Mukamana. Mukamana often lets Wamariya guess what happens next, tailoring the story to accommodate her suggestions.
Wamariya enjoys walking home from kindergarten with Mukamana. However, one day Mukamana disappears. Wamariya’s mother fires the new nanny, Pascazia, for leading Wamariya past a group of people stoning someone. Wamariya does not return to kindergarten.
Wamariya notices restrictions on her behavior. She is no longer allowed to play in the mango tree, her mother always has the curtains drawn, and they lose access to water. Her father does not work late anymore. When Wamariya hears explosions, her brother Pudi convinces her it is thunder.
Wamariya’s mother sends them Wamariya and Claire to their grandmother’s house in Butare, three hours away. One day, after a knock on the door, Wamariya’s grandmother tells them to escape through the sunflower fields. The girls walk through the hills in silence and terror. Occasionally, they hear “laughing and screaming and pleading and crying” (25).
To avoid people, Claire leads Wamariya through the woods. They see bodies floating in the river, and Wamariya thinks they are sleeping. They begin hiding during the day and walking at night. After staying a few days with poor farmers, they join a group of refugees who camp in a field. Wamariya feels that she no longer has a home. All around her, people cry for their family members. One night Wamariya wanders off and loses Claire until morning; at Claire’s scolding, she promises not to wander off again.
Six years later, in 2000, Wamariya, age 12, and Claire, 21, arrive in Chicago along with Claire’s two children and Rob, her husband, a former CARE worker. Wamariya feels as if time is refusing “to move in an orderly fashion” and that events in her life are “fragments, floating” (33). To “make sense” of time, she “document[s]” (33) herself by collecting little items from her past.
In the airport the Becker family greets them with gifts and brings them to the pastor’s house. The pastor and his wife lay out a large display of food for them. Though “[e]veryone was so nice” (36), Wamariya is “so bruised and so mistrustful” (36) that she cannot relax. She is uncomfortable when the pastor and his wife hug them: she does not show affection with her family even though she loves them because “[t]aking care of loved ones” (36) is based “on the fear of losing them” (36).
For three months they live with the Beasley family in a Chicago suburb. Wamariya cannot relate to the Beasleys’ teenaged daughter Sarah or the Beckers’ 11-year-old daughter Julia. The girls laugh “at everything” (37) and do not do chores. They attempt to throw Wamariya a party, but Wamariya is “so contemptuous, so defended, so easy to give to and difficult to please” (37). Claire and Wamariya find it hard “to enjoy this plush new world” (37). One night, at the pastor’s house, Wamariya looks in the refrigerator and feels uncomfortable knowing that there are so many people in Zambia who are starving while she is staring at “such excess” (38).
Wamariya understands that she has to “fit in” (38) but cannot stop worrying. She finds “[t]he kindness and gift-giving” to be “overwhelming” (39). She and Claire do not discuss the past.
The narrative returns to 1994, when Claire and Wamariya are still in a refugee camp in Burundi. They are taken to the Ngozi refugee camp, where they are given water jugs, blankets, and a tent. Wamariya is struck by how she is merely one of many.
In the refugee camp, “[s]taying alive [is] so much work” (43). Refugees must wait in long lines for their ration of food and start fires with no matches. There is no toilet paper, for “human dignity is expendable” (44). Wamariya strives to “try not to become invisible” in a place where “nobody cared about your name” (43). She writes her name in the dust and tells people her name at every opportunity. However, because she feels empty, her name becomes empty too. Wamariya feels that her identity is “lost” (43).
Wamariya is plagued by lice, which she picks out of her hair and clothes. Bugs also burrow into her feet. She misses her mother most when she tries to bathe; Claire will not help her.
The maize they are given is nearly inedible. Wamariya is assigned the task of cooking it, which takes hours. She cries constantly. Once a month, children are given half a vitamin and a biscuit. After a time, Wamariya begins to realize that she will not see her parents again.
Wamariya develops a “do-not-fuck-with-me stare” (47), which she uses to prevent women from cutting her in the line for water. She is enraged by the younger children in the camp, who walk around naked; she blames their parents for not taking care of them and angers parents by openly chastising them.
Wamariya struggles to retain her identity. She sings herself a song her mother taught her about seeking God’s comfort when she is sad.
In 2001 Wamariya and Claire live in a one-bedroom apartment in Chicago, and Wamariya starts sixth grade. People from church continue to offer the sisters donations. Wamariya tries to feel “grateful” but is often “overwhelmed and miserable” (53). To survive, she “become[s] some else” (53), just as she did when she was a refugee.
Mrs. Becker arranges for Wamariya to live with Mrs. Thomas, Wamariya’s “American mother” (54), so she can attend Christian Heritage Academy. Wamariya loves her comfortable bedroom because it is a place where “[e]verything [is] under [her] control” (56). She is careful to keep her room clean and to eat the foods she is given, even when she doesn’t like them. She uses her “refugee skills” to perform her “role as a student” (56).
On the first day of school, Sarah Beasley, the pastor’s daughter, introduces Wamariya as “Tina” so her name will be easier to pronounce. Wamariya participates in track and dance. Mrs. Thomas picks her up in the same spot because she knows Wamariya is afraid “of being lost or left behind” (56). During the weekends, Wamariya lives with Claire.
On September 11, 2001, Wamariya wonders why people are so serious when “[t]his happens to people everywhere” (57). She feels “jaded and scornful” (57) and begins to have nightmares. She collects obituaries of victims who are “lucky enough to be memorialized and mourned” (58).
Wamariya is “contemptuous and cold” (58) when people help her. Wilma Kline, Mrs. Thomas’s friend, takes her shopping in a department store in an attempt to help her “find comfort” in a body it has “been a never-ending battle” (59) to take care of. Wamariya realizes in retrospect that Mrs. Kline wanted to help her develop “confidence and positivity” (60).
In Rwanda, a woman’s value is tied to her ability to bring her family fortune through marriage. However, a woman’s value can be easily stolen by konona, or rape. Wamariya grew up believing that “[t]he damage is permanent” (61) and still struggles “to erase that language of ruin” (61).
Wamariya joins the cheerleading squad because she wants to develop the “useful skill” (64) of being happy. She stops attending sleepovers because, while “perform[ing] the ritual of casual friendship” (64) is easy, the girls “were not my peers” (64). She knows people often are nice to you before “they want to kill you” (64).
Much of Wamariya’s narrative alternates between flashbacks of her life as a refugee and scenes of her adjusting to her new life in America. This suggests that the past and present are intertwined, and that her past heavily influences who she is today. Throughout her memoir, Wamariya describes how “[t]ime […] refused to move in an orderly fashion” (33) and how her “life does not feel logical, sequential, or inevitable” (33). The alternating narrative illustrates this confusion of time. Much of Wamariya’s memoir explores desire to learn how to “string all the beads in the right order” (34).
Wamariya establishes a contrast between the happy childhood she enjoyed in Kigali and the suffering she was soon to endure. Her being “spoiled” (14) as a child contrasts with the destitution she faces as a refugee. In Kigali, she does not yet understand death, believing one can simply “say no thank you” (14) to God when called; as a refugee, however, she understands death all too well. Readers may sense that her noting that her father’s slapping her once after she is too loud is “the most cruelty [she’d] ever seen” (17) foreshadows the extreme cruelty she will witness during the genocide. These descriptions of her typical childhood also make her relatable to readers. Her fear of her mother’s discipline, her enjoyment of kindergarten, and her love of Mukamana’s stories help create an image of her as a child like any other, suggesting the horrors she has witnessed can happen anywhere and reminding readers of refugees’ humanity.
Like many children, Wamariya loved the unlimited possibilities presented in stories. Readers should take note of her appreciation for Mukamana’s asking her, “What do you think happened next”? (15). Throughout her narrative, Wamariya frequently references her struggle to create the plot of her own life and to make sense of her own story.
In contrast to her happy childhood, in the Ngozi refugee camp in Burundi, “[s]taying alive was so much work” (43). The refugees are plagued by lice. Wamariya waits in long lines for nearly inedible food and is forced to use a latrine located near a ditch where bodies are buried. There is no toilet paper, for “human dignity was expendable” (44). Living outside, reduced to the most basic needs, refugees’ “lives [are] structured for defeat” (45).
The physical degradation leads to a feeling of dehumanization and lack of identity. Wamariya writes that being “occupied” by lice makes her feel that she is “worthless except as food” (50). A refugee must “try to hang on to [their] name” and not “become invisible” (43) among so many others, who are known only by their unit number. To force her “identity” to “fall back into place” (43), Wamariya writes her name in the dust and repeats it frequently to strangers, but she soon finds that one’s name is merely “a cover, a placeholder” (43) and that identity becomes “lost” when one’s humanity is overtaken by nature, pain, and needs. To be a refugee is to be “unwanted” and “rejected by everyone” (29), and Wamariya desperately attempts “to remember who I was before” (49)—to retain her humanity.
The indignities and dehumanization she suffers as a refugee lead to her struggle to define her identity even after she moves to America. Unable to relate her carefree peers, she merely “performs” the role expected of her, that of “an American teenager” (53). Though she feels isolated, she understands that people will “pour more resources” into her (56) if she “become[s] someone else” (53). Her mimicking an identity helps her survive but makes her feel more lost than ever—a feeling exacerbated by the erasure of her own identity, such as when Sarah Beasley introduces her as “Tina” so American students can pronounce her name. In an attempt to recapture and rebuild her identity, Wamariya “documents” by collecting objects from her life but struggles to make sense of what she has been through. Her understanding of the importance of identity is also illustrated in her collecting obituaries of 9/11 victims who are “lucky enough to be memorialized and mourned” (58).
Loss of identity is not the only struggle she brings with her to America. Being “stripped, repeatedly, down to the skin” (32) makes Wamariya “callous and cynical” (35), and wary of kindness. Wamariya finds the constant gift-giving overwhelming; she has learned that people are nice to you until “they want to kill you” (64). Though they have left the genocide behind, their experiences prevent them from being able to “relax” or “enjoy this plush new world” (37).
These early chapters introduce the theme of the subversion of women. Wamariya describes how her mother dressed “modestly, always, as if to say, I’m here but not here. Don’t look at me” (12). Her mother also chastises her for being curious, for girls “were supposed to be reserved, contained, nearly opaque” (13). Girls’ periods are shrouded in “taboo and fear” (60), and women’s value is dependent solely on their ability to marry and financially benefit their families. Their value can be “stolen” (60) at any time by rape. Wamariya acknowledges that her upbringing is exactly why she needed Mrs. Kline to help her gain “confidence and positivity” (60).