I haven't finished reading Little Bee yet, but I'm wondering if some message in that book has slipped into my sub-conscious. I just read a story on Yahoo! that 43 people - mostly ice hockey players/coaches died in a plane crash in Russia. At first I gasped - because for some reason my mind filled in "Americans" into the headline. Then I realized they were mostly Russians, and I SIGHED. But why? I am no more impacted by the deaths of Americans I don't know as I am by the deaths of Russians I don't know... yet somehow, that distinction mattered. In acknowledging this, I felt guilty. So, I did something I typically don't do when I learn that someone has died -- I humanized them. I thought about the hard winter and (perceived) joyless life in Russia and how happy they must have been to find a sport they could excel at and see the world through, and I wondered how many of them had Olympic dreams... Then I cried.
Somehow I feel Little Bee is responsible for my new global awareness.
Our own tragedy here in America just had its 10-year anniversary. This week is the first time I was really emotional about that day in 10 years. Ten years ago, I was angry, scared and devastated like everyone else. As the years passed, I let go of those feelings and replaced it with security (perhaps false) of being an American again.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if it was that this week marks a huge anniversary or the influence of Little Bee and the horrors she and her people suffered that made these feelings rush back to me. As Americans, maybe we can relate - at least for one day.
As Americans, maybe we can relate to Little Bee and her Nigeria - at least for one day.