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juliescalzo's review against another edition
5.0
“When you don't belong to a country, the world decides that you don't deserve a thing.”
I stumbled upon this book when my library put together a list of Black Voices for Black History Month. And- my goodness- I am glad that I did. This was a beautiful, poignant, eye-opening read. It’s the memoir of the author, Clemantine’s, life as a refugee. She had to flee Rwanda with her sister at age six due to the genocide that occurred there. She spent six years bouncing from country to country- refugee camp to family to a slum- until she was able to come to the United States in middle school. But even then, Clemantine struggled with her identity- who she was vs who she felt society expected her to be, how to deal with the immense pain and trauma she carried, and then how to deal with the re-appearance of her parents. Clemantine’s ability to even talk about what she’s been through, yet alone write beautifully and honestly, is truly amazing.
My favorite part of this book were the connections Clemantine made to the book Night by Elie Wiesel. Clemantine read the book as a teenager and connected with Elie’s experience. She also met Elie on multiple occasions- the first one being on Oprah Winfrey’s show. I just finished reading Night with my students, and one of the things my students asked is about Elie & how he was able to cope after the fact. And this book is largely about how Clemantine deals with her past trauma. She also makes lots of specific connections to Wiesel’s text. This would serve as an excellent companion memoir to it.
I stumbled upon this book when my library put together a list of Black Voices for Black History Month. And- my goodness- I am glad that I did. This was a beautiful, poignant, eye-opening read. It’s the memoir of the author, Clemantine’s, life as a refugee. She had to flee Rwanda with her sister at age six due to the genocide that occurred there. She spent six years bouncing from country to country- refugee camp to family to a slum- until she was able to come to the United States in middle school. But even then, Clemantine struggled with her identity- who she was vs who she felt society expected her to be, how to deal with the immense pain and trauma she carried, and then how to deal with the re-appearance of her parents. Clemantine’s ability to even talk about what she’s been through, yet alone write beautifully and honestly, is truly amazing.
My favorite part of this book were the connections Clemantine made to the book Night by Elie Wiesel. Clemantine read the book as a teenager and connected with Elie’s experience. She also met Elie on multiple occasions- the first one being on Oprah Winfrey’s show. I just finished reading Night with my students, and one of the things my students asked is about Elie & how he was able to cope after the fact. And this book is largely about how Clemantine deals with her past trauma. She also makes lots of specific connections to Wiesel’s text. This would serve as an excellent companion memoir to it.
samanthaardenlockheart's review against another edition
5.0
This book was an extraordinary retelling of Clemantine Wamirya's life as she went through the worst thing a person could go through—a genocide. And she was only 6 years old when the Rwandan Genocide, to be more specific, began. I am very moved by her story and look up to her as an inspiration. Clemantine reminds me that I am more than my pain, sadness, and feelings of worthlessness, just as she had to remind herself of that. I commend her. She is so incredible.
kisaly's review against another edition
5.0
Powerful, well written, and nicely paced. I like that the story switched back and forth between the past and present, as it showed how memory and experience shape our day-to-day lives. Recommended.
laurenkd89's review against another edition
4.0
“I’ve seen enough to know that you can be a human with a mountain of resources and you can be a human with nothing, and you can be a monster either way. Everywhere, and especially at both extremes, you can find monsters. It’s at the extremes that people are most scared—scared of deprivation, one one end; and scared of their privilege, on the other. With privilege comes a nearly avoidable egoism and so much shame, and often the coping mechanism is to give. This is great and necessary, but giving, as a framework, creates problems. You give, I take; you take, I give—both scenarios establish hierarchy. Both instill entitlement. The only road to equality—a sense of common humanity; peace—is sharing, my mother’s orange. When we share, you are not using your privilege to get me to line up behind you. When we share, you are not insisting on being my savior. Claire and I always looked for the sharers, the people who just said, ‘I have sugar, I have water. Let’s share water. Let’s not make charity about it.’”
The Girl Who Smiled Beads is a beautifully written book about displacement, survival, and charity. I choose these three words carefully; each has a distinct place in Wamariya’s story. Clemantine Wamariya and her older sister Claire, were displaced form their middle-class home in Kigali, Rwanda at the start of the Rwandan Civil War (what many call the Rwandan Genocide, although after reading this book I understand Clemantine’s extreme aversion to this word). Together they traverse seven African countries, living various levels of survival, at refugee camps filled with lice, disease, death, and no food - sometimes finding a temporary home in Zaire where they had aunties and ate beautiful dishes. But they were always transitory, even when they both came to the US and Clemantine started schools, living with various charitable, rich white families.
Throughout most of the book, Clemantine is not a likable character. She doesn’t make herself one; she wasn’t one. Only six when she had to leave her happy, idyllic childhood, she is not made for the stark conditions of survival and constant fear - she despises it. It instills a deep-seated anger in her, an inability to trust or love anyone, even her sole protector, her sister Claire. She learns to grow suspicious of charity, she hustles and changes in her young life, her formative years spent with no real home, no sense of stability. When she comes to the U.S., she is treated like an object to be pitied and doted upon. She is invited to speak at events - even invited to be on Oprah’s show where she is reunited with her parents after 12+ years apart - yet this book is not the uplifting, inspirational, I-owe-it-all-to-those-who-helped-me book you may expect. Everyone is angry. Everyone feels betrayed, tired, frustrated, confused, and deprived (yes, even after moving to the U.S.).
Clemantine tells it all like it is, even if that truth is uncomfortable for first-world readers who have a certain image in mind of a story that should be told by a Rwandan refugee. Yay, it’s beautiful that she’s reunited with her family on national TV, that’s great! They to go Navy Pier and perform the rituals of tourists, they sit in Claire’s living room and perform as a family, but there’s too much distance. No one knows what to say. Clemantine doesn’t feel as though they are her parents; it’s all too much.
Clemantine is given a scholarship to study at the Hotchkiss School where she is intensely involved in extracurriculars and professors help her an impossible amount of time and attention. She hates it, she’s angry and lonely - she feels that she “has everything and did nothing” to earn it or work for it. She sits in a philosophy seminar where the professor asks a question: “You’re a ferry captain with two passengers. Your boat is sinking. One passenger is young and one is old. Who do you save?” Clemantine explodes: “Do you want to know what that’s really like? This is an abstract question to you?” She hears privileged New Englanders play thought experiments with her own personal history, and is asked to be a less emotional student. “I had not picked bugs out of my feet and watched my beaten sister nurse her baby while fleeing from one refugee camp to another to be lectured about human ethics by a man in corduroys.”
At times, this is a frustrating memoir to read, precisely because Wamariya’s story isn’t what you expect (Why do we expect this? What does that say about us?). You want her to thrive in the nice rich white lady’s house, you want her to blossom at Hotchkiss and Yale. She defies your desires. She has scars that are irreparable, expecting her to assimilate happily is selfish and facile.
As a privileged reader, it seems that when you have privilege, there’s nothing you can do to atone for it; charity is not the answer. But the passage above arrives about 2/3rds of the way through the book, and it strikes you. This is what she’s been saying the whole time, and it’s a simple premise - it centers around recognizing the value that each individual brings to the table. It’s not about what’s mine and what’s yours, it’s about sharing - even if there is enough for all of us to have our own.
The Girl Who Smiled Beads is a beautifully written book about displacement, survival, and charity. I choose these three words carefully; each has a distinct place in Wamariya’s story. Clemantine Wamariya and her older sister Claire, were displaced form their middle-class home in Kigali, Rwanda at the start of the Rwandan Civil War (what many call the Rwandan Genocide, although after reading this book I understand Clemantine’s extreme aversion to this word). Together they traverse seven African countries, living various levels of survival, at refugee camps filled with lice, disease, death, and no food - sometimes finding a temporary home in Zaire where they had aunties and ate beautiful dishes. But they were always transitory, even when they both came to the US and Clemantine started schools, living with various charitable, rich white families.
Throughout most of the book, Clemantine is not a likable character. She doesn’t make herself one; she wasn’t one. Only six when she had to leave her happy, idyllic childhood, she is not made for the stark conditions of survival and constant fear - she despises it. It instills a deep-seated anger in her, an inability to trust or love anyone, even her sole protector, her sister Claire. She learns to grow suspicious of charity, she hustles and changes in her young life, her formative years spent with no real home, no sense of stability. When she comes to the U.S., she is treated like an object to be pitied and doted upon. She is invited to speak at events - even invited to be on Oprah’s show where she is reunited with her parents after 12+ years apart - yet this book is not the uplifting, inspirational, I-owe-it-all-to-those-who-helped-me book you may expect. Everyone is angry. Everyone feels betrayed, tired, frustrated, confused, and deprived (yes, even after moving to the U.S.).
Clemantine tells it all like it is, even if that truth is uncomfortable for first-world readers who have a certain image in mind of a story that should be told by a Rwandan refugee. Yay, it’s beautiful that she’s reunited with her family on national TV, that’s great! They to go Navy Pier and perform the rituals of tourists, they sit in Claire’s living room and perform as a family, but there’s too much distance. No one knows what to say. Clemantine doesn’t feel as though they are her parents; it’s all too much.
Clemantine is given a scholarship to study at the Hotchkiss School where she is intensely involved in extracurriculars and professors help her an impossible amount of time and attention. She hates it, she’s angry and lonely - she feels that she “has everything and did nothing” to earn it or work for it. She sits in a philosophy seminar where the professor asks a question: “You’re a ferry captain with two passengers. Your boat is sinking. One passenger is young and one is old. Who do you save?” Clemantine explodes: “Do you want to know what that’s really like? This is an abstract question to you?” She hears privileged New Englanders play thought experiments with her own personal history, and is asked to be a less emotional student. “I had not picked bugs out of my feet and watched my beaten sister nurse her baby while fleeing from one refugee camp to another to be lectured about human ethics by a man in corduroys.”
At times, this is a frustrating memoir to read, precisely because Wamariya’s story isn’t what you expect (Why do we expect this? What does that say about us?). You want her to thrive in the nice rich white lady’s house, you want her to blossom at Hotchkiss and Yale. She defies your desires. She has scars that are irreparable, expecting her to assimilate happily is selfish and facile.
As a privileged reader, it seems that when you have privilege, there’s nothing you can do to atone for it; charity is not the answer. But the passage above arrives about 2/3rds of the way through the book, and it strikes you. This is what she’s been saying the whole time, and it’s a simple premise - it centers around recognizing the value that each individual brings to the table. It’s not about what’s mine and what’s yours, it’s about sharing - even if there is enough for all of us to have our own.
zinelib's review against another edition
5.0
The subtitle: "A Story of War and What Comes After" explains the memoir's structure. Each chapter has the year above it in a clever and effective timeline device, letting the reader know whether it's then or now. "Then" is the period where Clemantine and her older sister Claire are on the run from war, poverty, starvation, and violence beginning in Rwanda where Clemantine spent her first six years. The next seven see her walk hundreds, if not thousands of miles, from refugee camps and other temporary housing.
Between those chapters, where you think Clemantine might get some relief, bring Clemantine from the tween who landed in Chicago wearing her first winter coat, to a notable young adulthood that brought Clemantine to connect with Elie Wiesel, Oprah Winfrey, and Barack Obama. Clemantine's struggles as a survivor are nearly as fraught as her war years.
I don't know how to contextualize this, but I want to post it somewhere, so I can come back to it because it's so tender.
I don't know what else I meant to say when I paused writing this review last week. I do know that I wanted to comment on Wamariya's self-awareness and empathy for herself and those around her.
Between those chapters, where you think Clemantine might get some relief, bring Clemantine from the tween who landed in Chicago wearing her first winter coat, to a notable young adulthood that brought Clemantine to connect with Elie Wiesel, Oprah Winfrey, and Barack Obama. Clemantine's struggles as a survivor are nearly as fraught as her war years.
I don't know how to contextualize this, but I want to post it somewhere, so I can come back to it because it's so tender.
There's a lovely word in Swahili: nishauri. It means "advise me." When someone was mad at you, they would come to your house and sti down and talk and say, This is very disrespectful and I think we should consult each other on how to move forward. Let's make peace here and come to a conclusion that is beautiful.40 pages later
It's not enough for outsiders to want to atone for their sins. They need to look at themselves, their history and biases, and make a plan for how not to repeat their crimes.
I don't know what else I meant to say when I paused writing this review last week. I do know that I wanted to comment on Wamariya's self-awareness and empathy for herself and those around her.
hnagle15's review against another edition
This really opened my eyes.
Audiobook: The narrator did an excellent job and I really enjoyed listening to Clemantine Wamariya at the end.
Audiobook: The narrator did an excellent job and I really enjoyed listening to Clemantine Wamariya at the end.
dannb's review against another edition
5.0
Wow! I found myself "offended for caring" a few times while reading this; however, I stuck with it because I really wanted to understand as best I could, knowing that I would never really understand. This is one woman's story/experience of a big ugly situation that impacted millions of people, one woman's struggle to get to her "other side," one woman who is brutally honest from the first page to the last.
lyndseyreader's review against another edition
5.0
Listen to the audiobook. And be prepared for some tears at the end when the author reads the epilogue.
This book is sad, but did not plunge me into sadness. This book is hopeful without denying the reality of what we do to each other. This book is the story of one person trying to find her way amidst unimaginable circumstances. We should all read it.
This book is sad, but did not plunge me into sadness. This book is hopeful without denying the reality of what we do to each other. This book is the story of one person trying to find her way amidst unimaginable circumstances. We should all read it.
allisonw92's review against another edition
3.0
First of all, I want to make it clear that this is not a rating or a review of Clemantine’s life story. That is something that cannot be rated or reviewed. This is a review of the book. I can’t say I “enjoyed” this book, because how can one really enjoy a book about war, genocide, and a child’s struggle through that? However, I CAN say that I was intrigued by this book and the horrors that we experience as readers through Clemantine’s eyes. I was worried it might be more graphic than it was; while I know she experienced graphic violence at way too young an age, she did a nice job explaining it in a less vulgar way. After having just read Small Country, also, I feel much more educated on this tragedy that I quite ignorantly knew nothing about before reading these two books. This book is eye-opening and enlightening.
bonnieekatee's review against another edition
3.0
I didn't super love this book. It's a very heroic story but at times it was really dry.