Saturday, July 10th, 2010 | 8 Comments »
The other day, I sat down to begin work on my second book. I’ve known for ages I want to include a couple of conversations I had with a guy I met on the terrace at the Orchid Safari Club on my most recent trip. (No, this is not a love story, so let’s get that out of the way up front).
A few basics: A 40- something guy who has worked in development and African war zones (Somalia, Darfur, Congo, etc) for more than 20 years, we started talking about rice cakes and almost instantly found ourselves in a raging debate about writing on Congo, development, neo-colonialism, and listening to Congolese people. Then he mentioned he almost drowned in Lake Kivu the day before. He moved back to the US 2 years ago to try to create a life, though he “has no friends” in his new town.
Yes, he’s a difficult man, but I liked him nonetheless, and through the lens of the upcoming book, shamelessly found him fascinating. We got together after one of my readings on my book tour and talked more.
I finally wrote him to fess up that I want to include him in my book. The following is our exchange:
Hey there. Happy 4th!
Sat down to start work on my second book this morning. Would you mind if I include a couple of our conversations? I always ask.
Was serious when I said some of our conversations stayed on my mind.
Lisa
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Hi. Glad to hear you are busy again. Can I ask which conversations you’re referring to? Thanks
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Hmmm. I could say orchid and after the reading….but I’m not sure that’s adequate.
Tricky to explain in lightweight terms. Most of the story will be focused on the LRA, my friend francisca and her family. But my narrative arc will deal with the opposite arc of the first book- stripping back the “one person makes a difference” story. Questions like- what drives people to places like Congo? To help others or help ourselves? Running towards something or running away? Is “amazing” work a cover for personal failures? Does spending time in places like Congo make you more alienated, or does that sense draw you there in the first place? And ultimately- like every story in this genre- can one rejoin the living? How do you carve out a life, especially when everything feels so painfully low stakes when you return? All issues I’ll address throughout the book. We touched on them briefly, in a way I found unintentionally poetic, the first time we talked at orchid- your near drowning, your return to the US after 20 yrs, since becoming a permanent ex pat is “its own kind of graveyard”. And the conversation after my reading.
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Thanks. I would only add that I believe in a cosmic principle acc to which however much you lose or become unmoored from your original community, you gain one some where else. So if I said those things about expat life I didn’t mean to diminish all that my time in congo, and congolese, have contributed to the quality of my existence on this earth.
Anyway it’s an ongoing discussion as these issues have no pat answers and are deeply personal, often to the point of useless western navelgazing. I’m sure you’ll steer clear of that.
I just edited a friend’s book with a similar theme. Do we need another story of a lost westerner ‘finding themselves’ in the suffering of the less fortunate? It happens, sure, but the optics of such tales are very suspect, and support the notion held by many that we are only interested in the congoes of the world for selfish reasons.
I’ll be in kinshasa from X to X if you’re through there.
Take care
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Ah! No secret- pretty much from the moment we met- that your world view is inherently skeptical of my work, the way I would tell my story, and the methods I use. I still find you fantastic.
Was your 20 years in the Congoes of the world driven by selfish reasons? Is that inherently flawed, or is all human action driven in some way by selfish reason- the way every protagonist- and even antagonists- push towards something they believe to be positive? I wonder if we care, try to connect and do something good, but it is also selfish- that all of it is true. Does it diminish the act of showing up? Maybe. But if we spend all of our energy trying to get to a perfect soul place about it, does it lead to paralysis and prevent people from engaging with and for other human beings? Which is the lesser of the evils?
In the end, real art explores the complexity of an issue without providing answers. But every story is about people learning about themselves- for better or worse- against any backdrop.
Some theorize we are either critics or creators- hard to be both. And in the end, my best guess is that its easier- or at least safer- to be a critic. The creative process isn’t driven by left brain, pc questions about what stories the world needs, but rather a raw, honest exploration of human experience. I don’t find that useless. Especially if one is painfully aware of one’s own bullshit in the process. I’m not sure how it all pans out in the big picture, but I know I’m happier when I’m less skeptical and emotionally paralyzed- even if it does come at the price of being flawed or exposed.
For sure it is deeply personal.
No plans for Kinshasa, but hope you have a wonderful time!
Lisa
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