Wallhalia is the single African word I would use to sum up the situations described in this book. Simply put, wallhalia means a mess, a problem, a difficult circumstance. Covering almost a dozen different countries on the continent of Africa, author Uwem Akpan offers a collection of stories told through children’s voices. These children are desperately attempting to survive the day, the night, the war, the famine, the hunger pains, the religious discrimination, the ethnic cleansing, the trafficking of kids, and the list unfortunately continues. It is not an easy read on the soul.
“It was definitely hard to read and yet hard to put down,” observed one book clubber, feeling her heart being weighted down by the plight of so many African children.
“I thought it was brilliantly written,” added another, “especially the story of the teen aged boy on the bus in Nigeria.”
In that particular story, a Muslim boy frantically boards a bus to escape the brutal attacks in the northern part of his country. As the entire story unfolds, the bus remains parked. It never moves. Fuel is scarce. The driver is on the hunt for what will feed his machine. Hungry for salvation, natives attack the door each time it opens, dying to snag a seat or even space on the floor. Police make up laws on the spot. One such law determines how much money passengers must pay the authorities to use the lavatory. To conserve water, they forbid individuals from flushing the toilet except on the fourth usage.
As passengers converse, tempers flare. Accents betray backgrounds and ethnic harassments emerge. Still, the bus sits. Observed one reader, “I was caught up in a whole story but it seemed the story hadn’t even started yet.”
While the book has won Oprah’s seal of approval and received rave reviews in top notch newspapers, our group of gals questioned the author’s audience. It seemed to lack a clear target.
“If it was Americans that he intended to primarily read this book, then there should have been fewer words in African languages. That became a barrier in reading. Maybe the author assumed we would be more familiar with other dialects,” offered a couple of readers.
In another of the short stories, the tale is told of modern day slave trading involving kids. From a mother’s perspective, this story was particularly disturbing. Amazing descriptions are presented from the view of children living these atrocities.
The book claims that a sense of humor and good instincts make it less painful to sell one’s child or relative. Keeping a calm head is important. These instructions are given as flippantly as if one were discussing the weather. Names are changed. Children are basically brainwashed. An old life is to be totally replaced with a new life which means feeding children information necessary to successfully pass through customs and various check points. Pseudo parents are brought to the home. Trust is established only to be broken once bonds have been formed.
In the five stories, only one really offers any glimmer of hope. Two little girls, innocent of religious hatred, savor countless hours as neighbors, friends, and playmates. Yet one day, everything changes. It’s as if a light is switched, and due to the difference of place of worship, color of skin, or political views, there are no more games to be shared. Yet these two resilient girls refuse to sacrifice friendship because an adult harbors hatred. A secret wave is shared from behind the curtains and across the street. It’s a sign of hope.
As women living comfortable lives in a free country, one might ask, “So why read such harrowing accounts? Why allow the nightmares that have become reality for these African kids to seep into our cozy, comfy world?” Perhaps we are limited in what we can do, but at the very least, we can listen. We can listen. Listen. Do you hear the children?