A violent, tribal war between the Hutus and the minority Tutsis, forces Deo (a Tutsi) to be swept away from his family. On the run, he escapes death while witnessing graphic and horrific evils. With $200 in his pocket, Deo gets himself on a plane bound for New York (he thinks he's actually going to Belgium) where a cast of strangers, who appear more like angels of providence, begin to help him make a new life in America.
There is a baggage handler at Kennedy Airport who assists Deo through immigration and helps him navigate around New York City. Deo lands a job bagging groceries (working for a boss who is a demeaning tyrant), while he camps out in abandoned buildings in Harlem and later in Central Park. One day, while delivering groceries, he meets an ex-contemplative nun who, after learning of Deo's plight, takes him on as her quest. She sets out to find Deo a proper home and enlists the help of a couple (middle-aged intellectuals) who let Deo camp out in the library of their apartment in SoHo. For the next seven years, it is through the generosity of this couple and the persistent effort of the ex-nun, that Deo is able to return to pursuing his education, studying at Columbia and later, Harvard.
The story is told in a parallel structure. Scenes from Deo's life in New York are intercut with scenes from Deo's harrowing experience amid the terrors of the Burundi genocide. In the last third of the book, the author himself joins the action in Deo's quest to raise money to create (from the ground up, literally) a public health system to aid folks in contemporary Burundi.
It's an extraordinary story. But for me, I wondered where and how Deo derived his inner strength. His name Deo or Deogratias translates to "Thanks be to God." Before the genocide and even after all the horrors Deo witnessed, what were his core beliefs? What was the level of his spirituality?
The two paragraphs below (page 186) are beautifully rendered, and they offer the only glimpse of insight to shed light on this point:
Before we left, Deo wanted to visit some of his favorite extracurricular spots: the benches overlooking Harlem on Morningside Drive and the Riverside Church and finally St. John the Divine, the immense unfinished Gothic cathedral in Morningside Heights...We sat down in a pew some distance from the grand altar. There seemed to be a service in progress up there, but we were seated too far away to hear it. "It really blows my mind," said Deo. "The first time I was here I was taking art (at the university) and I said, 'God, if the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican is better than this . . . " He laughed. "I mean, just look at it."Kidder makes the case that Deo, a student of philosophy, believes in action more than reflection. But did it ever cross Deo's mind or did he ever consciously recognize positive forces greater than himself at work - forces that saved him, opened doors of opportunity and ultimately enabled him to achieve his goals and give back to those in his homeland?
We were surrounded by towering columns. The place was vast, dark, and mysterious. We talked quietly. I had the impression it was in this place and in his other sanctuaries that Deo had reconciled his experience of genocide with his belief in God. He liked to frame his solution jocularly: "I do believe in God. I do believe in God. I think God has given so much power to people, and intelligence, and said, 'Well, you are on your own. Maybe I'm tired, I need a nap. You are mature. Why don't you look after yourselves?" Deo would pause, then say, "And I think He's been sleeping too much."
