In Long Way Gone, Kite Runner, and Crime and Punishment, the main character becomes his own antagonist when he commits a crime because he can no longer forgive himself. The main characters in each of these stories loose faith in themselves during the course of their stories, and must somehow forgive themselves before healing can begin. Only through finding the strength within themselves can they finally feel ready to move on.
In Long Way Gone, Ishmael Beah looses his family to rebel soldiers in Sierra Leone, so he joins an army to fight against those that brutally murdered his villiage. However, as he attempts to right the terrible sin that was committed against his family, he becomes his own worst enemy. In the name of revenge and justice, he commits the same atrocities that he hated so much , and in this way he becomes the same monster he was fighting to stop.
When he and the other child soldiers are rescued and taken to a rehabilitation center, Ishmael finally has a chance to turn his life around. But he finds that although the workers at the center have a continual mantra: they proclaim "it's not your fault" and try to blame the boy's choices on their situations. However this only angers Ishmael more because he is haunted by the atrocities he commited, and he feels truly responsible for the choices he made. As he gets more familiar with his life at the rehabilitation center, he is able to remember the past. Memories and nightmares blend together as he starts to realize how hateful he had become. In one nightmare, it seems to Ishmael that every victim's wounds become his own and he feels the pain of his enemies (164).
It was Esther, a nurse from the center, that offered Ishmael his first real chance for change. She offered Ishmael simple friendship, and slowly Ishmael could look past the nightmares and violence. He slowly begins to remember childhood memories, and this is the glimmer of hope he needed to have a chance at change. Esther was the first person who got Ishmael to believe that he didn't have to be the monster he thought he was. As he begins to open up to Ester (166) , Ishmael starts to break down the walls with which he had encircled his feelings.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
New Reflections About My Big Question
My big question is: "When someone committs a crime, how do they find redemption and begin the process of healing?"
I first asked this question this year after reading Long Way Gone which is a memoir of a child soldier. As I reflected on his journey to the lowest most desparate part of his life, in which his carnal instincts ruled him and his morals disappeared, to his eventual rejection of that lifestyle I began to wonder if there was an underlying principle that governed how all people learn to forgive themselves and continue on.
Emily (reluctantly) answered my question my saying: "I think that people's redemption comes if they want it and how they see fit. It comes when the person accepts what they did and wants to change"
I don't necessarily "Hide"my question inside me, but niether do I often ask it to other people. I just don't generally think people would be able to answer my question on the spot, or at least they wouldn't want to.
My question has never gotten me into trouble beacuse I haven't ever actively persued the answer: I imagine it could be somwhat risky to try to find a personal connection to this question because I would need to commit a crime in order to find out how I would ever forgive myself. Also, I think this would be somewhat counter productive because I would be observing my own reactions, and those reactions would only come about because I wanted to observe them. For his reason, I may not quite be able to trust them, so I would end up right back where I started.
I've always enjoyed stories in which the main character becomes his own worst enemy, because it my mind it seems that we often fail not because of the people around us, but because we hold ourselves back. For example, when I was little it took me years to learn how to ride a bike: at first it was because I refused to even try, telling myself over and over that "I didn't really want to". But I did. And I knew it too, but I was also afraid. When I finally did brave the shiny pink seat of my first bike ( a bribe from my dad to coax me into riding) I would pedal only for a few seconds before bailing into the damp grass on the side of the trail. I didn't even wait for a hint of a wobble before I jumped. At the time I didn't realize that it wasn't the wind, the trail, the hill, or the bike that was preventing me from learning. It was simply my refusal to trust my own ability. The difference between the kids who learn to ride a bike all in one day and the ones that take years to learn is simply their ability to take a risk and trust their own actions.
I first asked this question this year after reading Long Way Gone which is a memoir of a child soldier. As I reflected on his journey to the lowest most desparate part of his life, in which his carnal instincts ruled him and his morals disappeared, to his eventual rejection of that lifestyle I began to wonder if there was an underlying principle that governed how all people learn to forgive themselves and continue on.
Emily (reluctantly) answered my question my saying: "I think that people's redemption comes if they want it and how they see fit. It comes when the person accepts what they did and wants to change"
I don't necessarily "Hide"my question inside me, but niether do I often ask it to other people. I just don't generally think people would be able to answer my question on the spot, or at least they wouldn't want to.
My question has never gotten me into trouble beacuse I haven't ever actively persued the answer: I imagine it could be somwhat risky to try to find a personal connection to this question because I would need to commit a crime in order to find out how I would ever forgive myself. Also, I think this would be somewhat counter productive because I would be observing my own reactions, and those reactions would only come about because I wanted to observe them. For his reason, I may not quite be able to trust them, so I would end up right back where I started.
I've always enjoyed stories in which the main character becomes his own worst enemy, because it my mind it seems that we often fail not because of the people around us, but because we hold ourselves back. For example, when I was little it took me years to learn how to ride a bike: at first it was because I refused to even try, telling myself over and over that "I didn't really want to". But I did. And I knew it too, but I was also afraid. When I finally did brave the shiny pink seat of my first bike ( a bribe from my dad to coax me into riding) I would pedal only for a few seconds before bailing into the damp grass on the side of the trail. I didn't even wait for a hint of a wobble before I jumped. At the time I didn't realize that it wasn't the wind, the trail, the hill, or the bike that was preventing me from learning. It was simply my refusal to trust my own ability. The difference between the kids who learn to ride a bike all in one day and the ones that take years to learn is simply their ability to take a risk and trust their own actions.
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