The book is arranged chronologically, so we start with a birth and infancy. We learn something about his parents, his mother from up close but always from afar in relation to his father. ‘Old Man’ Obama, as we soon learned to call him, was clearly something of a character. We know details of President Obama’s life, so this review will not list unnecessary detail. From Hawaii to Indonesia and eventually to the United States we follow this young life, qt every page turn more mystified at how such a disparate set of experiences could have eventually formed such a rounded individual.
One thing the book does not stress which this review cannot overlook, is the use of the term ‘Old Man’ to label his father. Obama the elder was originally from Kenya and had studied for a doctorate in US colleges. He hailed from western Kenya, a Luo from the Lake Victoria region, where he had received an education that would still have been sympathetic to British traditions and cultures. He was still an African, however, and though not his own language, he would have learned Swahili and would have been fluent in the language. Mzee in Swahili means old man, but it signifies much more than age. It’s a label that would attach to anyone of status or deemed worthy of respect. It was the nickname, for instance, of President Jomo Kenyatta. Indeed, it was his title to such an extent that the use of Mzee with a capital letter would signify the president, himself, to anyone in the country. It is a title that in Kenya would carry no negative connotations whatsoever.
Reading Dreams From My Father I found myself regularly
confronted with the title Old Man Obama without being reminded of how positive
and respectful the label might be. Perhaps this was an oversight, an assumption
that the young Barack Obama did not think necessary to restate. On the other
hand, it might indicate an ambivalence towards the father who was not only a
great man and a higher achiever, but also something of a chancer who could not
be described as reliable. Other readers must make their own minds up, but for
me personally the continued use of ‘Old
Man’ rather than ‘mzee’ provided an added layer of
complication in this parentage that was already somewhat special. Perhaps the
capital letters convey an ultimate respect.
Barack Obama Junior, often called Barry, describes
much of his early life, especially his years in Indonesia, with affection. The
absent father is, however, always absent. What was rather strange was the fact
that Barry’s mother is always there, but we
hardly get to know her via these pages. If anything, the grandparents figure
more in the story, certainly, it seems, in the boy’s personal formation.
In the United States, we follow Barry into maturity
and, by the time we reach Chicago, he is determined to play an active role in
the society where he lives, choosing the route of community organizing to make
his mark. It proves to be a hit and miss activity, as it always must be. We who
are not generally involved in politics need reminding that it’s an activity
where minuscule gains have to be savoured through a general mist of
frustration. It’s a quality that clearly makes presidents.
Dreams From My Father really comes alive in the third
section, when Barry visit Kenya for the first time. Potentially, this is a
Roots-like odyssey, but for this particular young man it soon becomes
impossible to romanticize about a past that has so many complicated loose ends.
Though the family is clearly not poor, the country is, and the young visitor is
confronted with many images that confuse or shock. I used to live in Kenya, so
it may have been a personal familiarity that brought this section alive. I
feel, however, that the young Barack Obama began to understand more about his
father during that visit, enough at least to suggest a reality and that reality
persuaded him to stay with the dreams.
