When I was in high school my English teacher insisted that each of us read one book a week and then write a review of it. He told us that he wasn’t looking for a synopsis of the plot but rather an analysis of the writing. He also demanded that we read the works of different authors and genre. With such a hefty assignment I soon found myself running out of new material to read and looked to some of my fellow classmates to suggest works that I might not otherwise think of considering. It was in that way that I learned about a novel called Cry the Beloved Country which a friend insisted would change my life. 

The book by Alan Paton was a character study of souls caught up in the racism, segregation and violence in South Africa in a time just before apartheid became a law that would cruelly dominate the nation for almost half a century. The story would burn a hole in my heart with its unflinching tale of humans attempting to navigate in situations that were destined to end in tragedy. At the same time it offered hope in demonstrating that even in the face of injustice and cruelty humans sometimes find ways to exhibit their most honorable qualities.

I loved the lyrical feel of the book and the descriptions of the grandeur of South Africa in contrast to the grotesqueness of the cities where three fourths of the citizens toiled in desperation and poverty. It painted a  picture of hope in what should have been a hopeless time. It was a story of love of family and of a place that had once been gloriously free. It immediately became one of my all time favorites even as I had little true understanding of what was really happening in that part of the world.

There is so much history to unfold that we tend to concentrate only on the parts that seem to be associated with ourselves. I was able to recite much about the Untied States and even the highlights of Europe but my knowledge was limited to sweeping ideas rather than providing an intimate portrait of people from cultures different from my own. I suspect that my interpretation of Cry the Beloved Country was influenced by stereotypes of Africa painted by movies and stories rather than reality. I knew nothing about the complex history of colonialism in South Africa and other parts of that continent. For that matter I did not totally comprehend the multiple layers of differing tribes, cultures and nationalities that had created a powder keg of discrimination and misery. I did not fully understand the underlying essence of the characters. 

I suppose that my long ago assessment of the story was grossly naive because I did not take the time to arm myself with facts about the political undercurrents that resulted in laws that strictly divided the people of South Africa into groups based mostly on the color of their skin. I could not have known how truly horrific life in crowded cities actually was for people being dominated in their own land. I was still too clueless to see the parallels between slavery in my own country or the domination of native Americans that is a stain on our history. I was still in a gullible and uneducated state of mind. It would be only later that I delved below the surface of the kind of human situations that leave certain people and groups pushed aside as though they are of little worth. 

I’ve been thinking about all of those things for sometime now. I see the horrific treatment of differing groups in my own country. The stereotyping and propaganda being used to banish them from our society is breathtaking. I find myself wondering why we humans seem to think that there are good reasons to classify people into haves and have nots. I wonder why any of us seem to believe that we are somehow better than anyone else. Why do we constantly decide to punish those who are different as though they are somehow inferior and must know our wrath? Why don’t we take the time to get to know and understand people rather than to constantly judge them?

We humans have a long history of turning those whom we fear into monsters without taking the time to get to know and understand them. We force religion and political thoughts on others. We gather in groups, tribes, nationalities that make us comfortable and shun those that feel unfamiliar and strange. Our tragedies are built on the fears that make us cruel. .