Dreams from My Father

I just finished reading the book, “Dreams from My Father” by Barack Obama. It was a Christmas gift and it had a hand written note inside, “Dear Daddy, Keep on dreaming.” I can relate so much to the story that at times I feel as if it’s about me. Mythical father, walking barefoot on a muddy rice field in Indonesia, being ignored by a Kenyan waiter in a restaurant in Kenya to serve a white family – it’s not only about race; it’s about poverty, self esteem, exploitation, discrimination in all different forms world wide. Some are better at hiding, others brutally open.

Even neocolonialism may take different shapes. Once where white rulers ruled, now the brown or black rulers rule their own people. People still have weakness for fair skin. So, they try hard to imitate. Caste, color, looks, dress still creates subconscious profiling about people everywhere and the proposition that “all men are created equal” still remains a dream. Poverty, disease, illiteracy still drowns people and the powerful continue to prey on them.

The book also shows silver lining in the midst of despair, a hope, a hidden “City of Joy”. There is hope. Justice eventually prevails. Environment creates super human out of ordinary people. Lincoln, Gandhi, King, Mandela, Cesar Chavez happened for a reason. We have made progress, but we are long way from our destination. We as a nation are continually correcting (in spite of deviation from the cherished path from time to time) with that goal in mind. People like Barack are our hope.

If you are like me and have experienced two different worlds (not necessarily in the same sense as Barack did), it is about you too. I highly recommend this book.